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dmitriene · 3 months

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HEADCANONS ABOUT HOW SIMON RILEY, JOHNNY MACTAVISH AND JOHN PRICE SHOW THEIR LOVE TO YOU.

cw: tooth rotting fluff, comfort, vague smut (johnny's part), maybe a bit of emotional hurt on simon's part (not reader experience), established relationship, kisses, marking, intimacy, touching, pet names, everyone of them can seem slightly ooc, confessions, no femenine terms, just a big amount of love. pairing: bf simon, johnny and john x gn reader

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

SIMON GHOST RILEY:

SIMON'S love language is as gentle as it can be for a man of his coolness and frightening size, whose feelings are buried behind a broken ribcage, a place colder than russia, nothing more than the insides of a real ghost, but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve love, that he can't be meek.

simon is meager with words, and you don’t blame him, you’re not in a hurry to open an old wound without knowing how it will turn out for you, so you give him time, he himself comes to you with affection, like a dog with his muzzle lowered into accepting warm palms, and you carefully stroke him, whisper reverent declarations of love, without demanding an answer, because one look from his dark, flaming eyes is enough to understand the depth of his affection. this does not stop simon from spending time and money on you, a little embarrassed, afraid that it will look awkward and strange from the outside — but you accept all the tiny manifestations of his love in gifts, new clothes, bouquets of flowers, allowing him to gradually teach what you like and what don't, and every time he gets better, more quickly he reaches out to express his gratitude for your love for him. gradually, the need to admit it trembles on its own, his tongue is knotted with the desire to voice these three words, but he constantly puts it off until later, sets it aside for a few minutes later, promises himself that on a certain day, evening, in a certain place, maybe a restaurant, he'll confesses to you for the first time and forever, but in the right moment he is overcome by such fear that his heart seems to want to come out of his throat, the tips of his fingers sting from the cold and makes them painfully curl into a whitened fist under the table, and he says again to himself — “later, tomorrow, next week„ just to confess this night. it’s been dark outside the window for a long time, your body is enveloped in soft sheets and a warm blanket, warming a little worse than simon’s body next to you, a twisted ball of muscles just to lay his head on your chest, listening to the heartbeat of your heart, he thinks that you’re sleeping, he consoles himself with this thought, while the warm alcohol he drank earlier is flows through his veins and tempting him to take a desperate step, for him this is a cliff, because he does not suspect that this is actually a new streak, but one way or another he firmly goes to stop right in the face of the abyss and wheeze out tensely — “i love you„ he is sure that you are sleeping, he is sure based on the peaceful beating of your heart and the heaving of your chest, but when your hand silently rises and runs through his blond hair, tangling in the strands and sliding to the back of his head to press his face deeper into your chest, tracing a path to his jaw to scoop, his chest bursts at the seams and suddenly blossoms, following the words spoken from your lips — “i love you too, simon„ and your palm burns from the warm moisture of the salty tears that left his eyes for the first time.

JOHNNY SOAP MACTAVISH

JOHNNY'S love language is boyish, bright and daring, like the lights in his blue eyes, a flame that does not burn, but warms, as well as his tremulous touches, bordering on the edge of too enthusiastic, hasty, as if an little puppy running around your legs and whose eyes are focused only on you, he is not interested in anyone else, only you. he feels like a bright flash, as dazzling as his bright smiles, causing his eyes to squint pleasantly at the edges when he looks at you and openly chuckles when you scold him for not being able to hold back even when in public, a massive hand brazenly examines your butt and periodically even squeezes your clothed flesh, and how can you be angry with him when he purrs so flirtatiously, sickly sweetly — “sorry, honey, couldnae handle myself, coud a? ye juist leuk sae pretty„ a real devil, but one way or another, yours, so you allow him to express his love for you in touches that make areas of your skin burn and remember the imprints of his wide fingers, in hot kisses that heat your lips and make them tingle while his tongue intertwines with yours, and your teeth collide and clash in an absurd hurry. johnny does not skimp on signs and, be it his views or words, actions — he is active more like a boy than a man, with a vague, almost wolfish grin, plucking and giving you a single street flower, something small, but so charming, sprinkled sweet words that sizzle on your tongue like candy every time you listen to his speech — “a pretty flower for the love o ma life„ but johnny becomes even more loving at home, it’s amazing how much more affectionate and soft he becomes as soon as you cross the threshold, that insolence, that sparkle — recede to demonstrate his obedience, he sticks to you from the back, his hands constantly squeeze you in his arms, not letting you go from his muscular body even when you are busy with something and scold him for it — “johnny, baby, you're stopping me from laying out the dishes„ but he doesn’t care at all, there is endless adoration in baby blue eyes, he places his chin on your shoulder and bats his eyelashes in a ridiculously seductive way, making you sigh heavily one way or another and drop whatever you were doing, because there is nothing wrong with giving him a little more attention, no matter that it always ends the same way, in the same scenario where you both end up in bed for the whole day ahead. johnny will endlessly cover your body with soft kisses, somewhere biting the skin, somewhere running his tongue, despite the light layer of sweat on your body and the possible unpleasant saltiness, anyways, these are all the tricks of his early actions, but you can’t say a word, except to bury your fingers in his chocolate strands of hair, hidden behind the blanket that covers his body, while he lies half weighted on you and looks into your eyes with a slight squint, kissing, biting and purring again and again — “a love ye„

JOHN PRICE

JOHN'S love language is courteous, confident that he knows how to behave around the person he wants to take care of and whom he loves, this can be seen not only in his words or actions, but even in the warm, peaceful look and stern aura that follows him always and everywhere, and you immediately understand that this is the man who can not only care about you, but also fulfill your every whim. sometimes, looking at him, everything around begins to seem somehow surreal — too good to be true and at the same time enough to remain true, he knows how to not only appreciate people, but also take care of them, support, cherish, everything you can dream of and what his partner, you, knows better than anyone. he does not hesitate and does not regret when it comes to financial expenses — do you want to buy something for your home? you know where his bank card is, as a last resort, send him a list, do you want to buy something for yourself? he will be more than happy to let you do this and later find out about your new purchases out of pure interest, are you interested in going on vacation somewhere with him? john hasn’t rested for a long time and is more than happy with this idea, the main thing is tell him where and for how long, he’ll take care of the rest himself. you may not lift a finger once in your relationship, but this does not mean that he will not be happy if you do something around the house, go grocery shopping, naturally, he usually insists on accompanying you if you need to go somewhere, not because mistrust, but out of care, an instinct instilled in him as a captain responsible for his soldiers, but you are not just a person under his supervision and control, you are a person who has taken his love and devotion for yourself. he loves to please you, strives to support you in any endeavors, hobbies, or just during sudden mood swings, john focuses most of his energy and time on you as a priest would do with the deity he worships, and if there was the same scenario here, he would have no qualms about sacrificing everything to get your blessing, and this is the man who would kneel down in front of you on both knees without shame. it’s also worth noting that john is not at all embarrassed by the demonstration of his love in public, nor by other people’s glances, ordinary or sideways, he is never embarrassed to walk with you by the hand, bend down to softly kiss you on the lips, scratching your skin with his facial hair and smiling warmly, or even hold you on his lap — the only thing he is focused on at these moments is you, especially if it is a special day for joint relaxation — sit at home, go somewhere, have dinner in a good restaurant. the main thing is to be prepared for the possibility that he will not let go of your hand for a minute, stroking the back of it with his thumb and listening to any of your babbles and stories, his blue eyes are focused on your face, the corners of his lips are stretched in a smile and are lost against the background of how his beard and mustache stretch, while he presses your fingers to his lips and gently kisses them up to the knuckles, each time awakening butterflies in your stomach that never get rest in his presence, especially when he whispers in a slightly smoky, but so gentle voice — “i love you so much, dear, your voice is the loveliest sound for me„

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erynaster · 11 months

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Hi! This is a request I've asked other writers on the site, but I'd love to see your take on the idea!

I'd like to request a Wednesday x Venom!Reader, with Wednesday discovering the reader's secret by following him around...

Love your stuff, btw!

Of course! And thank you. :>

________________

Venomous Encounters

Summary: You and your symbiote wind up in a different world, where you attempt to start a new life for the both of you.

Word Count: 1,762

Pairing(s): Male!Venom!Reader x Wednesday Addams

Warning(s): Slight gore, slight violence

A/N: This one turned out much better than expected. I hope you all enjoy!

"This is a stupid idea."

Your symbiote says in your ear, as you peer around a corner to survey a holdup taking place by the cash register.

"Since when were you my voice of reason, Ven?" You whisper back, taking note of the gun pointed at the head of the frightened cashier standing behind the counter.

"It would be unwise to do anything to draw attention to us right now. Need I remind you that this is not our home universe. Uncharted territory." The symbiote warns you with a tone of urgency.

You grit your teeth. "Yeah, you've got that right."

It was only yesterday when you and Venom had suddenly appeared in this new world, which was startlingly similar to your own. You were just leaping from rooftop to rooftop when all of a sudden a strange light had engulfed you and transported you in the middle of a dark forest. Finding your bearings, you had stumbled upon a town called Jericho, where you and Venom decided to lay low for the time being.

But now, you were hungry.

Very hungry.

Your symbiote's hunger was your own. And by now, it was running out of nutrients to sustain the both of you.

That was all about to change at this very moment.

"We've got no choice, Ven. It's now or never." You whisper, just as black goo begins to engulf your body, permeating through your skin and wrapping around each and every one of your limbs.

A long, black tendril shoots out and grabs the offender by the wrist, causing him to drop the gun in surprise. He turns in your direction, and his face pales in utter terror.

Where your face was was nothing but rows of sharp, white teeth, and as the man's eyes searched for yours, they found nothing but two blank white sclerae, the lack of irises quite disturbing. As he mouths wordlessly, you can feel your jaw open as three words escape your lips.

"We... are Venom."

Lunging forward, you give the man no time to scream as your jaw closes around his neck, your symbiote's hunger satisfied at last.

...

Wednesday Addams stands outside the convenience store, just in front of the police tape circling the establishment. Amidst the wailing sirens, a white-faced employee was testifying to a police officer that he had seen a hulking black monster rip off the head of a man right in front of his eyes, before escaping through the door and leaping out of sight in the direction of the forest.

Now, Wednesday loved a good mystery. And this was yet another one of the strange occurrences that have happened to the town in the span of time that she had been at Nevermore.

Monsters and murders were her specialty, apparently.

She walks over to the police officer, who was observing two men carry out a body bag coming from the establishment.

Noting the absence of a bulge where the head should be, Wednesday tears her eyes away from the corpse to speak with the cop.

"Which direction did he say the monster was headed?"

The cop jumps in surprise at being addressed, looking Wednesday up and down as though sizing her up.

Deciding that she was no threat, he nods, pointing in the direction of the woods.

"There, into the forest. You better stay indoors, miss. It's not safe out here tonight."

Ignoring the last comment, Wednesday heads in the direction that the officer pointed out, with all intentions of getting to the bottom of this bloody mystery once and for all.

...

"That was reckless! Stupid!"

Venom yells in your ear as you jump from branch to branch, your clawed hands finding traction as you heave yourself from tree to tree with surprising agility and stealth.

"Who are you to tell me I'M being reckless, Ven? You were never the subtle type, either." You retort, surprised at your symbiote's wary behavior.

The symbiote groans.

"We drew far too much attention with that meal! That place will be swarming with cops, investigators, reporters! It won't be safe to return!"

You stop your travel momentarily by leaping onto an overhanging branch, catching your breath for a moment as the black goo seeps back into your flesh.

"A pity. I really liked that town, it's small, cozy, quaint..."

"You can't possibly be thinking of staying, now are you?"

"You can't blame me. It'll be a chance for us to start over. Where no one knows our name."

"We are the Lethal Protector! We do not 'settle down'. We go where the wind takes us!"

You don't answer, now that the sound of rustling leaves caught both your attention.

"Someone's coming."

Venom morphs himself all around you once more, scanning your surroundings like a predator stalking its prey.

A figure wanders into view, inspecting a few broken branches that you had left in your wake. They linger for a moment next to the trunk of a tree, where claw marks could be seen etched upon its surface.

"Told you so."

Venom extends a tendril and quietly lowers you just behind the figure, and you land on the ground noiselessly. Standing six feet tall, you pose menacingly as you wait for the figure to sense your presence, and for a confrontation to begin.

The figure stiffens up, finally aware that they were not alone. In one swift motion, they draw a sword from seemingly out of nowhere and whip around, pointing it straight at your heart.

The two of you stare at each other, at a loss for words.

It was a woman. A young, dark-haired girl with pigtails, a pale white face, and an emotionless expression. There was something about her cold, expressionless stare that felt almost deadly, and this was something that you strangely admired, odd as though it was in the moment.

On her part, she didn't know what she was looking at. Of course, she had an idea of what to expect, but it was certainly not this. A hulking, black figure with rows of sharp, white teeth, with two blank sclerae for eyes staring curiously into her own. And though the sight of you would send just about anybody else screaming and running in the other direction, there was something about you that was oddly mesmerizing for her. Something intriguing.

She lowers her sword, letting it fall to her side as she looks you up and down, as though sizing up her opponent.

"... What are you?"

Venom smiles, opening up half of its face to reveal your own, causing the young girl's eyes to widen in shock.

"We are Venom." You say in unison, just as Venom starts to retreat back into your body, leaving you rather exposed.

The young girl continues staring.

"You're human."

You grin. "Well... mostly."

You didn't know what to do. Instinct was pulling at your every nerve, telling you that this woman was dangerous and that fleeing was the best option at the moment. But... you couldn't.

"Who are you?" You ask. "Where am I? What is this place?"

Her gaze turns cold.

"I think that I have the liberty of asking the questions first. You just committed a murder, and that blood on your hands gives you no right to be asking questions just yet. So I will ask you again. What are you?"

You sigh. Though it was in your very power to leave, you decided that it would be best to make fewer enemies and more friends, dare you say the word. And to do that you would need to cooperate.

"I am Y/N L/N. I am a human. And I have this parasite—"

"PARASITE?!"

"—sorry, I meant symbiote. I have this symbiote that lives inside my body, and he gives me all these powers that I have. I'd be dead without him."

"Damn right!"

The woman merely stares at you coldly, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits "Where did the two of you come from?"

You shrug. "Not here. We think... We think we may be from another universe, and that we somehow managed to wind up in this one. Don't ask me how, I'm just as lost as you are."

The young girl's gaze turns even colder, if that was even possible.

"Parallel realities, you say?"

You couldn't tell whether she believed you or not.

Taking the opportunity to speak up, you clear your throat and step forward.

"I didn't quite catch your name there, Miss...?"

She glares daggers at you.

"Wednesday. Wednesday Addams. And we're not done yet, Y/N. I still have some questions."

"Fire away." You sigh wearily.

"Why did you murder that man?" She shoots, her eyes glaring at you with full intensity by now.

You sigh.

"We had to. He was gonna shoot if we didn't stop him." You smile sadly. "It's... kind of what we do. Back home, we're the Lethal Protector."

"The what?"

At her words, Venom pops out his head next to yours, causing Wednesday to back away a few paces.

"The Lethal Protector! Protect the innocent! Crush the wicked!"

Wednesday stares at the grinning, toothy head suspended in midair next to you, before turning her gaze back to you.

"There are cops looking for you. They will find you if you're not careful."

Wait, was she letting you go?

"You're letting us go? Just like that?" You ask, hardly daring to believe it.

Wednesday nods.

"I see no reason to doubt your integrity as of yet, seeing as how you've demonstrated that your intentions are, for lack of better wording, not bad." She looks you up and down. "Take care out there."

She turns to leave, leaving you just as befuddled as you were when she came.

"Wait!"

You call out, causing her to spin in place at the sound of your voice.

"What?" She asks, sounding a bit annoyed.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. "Will I get to see you again?"

Wednesday ponders this for a moment.

"Don't count on it." She turns, walking in the other direction.

Venom engulfs you once again as she leaves, and you scale a nearby tree as you begin to make your way deeper into the woods.

"You like her."

Your symbiote purrs in your ear, it's tone sounding both accusatory and amused.

"Shut up. We just met. And besides, she was only trying to help." You retort, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Well... I like her!"

Venom declares triumphantly, but your mind is preoccupied with other matters.

You really hope that you would see her again.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader #male reader #male!reader #wednesday addams x male reader #male!y/n #netflix #wednesday addams #wednesday x male reader #venom #symbiote

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dystopicjumpsuit · 9 months

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Promises and Pastry

Rating: T / SFW (whaaaaat?!)

Pairing: Jango Fett x Baker Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.3k

Summary: On your way to work, you stumble upon an adorable two-year-old Boba Fett, who wandered away from the bounty hunter Jango entrusted with his care. Wholesome, tooth-rotting fluff ensues. Feat. Jango Fett being a sexy single dad.

A/N: I wrote this for Father's Day. This is the last AO3 work that I needed to migrate to Tumblr, so DJ's Great Fic Migration is now complete 🖤

Warnings: fluff; canon-typical violence

Suggested listening:

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Boba Fett sits in a rundown cantina, waiting for his contact to show. The place is an absolute dive, but not even close to the worst he’s seen. The jukebox is playing an old, old song—some sentimental Arcadian jazz ditty about a lost love. The music is incongruous with the dingy setting, but something about the melody tugs at his subconsciousness. It makes him think of warm, soft arms; a gentle voice; the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked bread. Is it a memory or a dream? He can’t tell.

He finishes his drink and pushes the intrusive thoughts away, then orders another round as he waits for his new employer.

The air is crisp in the predawn hours, and only the dim glow of street lamps illuminates your path as you walk to work. Your mind is caught up with the tasks ahead of you: baking the para rolls, ryshcates, and buttersweet puffs that you assembled the previous day; mixing up tomorrow’s batches of dough; topping up the caf supplies before your barista arrives—and all of this needs to happen before you even open the shop for the day. The bakery has always been your dream, and it’s worth the early mornings to finally have a place of your own.

You are almost to the shop when you hear a strange sound. A small, distressing whimper that echoes clearly through the early-morning silence. You scan the area. Bar’leth is a Core World: a safer planet than some, but your bakery is located near one of the seedier areas. It’s an unfortunate tradeoff for the low cost of rent. You don’t see any obvious threats, but you clutch your satchel a little closer to your body, just in case. The cry comes again, and you increase your pace, eyes darting up and down the street. And then you see the source.

A tiny, weeping child huddles on the walkway. He can’t be more than two or three years old.

“Oh, my stars,” you whisper as you hurry over to him. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

He looks up at you, wet tears clinging to his eyelashes. An adorable mop of dark curls tumbles around his face, and his tragic, golden eyes break your heart. He holds his hands up to you, and without a second thought, you scoop him up.

“Where are your parents, darling?” you ask, looking around the deserted street.

He wails something incoherent and buries his face in your shoulder. There is no sign of another living being anywhere. You rub his back consolingly and whisper gentle reassurances. Your heart has already made the decision before your mind can catch up: you can’t leave him out here. Settling him more securely in your arms, you hurry the last couple of blocks to your bakery and let yourself inside, locking the door behind you.

You flip on the lights in the kitchen, and the child ceases his wailing and takes a few shuddering gulps. You check him for injuries and find none; it seems he was merely, understandably, frightened. He peers around the bakery curiously.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask.

He nods, so you pour him a glass of water. He gulps it down while you turn on the oven, watching you with fascinated, intelligent eyes. He sloshes a bit of water on you, and you wonder how you are going to manage your workload with one hand occupied holding him. Just then, he spots a tray of day-old pastries.

“I’m hungry,” he says.

You’re relieved that he speaks Basic. Hopefully that means he can tell you where to find his parents. Your commercial kitchen is not exactly a welcoming environment for a toddler, but you set him down on a footstool and bring him a scone—the plainest one you can find, without too much sugar. Force knows the last thing you need is a toddler on a sugar high bouncing around your kitchen while you try to work.

You introduce yourself and ask, “What’s your name?”

“Boba,” he replies around a mouthful of scone. He has crumbs all over his face already; it’s impressive how quickly he made the mess.

“Boba, do you know where your parents are?”

“Dada went to work.”

“Where does your dad work?” you ask as you tie on your apron.

He shakes his head, and tears well in his eyes again. You feel something tug in your chest, and you blink back tears of your own. You’ve always been a sympathetic cryer, but your heart would have to be made of stone to not be moved by Boba’s woeful expression.

“It’s all right,” you soothe him, crouching down to brush those long curls out of his eyes. “You can stay here with me. We’ll find your dad, I promise.”

He nods with a sniffle, and then dives forward into your arms. You squeeze him tightly to you, then settle him onto your hip and get to work. Luckily, the trays are small enough that you can manage them with only one hand, but eventually, you need both hands to work. You start to shift Boba, and you realize he’s fallen asleep against you. It is far from ideal, so you retrieve a large cushion from the front of the house and set it up out of the way in the kitchen. You lay the boy gently down and get to work, amazed that he can sleep through your racket, but then again, it’s only four o’clock in the morning.

He sleeps for hours, and once you’ve finished prepping the next day’s goods, you change out of your utilitarian apron into the pretty, frilly one you wear when you’re running the register. You hear the back door open, and you turn to see your barista, Siero, staring at the sleeping child.

“What. is. that?” she asks.

“And good morning to you, too,” you say.

“Did you steal that child?” she asks suspiciously.

You roll your eyes. “No, I didn’t steal him. He was wandering alone outside the bakery. I brought him inside so he’d be safe until I can find his parents.”

“Have you checked the Holonet to see if anyone has reported him missing?” Siero asks, ever practical.

“Not yet,” you admit. “I’ve been busy getting ready to open.”

Siero pulls out her datapad and runs a quick search. “Nothing so far,” she says with a frown. “I hope you don’t expect me to watch him.”

“Of course not,” you say. “I’ll take care of him. Maybe his parents will come in. If they don’t, I’ll get in touch with the Children’s Wellness Department after we close up for the day.”

Siero shrugs and pulls on her apron. “Well, I always said you could run this place blindfolded with your hands tied. Looks like I’m about to find out.”

Boba continues to sleep as the first wave of customers makes its way through the shop. Fortunately, there’s a lull by the time he wakes up, and you’re able to take a break and sit with him at one of the tables as he eats a pedunkee mufkin and drinks a cup of hot chocolate that Siero makes for him. After that, you work the register with one hand while you carry him on your opposite hip.

He’s a sweet boy, polite and well-mannered, and your customers are enchanted with him. They are not the only ones; you can feel yourself growing attached, even as you remind yourself how utterly foolish it is to do so. He starts to echo you every time you thank a customer for their business.

“Thank you, come back soon,” he calls, beaming a delighted grin when you laugh.

All too soon, it’s time to close up for the day. Siero heads home, and you flip the Open sign over to Closed as you begin cleaning the bakery. You turn on your favorite old-timey Arcadian jazz music and set Boba down as you sweep the floors, wipe down the tables, and clear out the display case. He follows behind you, eager to help, and you end up swooping him up and dancing with him to the music as he shrieks and giggles with joy.

Ten hours earlier

Jango Fett limps onto the Slave I, lugging a gory bag containing the severed head of his bounty. It had been a brutal hunt—far more difficult than he’d anticipated. He should never have brought Boba with him this time. But by the time he had tracked his target to Bar’leth, it was too late to return the boy to the safety of Kamino. Instead, he’d entrusted him to the care of his not-quite-friend, sometimes-hunting-partner, Mado Kena. The Rodian had not exactly been delighted to be stuck with babysitting duty, and Jango wasn’t thrilled at the idea of leaving Boba in his care, either, but he hadn’t had much choice.

He’d tracked the bounty for hours and finally cornered him in a gambling den. It hadn’t gone well. The man fought back viciously, and Jango took a blaster bolt to his leg. Ultimately, he had killed the bastard. The bounty is lower for his corpse, but still worth enough to cover expenses.

He can’t wait to get off this rock. He hisses with pain as he climbs the ramp to his ship and tosses the bag into the conservator.

“Mado, I’m back,” he calls.

There is no response. The kriffer is probably holed up in his bunk. Jango pounds on the door.

“Mado, wake up, it’s time to go.”

There is no sound from the Rodian. With an exasperated sigh, Jango hits the control panel, and the door slides open. The bunk is empty. Jango stares at it for a moment, then whirls to check his own bunk. It is also empty. Cursing, he runs through the ship, checking every cubby and nook large enough to hold a toddler.

“Boba! Boba, where are you?” he calls, his voice ragged and urgent.

He comms Mado, but there is no response. Gritting his teeth, he calibrates his vambrace to track the comlink. Mado hasn’t gone far, and Jango immediately sets out to find him. His leg screams with agony, but there is no time to stop and apply bacta. He pushes through the pain, and soon tracks Mado to a squalid cantina. The hunter is passed out on one of the tables, and there is no sign of Boba.

Jango seizes Mado by his shirt and drags him to his feet. The hunter startles awake and thrashes in Jango’s grasp. The acrid scent of cheap whiskey oozes from his green skin.

“Where is my son?” Jango growls.

“Wha—what?” Mado stutters, blinking his star-flecked eyes with confusion.

“Where is Boba?” Jango’s voice is hoarse with rage and fear.

“He was just here,” Mado says as he claws at Jango’s fists to try to break his grip. “I got thirsty, so I came over for a drink. I brought him with me, I swear!”

Jango shoves the hunter back down into his seat and whirls to face the bartender. “Have you seen a little boy? He’s only two. Dark hair, brown skin.”

The bartender shrugs. “Sorry, bud, that Rodian was here when I started my shift. Didn’t see a kid with him.”

“Karabast,” Jango spits, rounding on Mado. “If any harm has come to him, there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide.”

The Rodian cowers, and Jango strides out of the cantina, tracking the most important target of his life.

Not many things frighten Jango Fett, but as he chases through the night, his heart pounds, his stomach churns, his gloves grow damp with sweat. The darkness gives way to dawn, and then to the harsh light of morning, and still he hunts. He searches endlessly, desperately, sweeping the seedy district and working his methodical way outward into the fringes of respectable neighborhoods. There is no sign of his son, and panic claws at his throat.

By the time the sun is high overhead, Jango is near despair. He stops to rest his throbbing leg, leaning against a building as he gasps with pain. A flash of movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention, and he turns. Across the street is a quaint little shop with a cheerful sign that reads BAKERY, and through the large windows, he sees a woman twirling with a young child. Jango stiffens.

Boba.

He launches away from the wall and storms across the street, slamming the bakery door open with a shout. “Boba!”

You scream and cower away, shielding the boy with your body. Jango stalks toward you, a huge and intimidating figure in Mandalorian armor.

“Please don’t hurt us!” you cry. “I haven’t cleared the till yet. You can take all the credits, just please, please don’t hurt him.”

Jango skids to a halt. “Hurt him?”

“He’s just a child,” you beg. “Please.”

Jango raises his hands slowly, telegraphing that he’s not a threat. Currently. He breaks the seal on his helmet and removes it, setting it on the table next to him.

“My name is Jango Fett. Boba is my son,” he says.

Your terrified gaze darts to his face. Your hand is cupping Boba’s head protectively, but the boy twists in your arms when he hears his father’s voice.

“Dada!” Boba shrieks, pushing away from you.

You set the boy down with obvious reluctance, and he runs to Jango, who scoops him up into a tight embrace. He clutches Boba to his chest as he examines him for injuries.

“How did he come to be wandering the streets alone in the middle of the night?” you ask, more than a hint of judgment in your tone.

“My friend was supposed to be watching him while I was at work,” Jango replied. “Former friend, I reckon. I’ve been searching for him for hours.”

Boba is babbling happily. You can only understand about half of what he says, but Jango listens gravely to the boy.

“Is that so?” he asks. He shifts his attention to you, and you swallow nervously under the intensity of his scrutiny. “He says you gave him hot chocolate.”

You feel a hot flush wash over you at the disapproval you infer from his words. “Well, it was either that or caf, and I didn’t want to see what would happen if we gave a toddler a double shot of espresso.”

“Thank you for taking care of him,” he says, and his voice is filled with so much relief that you soften instantly.

“I’m glad you found him. He’s a sweet boy.” After a moment’s hesitation, you speak again. “Would you like something to eat? I’ve just closed up for the day, but we have a few things left.”

Jango looks surprised at your offer, but he accepts gladly. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

You pull together an assortment of savory and sweet pastries: a vagnerian canapé, a water-chicken meat pie, a tal-toori, and dameapple turnover. Then you brew a large cup of caf and set it all on the table for him. He has collapsed into one of your big, comfortable armchairs, and Boba is resting against his armored chest. Without his helmet, you can see that he is remarkably handsome, and you smile at the way he rests his cheek on his son’s riotous curls. He looks exhausted; deep circles carved under his eyes—eyes that are exactly the same beautiful, rich brown as Boba’s—and there is a shadow of stubble on his jaw. The Arcadian jazz continues to play, and you pick up your broom to continue cleaning as Jango eats. Boba calls out your name and reaches for you.

“No, Boba,” Jango chides. “Leave the pretty lady alone. She has work to do.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, holding out your arms to Boba.

Jango shrugs and hands his son back to you so he can attack his plate in earnest. You dance as you work, much to Boba’s delight. Jango watches you, admiring the way your body sways to the music. He isn’t blind; he can see that you are a beautiful woman, and he takes a moment to appreciate the way a few strands of hair have worked themselves free from your simple bun to curl in a halo around your face. He realizes that he’s been holding a pastry halfway to his mouth as he watches you twirl and play with his son. He crams the rest hastily into his mouth and takes a long drink of caf to wash it down.

The food is good. Delicious, actually. He’s been eating ration bars for weeks, and he’s almost forgotten what real food tastes like. The warm light of the early afternoon spills into the bakery and bathes the room in a tranquil golden haze. He notices now that there are cheerful vases of fresh flowers on each table, and a low shelf full of books against one wall.

Kriff, he’s so tired. He stretches his legs out gingerly, feeling the ache of his blaster wound. He leans back in the soft chair, just for a moment. Just to rest his leg before making the long walk back to the Slave I.

You finish cleaning the bakery and get everything staged for the next morning, and when you and Boba return to the front of house, you find Jango asleep in your armchair. You finally get a good look at him without feeling quite so awkward and intimidated. He looks younger; his guarded expression relaxes into softness. His head is tilted back, leaving the thick, brown column of his throat exposed. His shoulders are impressively broad, and while some of that bulk is clearly due to his armor, you suspect that most of it is just Jango.

With a tiny smile, you retrieve a picture book from your shelf and settle into another armchair with Boba on your lap. The boy snacks on the leftover scraps from his father’s plate, even though you offer to get him a plate of his own. You read to him until he falls asleep, cuddled safely in your arms.

Jango lurches awake, staring wildly around him, his body tensed for violence. He’s disoriented for a moment, but then he sees you, curled up in an armchair across from him, Boba nestled securely against you. Both of you are fast asleep. He stands, flexing his leg experimentally. He’s not sure how long he was out, but judging by the angle of the sun, it’s been a few hours. He crosses to your armchair and gazes down at you and Boba. Something like tenderness is in his eyes as he smooths your hair out of your face.

Your eyes flutter open at his touch, and you smile up at him drowsily.

“I need to get going,” he says quietly, careful not to wake his son.

You nod your understanding and rise to your feet. He takes Boba and settles him against his shoulder. You help him put on his helmet, and he presses his free fist to his chest in a gesture of respect, careful not to jostle the boy.

“Thank you again,” he says sincerely. “For everything.”

“Of course,” you say. “Tell Boba to come visit me again sometime.”

“He’d like that,” Jango says.

You walk him to the door and watch as he and Boba disappear down the streets of Bar’leth, and as you stand alone in your bakery, the music continues to play.

“Boba Fett?” a man asks. He is wearing civilian clothes, but the stick up his ass has Boba willing to bet a thousand credits that he’s Imperial military.

Boba nods his head.

“The very man I was hoping to find," the man says. His clipped, affected Coruscanti accent grates on Boba's temper."The Empire requires your service. I’m to deliver you personally to Lord Vader’s ship.”

Boba finishes his drink and wordlessly follows the man, and the song plays on in the empty cantina.

---

Tagging:

@secondaryrealm @blueink-bluesoul @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu

This fic has artwork!

#jango fett #jango fett x reader #sw prequels #x reader #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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abandoned-anemoia · 6 months

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Embrasing the Living

☯ Pairing: ghost!Lee Felix x gn!reader ☯ Genre: angst?, fluff ☯ Word count: 1.6k ☯ Summary: You move in to an old, abandoned house rumored to be haunted, and encounter a ghost named Felix who is trapped by a curse. As you grow closer, you attempt to break the curse. Together, you defy supernatural boundaries, discovering a love that transcends life and death. ☯ Warnings: curses/witchcraft?, ghost shit ☯ A/N: This is really bad, I'm sorry lol. It's SUPER cliche and kinda feels like Beauty and the Beast in a way... But! Since it is almost Halloween and I didn't really have time to do Kinktober, I figured I would write a few spooky specials. Please Let me know if I need to add any warnings! ☯Disclaimer: None of my work represents any of the idols included in any way. This is merely fictional and all based on my opinion as a joke! I have nothing against any of these idols and love them all dearly.

Please do not copy, translate, or post as your own!

In a quiet corner of the world, nestled amidst a lush forest, there stood an old, weather-beaten house. Its timeworn facade exuded an eerie charm that only that of an abandoned place could possess. It had been uninhabited for years, with rumors of supernatural occurrences whispered amongst the people, talk of a young man that had disappeared a few years prior. But one fateful day, you decided to make it your home. The house, with its creaky wooden floors and ancient charm, seemed like the perfect place for you to begin a new chapter in your life.

You had always been drawn to unconventional choices, and this house, with its dark and complex history, intrigued you. It was the ideal refuge for a writer, seeking solitude and inspiration from the cryptic household. You packed your bags, said your goodbyes to your old place, and moved into the mysterious abode, ready to confront whatever secrets it held.

The first few weeks in your new home were uneventful, save for the occasional creaking floorboard, blown fuse, or rattling window. You had always been a pragmatic person, dismissing the unsettling sounds as the byproduct of an old house settling into its solitude. You even joked about possibly having a new houseguest.

"Maybe I should start charging rent for my ghostly roommate," You'd chuckle as a stray object fell to the floor for no apparent reason.

Little did you know that your casual jests were not as far from the truth as you had believed.

One crisp autumn night, as you sit at your desk, the air suddenly grew icy. Goosebumps erupt on your arms, and you feel an inexplicable sense of unease. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a small porcelain vase teetering on the edge of the shelf. Before you can react, it topples over and crashes onto the hardwood floor, shattering into a million little pieces.

Startled, you jump up, your heart racing, and stare at the wreckage. You know there was no logical explanation for this incident.

"Okay, that's enough!" you exclaim, half-irritated and half-frightened, "If you want attention, you've got it."

Silence follows, but you can't shake the feeling that you are not alone in your house. You turn off the lights, crawl under your blankets, and try to convince yourself that it was just a coincidence.

The following days brought more unexplained occurrences. Books flew off the shelves, curtains swayed without a breeze, and eerie whispers filled the air. Your initial annoyance evolved into a fascination, and you couldn't help but feel a strange connection with whatever entity shared your home. Nothing ever harmed you, nor was it ever even close to causing you more anguish than just the trouble of cleaning up the messes.

One night, as you sit in the dimly lit living room, reading a book by the fireplace, you whisper into the shadows, "Alright, if you're here, give me a sign."

The room seems to hold its breath for a moment before a soft knocking echoed through the walls. You chuckle, your fear subsiding, "That's more like it. You really know how to make an entrance."

But your light-hearted banter was about to take a serious turn.

As the weeks passed, the disturbances grew bolder. You would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to find your furniture rearranged or your possessions scattered across the room. You couldn't ignore the fact that these events were beyond the realm of natural explanation.

One evening, as you sit in your kitchen, the power in your home goes out. A long sigh leaves your lips as you light the few candles you had gathered.

Once settled into a dining room chair, a sudden gust of wind extinguishes all of the candles. You feel a presence behind you, a gentle, almost comforting energy. Slowly, you turn around and gasp.

There, standing before you, is a faint, ethereal figure of a young man, freckles littered across his cheeks. He looks about your age, with shaggy brown hair and curious, chocolate eyes. You can't help but feel a strange sense of nostalgia, as if you've known him your entire life.

"Hi," You whisper, your voice quivering.

The ghostly boy smiled warmly and nodded.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. "You're real? You're not just some figment of my imagination?"

The boy gestured to himself and the room, as if to say, "Do I look imaginary to you?"

You let out a nervous laugh, realizing you were talking to a ghost, "Okay, this is not what I expected when I moved in here. What’s your name?"

He nods again, seeming to understand your confusion. He points to his throat, then shakes his head sadly.

"You can't talk?" you asked, your heart aching for the lost voice.

The freckled boy raises a hand, indicating to the pen and paper on the kitchen table that you had been using to write your drafts prior to the power going out. You grab them and hand them to him. With shaky hands, he writes, "Felix.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Felix. I’m y/n. Why can’t you speak?” You look at him expectantly with a sad smile.

He begins writing again, “I’m cursed."

Your eyes widened as you read the words, "Cursed? How?"

Felix wrote out his story in painstaking detail. He explained how he had once lived in this very house, how he had been a curious and adventurous young man. But one day, he had stumbled upon an old, dusty book hidden in the attic—the Book of Shadows. Ignoring the warnings scrawled on its pages, he had tried to perform a forbidden spell. A stupid thing, he admitted.

The spell had gone awry, and Felix had been consumed by a powerful curse. He was trapped in a state between life and death, unable to speak, touch, or feel the warmth of the living until the curse was broken. His only solace in his five years of torture was the occasional glimpse into the world of the living, and that's when you moved in.

Tears well up in your eyes as you read Felix's tragic tale. You could see the regret and sorrow in his eyes, even if he couldn't express them in words. You reach out your hand to touch his, to instinctively comfort him in some way, but your fingers pass right through his form.

Determination ignited in your heart, "We'll find a way to break the curse, Felix. I promise."

Felix's eyes sparkled with gratitude and hope.

From that day on, you and Felix became inseparable, despite the physical barrier that separated you. You spent hours researching spells, curses, and anything related to the occult. For weeks, the two of you combed through dusty old books, scoured the internet, and consulted experts in the paranormal.

You found yourself looking forward to your conversations with Felix, cherishing the moments you spent together. You couldn't help but admire his kindness, humor, and the way he had a knack for making you smile even in the darkest of times.

As you delved deeper into your quest, your fascination with Felix grew into something more profound. You admired his resilience and kindness, despite his tragic fate, brought on by being too curious. You found yourself talking to him about your hopes, dreams, and fears, as if he were your most trusted confidant.

And Felix, in turn, was captivated by your spirit and determination. He had watched you from the shadows for so long, afraid to scare you with his presence, but now, he could truly know you. He longed to touch you, to hold your hand, to feel the warmth of your embrace. But the curse remained an insurmountable barrier.

One evening, as you pore over a particularly ancient text, your voice quivers with frustration, "I can't figure it out, Felix. How do we break this curse? There must be something we're missing."

Your love for each other, deep and true, seemed doomed by the curse that bound Felix to the house. But as you sit together in the dimly lit living room, upset by the lack of answers, your hands brush against one other, sending a spark of energy through both of you. Astonished, you reach out again, and this time, your fingers meet warm skin.

In that moment, the power of your love shattered the curse. It wasn't just about finding a solution to the problem; it was about the love that had grown between you.

Felix's form solidified, his translucent figure taking on a warm, human touch. Tears of joy streamed down your face as you hugged him tightly.

Your bond had deepened into something beautiful and profound. It was a love that transcended the physical, a connection that went beyond the tangible. Your love remained unwavering, a beacon of hope in the darkest of times as you attempted to figure out just how you could free Felix, but it seems it was this love that held the key to breaking the curse that had imprisoned Felix for so long.

In that moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, bound by a love that had conquered the darkest of curses. He pulls you close as you hold onto each other, savoring the feeling of your hearts beating as one. And as you embraced, you knew that you had found something truly magical—a love that defied all odds, a love that would last for all eternity.

You were no longer separated by the veil of the supernatural world. Now, you were free to be together, in love, in your charming old house that was no longer haunted. Your love had triumphed over the curse that had held Felix captive for so long, proving that love truly knows no boundaries, not even those between the living and the "dead".

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arealphrooblem · 1 year

Text

Terms of Surrender Part 2

synopsis: The queen of a doomed city makes the deal her husband refused to make with the conquering warlord outside her city's gates.

TW: mentions of suicide (the husband)

Words flew up to her lips and died, leaving them in strangely awkward silence.

“Shall we sit?” the warlord offered, gesturing at a pair of couches off to the side.

She nodded stiffly and followed him. Her hands began to shake and she gripped the silk cushion to hide it.

“My condolences for your husband,” he began. “I am disappointed that I won’t meet him on the battlefield tomorrow.”

His accent rolled musically of his tongue.

“My husband threw himself from the castle tower,” she told him, unable to keep the bitterness at bay. “There are no condolences needed.”

His face hardened. “Indeed. A coward’s way out. And he left you holding the reigns of a doomed city.”

She swallowed down the bile of despair. “Six weeks ago you had offered terms for a peaceful surrender. I have hope that we can revisit them.”

“You mean the terms your husband sent back with the heads of my diplomats.”

She winced. “What my husband did was cruel and stupid. He made reckless decisions with an arrogance that refused to consult anyone. Whatever his faults were, my people do not deserve to pay for them. They don’t understand war or politics, they are just trying to live their lives.”

The warlord looked at her, face passive and unmoved. She mustered up the last dregs of her pride and courage and looks him dead in the eye.

“You terms were generous. He was a fool to throw them away. I am not a fool. Would you please allow me and my city to reconsider them?”

Again that stare — somehow both blank and penetrating. The look of a man used to being underestimated and using that to his advantage. She could relate. It was dangerous to let your face show your true intentions. She leveled him with her own blank and penetrating stare.

You are his equal she reminded herself. Though her husband had tried his hardest to make her feel inferior, she never forgot that she had grown up in the palace, the only child of the emperor, and he had not.

“And what authority do you have to negotiate?” he asked finally, gently. As if afraid of disappointing her.

Pride surged in her, made her chin jut up defiantly. “I didn’t marry into the royal family — that was my husband. I am the last king’s only heir, not him. If anyone should have had authority over this city, it should have been me.”

His eyebrows rose at this new information. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

The hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. The lantern light glints in his dark eyes.

“Your city is the jewel of this continent. I used to dream about it at night. I am not conquering it for the sheer challenge of it, or to sate my bloodlust. I want to expand it’s potential. I offered your husband my terms because I do not want to rule over rubble and the broken spirit of your people. And so, I will grant your request.”

Hope fluttered in her chest, so fragile that it frightened her. But there nonetheless.

“You will?”

“Unlike your husband, I keep my word.”

Relief sapped her of all strength, her knees like jelly. She found herself slipping off the couch and onto the carpet, a pose of supplication, to thank God or the warlord she didn’t know. All she knew was the feeling of hope expanding painfully in her chest. Of Relief that made her want to sob.

“Thank you,” she whispers to the floor.

A hand reaches out and tips her chin up.

“You have too much dignity for this. Stand up.”

The hand flipped over, palm outstretched, and she took it. He lifted her effortlessly to her feet. Standing so close, she was surprised at his stature. Her husband had towered over her, tall and gaunt like a whip. The warlord stands only a few inches taller than her, his build lean but powerful, a heft to him that her husband never had.

“Do you even know what will happen to you?” he asked her, head cocking to the side.

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me,” she replied dismissively.

He looked contemplative at that.

If he wasn’t a fool — and he wasn’t — the warlord would execute her quickly and quietly after cementing his hold on the city. She could inspire too much loyalty to be left to her own devices, or held as a prisoner. The queen accepted such an outcome — it was not personal. Just the rules of succession. All she needed was a death quick and dignified, which she trusted him to give her.

“I will give your city two days to evacuate anyone who wants to leave. They will have safe passage so long as they do not attack. Your army must stay within the walls and give up their weapons. They will either join my ranks or imprisoned until execution. After a term of imprisonment, where I will judge and sort them, your court may join them. As for you . . . Stay away from the tower roof.”

That tiny twitch of a smile again.

“I will follow your terms,” she promised.

“I know. My spies will make sure you do. But I will say, for the sake of posterity, breaking my terms will result in the complete annihilation of your people. Make sure they understand that. Any idiot who wants to make themselves a hero is one thing. But an organized effort is another. You will not have my mercy a third time.”

She swallowed, suddenly dry mouthed. “I understand.”

The warlord led her to the entrance, where three guards and the general waited.

“My general will escort you back,” said the warlord, as the general stepped forward. “He’s very interested in finding the way you escaped.”

The secret of the tunnels was a fair price to pay, but she mourned it all the same.

He gave her one last heavy look. “I will see you in two days’ time.”

Part 3 Here

tagging: @cesspitoflove and @aprilraine

#my writing #not a prompt #hero x villain #heroine x villain #queen x warlord #fantasy/historical setting

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acoupofowls · 7 months

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Other Worlds: An Anthology of Diverse Short Fiction

Short stories by writers from marginalised and/or underrepresented communities or backgrounds exploring the theme of "Other Worlds"

KICKSTARTER NOW LIVE and SUBMISSIONS OPEN!

Other Worlds is the second print anthology brought to you by A Coup of Owls Press - home of online quarterly anthologies from creators from marginalised and/or underrepresented communities or backgrounds.

As a follow-up to Other & Different, which explored what it is to be othered, Other Worlds will be an exploration of places, situations, communities, etc, that are other. These might be actual other worlds in a science or speculative fiction genre, or a community, or a situation in the historical or modern world that feels or is made to feel alien. Encompassing a variety of styles and genres, Other Worlds will feature stories focused on the theme of being part of those othered communities - however the writers wish to interpret that.

THE STORIES

We are thrilled to confirm that we have invited five fantastic authors to contribute to Other Worlds, and our submissions for the remaining stories are open from 1st October to 15th November 2023.

For more submissions guidelines and to submit, check out our submissions page.

Eve Morton: Strange people with strange purposes gather in Haven (Science Fiction).

Eve Morton is a poet, professor, and parent living in Waterloo, Ontario. She likes coffee, short stories, and horror movies--in that order. Weblinks: website

Previous publications include: A Coup of Owls, Other Stories Podcast and Third Flatiron Publishing

Victor Okechukwu: A post-civil war community feels cut off from the rest of Nigeria when a woman's only son enters a train to Jos but may not return (Modern Nigerian Lit).

Victor Okechukwu is a writer based in Lagos, Nigeria. His writing takes a deep setting in arresting issues of mental health that have been overlooked in his country. He's an Associate Prose Editor at Zerotic Press and is reading mass communication at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. Weblinks: Twitter

Previous publications include: Gordon Square Review, Mycelia, Door-is-a-jar, and Rigorous Magazine

Von Reyes: Violence and intimacy become blurred and life might just be worth fighting for amongst a community of underground fighters (Speculative Fiction).

Von Reyes is an emergent fiction author, focused on uplifting the intersections of queer and trans masculinity and Asian diasporic identity. He focuses on genre fiction with themes of surrealism, queer sexuality, existentialism, and optimistic nihilism. He is passionate about creating a more socially conscious world where care for each other is at the core of all that we do. He hopes to tell stories that don't shy away from the horrors, but allows us to find the light within them. When he isn't writing, he can usually be found chasing the ocean and his next iced coffee. Weblinks: website

Previous publications include: The Good Men Project. Forthcoming in Chill Mag.

Zachary Rosenberg: A Jewish soldier and rancher must contend with mysterious monsters to build the home he longs for (Horror Western).

Zachary Rosenberg is a horror writer living in Florida. He crafts horrifying tales by night and by day he practices law, which is even more frightening. His debut novella Hungers as Old As This Land is out now from Brigids Gate Press and his second, The Long Shalom, is available from by Off Limits Press. Weblinks: Twitter

Previous publications include: Dark Matter Magazine, The Deadlands, and the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

Samir Sirk Morató: When an Appalachian community clashes with their neighbors—a grove of sentient, dying chestnut trees—tragedy strikes (Horror).

Samir Sirk Morató is a scientist, artist, and flesh heap. They are also a 2022 Brave New Weird shortlister and a F(r)iction Fall 2022 Flash Fiction finalist. Samir spends most of their time tending to their cacti and contemplating the nature of meat. Weblinks: Twitter, Instagram, and website

Previous publications include: Neon Hemlock, bodyfluids, Catapult, and Seize the Press.

COVER ART

We can't wait to share with you the amazing cover art currently being created by amazing artist @pangaeastarseed.

Pangaea is a life-long artist and resident of the DC suburbs. A freelance illustrator with 20+ years experience, Pan’s work focuses on figure work and visual narratives utilizing the exploration of queerness, food as a love-language, and colors influenced by their florid synaesthesia.

Pangaea’s previous work includes custom illustration commissions and tattoo designs for clients; Starseed, an original gay-porn-space-opera comic, The Alien Dick Coloring Book, sketchbook zines Cardassia Prime and Cardassia Kotok, and the Washington DC-variant poster design of The Lambda Literary Awards 2022.

Portfolio: https://www.pangaeaillustrations.com/

WHY KICKSTARTER?

We want to ensure that we produce the high quality product that we know we can! Whilst design, layout and formatting happens in-house, Kickstarter funds will help cover pay for our authors, cover artist and editor.

REWARDS

Add Ons!

We have a variety of extras available in the add-ons, from extra copies to special collected editions. Whilst we've tried to create reward tiers to suit everyone, the add-ons will better allow you to mix and match to your preference!

Our own @maxturnerwrites is once more offering some of his own work at discounted prices for supporters.

STRETCH GOALS!

£1000 : at £1000 we will add an Other Worlds bookmark for each physical backer

£1250 : at £1250 we will add an A5 print of cover art (without title) to each physical backer, and an e-copy of the same to each e-backer

£1500 : at £1500 we will add an Other Worlds tote bag for each physical backer

#kickstarter #call for submissions #open submission #short stories #speculative fiction #anthology #fantasy #folklore #horror #science fiction #writers of tumblr #writing

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chiefduckgarden · 6 months

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No worries - Halloween Special

A/N: This is complete inspired in LYKN short film "No worries".

Natasha wasn't in the room when you woke up. You didn't know what time it was, but from the darkness outside the window, you could tell that night had fallen.

You got up and saw a note taped to the mirror across from your bed: "See you in the lobby, the new guys will be on their own today". You rolled your eyes playfully and removed the note from the mirror. Beside it, on the footrest of the bed, your friend had left your sheet. With a smile, you picked it up and headed to the lobby.

When you finally arrived, you noticed that the spot usually occupied by the hotel receptionist was empty. There were a couple of items scattered on the counter and on the floor. Natasha had started without you. How unfair.

Suddenly, a scream echoed from the employees' lounge. You chuckled, knowing exactly what was going on, and draped the sheet over yourself before walking over there. You adjusted the small holes to align with your eyes and opened the door.

Kate and Peter, the new night shift employees, were huddled in a corner, almost hugging each other. Natasha stood in front of them, wrapped in her sheet, tossing cushions at the poor kids.

When you opened the door, they screamed again, but this time, they took the opportunity to run out. Natasha turned in your direction, and once the kids had left the room, she threw off the sheet.

-Wow, you finally woke up - she said, smiling - This was getting very boring without you.

-Well, you were the one who didn't wait for me - you replied - I know it's fun, but I think sheets are pretty old-fashioned at this point, Nat. We can move things without wearing sheets, and people would still get scared.

She shrugged and flopped down onto the sofa - Doesn't matter - she said - I like the sheets. They make people run from something.

You laughed a little and threw a cushion at her face.

-Come on, no resting, those kids are around here hiding, and we have to find them - you said, leaving the room, knowing Natasha would follow you immediately.

You didn't know how you had ended up there. All you remembered was seeing a white light, and then you appeared in the hotel. It was a strange sensation; you could see everyone, you could move things, but people couldn't see you.

You knew you weren't alive; Natasha had explained it to you from the first day. You weren't like Kate and Peter; you didn't have a physical body. But you knew you had had a life. You just couldn't remember it.

Natasha had been there since the day you arrived. She had been there longer than you, so long that she had lost count. She was your only company, the only one there besides you.

She had taught you everything you knew: people couldn't see you, they could see the things you moved but not you; you could wander all around the hotel but couldn't leave it; people got more scared if you put a sheet over yourself and chased them. It was all very straightforward. Living in the hotel was simple.

You enjoyed scaring people; thanks to you and Natasha, the hotel had gained a reputation for being haunted. This caused fewer people to visit the place most of the year. You and Natasha took it upon yourselves to frighten any tenant who arrived, especially the employees. Natasha said it was better for the hotel to be empty; that way, it was better for both of you.

The trend of few tenants only broke during the month of October, as Halloween approached. The haunted hotel hosted a massive Halloween party for which people lined up to enter. But on that day, people didn't bother you and Natasha at all; that day was different.

-This key lets us open the door to this world and cross over to theirs - Natasha told you as October 31 approached, showing you a small cabinet key - We are given the opportunity to spend one night among them, one night where they can see us, where we can interact. We just have to return before dawn, or else… we start over. Do you understand?

Starting over. That's what happened if you left the hotel, if you didn't return by sunrise on a Halloween night, or if a new soul arrived. You would begin a new cycle of life, in the purest form possible – you would become a baby again. You didn't know much about the concept, but you had to avoid it; you didn't want to stop being you, you didn't want another life.

You didn't have to worry about that for a long time. Not until now.

After scaring the poor employees a bit more, Natasha and you returned to the room, laughing. You spent a few minutes, distracted, admiring the view from your window before Natasha called you.

-Y/N… - you heard her concerned voice behind you - I think… Someone else is coming.

You turned to look at her and found a weakened Natasha, with a bright light emanating from her body… fading away.

-Nat… what's happening? Why are you…?

-I'm going to start over, Y/N. Someone else is coming, and I must go… - she reminded you - You will have someone else here with you… you must teach them everything, Y/N…

-No, Nat… I don't want someone else… please - you pleaded, but it was in vain. Natasha disappeared within seconds. You ran to where your friend had been just moments ago, but there was nothing there.

It was then that you heard her sweet voice for the first time.

-Hello, my name is Wanda - she said smiling.

Life with Wanda was different. She quickly understood everything you taught her, and you enjoyed her company. You cherished her presence more than anything else.

She was young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. She was friendly, cheerful, warm… beautiful. She enjoyed scaring tenants as much as you did. She even asked you to make her own sheet.

Kate and Peter were already starting to become immune to the scares, but Wanda and you continued to chase them every night. You loved the way she laughed.

The few tenants who arrived during the year would run out of the place within hours. Wanda liked being the one to scare them first; she would burst into laughter when people got scared for the first time.

So time passed. It was just Wanda and you in your own world. You knew you weren't alive; you didn't have a beating heart; but when Wanda was near, you felt different. You didn't quite know what it was, you just wished to have her close to you forever.

You loved it when she held your hand. Sometimes it happened unconsciously while you were walking, or when you slept. That's when you began to wonder if she felt the same way as you. If she desired you as much as you desired her. Even if she didn't, having her there with you was enough.

But one day, he arrived.

Wanda and you were waiting for the new tenant in his room. As always, you would let her scare him first. You were lying on the bed, watching Wanda when the room's door creaked open. Wanda jumped in front of the man, whispering a 'boo,' causing a slight breeze to come in through the window.

Any person would have been scared. You expected a reaction from him, but he did nothing. He just stared into space, with sadness in his eyes. He looked at Wanda in front of him, and Wanda was puzzled, just like you, but she kept watching him.

Wanda could feel it; he was different.

You watched them from the bed. You knew the man couldn't see Wanda, but it seemed like he could feel her. It seemed like they were locking eyes.

She stopped smiling. She felt something, she was feeling something. But she didn't know what.

The man snapped out of the trance a few seconds later and walked, passing through Wanda.

Nothing would ever be the same.

She couldn't help it. She was drawn to that blond man. Both seemed to share a feeling of nostalgia. Wanda spent hours watching him, longing for him.

Vision Jarvis. You found out his name three days after his arrival when the hotel staff asked for his confirmation to stay a few more days. The guy didn't talk much; he interacted only when necessary and spent the rest of his days thinking, observing… feeling.

Since his arrival, Wanda hadn't been the same. It seemed like Mr.Jarvis had infected her with his sadness. He looked around, and Wanda looked at him.

You tried to cheer her up, tried to return to normalcy, but she couldn't. Something bound her to that man. You didn't understand what was happening to her, but you tried to make her smile. You stopped scaring for a while, even Peter and Kate could work in peace.

-Hasn't this happened to you with any other tenant, Y/N? - Wanda asked - It's like I can't do anything else but think about him.

No, it had never happened to you before. At least, not with someone alive. Only with Wanda.

Soon you understood the reason behind the situation.

Jarvis carried a photo of Wanda with him. One day, he simply took it out of his luggage and stared at it for hours. Wanda, who was beside him, looked at him, tears streaming down her face.

You watched the scene, unable to help feeling jealous. Wanda should be looking at you like that, not at him. It wasn't fair.

-Maybe we were together - Wanda spoke as soon as she noticed your presence - We were very close…

Things only got worse after that discovery. Jarvis cried for Wanda. Wanda cried for Jarvis. And you cried for Wanda.

Everything reached its breaking point one day when you went to Jarvis's room but didn't find Wanda there. That was unusual. You searched everywhere until you came across a sheet crying on the top floor. You walked slowly towards her, noticing her sobs.

-Hey, you're not watching him today… - you said, wrapping your arm around her to offer some comfort.

She shook her head.

-I can't do it anymore, Y/N, it hurts. I can't remember anything, but I can feel it… I can feel his pain… I just feel him - she said.

Your heart broke a little with her words, but you held your ground. You couldn't see her face; she still had the sheet over her, but you knew she was crying.

Halloween was approaching. It would hurt your soul for what you were about to do, but you couldn't bear seeing her so sad.

-I will help you be with him - you said - I will take you to his world… you just have to promise to come back before dawn.

She looked at you, confused, but you simply showed her the key. She remembered quickly and joyfully pounced on you, hugging you tightly.

October 31 came faster than you would have wished. The hotel had been preparing for its annual Halloween party over the last few days; Wanda had spent more time than usual with Jarvis, longing for the moment they would finally meet.

The hotel was bustling with people, the music blaring, and Jarvis was alone at the bar.

Wanda and you waited for the clock to strike midnight. You would only have until seven in the morning to wander around. In previous years, Nat and you enjoyed dancing, drinking, eating… even getting to know people. But this time, you didn't want to do anything else but go back through the door and stay with Wanda all night.

As soon as you crossed, Wanda ran out, but you grabbed her arm to stop her for a moment.

-Hey, Wanda… remember you have to come back before dawn…

She smiled at you - I know, I'll be back in time - she said, raising her pinkie finger as a promise. You smiled and intertwined your pinkie finger with hers.

As soon as Wanda walked through that door into the party room, Jarvis recognized her instantly. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion for you. They embraced, Jarvis smiled for the first time since he arrived at the hotel, and he gently caressed Wanda's face.

-Wanda, darling… - he whispered so intimately. You wished you could whisper her name like that.

You couldn't bear to watch anymore. You left the party and locked yourself in another room. People could see you, but you preferred to pretend you were still invisible. You took the sheet you had always used, covered yourself with it, and sat on the floor, waiting for the time to return.

It was 6:30 when you returned to the party in search of Wanda.

She seemed entranced by Jarvis. Both of them were in their own world, oblivious to the rest of the people. You sat in front of them at the bar, and when she noticed your presence, you simply pointed at the watch on your wrist.

She knew her time was almost up. She looked at Jarvis, who tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she rested her head on his shoulder, intertwining their hands.

You looked at her one last time before leaving the place, waiting for her in the hallway in front of the door to cross back.

A few minutes later, both of you were in front of the door again. This time, you were more lively than before, but Wanda looked miserable.

-I don't think I can cross, Y/N… - she told you.

-What? - you asked, surprised - Wanda, if you don't come back… you'll…

-I know, I know… but it would be better to end all this suffering… I don't think I can keep living with this feeling… I feel hurt all the time, Y/N, I just can't bear it anymore - she said, on the verge of tears, looking in the direction where Jarvis was.

Your heart broke hearing her so sad. You wanted to find a solution, but nothing seemed to work. Wanda was determined.

-And… what if you take him with you? - you suggested as a last resort.

She looked at the boy one more time, shaking her head a few seconds later.

-I can't do that. I want him to live a happy and long life… he deserves it… besides, we can't have anyone else here, remember? - You closed your eyes, trying not to cry - Just go back, Y/N. Time is running out, and you have to return.

You knew what you had to do. Wanda deserved more time. You had been there long enough.

You hugged her one last time. You tried to memorize how it felt to have her close. Tears streamed down your face; you couldn't stop crying.

You looked toward where Jarvis was and saw him approaching. You broke the embrace and took Wanda's hands in yours one last time, smiling at her. When Jarvis was by your side, you placed Wanda's hands onto his.

Wanda and Jarvis would have a long time in the hotel. They would enjoy the time that had been stolen from them in life. You had spent so much time there that, just like Natasha, you had lost count. But you felt at peace with yourself. Somehow, your time had come.

The young couple walked towards the door. Jarvis was willing to leave everything for Wanda… and so were you.

Wanda looked at you one last time before the door closed. You could sense her sadness, but also her gratitude. You could even swear you saw some resistance in her; as if she didn't want to let you go.

You just smiled at her, letting her know that everything was okay. You were okay because she was okay. Slowly, you faded away, and the door closed. You had started anew.

You can watch the original video here, it's so freaking good:

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silkendandelion · 4 months

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My Own, Distant Home (Completed), A Fears to Fathom: Ironbark Lookout fanfiction

Chapter 2 (END), ao3 link

Jack Nelson x Connor Hawkins Words: 16.6k Genre: Horror, humor, smut

"Jack thinks him a good guy, Connor, despite what others probably thought. He wasn’t particularly friendly, a bit of a short fuse, but he took his job seriously, and didn’t forget to wish Jack well, even among his rush for a solution. Some people would call that dedication. Jack decided, as he tied his boot laces, that it was endearing."

A romantic, creepy, canon-compliant retelling of the game's narrative where Jack and Connor are more fleshed out characters, and not immune to the emotional threads that form when your only friend is a voice on the radio—until he isn't.

Rated Explicit for sexual content, strong language, horror elements, frightening imagery and descriptions of violence.

Cross-posted to ao3, same username, here.

Cheers to rarepairs, and to all the people who had a crush on Connor during the game: I have heard you. If you like Firewatch, or Do You Copy, check out fears to fathom, you could play the entire series in a day but I liked Ironbark the best. Even if you haven't played the game, I'm sure this can be read alone for people who like horror and making love in a thunderstorm 💙

Chapter 1 (Below)

It was only a transfer.

Not usually a big deal, this other park needed to fill a lookout position urgently, and Jack was probably the best suited for it. Not only because his coworkers spoke highly of him, but because he had the RV, and relocating was as easy as driving down the road. When you’re this free, no wife, no friends, no obligations, 2 hours is nothing to go to the next job.

Yeah, he thought as his eyes wandered off the road to the side mirror, the endless blacktop behind him, the empty road in front of him. No obligations. Free.

So why did driving up to the trail-head make his stomach ache?

He blamed it on his last meal in civilization for the time being: a perfectly greasy, buttery cheeseburger, no doubt made by a certified home-cooked chef with hairy arms. He wasn’t used to eating out, eating so much, and in hindsight, the large coke was a bit of an Icarus move.

Just a bit of indigestion, nothing to worry about.

Not at all related to his walk to the gas station next door for cigarettes that was interrupted by a creepy local. The one leaning against his car and mouth-harassing his own hamburger, gossiping cryptically about big foot and missing kids like he was a Stephen King minor character. Real “you wanna watch out for that road” stuff.

The same missing kids on the poster across from the gate office. Gone without a trace, with no more search parties willing to keep looking after they lost some of their own people to what witnesses called “strange whistling in the dark”. Anyone saner, smarter, might have gotten back in their RV and not looked back. But Jack loved nature, and liked his job. Until he heard this strange whistling for himself, he had bills to pay and a guy named Billy to see for check-in.

The light to the guard shack was on, the door unlocked as he turns the handle. Worn out and road-fatigued, his brain hardly lends him the advice he should have probably called out to see if anyone was inside. His eagerness earns him a twin-barrel to the face, and a rightfully earned yell from both of them.

“You scared the piss out of me!” The ranger scolded him, and Jack fired back—

“Do you shove a gun in the face of everyone who sneaks up on you? What if I was a camper?”

“You can’t be too careful out here. There’s bobcats, bears and—wait, you say you’re not a camper? What are you doing barging in here anyway?”

“I’m Jack Nelson… Your new hire? Tower 11?”

“Well,” the mustached man regarded him with suspicion beneath his black cowboy hat. “Tower 11 is empty, but I didn’t hear about any new hire. Give me a second.”

“Oh,” Jack refrains from saying anything nasty, regardless of his fatigue, and puts up a patient, half smile. “Sure. Take all the time you need.”

He wandered out of the shack, back to the billboard with the missing poster, only half-reading the posted copy of the trail map he already owned when Billy came back out.

“You’ve been vetted. Sorry about all that, I don’t check my email as often as I should. You must be tired from driving, I’ll just take a copy of your ID and get the gate open so you can start the hike up to the tower.”

Billy was gone for only a minute before he came back, enough time for Jack to get his duffel and lock the RV. He handed back his ID, and pushed open one of the arms of the gate.

“… Hey.” He called before Jack could get passed him.

“Tower 12 is your closest neighbor, call him if you need anything. And don’t—I mean, do NOT go out further than maybe a 1/4 mile north of your tower on foot. Got it?”

“Uh, sure?” Jack gapes at him, unprepared. “Why?”

“It’s dangerous out that way. You’ve got bears, bobcats, all sorts of stuff.”

“Right… Thanks again, Billy. Goodnight.” He waved, eager to make some distance between him and this newest creepy local, and start wearing down the trail to his tower.

Did everyone in this town take etiquette lessons from a paperback horror novels? They were at least in the same book club, which actually wouldn’t be weird for such a small, quiet place.

The walk to the tower is easy, if a little cold by the time he crosses the creek. Tower 11 sits up against a nearby radio spire, lit up red and guiding him to the foot of his home for the foreseeable future. He knows to gas up the generator and crank it before he starts up the long flights of stairs to the top, and the tower cabin, small but not cramped, is a welcome sight.

The sheets on the bed are clean, free of holes and smelling of cheap detergent (ocean breeze something, he guessed), and the good burn of a wood fire seems to be baked into the panel walls and secondhand furniture. All his needed tools are haphazardly scattered but identifiable at a glance, and the fridge, beginning to kick on, is filled with old, freezer burned food.

Not rotted, there’s no unpleasant smell besides stale, and the room is otherwise well-kept, but he can’t help feel that the last occupant left in a hurry. Beside the bed lay a pair of abandoned wool slippers, and those go in the trash too.

All he needs to do is lay out his blanket and pillow to call himself moved in, and getting a fire going is even faster. He’s tying off the trash, waiting for the microwave to finish heating up a cup of coffee, when his radio, boxy and cumbersome on the little desk, clicks to life.

Static greets him before another male voice, deeper than his own.

‘I saw the lights go on. You copy, new guy?’

“Yeah, hey. I’m Jack.” He squeezes the receiver on and off as he sits in the old, steel chair in front of the desk, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.

‘Connor, Tower 12. Your new neighbor, I guess.’

A beat of silence, and then a click. “Billy mentioned you, just not by name. Nice to meet you.”

He hears Connor hum into the receiver, distantly wondering if it was a sound of irritation at him or something Jack couldn’t see. ‘Well, you got a fire started, that’s good. It’s good to see Tower 11 alive again.’

With a pause, his voice was friendly again, like whatever he was worried about suddenly resolved itself. ‘Anyway, don’t let me keep you. Oh, and don’t forget to submit your report before you go to bed.’

Jack suppresses his yawn with a wince—half headache, half ready for bed, and clicks the receiver. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

‘Get some rest, new guy, don’t let the bed bugs bite. Over and out.’

“Over and out.”

The radio dims with no open connection, and Jack forgets his coffee in the microwave when he can’t manage to avoid dozing off in the chair.

A few hours pass, midnight rolls upon the park and an unintelligible static rouses him from his sleep. He wants to investigate, his instincts whispering to him that something was wrong, something lurking in the forest beyond his tower, but an ache in his lumbar and the pressure in his bladder leaves no room for anything except the urgency to get comfortable quick. He stretches until his back gives a satisfying crack, and with a quick leak off the railing of the tower, he falls into bed without another thought.

NIGHT 2

On nights like this, Jack can imagine being a lookout forever, nipped by the last throes of winter on a chilly wind yet cradled safely between the warmth bleeding out of his tower and the hot coffee in his hands. Perched up high, nearly brushing against the clouds, the sunset seems brighter than down on the trail, all melted pinks and oranges that don’t begin to betray how in less than an hour the forest will be all but black.

The static of his radio breaks the silence.

‘New guy, this is Connor from Tower 12. Do you copy?’

He drops his empty mug among the dirty dishes from dinner when Connor speaks again. ‘Tower 11, do you copy?’

“Tower 11, I copy. What’s up, Connor?” Jack answers before he eases himself into the desk chair.

‘Son of a bitch! Nobody bothers to get a camping permit anymore. Do you have eyes on the smoke north of your position? Looks like it’s off the Lacey Trail.’

“Give me a second, I’ll check.”

He grabs his binoculars, is almost out the door when Connor’s opening the line again. ‘I need you to confirm.’

“You can hang on, it won’t kill you,” says Jack to himself while peering off the railing. Exactly as Connor described it, north of his tower, and near enough to likely be off the Lacey trail—a closed area—he spies the telltale white smoke of a campfire.

‘Do you see that smoke up north?’, comes the radio again and Jack answers with what he hopes passes for patience.

“I see it.”

‘Shit. People like that don’t clean up after themselves either, and fire risks are high this season. Do you mind checking it out?’

“I’ll head up there, and report back anything I find.” He rises to get his coat and boots.

‘Stay safe out there, new guy. Don’t forget to carry your bear spray. Over and out.’

Jack thinks him a good guy, Connor, despite what others probably thought. He wasn’t particularly friendly, a bit of a short fuse, but he took his job seriously, and didn’t forget to wish Jack well, even among his rush for a solution. Some people would call that dedication. Jack decided, as he tied his boot laces, that it was endearing.

Lacey Trail was several miles away on foot, no matter how close the smoke had seemed in the binoculars, and he pocketed both his bear mace and his flashlight before leaving the tower.

~*~

Unseasonably cold air nips through his fleece jacket, fingers already red around the knuckles as he fumbles to zip himself up. The beam of the flashlight bobs about over the dark trail, “3.2 miles” the optimistic sign had declared back near his tower. Only, the longer he walked, surrounded only by the icy wind biting on his ears and a deafening chorus of insects, the more it felt like “ETA unknown”.

A campfire lights the path around a bend in the trail, a match flame at the end of the path.

Whatever he wanted to call out, “hello”, or “get lost”, was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a man’s scream.

He makes no attempt to call back, taking off in a sprint towards the glowing campsite. The campfire in the center of a couple picnic tables and a tent illuminates the entire clearing between the trees, fresh wood popping, what must have been tossed in only minutes ago. But the campsite is empty. The tent’s open flap reveals a rumpled sleeping bag, the tables are crowded with an oil lantern, a battery-powered radio, and heaps of fresh food—but completely empty.

“Hello? Where are you?” He shouts into the dark with no answer. On the side of the clearing closest to the creek, a closed gate and red sign read ‘No camping allowed’.

“Are you hurt? Where—oh!” Jack coughs out a startled grunt, nearly tripping into the dirt over what he discovers is an abandoned flashlight.

His blood chills, colder than the unseasonable weather. Beyond the cautionary signs, where the darkness swallows the unkempt trail, drifts up the sound of a whistle. A human whistle, devoid of any recognizable melody.

It’s all he can do to stagger back, swipe an empty dinner pot from the picnic table and douse the fire with cold water from the creek. He tosses an unseeing glance over his shoulder, and is hoofing it out of the campsite and up the trail before the campfire has even stopped sizzling.

The cold air stings his lungs as he runs most of the trail back, hot blood thrumming into his ears and all but drowning out the insects. Were he less panicked, he would have heard over the sound of his own breathing that the insects had actually stopped, startled to silence by the looming shape in the treeline.

~*~

The glow of his tower beckons him home, and he scrambles his faculties to remember to grab firewood before climbing the steps, as well as relieve himself in the portable toilet beside the stairs. With what he witnessed, too vivid to not want to trust his own eyes but too strange to possibly be real, he wasn’t sure he would have the nerve to walk back down before dawn.

His radio flashes with an open channel, presumably Tower 12, and he sits heavy down in the metal chair. “Tower 12, do you copy?”

Beats of silence remind him his blood has yet to warm up.

‘Loud and clear, new guy. Sorry for delay, I was just cooking up some hot—’ Connor pauses, too much like Jack did when he thought he was being boring.

‘Nevermind that. What did you find out there?’

“The campsite was abandoned. Not a soul around,” Jack said, pushing down his nausea and the phantom sound of an eerie whistle.

‘Are you—’ A loud clang in the receiver, like a fork dropped in a bowl. ‘Kidding me? Son of a bitch. People like them are part of the problem, and on top of everything they run off.’

Jack fingers the sleeve on his jacket, realizing suddenly he had been too worked up to shrug off his fleece or his boots when he came inside. “I put out the fire, but there’s nothing else we can do tonight.”

‘No no, I get it… Thanks for checking it out, Jack. Tomorrow morning, I’ll report it to the authorities and they can take care of it.’

The words are out of Jack’s mouth before he can scold himself for being frightened in front of someone else. “I heard a scream. Honestly, I feel kind of bad for not sticking around to look harder.”

‘A scream? Probably just a red fox, they sound almost like a screaming lady when the rest of the forest is buzzing.’

Jack clamps down on a protest that it was a man’s scream, clearly no fox, then Connor is speaking again.

‘This is the third time this month. Ever since those kid’s went missing, there’s all sorts of rumors about the area being haunted, and we just can’t keep people out. Well, maybe I could, but not from this tower. I’ve got a job to do.’

The whistle is back in his mind, as vivid as Connor’s voice over the radio but, again, Jack keeps that to himself.

‘Well.’ Connor breaks him from his thoughts. ‘I’ll let you get to dinner, or whatever it is you do after you log off. Goodnight. Over and out.’

“Goodnight, Connor.”

2:27AM

He can’t explain what wakes him.

Nothing immediately seems wrong but he can’t begin to trust his senses, not with the greasy film that smudged his eyes no matter how hard he blinked, the heaviness of his limbs, and a sluggish mind at the helm, ripped from the deepest parts of his sleep cycle.

But even blind, dumb, and lame—he knew he was being watched.

Weak hands scrubbed at his face, trying to clear the sleep, until the room came into some kind of focus. Moonlight drifted in the one open panel behind his computer desk, casting the upright shadow of a—

His heart all but stopped. He squinted, unbelieving, blinking more at the peculiar silhouette painted across his front door. Unclear if it was man or beast, the sloped shoulders suggested humanoid but the shape of the head, wide with points that could be horns or ears in the dark made him unable to do anything more than stare.

Struck by a sudden wave of courage, he leapt up from the bed, throwing the blanket aside without certainty his legs would support him, and dashed to the light switch.

The shadow vanished with the incandescent bulb over head, banished by the light but lending no evidence as to whether it was some paranormal, hungry entity vulnerable to light, or something more secular afraid to be caught. Jack didn’t know which was worse, and standing alone in the center of his floor, he could finally hear how fast his heart was racing.

Whether by insanity or curiosity, though they hardly seemed different from where he stood, one of his shaking hands grabbed his bear mace while the other went for the door. The abrupt quietness of the night lent him courage where it shouldn’t, and upon venturing outside he was horrified to realize he was truly, tragically alone.

Or he was now.

Against the railing, and almost disturbed by the bear mace that clattered to the ground, was a skull.

Goat, from what limited knowledge he had, flanked by a few, worn, lit candles, and smeared across the ivory forehead with a red symbol he refused to get closer to identify either it’s shape or composition. He resigned to shove the door shut, slamming the lock’s hammer in place with no regard for the bear mace he abandoned.

“Tower 12, come in.” He tries the radio receiver, met with static. “Tower 12, can you hear me?”

More static and another beat of silence makes his stomach ache. “Connor, I need you to wake up.”

He’s never been so happy to hear the quiet click of another radio opening the line.

‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’

“This is an emergency.”

‘Are you okay? What’s happened?’ Connor immediately sounds more awake, like he’s sat up straight.

“Someone’s been on my tower, I woke to—I heard footsteps, it woke me up.”

‘Are you kidding me?’ Less composed now, angry but not nearly as when he vented about the campers earlier that evening. Though it was easily explained by the remnants of sleep clinging to him.

“I think they’re gone now.”

‘Did you see what they looked like?’

Jack’s mind raced back to the shadow, the beastly silhouette, and the footsteps that seemed to vanish when they passed by his door.

“N-No, but they left a skull on my doorstep. An animal skull, goat or—something, with candles, what looked like blood. Sick shit, Connor, I don’t—know—”

‘Take a deep breath, new guy. Let’s think about this rationally. You went and investigated a fire tonight, right?’

“… Yeah.”

‘So we know there’s unregistered campers in the area who don’t care about rules or regulations, probably bratty kids or college students. Suppose they wanted to get back at the fire watcher who doused their evening, it wouldn’t be that far of a walk. It’s just kids, Jack, don’t let it bother you.’

“You—” He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “You’re right.”

‘Did you happen to get a photo of the thing?’

“I didn’t think about it.”

‘No shame in that. It’s all right to be riled up, but it’s not okay to panic. Lock your door, try to get some rest. Take a photo in the morning, and we can file a report with the authorities.’

But no sooner was Jack beginning to calm down, the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise, his stomach tightening with the idea that Connor was only coming to the conclusion of what limited information he had.

“Connor?”

Sleepier now, the other man’s voice came back a bothered rumble. ‘Yeah, Jack?’

“What if it’s related to the disappearances? At the campsite tonight, sure, it was empty but I heard… I heard whistling beyond the barriers for the closed trails. It’s a heck of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

For all his neighbor’s frustration at being woken so suddenly, there was no doubt that he was fully awake now, deliberately staying quiet on the other end of the line as Jack waited for any kind of answer.

‘New guy… You don’t believe all those rumors, do you?’

Behind his ribs, Jack’s heart is back to hammering. “Nah. No, I mean. You’re right, it’s gotta be kids.”

Connor didn’t seem convinced, even for a disembodied voice. ‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll send someone to check on you tomorrow. For now, try to get some sleep, new guy. There’s nothing we can do in the dark.’

“Yeah… Thanks. Of course.” He rakes his hand through his hair like if it might knock his anxiety loose. “Goodnight, Connor.”

‘Goodnight, Jack.’

~*~

The skull was gone when he awoke the next morning. Nothing ever came of the report, and for a short time, the forest was quiet.

He’s gotten quite used to this little routine: submit his report, have dinner, say goodnight to Connor, bed.

Check the weather, put dinner in the oven, submit his report while talking to Connor, bed.

So they continued for days, falling into the comfort of predictability and looking forward to their goodnight radio checks.

‘Honestly, I envy you a little bit,’ said Connor one night while Jack posted himself up beside the radio, blanket around his shoulders and holding a hot mug of coffee. Probably not the best idea before lights out, but the warmth in his core more than made up for what his little wood stove lacked in power.

“Envy me? Why?” Jack sipped quietly.

‘You’ve got the RV, you can literally just pick up and go wherever you want. Hell, you did it once already when you relocated out here.’

“It’s… lonelier than I like to admit.”

Down in his cup, Jack could see the undissolved granules of his coffee lying along the bottom. With a quick swish, they’re gone and Connor speaks again.

‘While Tower 11 was empty, I forgot how nice it was to have someone to talk to.’

“You must really be desperate if you’re enjoying my company that much.” Jack found himself smiling, a bittersweet thing.

‘I should be the one saying that to you. Every day I call you to vent about these fucking campers, leaving their trash and shit. And you answer for me every time.’

He chuckled, unaware Connor was also smiling on the other line. “It’s kind of my job.”

‘Ouch.’ They laughed together this time. ‘You’re not supposed to agree with me.’

“Then maybe you should be nicer to yourself.”

‘You first, Jack.’

A comfortable silence falls over both sides of the radio transmission, twin smiles and the warmth of more than quick and dirty coffee between them.

‘You still with me? Sounds like you’re about to go any minute now.’ Connor said, soft and slow. If Jack kept his eyes closed, he could have imagined he said those words beside his ear.

“I think that’s all I’ve got, Connor.” He scrubbed at his eyes. “You get some rest too. Goodnight.”

‘Night, Jack.’

BETWEEN 2 AND 3 AM

A hand over Jack’s mouth bolts him awake, his entire body tensing as he grabs at the arm that holds him.

“Shh! Shh, Jack. It’s me… Its Connor.” He hears a familiar voice somewhere above him, and the blonde man comes into focus as Jack blinks away the last of the sleep. Moonlight shines through the open paneling, illuminating the side of his handsome, worried face, the width of his broad shoulders in a thin t-shirt.

“There’s something outside.” He looks briefly to the window. “Scoot over, Jack.”

He hardly has time to obey, let alone time for rational thoughts like What’s outside? and How is us both getting under the blanket supposed to help? before the other man is climbing into the single bed and pressing against him from the shoulder down.

“What are you doing?” Jack half demands, half pleads.

“Shh.” Connor hushes him, and he wants to relent—almost does—under such dark eyes, close enough to see they were brown in the dim light. “We have to be quiet, or they’ll hear us.”

“Who will hear us? Connor? What’s happ—mmf! M-mm,” Jack moans, startled, when their lips meet, smooth and wet like Connor had licked them before he leaned in.

His belly twinges, toes curling from only a kiss, and he might have been embarrassed if it weren’t for the hot outline of an erection digging into his hip. Connor’s tongue tastes of instant coffee, no doubt he himself tastes like cigarettes, but Connor doesn’t seem bothered. Not with how hard he is and the firm grip of his palm on Jack’s ribs through his old shirt, the way his thumb flicks at his nipple with little regard for how it makes him shake.

Teeth rake his bottom lip when their kiss turns deeper, hungry, panting hot into each other’s mouths as they work together to yank their sleep pants down to their thighs. A whimper jumps up between them as Connor’s hand clasps around them both, and Jack realizes it must have been him because when his thumb slips in the pre leaking from his tip—he makes it again.

The hand retreats long enough for Connor to lick his palm, but Jack knows he’s getting wet enough for the both them, so long as those capable hands keep pulling needy noises from his lips, pulling on his cock like that. Just like that, just how he likes.

“They’re gonna hear you, baby, you gotta be—quiet,” Connor pants against his wet lips. Jack wants to kiss him back, needs it, but he can do little more than leave fervid little moans against his tongue, joined by the spit-slick sound of Connor’s hand, warm and tight around them.

“I’m—s-sorry, Connor,” Jack fusses when the tightness in his belly finds the next gear, and for all his warnings, Connor is doing nothing to help him make less noise when he leans down to suckle at the side of his neck.

“Come on, baby, you’re almost there. Say it again,” he whispers warmly into his shirt collar. The rumble of him speaks to control, all whiskey and smoke, but Jack can feel how the rhythm of his forearm waivers, how the leg he has threaded under Jack’s begins to shake.

“C-Connor, get something to—Connor—”

Jack’s eyes throw themselves open on a gasp when he wakes, startled from the dream by the warm wetness seeping into the front of his underwear. He tries to sit up as best he can but his stomach quivers, heart thumping, as wave after wave of pleasant ache widens the stain on his sleep pants and steals his breath.

“For fucks sake,” he sighs, letting his body flop back to the bed when the feeling in his hands returns.

Awareness follows right behind his mess, and he flips the blanket away to hopefully spare himself the further embarrassment of taking the damned thing to the laundromat. But, even that was better than doing a spot wash in the sink, and having to tell Connor it was an Italian food incident when he sees it draped over the railing to dry.

First his waking hours, now his dreams. Connor filled his mind with thoughts of normalcy, the lingering ache of loneliness, and the insane idea of enjoying another person’s company. Such a luxury eluded him most days, a comfort he hardly believed could be found in these ominous woods.

Between distracting daydreams, some salacious, some sweet, and his immersion in his work, he almost forgot to be afraid.

~*~

The days that follow are easy but hardly quiet, not with Jack’s brain torn and oscillating between the paranoia of the encroaching forest—and his growing crush on his neighbor. His heart struggled under the stress of peering over his shoulder in the dark woods at every broken twig, just to be riled again by his nightly check-in. He began to sympathize with the rabbit his sister had when they were kids, perfectly still for all their fervent affection, until their veterinarian explained it’s early health problems were stress-related: poor creature was unable to distinguish their childish, heavy-handed petting from the musings of a predator biding it’s time to feast.

People had already disappeared. How long did he have until he was eaten too? Swallowed by the woods until all that remained were the tenets of skeptics and a ghostly whistle.

He busied himself with maintaining the tower, hammering down loose boards and checking the horizon repeatedly until the sun was long gone and the eerie quiet had settled it’s blanket across the forest.

“24.4 knots…” He murmured to fill the silence, as a flare lights up the north. Before he can go for his binoculars, the radio flicks on with an unfamiliar man’s voice.

‘Hello? Is anyone there?’

“This is Tower 11.”

‘Oh! Oh, thank god.’ The voice, a young man, shaking and unsure, comes over the line. ‘I’m lost and—I’m really starting to freak out.’

“Take a deep breath,” said Jack, his free hand opening the trail map on his computer. “Can you tell me where you are?”

‘I don’t even know where to start. I went out exploring and lost track of time. Everything looks different at night. The uh, the last trail marker I saw was by a stream, but I couldn’t read it from where I was. I’m walking west because I remember walking east to get here but… I’m definitely lost.’

“What equipment do you have?”

The hiker ignored his question, excited to finally be somewhere familiar. ‘Oh, man. I found the fork in the trail. But, I don’t remember if I’m supposed to go right or left to get back to the trail-head.’

“I have a map, let me take a look.”

‘Thank you.’ He says, but only lets Jack look for a few seconds before trying again. ‘Hello? Are you still there?’

“One more second, it’s all right.”

‘Oh. Oh, I see you!’

Jack looks to the radio, shocked to silence while phantoms of a predator’s fingers slip up the back of his neck, loosing shivers in his warm tower.

“What? What do you see?”

‘I hear you. You’re whistling to me. I’m right here!’ The hiker shouts, surely waving his hands above his head to welcome the unknown danger, and Jack’s thumb nearly cracks the receiver.

“Hey, HEY! That’s not me, I’m—”

‘What do you mean? You’re starting to freak me out—’ The transmission ends early, no crackling, no screams. Only silence, save for Jack’s breathing, his pounding heart.

Fuck.

He shoves the desk chair away, jumping up to grab his flashlight, and was two hastened footsteps from the door when a knock startles him almost to shout. Whatever possessed him to wrench open the door without a second thought, he hoped a well-aimed flashlight is enough to take them down.

“The hell are you doing in there? I’ve been out here knocking for awhile.”

His heart jerks, relieved, having never thought Billy would be the cause. “S-sorry. Was helping a lost hiker.”

“At this hour? Lord have mercy,” he drawled, his perpetually rumpled mustache shifting across his troubled frown. “Anyway—here’s your supplies. Just the essentials.”

“Thanks.” Jack turned away to set the box on the counter, when Billy spoke again. “I hear you been a little stressed lately. Everything all right?”

He never considered himself a liar, but Jack liked to think he knew how to pretend well enough to avoid suspicion about most things. Especially in regards to his own well-being. The smile that slips over his face is practiced, appropriately tired for the time of night. “It’s taken me a little longer to adjust to the new environment than I thought, but I’m getting there. Thanks for asking.”

Address the question logically, formulate a response from a half-truth. Acknowledge their concern. Easy.

Billy is so willing to not push the subject, it’s almost too easy. “That’s the spirit. Well, I won’t keep you. Get some sleep, Jack. Don’t forget to submit your report.”

He leaves as fast as he can without falling down the stairs, and Jack is happy to clap the door shut behind him. In the back of his mind, routine called to him, rubbing on his shoulders and offering him a cigarette after an exhausting day.

“Firewood, dinner, Connor in bed—THEN bed. Firewood, dinner, talk to Connor, respectfully, professionally, finish my report. Then bed.” He waved the flashlight back and forth anxiously as he wandered down the stairs, single-handedly determined to not have anything scary happen for the rest of the night.

If only he hadn’t gone for firewood.

The pile in the shack isn’t dwindling as fast as he anticipated with the weather warming up, and he makes a mental note to skip chopping more wood tomorrow. He balances the wood under one arm, flashlight tottering in the other as he leaves the shack—straight into another man.

“AH—damn! You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he pants when the bald man in clean coveralls doesn’t immediately move to disembowel him.

“No need to be afraid, son… I’m a worker, here for some routine maintenance on the radio tower over there.” The man’s flat, almost drowsy cadence is anything but comforting, too close to Jack’s liking of what he imagined a wax figure or mannequin to sound like, speaking slowly and quietly to not arouse suspicion of their sentience.

“Thought I would say hi to the new guy everyone’s been talking about.”

“… What’s your name?” Jack said as his hands flexed on the firewood, itching to run.

“Names can be deceiving. Call me Silas.”

“Do you always work so late?”

“Every Sunday.” A strange thing to admit, rather than lie about being up on the mountain so late for something so menial. “Just trying to keep the communication lines open. We must ensure the right messages meet the right people, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Right,” Jack said without hesitation, though he doubted he and Silas were talking with the same subject in mind.

“Absolutely. You watch for fires, but some fires are meant to burn. And no amount of prevention can stop them.”

His fingernails ache from holding the firewood throughout their conversation, and he can feel his heart beginning to thump against his ribs. “… It’s late. I should be going back. Goodnight, Silas.”

“Nature has plans,” he called after him, the intonation of his voice carrying without having to shout: an orator’s calm, suffocating inflection. “Ones even you can’t control. It will be cleansed.”

Upstairs, Jack shoved the firewood into the stove, both to relieve his stinging arms and to burn away the creeping dread that prickles at the back of his skull. Something is wrong with these woods, wrong with the people, from the supervisor who seems to have had his tongue stapled to the roof of his mouth, to the radio repairmen who spouted doctrine with the affect of a puppeteered corpse.

When had the woods he found such comfort in become so grim, promising only death to those who didn’t know when to run?

‘I can see the smoke coming from your tower. Don’t tell me you’re not in there?’ Connor’s voice, unbothered and probably craving his evening small talk, laid a calm over the quickly warming cabin.

‘Jack? Come in, new guy.’

“Here, Connor.” He lowered himself into the metal chair, pulling his jacket over chilled fingers.

‘Finally. Where you been?’ If Jack concentrated hard enough, perhaps he could sponge his blissful ignorance, or at least pretend to take refuge in the wrap of his arms. He couldn’t remember the last time he hugged anyone besides his sister, and most recently was still months before he left for the middle of nowhere.

“I went downstairs for some firewood and ran into Silas.”

‘Who?’ He says, half-muffled like he’s sat at the radio with his dinner.

“The guy who maintains the radio tower. Creepy as hell, spoke in riddles—I don’t think I actually saw him blink.”

The silence over the channel lasts long enough Jack reaches to flip the receiver on and off, hands skimming the metal casing for any sign the call had been disconnected, then Connor scoffs with some one-sided realization.

‘Is this about the other night? Tryin’ to yank my chain?’

Jack has to bite down on his lip next to bleeding to not fire back “I am not nearly funny enough to yank anyone’s chain, and if I was going to pull on anything of yours it would be your—”

‘That radio tower’s been out of service for ages now.’

His heart drops into his stomach. When he doesn’t answer, Connor continues to explain as if Jack wasn’t reeling, two seconds from puking into the receiver. ‘It was closed down right after I got here because a lightning strike fried it’s systems. Mitch said he would get it fixed next time there was room in the budget, but—well, you know how that’s going.’

“Then who did I just talk to?!” Jack shouts, too frightened to be embarrassed for his volume, and only hoping it didn’t hurt Connor’s ears or break their speaker.

‘Easy, Jack,’ replies Connor, too cool for the pounding in his ears. ‘Hey, you’re okay. Listen to me. This isn’t our first run-in with pranksters, is it? They got you again, but that’s all they can do. They’re not gonna hurt you.’

“He called me Jack.”

‘He knew your name? Do you think he’s been listening?’

“I don’t know, maybe?” He ran his hands through his hair, hoping to dispel some of the compounding anxiety of an imminent death.

‘Either way, we need to report this. Next time you see him, get a photo or his ID and anything else we can use to identify him. We’ll figure it out, Jack. Don’t worry.’

“Thanks, Connor.” His hands scrub down his face, he can not keep up this pace of being frightened and then having to convince himself nothing’s wrong just to keep from running into the woods and not stopping until he sees the road.

‘Call me if you have a nightmare, all right? I’ll put you back to sleep.’

“You asshole.” He can’t help the chuckle that sputters from his suddenly warm chest, hearing Connor’s smile through his cheeky tone.

‘Got you to laugh, didn’t I?’

Jack’s face is hot, he knows he’s blushing hard, and he summons the strength to not say anything too embarrassing (like “come over”) with a shuddering sigh. “Goodnight, Connor. Thank you… for everything.”

‘So sentimental. I like that. Night, Jack.’

The line clicks closed before Jack can chase him through the line, demanding to know what he meant, why his voice had to drop into the register that made his stomach flutter before disappearing from the face of his very, very small world. His suffering sigh rattles from his chest.

“I need to go to sleep.”

2 DAYS LATER

If it rains any more, his tower might flood.

All day, all evening, Jack had spent the majority of the day watching the shower soak the forest, ignoring the chores he tended to avoid anyway, and drinking far too much instant coffee because it was his only alternative to water. Although, he did get the spray duster out from under the counter, just to say he did.

“Maybe I’ll ask Billy to put some teabags in my next resupply,” he said, pouring out the last of his cup into the sink and picking up his cigarettes to take with him outside.

The forest below should look half-drowned after drinking all day, but it only sways elegantly in the gentle wind, not strong enough to push rainwater over the railing where it might disturb his smoke break. Tower 12 stands in the distance over the treeline, the soft, golden lights in the window suggesting Connor was taking a lazy day too.

Was he reading a well-loved, dog-eared novel? Cooking something warm and spicy? Maybe he fell asleep, belly full of warm food and blanket curled around his legs as the novel slips forgotten to the floor. Down into a deep sleep, the kind of rest what leaves him too warm when he wakes, hair rumpled and shirt risen over his middle to bear birthmarks or a secret tattoo.

“Jack, come back to bed.”

“Ah,” he grunted, sudden static from the radio ripping him out of his daydream. He presses out his cigarette, kicking over the ash tray as he hurries to his feet.

“This is Tower 11.” Silently, he congratulated himself for sounding perfectly professional and not guilty in the slightest.

‘This—does it—damn.’ Connor’s voice over the radio is smothered with screeching electronic snow, laced with intermittent words of increasing urgency.

‘Can’t—need h—Jack—can you hear—’

He whipped around to the window. The lights of Tower 12 hadn’t dimmed, but the persistent static and ominous, disconnected message chilled his blood. He gave no further thought to logical explanations, common sense could hike up the mountain with him if it really cared that much—and ran from the tower without changing his jacket to something waterproof and only his flashlight to protect them.

Above him, the rain pounds down harder, deafening as it pushed through the treeline to soak him, splattering over his trousers with every puddle he stomped across to get to Tower 12 as soon as he was physically capable, or sooner, even if it wounded him.

He reached the bottom of the tower not long after nightfall, expecting to be met with some sign of a struggle, but found nothing. Apart from the generator flashing a yellow warning light and the stack of firewood down nearly to nothing, there was no ripped grass, no gashes in the mud to suggest there had been anything unsavory in the woods that night. He tore up the metal steps anyway, two at a time, not convinced and not bothering to knock before he threw open the door—

And found Connor at the sink, half-dressed, the last dregs of shaving cream on his cheeks in thin stripes, steaming rag in hand.

He just stared at him.

Jack stared back.

“Can I help you?” Connor broke the silence, wiping his face clean and grabbing the henley draped over the back of his chair.

“You’re alive.”

“Jack?” He gaped at him, blonde head popping from his shirt’s neck hole to piece together the voice he knew with the grainy, black and white photo he had glimpsed on the staff directory website.

“Yeah that’s… that’s me.” Jack’s voice muddled down to a tiny murmur as the embarrassment threatened to melt him into two humiliated puddles inside his boots.

He really ran here, never-mind the several miles, ran here in the rain, dragging in water and mud like he was going to self-promote from fire lookout to ghost-buster with just a flashlight and some home-grown, grass-fed nerve. Death would have been kinder, he thought.

“God, you’re soaked. Here.” The towel that flies across the room to slap gently against his face smells like their cheap, provided laundry soap, with a thin vein of cologne, sharp and clean, a smell Jack suspected was baked into most everything fabric Connor owned.

“Sorry about your floor.”

“If I actually cared, I’d make you clean it,” Connor smirked at him, rummaging through his open duffel on the counter to hand over a sweater, boxers, and a pair of sweatpants of the same brand as the ones he wore himself. “Put these on, I’ll hang up your clothes by the stove.”

Jack changed obediently, careful not to spread his mess any further than his little corner by the door, and sheepishly offered his wet clothes for Connor to thread over hangers.

“You’re a mess.”

He thought to protest, finding he could only continue to rub the towel over his hair, a little like a nervous tick. “Feels like it.”

“So. You gonna tell me why you tore across the mountainside and threw yourself into my lap half-drowned?” Connor said as he leaned against the counter, arms—nice arms—focus Jack—crossed over his chest. But, for all his posture and words that spoke to some degree of scolding, he could only find warmth in his gaze, patient enough to hear every word of his reply with grace and an open mind.

“The radio…”

“The radio?” Connor went to flip it on, demonstrate how it crackled and sputtered before coming online, green light ready.

“My generator started giving me crap a couple hours ago, I thought the power surge might have killed it so I tried to call you. You didn’t answer, I thought you just couldn’t hear me.”

The embarrassment releases him in an instant, he’s suddenly back where he had been an hour ago, disoriented and tearing down the trail. “It was terrifying, you sounded like—you weren’t making sense from the words that did get through. I didn’t know if you were being murdered up here and calling for help.”

He scoffs, then turns away from him, towards the window. “Is this about the missing campers again? Because I’m not willing to entertain all of your theories right now, all right—”

“I was worried, Connor. Scared the shit out of me.” His words left him in a rush, hanging between them, the only sound among the hum of the fridge against the wall.

“… You came all the way up here—in a storm—because you were worried?”

Jack couldn’t bear to look up to see the extent of the confusion he heard in his voice. “It’s—just a shower, really. It’ll stop soon and I’ll get out of your way,” he mumbled and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Weatherman says it’s gonna get bad. You should stay.”

The timber of his voice, softer, almost nervous, had Jack raising his head to meet his eyes.

“I’d like you to stay.” He offered, and the nervousness turned out to be more uncertainty, testing a boundary he wasn’t sure would welcome him on the other side. “I’ll feed you. There’s soup, a couple beers left in my stash. What do you say?”

Jack’s hands tightened in the damp towel, suddenly he struggled to breathe.

“I’d like that.”

Chapter 2 (END)

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geeky-politics-46 · 2 years

Text

All The Better To Eat You With

Kinktober 2022 - Day 1: Predator/Prey with Doctor Stephen Strange

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: After seeing you wearing the Cloak Of Levitation, Stephen wants to play Little Red Riding Hood and Big Bad Wolf.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - roleplay, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, rough sex, biting, oral sex, spanking, hair pulling, creampie, vaginal sex, costume kink, innocence kink

It started as a joke. It was around Halloween and you were trying to figure out a costume. You were joking that if he just let you borrow the Cloak Of Levitation you could be Little Red Riding Hood. The Cloak flew onto your shoulders happily and you posed as you batted your eyelashes animatedly. Well now he couldn't stop thinking about it. Now he couldn't stop thinking about you, all innocent and sweet, with him as the Big Bad Wolf.

So he bought you a little present. A short skimpy red and white checkered dress with a matching red cloak. He also found the red spike heels and pair of white thigh high stockings you wore with your naughty nurse outfit. He then laid it all out on the bed with a note and waited for you to find it. The only thing he wrote on the note was "Are you afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?"

He had purposely made sure to explicitly tell you, several times, what time that night he would be back from Kamar-Taj. He knew there was no way you wouldn't find the outfit and the note. He could only hope you would want to play along. He also may have dropped a couple hints the night before about having a new roleplay idea for you two to try out. Opting only for a sly "you'll see" when you asked him what the idea was.

When he got back that night most of the lights in the Sanctum were out except for a few smaller ones here and there. It was also a little too quiet. He dismissed the Cloak Of Levitation from around his shoulders to go do whatever it was that it did as he began to look for you. The shadows and general darkness of the Sanctum made him feel like he would already be sneaking up on you. His heart starting to beat just a little faster in anticipation.

Turning the light on and walking into your shared bedroom he saw you were nowhere to be found. Looking to the adjoining bathroom he saw the door open and the light off. Clearly you weren't there either. He looked back at the bed and noticed the sexy little costume he had picked out for you was missing as well.

Just then he heard the click of your heels echoing from the hall as you walked towards the bedroom door. A wicked smile crossed his face when he realized he had walked into his own trap. He waited to turn around until he heard you address him. Your voice was purposely low and timid.

"Excuse me sir, can you help me? I was walking through the woods and I seem to have gotten terribly lost. I'm all alone and frightened."

He slowly turned to face the threshold, letting his gaze fall to the hardwood floor as he did. Slowly pulling his eyes up to rake over every inch of your form still slightly silhouetted in the shadowy hallway and your face hidden under the hood of the cloak. All except for your cherry red lips that is. A growl already forming in his chest and fighting the urge to pounce already. It was clear you wanted to drag this out and he was perfectly okay with that.

His eyes darkened and he stood up a little straighter as he started to fall into the role of predator. His wicked smile suddenly changed to a warm one and he extended one hand towards you without moving from the spot he was standing in, beckoning you farther into the room.

"Of course I can help you. Come in out of the dark sweet girl. Come closer. I won't bite."

You shyly clasped your hands in front of you and walked towards him. Keeping your gaze cast down until you were in front of him. He reached out and lowered the hood on your cloak to reveal your face to him. Not groaning in desire took more effort than he thought it would. Seeing you look up at him through thick black lashes and pouty red lips. The low pigtails you wore tied up with checkered bows that matched the dress were the details that nearly broke his resolve.

He let his fingers tug lightly on the end of your pigtails creating a faux little scared jump and gasp from you. He took a step even closer to you making the height difference between you as noticeable as possible. Tilting his face down toward yours, inhaling your scent deeply through his nose. Afterwards he took a step back and clasped his hands behind his back as he started to circle around you. His steps were slow and deliberate.

"Well well, what is a pretty little thing like you doing out here all alone? You know all sorts of big bad creatures lurk about in the woods, just dreaming of getting their teeth into a delicious little morsel… like you."

He paced around you one full circle. Punctuating the very last part of his statement by placing a finger under your chin and tilting your face up to his. Leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath against your lips. He then continued stalking around you. Finally coming to stand directly behind you. Standing close to your back but making sure not to touch you.

"I was trying to find my way to my grandmother's house, but I must have gotten turned around. I'm so glad I found you to help me. I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you."

He chuckled darkly in your ear as he drug the back of one hand up your arm. He was just close enough you could feel the edge of the short flouncy skirt you wore rub against the bulge he was now sporting. He let the hand that moved up your arm loop around to pull at the bow holding your cloak on. Untying it and letting it fall to the floor in one swift motion.

"Why what big hands you have."

He pushed one shoulder of your dress off before responding.

"All the better to touch you with my dear."

His hands found your hair again and he pulled. Turning your head to the side to face him.

"My what big eyes you have."

He made a show of lasciviously peeking down the front of your dress at the swell of your breasts on display.

"All the better to see you with my dear."

He moved to start kissing and nipping lightly at your neck. Subtly signaling you what to say next.

"My what big teeth you have."

Stephen bit into the flesh of your neck hard enough to leave a nice dark mark before gently lapping at the same spot to soothe it. Placing several long kisses sucking at the same spot. Making sure it would bruise. You had a feeling you would be covered in marks before the night was out. He let his hands come to rest on your hips as he answered.

"All the better to eat you with my dear."

Suddenly he jerked your body back by your hips and held your body firmly against him. His hips pressing forward extra hard. His erection straining against his pants now tightly pressed to you so you could feel it. He growled in your ear as he let his hips rut against you a few times.

You tried to put on an extra air of innocence and surprise as you said your next, and what you knew would be the final, of your observations.

"My what a big cock you have!"

His fingers gripped into your hips even tighter as he started manhandling you so you were stumbling towards the bed while making sure he didn't actually let you fall in the process. He stopped at the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around you. One hand wrapped tightly around your stomach, the other moving to grope and grab at one breast. He had started attacking your neck and shoulder again. Taking a few moments to indulge his hunger before you could feel him smile against your skin. Letting his arms relax he pulled back.

"All the better to fuck you with my dear."

He roughly pushed you down face first on the bed taking you by surprise. Before you could react he had flipped up the skirt of your skimpy costume and sunk his teeth into the flesh of your ass cheek. You yelped in response and then had to cover your mouth to not break character with a loud laugh in response.

"Maybe you aren't such an innocent little thing after all. Sweet good girls aren't supposed to like getting bitten by the Big Bad Wolf. Makes me wonder what else you'd like me to do."

He climbed on top of you and pressed his weight down to hold you flat against the mattress. His lips flat against your ear as he seemed to taunt you about your body's response to him. Your hips trying to arch and push your ass up into him. Encouraging him to keep going.

He lifted his weight up just long enough to bring his hand down firm against your other ass cheek. Using the same hand he rolled you underneath him to lay you on your back before pinning you down again. His hands on either side of your face as he captured you in a hungry kiss. All teeth and tongue as he devoured you. Leaving marks all over your neck and chest.

"Want me to eat you little girl? I'm going to pretty girl whether you want it or not. I'm going to devour and ruin every fucking inch of you."

He pulled the top of the dress down under your breasts and started biting at them too. His large hands grabbing at them and pinching at your nipples with his nimble fingers. Your back arching hard as you moaned loudly beneath him. He growled in response, an animal smile staring down at you. You were both practically panting.

He crawled down your body and started pushing the fluffy skirt of your costume up around your waist. Exposing the tiny white lace g-string you wore underneath. He licked his lips as he ran his hands down over your hips and onto your sex. Letting the pads of his fingers explore the soft delicate lace, trailing them down over the crotch of your panties.

"So pretty, so delicate. Just like you."

His hands slid out onto your inner thighs and he shoved them open, pinning your legs to the bed. Lowering his upper body and making a show of inhaling your scent. Sticking his tongue out and licking over you through the fabric of your panties. Stephen was loving every second of this. Indulging all of his senses in your body. Letting his animal urges take over like never before.

He started to pull at the lace fabric with his teeth, being careful to avoid biting the sensitive treasure that lay beneath them. The treasure he wanted to desperately get to. Managing to grab the fabric between his teeth and start pulling it away from your pussy. Dragging your panties down your legs. Stopping once he had gotten them lowered to your knees. Moving to tear them to shreds to get them off your body completely. Lowering his face back to eye level with your pussy again once he was done.

"Just as I thought. Definitely not an innocent little girl lost in the woods. Good girls don't get all wet like this for the Big Bad Wolf."

A growl came from deep in his chest as he began licking at you. One long lick up your wet slit with his tongue flattened and wide, covering every bit of your cunt that he could in one single torturous slow motion. Then he went to town licking and sucking at you ferociously, like he was starved. He was now pulling high pitched squeals from you with every move he made.

You were getting so loud you moved to cover your mouth for fear you would end up with America knocking at the door. You could feel Stephen's piercing blue eyes looking at you from between your legs. He pulled his mouth off of your pussy just long enough to scold you for hiding your noises. His fingers coming up to stroke at your already swollen labia as he did.

"I don't think so little girl, don't cover that pretty little mouth. I want to hear you scream. I made sure there's no one nearby to rescue you or interrupt my fun. If I see you trying to stay quiet again I'm gonna stuff that sweet mouth full of my cock."

He then bit the inside of one thigh as he slid two fingers into your pussy and started thrusting them hard and fast. The squelching of your arousal driving Stephen to latch his mouth back over your clit as his fingers started curling upward against your sweet spot. Immediately he felt your cunt starting to squeeze and flutter at his motions. He had you hurtling towards a screaming orgasm. Your back arching off the bed.

A final growl from your lover sending a vibration through your sex that made the muscles of your entire lower half tremble uncontrollably. A new flood of slick coating Stephen's fingers and face as his movements continue without ceasing. Pulling every second from your orgasm as he could. His name falling from your lips over and over in broken cries and gasps.

As soon as you had stopped shaking, before you could process what was happening or that Stephen had moved from between your legs and was now kneeling on the bed with his pants undone, he flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled your hips up so your ass was in the air. He held onto your hip with one hand and grabbed both your pigtails in the other, yanking your head up to look at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror across the bedroom.

You looked completely debauched. Mascara running and dark tinted tears staining your cheeks, lipstick smeared. Your bare breasts pressed into the bedspread and your bare ass visible in the air over the top of your head. Your sweet fluffy red and white dress now a crumpled mess at your waist. The white lacy bands of your thigh highs framing Stephen's body kneeling behind you. He smiled and taunted you through the reflection as the tip of his cock slid through your sensitive folds.

"Look at that. Look at how pretty my little slut looks. All sweet and ruined by me, but I know you want more don't you? You know I want more. Be a good little slut and beg me for it, and you better make it good."

He pulled your hair a little bit harder and slapped your ass with his other hand before even giving you any time to beg, making you moan and making your pussy clench. Your voice came out desperate and pleading when you began to answer. Almost ashamed at how needy you sounded.

"Please fuck me. Please please please. Need it so bad. Need your big cock sir. Need you to fuck my tight little pussy with your big cock. Fuck me hard and fill me up please."

Without looking away from your reflection he let his hips push forward just a little as he held your body in place, pressing just the head of his cock inside you. Giving you just enough to tease you. Repeating the motion a couple more times before stopping and staying still with just the tip of his cock inside.

"Is this what you want? You want my cock? Good little girls don't want to get fucked by a big scary stranger's cock. I just felt that hungry little pussy of yours squeeze me tight. This isn't a good girl's pussy, this is a slutty pussy. You know what kind of girls have slutty pussys? Let me hear you say it. Tell me what you really are, just for me."

You were a moaning mess trapped playing his game. You didn't care. You wiggled and writhed trying to move your hips anyway you could. Trying desperately to get more of him. You couldn't take much more teasing from him. You needed him inside you.

"I'm a little slut, just for you. Your little slut Stephen. Your little whore. Please fuck me like the little slut I am. Please, sir."

He tutted at your begging and shook his head. Letting his free hand drag up your thigh raking his nails against your skin before gripping back onto your hip again.

"Such a desperate little thing."

Without any further warning he pulled your hips back roughly and slid his cock all the way inside you. He set a quick harsh pace using your own movement as leverage to make his own thrusts deeper, pounding into you. A squeak pulled from you everytime he bottomed out and his balls slapped against your clit. The bedframe rocking under the force.

Your senses were in full overload by the time Stephen started speeding up. Growls and moans falling from his lips as his eyes dropped to watch him bury himself inside your cunt. Seeing your tight hole cling to his thick cock each time he pulled back. Little praises falling even though he knew you were far too gone to hear them.

"Such a perfect cunt. So tight and wet. You take my cock so fucking well. Love this little pussy so much, swear I could spend all day fucking you and you'd love it. My little cock slut loves to be filled. I'm getting close, baby."

He let go of your hair and brought both hands to your hips, your upper body falling down onto the mattress. You looked at the mirror to see Stephen completely lost in the moment. A light sheen of sweat covering his sculpted chest. His head dropped back and his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth gritting together as he chased his orgasm. You had just enough mental presence left to know just what it would take to push him over the edge, knowing the feeling of him cumming would take you with him.

"Fuck yes daddy, give it to me. Fill me up! Cum in my little pussy. Not just your cock slut, I'm your little cum slut too. Need you to fill my slutty pussy with cum. Please, please, please!"

A renewed vigor in Stephen's eyes as he slammed into you harder and harder with every thrust. Even after your face fell down flat into the mattress you could tell the moment right before he filled you, his cock swelling even more before you felt it start to pulse and spurt inside you. The sensation of his thick warm cum filling you making your cunt spasm in response. Your body trying to milk every last drop of cum from him.

Both of you whined and groaned as your bodies pulled every bit of pleasure from the other until your nerves were on fire. His upper body collapsed down onto you as you huffed and puffed. He mindlessly started placing kisses on the back of your neck and whispering little gasps of overstimulation whenever your pussy would flutter around his now softening cock. Eventually you both fell onto your sides still holding each other tight.

With a wave of his hand, Stephen made both your costume and the rest of his robes disappear before maneuvering you both to lay comfortably on the bed. Covering you both up just enough to stay warm. You both lay there catching your breath and coming back down from your highs. Stephen surveyed all the marks he left on you. Nothing too bad but there were a lot of them, he made a mental note to ask if you wanted him to heal any of them or at the very least get you some arnica gel for them. In the meantime he would just lay there with you until one of you felt the urge, or regained the ability, to get up.

Suddenly you started giggling, only to dissolve into full on laughter after a moment. Stephen pulled back to look at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was very clearly confused as to why you were laughing so hard. Finally you calmed yourself enough to talk.

"I can't believe you bit my ass!"

"Well I was the Big Bad Wolf, & you are a very delectable little treat, sweetheart. If you want I can go get you some ice for your ass if I bit it too hard?... Okay, that's a sentence I didn't think I would ever say."

You both dissolved into laughter at that. You waved off the idea of the ice, it wasn't that bad. It had just been a hell of a surprise. He did feel a little proud as he surveyed the rest of the marks he had left. Knowing that you would only let him mark you like that. That it meant you were his. He started lovingly rubbing over the spot he bit trying to soothe away any soreness as you both started to settle in. Falling asleep with his hand still resting over the bruise that was forming on your ass.

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

The next day you hadn't thought to cover up all the bruises and bites for your fairytale inspired romp. Usually you didn't worry about sporting all sorts of hickeys and love bites. At least not where they were easily visible. So needless to say when you brushed your hair back and America caught sight of a successive line of purple bruises down the side of your neck her shock took you by surprise.

"What the hell happened to you?! You look like you got attacked."

Suddenly realizing what she had seen, what you had forgotten to cover, you had to scramble for an excuse. You and Stephen were practically her parents. So you couldn't exactly tell her the truth, you didn't want to scar her for life, but you didn't exactly want to lie to her either. Especially with Stephen and Wong in earshot. You would never hear the end of it. So you did what you thought anyone in your position would do. You answered half into your coffee cup while hoping she wouldn't ask anymore questions.

"It's umm… a wolf bit me."

From the other room where Stephen was, where you knew he was listening, you heard the clattering of things being dropped. You were gonna be in trouble for that little comment later, but oh it was gonna be such a fun punishment. Of course you both had to survive Wong before that.

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

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konata-izumi-kinny-writes · 2 years

Text

Jack Skellington x Shy human in disguise reader (sfw)

(Author's note: Every month is spooky month, skulldogs are very gender 🖤)

THIS IS LONG AF, A WHOLE ASS BOOK, don't say i didn't warn ya :)

(Y/n)= your name, obvi lol

(F.s.a.n) = Favorite Stuffed Animal's Name

(C/e/c) = costume eye color

(E/c) = eye color

(H/c) = hair color

(F/C) = favorite candy

Your text is orange

'Thoughts'

"Speaking"

(feel free to imagine a different outfit for it) (Your costume ⬇️)

Fall, its the best time of the year. Its the perfect temperature outside, the air smells of apple cider and burning fields, and the trees turn those beautiful hues of red, orange, and yellow. And most importantly, its the season of your favorite holiday.

Its the day before Halloween, you and your friends decide to play a scary, more intense version of hide and seek. Its basically hide and seek mixed with tag and frightening costumes. After grabbing your favorite stuffed animal, you meet up with them in the nearby forest. Because a scarier setting makes for a more thrilling game.

After a while of catching up, the game starts and you run to find a spot to hide. As you run, you just can't help but laugh a bit at the exciting tension that comes with the game, the thrill of the chase is something you've always loved. But only because you know its your friends playing, if it was someone you didn't know, that'd be a whole different story.

You stumble into a clearing.. a rather peculiar one with trees surrounding you in a perfect circle, all with different holliday themed doors. You look over and see one is wide open, the door is shaped like a pumpkin. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you approach it, and lean inside to get a better look, theres no floor.. its just one big hole.

Before you could actually leave though, the wind pulls you in, and with a startled yelp, you start to fall, with the door closing behind you.

You land in a huge pile of black and orange leaves.. where is this place? You look around to find the ground is a dark grey, but appears purple due to the moonlight, there's strange hills that come to a curled peak, a pumpkin patch with already carved and lit jack o lanterns.

You squeeze (F.s.a.n) close to you as you wander around.. where are you? How aren't you hurt from the fall? How will you get back?

As those questions race through your mind, you look over to what looks like a town in the distance, maybe someone there can help you?

You start towards the town, making sure not to step on any of the jack o lanterns or trip on the vines. You also had a run in with a particularly fat and cuddly black cat with a bright purple and orange collar around his neck.

You reach the entrance to the town, slowly, you step in. Why are you so hesitant? Doesn't something seem off here? The town is almost as dark as the rest of the land that surrounds, but its a bit brighter due to the street lights and lit windows.

As you wander in more you notice a crowd. Is there an event going on? Out of curiosity you step closer, but one of the townsfolk, a rather tall one, seems to have heard you. They turn around and... thats not a person.

You fall back onto the ground out of fear, there's a huge monster in front of you. It has snakes for fingers, long wiry hair, and a snake like head with sharp teeth.

Without thinking you get up and run, using the back alleys to hopefully lose it. You didn't realize he wasn't chasing you.

🖤-Pov change: Thing Under The Stairs-🖤

I watched as the small skull creature got up and ran. If only i was able to say something. But if there's one thing i can do, it's alerting the Pumpkin King about the newcomer. Surely he'll be happy to hear about a new community member... that one had a strange scent though, i must say..

🦴🧡-Pov change: back to Y/n-🧡🦴

You hide behind a wall a few blocks away from the town center, (F.s.a.n) squeezed tightly to your chest. This can't be real, right? You hide in a nearby bush when you hear foot steps, unaware that your tail is sticking out. A group of more monsters pass by none of them noticing you.

None of them... except one. It stops in front of your hiding spot. Its legs are thin, black and white striped pants covering them. Then you hear it speak.

"Hm? A tail, well if i recall correctly none of my plants grow tails." You hear it comment jokingly to itself. You internally curse yourself for not realizing your mistake. Before you can do anything, two large, thin, white hands wrap around your torso, and before you know it, you're lifted 9 feet into the air! Your limbs instinctively retract close to your body, you reluctantly look at what picked you up.

In front of you is a 10 foot tall skeleton staring into your costume's (e/c) eyes. You can't help but shake, small whimpers leave your vocal cords, much to your dismay.

After a few seconds of staring in wonder and curiosity, he speaks again.

"Oh wait, you're the new citizen The Thing Under The Stairs told me about! Its a pleasure to finally meet you, are you alright?"

He gently puts you down with a pat on the head, you just sit there, your limbs still curled close to your frame. He crouches down closer to your level.

"Are you alright? Did i scare you too much? We always love a good scare but we don't want to go too far."

"I-i'm fine.."

"Why don't you come inside, its awfully cold out here tonight." He holds his hand out to you.

Not wanting to anger him, you take his hand and shakily stand up. He then leads you inside his house, which just so happened to be behind the wall you were sitting at earlier.

He leads you to the couch and you sit down. He then leaves and comes back with mugs of hot apple cider and some pumpkin bread.

"So, whats your name?"

"Oh, I'm (Y/n).." you reply quietly.

"What a beautiful name, very fitting dare I say." He chirps with a smile as he picks up his cup of cider.

"I'm Jack Skellington, also known as The Pumpkin King!"

"You have a nice name too.. so.. mind if i ask where i am?"

He stops at your question with a puzzled look on his visage.

"You don't know?"

You shake your head no, squeezing (F.s.a.n)'s hand in yours. Your fear ramps up a bit when he lets out a chuckle.

"My dear, you're in Halloween Town! No wonder you ran away and looked so frightened, you were lost! No need to worry, friend! I assure you we'll make you feel right at home here!"

You feel relieved, but at the same time concerned. What did he mean by making you feel at home? Another question came to mind as well..

"So... Humans.. what do you guys do if one wanders in here?"

"Well, considering there's no known way out, we would let them stay with us.. on the condition that they become a monster too. Why?"

You pause. Become a monster? Like them?! Maybe its best that you keep on this costume for as long as possible.

"I-I was just curious haha... mind if i ask why that's a rule?"

"Well, while most of us are friendly, there are some of us who are... more hostile. Especially to humans, its for their safety. They keep their personalities and memories, but not their appearance."

"That makes sense.."

"So, what are you?"

"Hm?"

"What monster are you?"

"Oh, uh, a skulldog."

"How peculiar.. and cute!"

He eyes you studiously as he sips his cider. You take a small slice of pumpkin bread, open the jaw to your mask as wide as possible and shove your arm in so you can actually eat it, it tastes amazing! All the while, Jack stares with a taken aback expression.

"Thanks for the bread, Jack, this is really good."

"....Oh, No problem! Strange, i didn't know that's how Skulldogs eat, how terrifying!" He exclaims excitedly. Good to know you can eat in your costume without suspicion.

"So.. where do i go then? If i can't leave, then where do i go?"

"Well, i have an extra bedroom you can stay in! It'll be nice to have someone else around. Why, you don't wanna leave do you?"

"Oh, n-no I'll stay if you want, thank you so much for the offer."

"Perfect, because its getting late and everyone needs sleep."

He says in a calm tone as he offers you his hand. You nervously take his hand with a blush. He helps you up then guides you to your room, which is only two rooms away from his. You walk in to find a very large bed with lots of pillows and some stuffed animals, bathed in a black light.

(Basically this, ignore my bad editing skills 🤣)

"Wow..."

"Do you like it?"

"Its amazing! A-are you sure you want me to stay with you though?"

"As sure as ever, tomorrow is a big day! Now then, the bathroom is across from you, and if you need anything, i'm at the end of the hall."

"Thank you Jack, goodnight."

"Goodnight, (Y/n)."

Your newfound friend leaves after giving you a hug. You sit on the bed and set your precious stuffed animal next to you. So you're stuck here forever.. you can't help but sigh at the thought. After a while of contemplating in silence, the fat black feline from earlier jumps on the bed next to you with a mew, startling you out of your thoughts. After a while of laying down with your new fluffy friend on your lap, you drift off to sleep.. maybe its all a dream.. a very weird dream... (Sorry to anyone severely allergic to cats)

💚💜🧡🖤Woohoo, a transition🖤🧡💜💚

You wake up to sunlight shining through the window and a knock on the door. You get up, get a different outfit on, and answer it to see Jack looking down at you with a bright expression.

"Happy Halloween!! We have so much to do today! Oh and i see Beelzebub has taken a liking to you!"

He exclaims as he notices the cat on the bed. 'So thats his name... Beelzebub.. Mister Bubs, i'm calling him Mister Bubs :)'

"Yeah, haha.. How long has he been around?"

"I don't know, exactly. He just showed up one halloween, the whole town loves him, even my dog Zero!"

"You have a do-"

You were cut off by what looks like a sheet ghost except it has ears and a snout with a glowing pumpkin as a nose. It floats over to you and gives you a lick on the face. 'How adorable!'

"I'm assuming this is Zero then?"

"Yep! Come now, i made breakfast."

Jack walks downstairs as you grab (F.s.a.n). You notice that Zero stayed, he tilts his head at you before flying downstairs, stopping halfway down to look back and see if you were there. What a charming little apparition.

After Breakfast, Jack shows you around and introduces you to everyone, The Mayor, Dr. Finklestein and Sally, The Thing Under The Stairs, The Witch Sisters, Behemoth, everyone. And thankfully most of them seemed to like you, apart from three kids in halloween masks, but hey, they probably can't hurt you.

"Well, dear (Y/n) what do you think?"

"Its very charming here, feels much safer in the day... I'm sorry, Jack."

He paused in his tracks. "Sorry? What for?"

"For being so shy and awkward around everyone, and you especially. You're very nice, in fact you're the best friend I could ever ask for."

"Ah, there's no need to apologize, for quite a few people, socializing is a very scary thing, and not in the fun way. If you need a break from socializing or maybe some help, feel free to call me."

He places a little bat plushie in your hands along with a scrap of paper that has his phone number on it. You give him a hug.

"Thank you so much, Jack.."

"Its no problem, what are friends for!"

You felt a warm feeling in your chest.. oh no.. it seems you're falling for a skeleton, and who know how long you'll be able to keep this act up.

🖤🧡💜Chapter 2, Mishap and Misery💜🧡🖤

The town was aglow with purple, orange, and green, festive decorations were everywhere. Earlier, Jack went over the plans with you after walking in on you singing. Apparently its a tradition for the town to have a big sing-along before giving out awards for certain goals and trick or treating. Since he loved your voice, Jack wanted you to join in, he thought your voice would be a lovely addition to the festivities.

You were NOT a fan of the idea, but you didn't want to protest, what if you hurt his feelings? So reluctantly you accepted. It went well for the most part you got through it all, and even made it to the end without your voice wobbling or stuttering.

It was after the end that it went wrong. As Jack let you down off his shoulder, you new friends came to congratulate you about your first halloween with them. But then you tripped over a vine, you fell forward onto your hands, and even though you weren't hurt too bad, there was one problem... Your costume head fell off.

You roll over in fear to see all of the townspeople including Jack, The Mayor, and your new friends looking back at you with shocked and surprised expressions. You grab your mask and start to crawl backwards away from everyone. You stand up and continue backing away.

"(Y/n), wait-"

But before Jack could finish, you sprinted away. They know what you are now, besides monsterizing you, who knows what else will happen? What if they're mad at you?

🖤💀Pov switch: Jack Skellington💀🖤

Before i could say anything, they ran off. There's probably so much going through their head. Then again, that explains that question they asked when we first met, it explains their fear, it explains a lot. But right now, we need to get them back, they could definitely hurt themselves. With that thought in mind, i get the town's attention.

"It seems our new friend ran off. If its not too much of a bother, i'd appreciate it if you all would help find them. Just think of it as a game of hide and seek."

They all agree, quite a few of them seem excited at the mention of a game to play.

"I have one rule though.." they all look to me. "Be gentle and kind with them please, they're very scared and i don't want to traumatize our dear (Y/n).. alright?"

Once again, they all agree.. except for Lock, Shock, and Barrel, they decided to go do something else. With that, we all split up to look for (Y/n), surely they couldn't have gotten far.

💜🦇Pov change Y/n woooooohoooo-🦇💜

You're sat under one of the hills that come to a curled peak, this one being directly under the moon. The only warmth out here is coming from your gloves, and the ever burning candles inside the Jack'o lanterns. But this is it, you're stuck here, you're trapped here, you'll be a monster if you go back.. but you might get hypothermia out here if you don't. You can't tell which is worse.

You can't help but sob into your gloves thinking about it. This goes on for another five minutes before you hear two sets of footsteps. You automatically go silent, you retreat further under the peak of the hill.

"Y/n?! Y/n, where are you, we're not going to hurt you!!"

"Y/n please come out, we're worried!"

You recognize the voice of Sally, and the Thing Hiding Under The Stairs, but you stay put, regulating your breathing so that you can't even hear it.. but then.. The Thing Under The Stairs says something.

"They're close by i know it. Their scent is very strong here."

'Uh, i'm sorry, WHAT?!?!'

Your heart beats faster and your breathing is shaky, are you gonna get caught because of that thing's sense of smell?! Who does he think he is, Tanjiro Kamado?!?!

"Y/n, please! We're worried!"

"Its okay, calm down, Sally. Tell ya what, i'll go get Jack and you just relax for a bit alright? Deep breaths."

"Thank you.." she lets out a sigh as Thing goes back to town. You can't help but feel bad for making her worry this much. After a few seconds of silence, you hear her walking around, you tense up as you hear her walk down the hill. You thought you were safe until you hear her footsteps coming back, this time at ground level.

You shove on your mask, and crawl out of sight over to the opposite side of where sally would be, and curl back up into a ball.

"Y/n, its just me, Sally. Are you here? Are you okay?"

Her footsteps approach again, you get up and start backing up, but once again you trip over a vine. And much to your alarm, the lovable patchwork zombie peeks around the hill and spots you.

"There you are, we were all worried sick! Why'd you run away?"

She rushes up to you and gives you a hug as you start crying again, after a while you calm down enough to speak.

"I- *sniff* I don't wanna be a monster, Sally.. I'm scared.. and not in the fun way." You choke out your feelings, might as well be honest.

"Shhhh, its okay. Why don't you want to join us? Its for your safety."

"W-what if it hurts, what if i'm ugly, what if we do find a way out and my friends *hic* don't recognize me? I'm scared.."

You cover your head with your hands, this is it. You're being Monsterized whether you like it or not.

"Y/n, its okay.. it doesn't hurt, you can choose what you look like, and i'm sure that if you do find your friends, they'll still love you.. but if you want, i can try to talk them out of changing you."

You lift your head up and your mask falls off. You look at sally, her eyes focusing on your (e/c) orbs.

"Do you- *hic* really mean that? You promise?"

"Of course, I'd never break a promise.. not to you at least."

"Thank you... so much.."

You give her a hug as she helps you calm down and stop crying. You then hear an all too familiar voice call out..

"Y/n!!"

Its Jack, both you and Sally look up to see him approaching the hill, he then spots you and Sally. He rushes down and squeezes you both in a hug.

"Oh, goodness, I was so worried.. thank you so much, Sally."

"Its nothing. Y/n can you tell him or do you want me to say it?"

You stop for a few seconds and try to gather some courage to say what you need.

"I-i think i can do it.."

"Okay, i'm proud of you.."

Sally gives you a hug before heading back to town to give you some alone time with Jack.

"Whats wrong, Y/n? You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm okay.. i just.."

You pause, your eyes welling with tears again.

"Jack, i don't wanna be a monster, I'm scared.."

Your voice breaks as you say that, your feelings spilling out with every word. He looks down at you with a look of condolence as he holds you close.

"I'm so sorry, I.... listen, i can try to talk the Mayor and Dr. out of it considering they're in charge of this. I want this to be your choice, Dear."

"*sniff* thank you Jack.."

As you hold onto him, that warm feeling in your chest appears again.. 'I really do love him don't I...' Your feelings make sense though, ever since you met him he's been nothing but the sweetest person you know.

🖤🧡Chapter 3, Romance and Honesty🧡🖤

You grab onto Jack's shirt as he carries you back to Halloween Town. After Jack explained to everyone that your monsterization situation would be settled later, and everyone agreeing, the two of you went trick or treating, went home, and watched some scary movies. As you munched on your (F/c) next to Jack, you couldn't help but notice that fuzzy feeling in your chest again, its getting more intense every second you're close him... maybe you should say something then.

"Hey... Jack?"

"Yes, my dear (Y/n)?" You blushed at the nickname

"Tonight has been.. really crazy to say the least and.. thanks for sticking with me through it all."

"Why, of course, what kind of friend would i be if i didn't?"

"That's the thing though..."

Jack looked at you in concern and worry.

"(Y/n), are you okay? Whats on your mind?"

"This is hard for me to say.. I...."

You take a deep breath as you avert your gaze, you feel Jack give your hand a light squeeze. you squeeze back before before continuing.

"Throughout the short amount of time we spent together, you've been so kind to me, even after you found out i was human, and.. to be honest, i think of you as.. more.. than a friend... I know it hasn't been very long and you can say no, I understand..."

You trail off at the end, that was a lot for you to say. You glance up at Jack to see him with a surprised look on his complexion, you then go quiet after muttering out an apology.

"Wait, don't be sorry. I appreciate you telling me, i really do, and (Y/n)?"

He gently places his hand on your cheek as he looks into your eyes.

"I love you too. I'm so proud of you for telling me, that must've taken up so much courage.."

You give him a hug and bury your face into his chest, much to his surprise. After letting go you yawn as you check the time on your phone. Its 1:45 AM. Jack seems to sense how tired you are, because he picks you up and carries you to his room.

He tucks you into his bed and crawls in next to you. Without thinking you snuggle into him, and give him a kiss on the cheek. He gives you a kiss on the forehead before closing his eyes.

"Goodnight my dear.."

"Goodnight, Jack.."

🧡💜Transition, tis now morning :3💜🧡

The light of day fills your eyes as they flutter open, along with Jack's figure wrapped around you. He moves around so he could get a better look at you, then brushes the hair out of your face.

"Good morning, my dear.." he says tiredly.

"Good morning, Jack."

As you try to get up, he gently grabs you and pulls you close. You look at him with a questioning gaze.

"Sorry.. i don't want you to have to get up yet.."

What a snugglebug, this of course gives you butterflies in your stomach. He really does love you, doesn't he? Say, why don't we do something for him?

"Okay, i'll stay.. but after a few minutes i need to get up."

"Why, darling?"

"Don't you want some breakfast, or at least some hot cocoa?"

He lets out a small chuckle as he nuzzles into you, jeez who knew a skeleton could be so cuddly?

"You really don't have to do that, you know."

"Its the least i can do, i owe you."

After about five minutes of snuggling then some hot chocolate, you get dressed and go on a walk with him, and you use that time to think about your situation.

🧡Chapter 4, Contemplation and Choices🧡

The air seems chillier than yesterday, the wind is blowing through your hair as leaves fly by. Your walk is interrupted by a leaf hitting your face.

Jack picks it off and brushes your (H/c) locks out of your face. You laugh a bit before thanking him.. but then you run into the Mayor.

"Ah! Well if it isn't (Y/n) and Jack, how are you two?"

"We're great! In fact, little (Y/n) and I are together!"

You blush and hide your face from embarrassment

"Oh, that's just amazing, isn't it! I actually have something important to talk to you two about, mind following me?"

"Sure!"

You let go of Jack's hand as you slowly follow, making sure to fall behind before stopping completely. You stare at the ground. You know exactly where the mayor is taking you. The two of them stop in their tracks after they notice you're not following anymore.

"(Y/n), are you okay, dear?"

"No... i know where we're going, and I don't like it.. i don't want to be a monster."

A combination of stress and fear wells in your heart.

"(Y/n), I know how you must feel, i promise it doesn't hurt."

You stay silent, you don't want to follow, you don't want to argue. You don't want to go down kicking and screaming, but if it comes to it, you will.

"Can't they choose for themself, Mayor? Its the whole reason they ran away last night."

"I asked Dr. Finklestein about it like you asked, there's no other way, i'm sorry."

"...can i think about this please? I... need some time.."

"Of course, dear, take your time."

You give Jack a hug before running back to his house. You head upstairs and into the bathroom. You run a bath and add in a bath bomb and some bath salts before getting in. The water is purple and glittery, the scent of eucalyptus fills the air, helping you calm down..

With a sigh, you start to contemplate your choices to try and find a brightside to this, or maybe even a loophole. Because letting fear take over and clouding your mind, which is what you've been doing, isn't the best way to go about things.

The costume obviously won't work anymore, they all know, not only that, The Thing Under The Stairs would be able to tell by your scent that you're still human. You can't just hide forever, you can't run either.

Not much will change other than your appearance if you're monsterized.. you'll still be you, Jack will still love you. Heck, if your friends don't like you anymore because of something as stupid as appearance, maybe its high time that you move on.

You slowly come to terms with your situation as you soak, maybe it won't be so bad? Maybe you'll be okay, how bad can it be? After all you can choose what you look like.

With that thought in mind, you start thinking of creatures and designs. But you're interrupted by a knock on the door followed by Jack's voice.

"My dear, are you alright? You've been in there for a while, now."

"I'm okay, just relaxing in the bath, i figured it'd help clear my head."

"Ah, i see."

After getting out and putting some warm clothes on, you go downstairs to join Jack in the living room. You're ready to talk this out.

"There you are, are you doing alright?"

"Yeah, and... i've been thinking.. What if this isn't as bad as i thought?"

Jack leans closer, listening carefully.

"This whole time I've been letting my mind run, fear clouding my head.. which, isn't exactly smart. But.. maybe i'll be okay, even if I won't be a human..."

Jack hugs you close with a soft smile on his face.

"I'm so glad you feel better, my dear.."

🖤💜🧡Transition woohoo u now a spoopy creechur🧡💜🖤 (aka, a skulldog, except you now have a long striped tail)

You look up at the dark sky, the stars littered all over, freckles on the universe's visage. You bounce slightly in Jack's arms with every step he takes as he walks home. You're no longer human, but you're content.. this isn't so bad.

Fear can do a lot to one's cognition, it can lead someone astray, it can cause someone's undoing, it does a lot. But sometimes, being scared can be fun, though its usually a negative emotion, it is something to celebrate.

You're snapped out of your thoughts by Jack opening the door to your shared home, has it always been this cozy? Beelzebub and Zero hop onto the couch as Jack sits down with you still in his arms.

"... hey Jack?"

Your voice is different now, it has a slight distortion to it. Jack looks into your (e/c) eyes lovingly, willing to hear what you have to say. You open your jaw slightly to give the illusion of a smile.

"I love you."

"I love you too, my dear."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~🖤🧡💜🦇💜🧡🖤~•~•~•~•~•~•~

AIGHT THX FOR READIN, YALL

Requests are still closed, sorry :(

#jack skellington #the nightmare before xmas #tim burton #x reader #cringe #this is cringy #idk what else to tag #konata izumi kin writes #Jack Skellington x Reader

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grelleswife · 1 month

Note

Hey this is maybe a strange request but I was wondering if you had any good anime recommendations ?

I've been watching JJK and I've been left feeling a bit disappointed with the writing (it feels kinda all of the place and it feels like characters are dying just for the sake of dying)

So I'm kinda looking for something with darker themes and also maybe with supernatural elements, but that gives all the characters good arcs and development and also maybe is a bit on the happier side?

But honestly anything will do I'm just looking for some new stuff

I've been thinking of watching Vanitas no Carte so that one's already on my list

Hi, anon! I understand your frustration; the despair of the Shibiya arc had become rather gratuitous by the end of Season 2. :/

VnC was one of the first shows that came to mind while I was reading your ask, so you’re already ahead of the curve! Content warnings I recall off the top of my head include child death, nonconsensual blood drinking (which carries certain unpleasant implications in vampire media), use of children for scientific experimentation, and unsavory dynamics (aka the man repeatedly disregarding the woman’s boundaries) in the canon m/f pairing. However, the quality of the story and its unmistakable queerness still make Vanitas no Carte a worthwhile watch, in my opinion. And the manga is even better!

Some other recommendations I can think of, albeit with varying ratios of darkness to good character development and happy moments, are listed below. Please note that content warnings provided are given off the top of my head and thus are not comprehensive.

Mushishi

Though existing beyond the realm of human perception, the diverse array of primitive lifeforms known as mushi can warp their surroundings—and the people inhabiting them—in bizarre, sometimes frightening ways. As a mushishi, Ginko is one of the rare few who can see and interact with these creatures, and travels Japan lending assistance to those struggling to coexist with the mushi. Suffused with a quiet melancholy, this anime is perfect to watch on a rainy day with a cup of tea in hand.

Content warnings: Body horror

Mononoke

Nope, not the Studio Ghibli film that gave birth to the classic “I’ll cut your throat” ship meme. This 2007 anime follows the enigmatic and possibly immortal Kusuriuri (medicine seller) as he helps people impacted by mononoke, malevolent spirits that latch onto negative emotions. However, he can only dispel these spirits by uncovering their true nature and the reason for the appearance, forcing him to play detective along the way. Though a spiritual cousin of sorts to Mushishi, the two shows vary radically in style: Whereas Mushishi’s color palettes tend to be earthy and subdued, Monoke’s animation pushes the envelope with a dizzying, gaudy spectacle that could have come straight out of a drug-induced nightmare.

Content warnings: Violence (including violence against women), discussions of forced abortion, body horror, a highly questionable relationship between a monk and his sister, eyestrain (the colors are gorgeous but can be a bit overwhelming at times)

Otherside Picnic

College students Sorawo Kamikoshi and Toriko Nishina team up to periodically explore the Otherside, a parallel universe where urban legends pose all-too-real threats, growing closer over the course of their adventures. Fans of the light novels on which this 12-episode anime is based have criticized the differences in tone between the adaptation and the source material, complaining that the anime tends to come across as a bit goofier. However, as someone who went into the series blind, I had a fun time! Otherside Picnic also numbers among the rare examples of sapphic anime with adult protagonists, although most of Sorawo’s and Torino’s relationship is relegated to slow-burn due to the short run time. Their black cat/golden retriever dynamic is still a joy to behold!

Content warnings: Occasional gun violence, body horror

Death Parade

The souls of the recently deceased are pitted against eachother in nerve-wracking games meant to uncover the darkest corners of their psyches so that beings known as arbiters may pass judgement on their fate—reincarnation, or eternity in the void. Alongside his assistant, Chiyuki, the arbiter Decim begins to gain greater insight into humanity while starting to question the very role for which he was created. This underrated gem will probably reduce you to a puddle of tears at least once, so have a box of tissues ready.

Content warnings: Violence, assault, suicide, depictions of alcohol use (much of the action takes place at an otherworldly bar)

Noragami

Hiyori Iki’s ordinary middle school life is turned upside down when a bus accident weakens the link between her body and soul, enabling her to perceive the gods and spirits in our midst…including Yato, a brash yet destitute young god without a single shrine to his name. How will their fates intertwine? Written along a similar vein to Fruits Basket and Kamisama Kiss, Noragami charms the viewer with its sillier shenanigans while ripping your heartstrings to shreds during the darker moments. Although the manga (at least what I’ve read of it) is superior, and the anime only adapts a handful of the original arcs, it still holds its own. And the OPs are excellent! 👌

Content warnings: Body horror, child death, suicide

#anime recs #mushishi #mononoke #otherside picnic #urasekai picnic #death parade #noragami

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1poda · 7 months

Text

She Hates Pirates! Pt.7

Pt.1

Pt.2

Pt.3

Pt.4

Pt.5

Pt.6

Pt.8

The newly formed Straw hat trio stood before a concaved mess filled with painful groans, blinking left to right Luffy gave a thoughtless hum before forcing a wounded marine who lay half buried by rock and splintered wood into awkward eye contact. He winced worryingly at both the strange boy and his own crumbling bones.

"Hey, marine. You see a girl with white hair pass through here?" Sanji grouched as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and narrowed a curly brow, but for some reason, the wounded soldier couldn't look away from Luffy's unblinking dinner plates and glanced between them uncomfortably.

"P.. please. Don't make me talk about her..." The stranger held up a weak palm with tears and snot dribbling down his face "She So Scary!!" he yelped.

"Hmmph" the black-haired Capitan groaned to himself which spooked the half-buried marine into a hushed sob.

The marine stared at Luffy with pleading eyes.

Luffy stared back with no thought or emotion.

Their senseless stare-off ended with the marine sobbing into his own working limb "WaaaaaaaaaHHHHH! ShE wenT to ThE BoSS's basE into the Foooreesesssssttt! Waaaaahahahahaaaa! Please don't make her hurt me again!!"

Zorro raised a brow at the bubbling mess below "She really that scary? Didn't seem that strong when we met" the swordsman crossed his limbs as a puff of smoke came from the side "Not that I agree but it doesn't seem like Alba has it in her to do something like this" The chef's eyes filled with hearts as he littered the air with compliments for his missing princess.

Luffy nodded after processing their 'captured' victim's word "Alright then. To the forest!"

Alba made her way through the forest at a brisk pace with a small map in hand, the paper itself was pristine but her clear form was covered in dirt yet not many bruises. Picking some loose gravel from her hair the wandering female failed to care about the beaten marines littering the forest floor in a path that led directly to Alba.

"He thinks he can keep me away with some measly guards" the teen grumbled as the paper crinkled in her furious fingers as her brows furrowed "I'll make him pay for what his goons have done to this island"

Nearing the thickest area of the woodlands Alba kept up her guard. Waiting for any irregularity that could be an ambush she passed the shadowed border which warned of its dangerous scapes. Though light became scarce she could see perfectly, it was almost as if she glowed in the darkness which attempted to devour her.

Suddenly the pale being stopped and yanked her one set out foot back before surveying the badly hidden hole filled with wooden pikes, guessing the wasn't much distance left between herself and the hideout Alba decided to quickly jump over the pit and began running the rest of the way.

In a nearby bush, a frightened marine held a hand over his gasping mouth before finally letting his form loosen "She's- she's so fast! And that strange sound... just what was that?" he wondered, hearing a high whirring sound as soon as the woman took to sprinting. Letting out a comforting sigh the guard suddenly yelped and reached for his pockets "Crap! I gotta tell the Capitan right away!!" he pulled out a small yellow-shelled transpondersnail and began relaying his report immediately.

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

*Click*

"Capitan! I have a report on the woman you told us to keep an eye out for!"

A large beefy hand cradled a small bright snail which yelled at him in distress, the shadowed leader grinned at the news "Tell me, is she on her way?"

"Y-YES! She's beaten every stationed marine on the west side of the forest!"

"Well done marine, you've made the world a safer place" a grumbly voice ended the chat as the lips the came from spread into a maddeningly joyful grin "It's time to start making preparations for our guest" he chuckled, the cave of men who surrounded him followed with their own sinister giggles.

"Huh"

"Sooooo...."

"You really think she came this way" the small group grumbled at the path of wailing men which led them through the threats of the wilderness, Zorro's brow raised, impressed with the amount but took notice that none was near death. The wounds they bore were close to fractures aside from that one guy over there who shattered his shin.

As the straw hat wearer nodded to march forward he was stopped by his chef who lit a fresh cig in the cool shade "Hey Luffy, I gotta question"

The monkey boy turned with a huff "Sanjiiiii, we don't have time for this" Luffy threw his fists in the air with a frustrated groan, the apple still within his grip "Alba Could Be Fighting Some Really Strong Guys Without Me!! GrrrrrRRRRRRR!"

"That's my question y'see...." Sanji lowered the light from his mouth with a calm exterior "Who is Alba to you? You called her The Queen of The Pirates"

"For once, I agree with curly brow over here" Zorro chimed in with limbs crossed, the pair kept their interrogative poise as Luffy tilted his head "Alba's my friend" the male shrugged before a memory flashed through his mind.

"Even if we're apart, we'll always be together" a squeaky voice whispered under the shadows of a tree house, two small bodies hidden under a pile of blankets as a shine slipped through the gaps, two voices giggled before she whispered again "Let's keep this a secret from the other guys"

"Chehehe, yeah! It'll be our Secret!!"

"Shhh!"

Luffy giggled at the pair who could only sigh at his plain answer before they figured there would be no point, whatever past the pair had none was going to learn about it any time soon.

#monkey d. luffy #one piece fandom #one pace #original character #one piece #roronoa zoro #robin #franky #ussop #straw hat pirates #sanji #tony tony chopper #brook one piece #luffy x oc

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kpop-kitkat · 1 year

Note

can I request an angsty pirate captain hongjoong x s/o imagine please <3 i really loved your previous one ^^

A Siren’s Song | Kim Hongjoong

pairing | fiancé!kim hongjoong x f!reader

genre/cw | angst, slight fluff, pirate au, major death, blood, fatal wound, horror themes, sad, crying

wc | 1.1k

notes | it’s depressing and I apologize. thanks for the request! enjoy! :D

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"I swear if I see one more empty cup in the sleeping quarters, I'm sleeping in the crow's nest!" Y/n complained.

"Maybe if you were nice to us we'd keep it clean," Wooyoung pouted.

"We all sleep in there. It's not just me it's affecting," she shot back.

"Hey, what are you complaining about? Is he bothering you love?" Hongjoong pouted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"He's being lazy and leaving the room messy," she explained.

"Wooyoung, be mindful of the crew. Pick up after yourself," he instructed.

"Hongjoong, you listen to everything she says!" Wooyoung complained.

"Well she's smart. Are you trying to say you shouldn't obey your captain's orders?" He crossed his arms.

"Sorry captain," he bowed his head.

"That's more like it," he smiled, before turning to his fiancé. "Would you help me with writing the new map for that abandoned island? I need your artistry," he explained.

"Of course Joong," she smiled before following him into his room.

On the way, a strange sound caught Y/n's ears. She looked out into the waters, searching for something she didn't know. "Did... did you hear that?" She stopped, looking out into the blue ocean.

"Hear what love?" He turned around, confusion on his face.

She kept looking, not seeing anything suspicious, so she shrugged. "Nothing."

"Alright," Hongjoong replied, still skeptical. "This map won't draw itself."

~~~~~

Y/n sighed as the morning ocean breeze greeted her. She had always been the first to wake, and it was nice to have peace and quiet for once. No noisy boys. No responsibilities. No nothing. Except for that chilling sound she had heard for the past three days. And the strangest thing was, nobody could hear it expect for her. Was she going insane? Or were they all going deaf?

This time, she thought she had seen some movement in the dark waters below as the sun rose. Now she was known for hallucinating, yes. But she could bet her life that it wasn't some sort of mirage. It was a creature. She walked over to the railing and leaned on it, arms crossed. Listening, she heard that sound again. But this time, clearer and even more terrifying. Almost as if, it was a distorted voice singing a sad song. Telling of a sorry tale. And if Y/n tired to make out the lyrics, it would sound something like this.

"She loved the man who sailed the seas, the one who stole her heart was he. But a piercing arrow in the night, took him away, into the light," the voice sang.

Y/n frowned at the words. It sounded so sad. What had happened to this poor creature?

~~~~~

The beautiful siren watched as Hongjoong and his lover danced up on the ship's deck as the sun set. She only wished Y/n knew what she was trying to say. It wasn't some sad nursery rhyme or a reflection on the siren's life, but a warning to Y/n. It was her fate.

”I love you,” Hongjoong whispered into Y/n’s ear as they danced slowly. “And I’ll never let you go.”

~~~~~

It was a sleepless night for Y/n as she looked up at the stars. Something just wouldn’t let her sleep. Specifically, the creature. Which she now knew was undoubtedly a siren.

”Why do you sing this song,” Y/n thought aloud, knowing she wouldn’t get an answer. “You are a strange creature.”

The siren in question surfaced the water, and looked at Y/n with her piercing green eyes. Although frightening, they had a strange beauty in them. And this siren didn’t seem to be evil like the stories described them as so. “You're beautiful,” Y/n complimented. The siren seemed happy after hearing it. But soon after, something scared the siren, so she dove back under. “No, I didn’t mean to scare you!” She pouted, watching the siren swim away.

Her attention was immediately removed from the siren when she caught a glimpse of another ship in the distance. “Who are they?” She squinted.

”Love?” Hongjoong yawned, coming up the stairs as he rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing up so late?”

”Joong look,” she pointed to the ship, its flag coming into sight.

”Oh no,” Hongjoong’s heart stopped when he saw the flag.

”What?” Y/n turned around and tilted her head.

”Y/n get away from there!” He shouted.

She removed her hands from the railing, frightened. “Who are they?”

It all seemed a blur when Hongjoong rushed in front of her, making himself a human shield for Y/n. She could hardly blink before a black arrow pierced his heart. A pained gasp escaped his lips as he stumbled backwards into Y/n.

“Hongjoong!” She caught him as his legs gave out beneath him. She carefully laid him down and stared in shock at the arrow, which had already caused blood to spill out at fast rate. “Joong,” she whispered, blinking her tears away.

”Y/n,” he held her hand, making eye contact. “Sail straight to Jeju, and don’t stop,” he groaned, wincing as the arrow stung his heart. He felt himself slipping away by the second.

“Hongjoong no,” she cried, accidentally covering her hands in his deep red blood. “You can’t leave.”

”Y/n,” he whispered. “I love you. You were my one and only. But now you have to let go.”

”I don’t want to let go,” she whispered, her head leaning on his chest as she sobbed her heart out. “I love you too much.”

She looked up at him with her tear filled eyes, still finding life in his. Life that was slowly fading. She kissed him, knowing it was her last. With the last of his strength, he kissed back, lifting his head up.

She knew that life had left him when he fell limp in her arms, head falling backwards and to the side. He was cold. Lifeless. Emotionless. Gone.

”I love you,” she whispered as she held his limp body close to hers.

”Wooyoung! San! Get us out of here!” Seonghwa yelled. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Y/n holding Hongjoong. “Is he-“

She nodded, trying to smile the tears away. Her heart had never hurt so much.

Hongjoong was the only love she ever knew. The day he proposed to her in their hometown on Jeju Island was the best day of her entire life. He cared for her like no one ever had. Showed her so much love, that she forgot what hate was. She felt like the only girl in the world around him, with the way he treated her. He was the one person she couldn’t live without.

And now, he was gone.

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dajaregambler · 1 year

Text

HeliosR - Sing in the darkness - Chapter 1 - Part 1 to 3

Translation of Sing in the darkness from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’, a new side arc alongside the current main story arc Like the dawning light.

First post contains part 1 to 3 of Sitd Chapter 1 due to how short they are, posts afterwards will have parts seperately each post.

This story has been written so that new & veteran commanders can enjoy it, meaning it's not a 100% neccessity to be currently caught up with the main arc.

*Warning that this post is also image heavy!

Part 1

Nova: Ah, Commander~ Perfect timing

Nova: It looks like they renewed the introduction video about New Million exhibited at the Helios museum, and I was looking over it just now

Nova: The 13th generation team of heroes you’re in charge of are shown for a bit too, which is why I’d like you to check over it

“The city where a million dreams come true, New Million-

That’s where heroes that protect the people are.”

“50 years ago, an energized substance flying through space crashed into Million State.”

“While it served as a boon for the planet running out of resources, what came with it were natural disasters that continue to harm people.”

“As a countermeasure against the damage brought in Million State, HELIOS was established and makes use of all kinds of technology relying on various crystallized rocks containing abilities found within the substance.”

“Thus, people harnessing special abilities--- those we call heroes were successfully created.”

“The main duty of these heroes is preventing disasters by subduing and retrieving substance.”

“By their continued efforts, the city developed into four unique sectors surrounding Central Square, and has been reborn as a metropolis visited by people all over the world.”

Nova: And, and? Wonder if it’s somehow too bombastic~?

Nova: Akira and everyone turned out great on the shots, so it has a nice feel to it but… Hm?

Nova: Commander, look outside! Something just…

Sing in the darkness

Chapter 1

Void

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

Part 2

Nico: ---Eclipse spotted. Three human type units, currently going straight down the street and right.

Nico: I’ll join up in a second

???: Roger/Got it

Sage: Over there!

Bianchi: There’s nowhere to run!

Jude: Leave it to me

Jude: Haaah…!

Nico: Sage

Sage: Nico! Right now Jude-kun’s---

Nico: Three more units over there. Help me out.

Sage: Eh-

Sage: Uwawah!?

Sage: That came out of nowhere!?

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

Part 3

Nico: Ha!

Nico: Take care of over there

Sage: Okay…!

Nico & Sage: Haaah…!

Jude: What, already cleaned up, huh

Sage: Jude-kun, Bianchi-san

Jude: And here I thought we still could fight…

Bianchi: That’s not something to be dissapointed over you know

Nico: Looks like that spot was taken care of.

Bianchi: Yes. It’s quite something to for them show up at the same time this close to each other

Sage: Seems that the fact of Eclipse’s activity increasing is true…

Sage: What could they be up to at a time like this…

Bianchi: It's because of how things are currently, is it not?

Sage: …….

Sage: (---A few days ago, a large hole had shown up in the sky above New Million.)

Sage: (It’s shrouded by darkness, dragging on the night continuously.)

Sage: (Most of the citizens frightened by this strange occurence have fled town by now.)

Sage: (New Million which is lauded as “The city where a million dreams come true”, has become a shell of what it once was in a mere few days.)

Sage: (Is the reason behind this substance, or perhaps, the work of someone exploiting it…)

Sage: (Whatever it is, the only ones who can save this city are us heroes at HELIOS.)

Sage: (In order to restore this city’s former peace, we’re busy doing everything we can to figure out the cause behind it---)

Bianchi: Wonder what the time even is now? I bet finding out the exact hour will be a shock either way

Jude: It’s just about half past twelve in the afternoon, Bianchi

Bianchi: …Why thank you. Even though I wasn't asking you.

Sage: …….

Bianchi: Oh dear. Sei-chan, what’s wrong? Everything okay?

Sage: Ah… yeah. I’m fine.

Sage: Sometimes I end up getting caught up in my own thoughts, like what if the city doesn’t go back to how it was before, but I can’t afford to be negative right now, do I

Bianchi: Exactly. It is something that happened in New Million, which already gives us a rough idea that substance could be the reason one way or another, no?

Bianchi: I’m most certain that the research department is desperately seeking a solution too…

Jude: If it’s not happenstance and some phenomenon pulled by Eclipse instead, it’d make things way quicker. Because we can just catch them and beat them to a pulp then.

Bianchi: You really are just so…

Sage: Alright. It’s not like we’re at a dead end yet, so let’s stay positive and pull it together.

Sage: It’s precisely because the city is in grave danger, that the power of us heroes is needed more than ever now--

Nico: Say-

Bianchi: Gyah-- Nico-chan!?

#helios rising heroes #heliosR #sing in the darkness #sage skyfall #bianchi law #jude ares #nico

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devil-doll13 · 1 year

Text

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper

Ciarán x Gn!Reader.

Tw: Gender neutral reader, also reader gets kidnapped by Ciarán so yeah, somewhat Dark Romance, Stockholm Syndrome as the reader is imprisoned/isolated, Angst, reader is very autistic coded idk it just happened the fic was doing whatever it wanted, also you die at the end… Sorry. This is a bit of new territory for me so please tell me if anything else needs to be tagged!

I’m out of the writing block gulag and I present to you, this… Fic. It sort of ended up being almost fairytale-like in nature because that just made sense for this character. Hope you enjoy.

Dividers by firefly-graphics

Spring

One day, you must run away. Far away, into the wilderness of your country, and leave behind you the pains of the day.

The first sprouts of the year have perked up above the soil, but they do not bloom yet. The grip of winter still holds life captive, a thick white mist blanketing the ground in an eerie shroud. The stone walls of your haunting ground jut out of the land like the teeth of felled giants, grey and silent. Then down yonder, the slabs of the stone circle stand guard like sentinels, murky in the fog. What they protect, who can say; or perhaps it is something you are protected from, as the elders in your village have told you.

You wander over the moorlands and clamber over streams and bogs, well loved and well travelled. From time to time you sit and rest upon a rock protrusion, humming some innsong, feeling some tension leave you, watching the day go by and the birds fly free, unbothered by your quiet presence. Later you think you had better make for home again - though it may be unwelcoming to you - lest you find yourself wandering the countryside ‘till the wee hours of the morning, led astray by visions in the mist.

And strange visions you indeed have.

The air is thick with some unknown energy. Alive, it seems, with the buzz of a hundred thousand watchers. All peering at you, the foolish little mortal, who has long frequented their mushroom doors and ancient tree carvings and hidden glades glittering in the sunlight. You, so unaware, so painfully human. You have known them for almost as long, though you remain but a trifling amusement in their eyes. Only one - one as alone and bereft as you - sees you truly and wishes to know you truly, more than any fellow villager would care to know you.

Then, he appears before you; or reveals himself.

His shadow falls onto you in the fading light of the setting sun, and you can do little but stumble into the bogwater and scream before this dusky knight and his dark mare are upon you. He reaches out and captures you in his arms, deathly cold like you imagine the inside of a coffin. You struggle in vain, but his grip is a vice, cutting and metal, hard. All goes dark as you imagine you have been killed; been taken by the reaper, perhaps God has come to destroy you for your wickedness, your sins and abnormalities.

It remains dark when you awake. But no longer are you held so tightly; you lay on soft, blanketing bedsheets. Adrenaline jolts you upright and you cry out in panic at the ghastly sight of your kidnapper, the icy fire hissing and flaring at the base of his neck, the only dim source of light to illuminate the room you’re in. He towers over you, imposing, stealing your breath from your chest.

“Please, please don’t hurt me…” You choke out.

The flames hiss louder, sharper, which only makes you more frightened, but he makes no moves to harm you. He gazes over your trembling form, seeming almost nervous in the way his gauntlets fumble. Still, you grimace away when he steps closer and reveals a small handkerchief, glowing. But it is not the fabric, you realise, but what is held inside.

Golden apples, their scent so sweet and intoxicating, and water from the clearest spring. He nudges you, though not forcefully, to eat and drink; still you have no choice, you think. As you bite into the fruit, you feel it numb your senses, and soon you give in to tiredness and fear and go to sleep, hoping and praying you had been dreaming; imagination wild and disturbed.

But no Springtime dream is this; you awake there, but mercifully warm. The soft bedsheets are still draped over you, lovingly arranged. A single source of light sits atop a podium, carved in a strange, circular fashion unlike any mortal design you have known. You sit up and see it is a glass bauble full of fireflies.

Your captor is nowhere to be seen. For a while you languish in your foreign bed and feel no desire to leave it, but fear of his return spurs you to leap from it, still dressed in your travel clothes. There must be some way out of this shadowy place, you reason, and with a feverish sweat and pounding heart you seize the flickering glass ball and try to navigate your way out of your room.

You cannot tell how much time has passed since you were taken here, for you are surrounded by grim, rocky walls overtaken by black ivy. It smells of damp moss and ancient dust, and the dark, cavernous space echoes your unsure footsteps back at you. Soon, you begin to suspect you must be trapped in the bowels of some dungeon, imprisoned here. Your heart, so heavy in your ribcage, sinks ever further into the abyss as you realise there seems to be no clear path back to your home. It is a labyrinth, your route only discernible by the uncanny murals etched across the stone.

You then feel a sudden itch urging you to turn back, to seek out the safety of your new cage, and the foreboding metallic steps sounding from the end of the gloomy hallway hastens your flight away from here. You hide underneath your sheets, as if a child again, and cry bitterly. You are not brave enough to face your kidnapper, nor are you willing to endure whatever tortures he will subject you to. You, so young, so full of life before, can see no way out of this all-consuming darkness.

Summer

After some further attempts, your hope fades into apathy, and you give yourself to grim resignation. You sleep as much as you are able, and dream of better things, of your village. Burrowing into your sheets like a worm into soil, feeling twice as wretched. You wonder if you are missed - or at least if your work is missed - or if your absence is noticed at all. For years you longed to disappear off to somewhere quiet and peaceful, but not like this.

Now you regret those wishes; your most desperate plea to God is that he spirit you back home.

Your captor visits to give you food and drink, though you have lost all appetite and eye the apples warily, remembering your sleepy daze when you ate them last. More unnervingly, he lingers in your room and watches you, sitting or standing. He does nothing to you, so eventually you start to feel a little safer in his presence, but no less anxious. Sometimes you try to speak to him, to reason with him:

“Who are you?”

“What do you want from me?”

“Why won’t you let me go?”

All met with silence. He has no head; you suppose he cannot speak. You are certain now that he is not human, and though his appearance is that of a knight, you see no heraldry to mark his allegiance to any kingdom. You begin to wonder if he is some vengeful or sorrowful spirit, accompanying you in death; or if he is the Devil, subjecting you to your own personal tormenting Hell. Your nervous thoughts quickly spiral out of control, and you toss and turn without rest.

Soon you tire of laying in bed, of the neverending sleep, and with your little light source venture out again into the labyrinth. This time you take a thread from your clothing - as worn and frayed as they now are - and use it to remember your way. You still fear what may happen should your captor meet you outside of your room; though he has been docile and calm for all the time you have known him, you know the nature of such otherworldly beings can be fickle.

Perhaps now the overworld has been cast in balmy Summer, the April showers past and gentle breezes blowing fresh, warm air into the fields, crops swaying. For an unknown amount of time, you have been stuck here, and seen no face but your own, reflected back at you in the Spring water. As far as you can tell, the only other being in this place that is not your captor is his beautiful black mare. She resides sometimes in a sort of rock stable, which you come across during one of your tentative trips outside your room.

In life, you felt an affinity for animals, preferred over other people, demanding and loud. She is rarely without her rider, but in those odd moments you creep into her living space and offer her your gilded apple. You braid her black mane and comb your fingers through it, all the while wishing you were back home and with the steady workhorses. She is like none other that you have seen in your memory, strong and dark and with wise, inquisitive eyes.

One of these times, you happen upon your captor doing the same. It is far too startling to see him dote on the mare as you do, with gentleness you have never seen him display before; or never cared to notice. You leave quickly and try to dispel the memory of it, so little does it fit your fearful perception of him.

Now you begin to study the mysterious murals by light of the bauble full of fireflies; simply for lack of things to do. They tell strange tales, but they all seem interconnected somehow, and though they resemble no Christian creation, you can still recognise their unearthly beauty. Over many trips outside to decipher them, you piece together the story of a knight who, seemingly having committed a great sin, is banished from the fair courts and made an exile, cast into the dark realm you now live in…

Only too late do you recognise the knight as your captor. It hits you unpleasantly, for you spent some time filled with pity and empathising with his plight. Both of you, prisoners of this place, and now he sees fit to chain you here in fetters alongside him.

Of course. No one, human or not, would wish to live in this awful place. Not willingly. An eternity of being alone, surrounded by this gloom and reminders of your own failures, would be unbearable. You understand this so keenly, for weren’t you alone before? Loneliness, A frighteningly human sentiment to associate with that terrifying figure. How could you sympathise with him, your jailer? You remember again the gentleness with which he tended to his horse, and feel disgusted, confused.

Your stomach ties itself into knots as you stand there, thinking and feeling too much. But then, you hear again the sound of footsteps approaching, and in panic you almost drop the bauble filled with fireflies. It is too close. You sprint back along your path of string, and there you see him towering over you, and flee fearfully back to your room to drag the great door shut and prevent his entry. Far too soon, you hear a great weight thrown against it that reverberates in your very bones. You recall that sword that lies by his hip, lethal-

“I’m not letting you in!” You cry, shivering.

He stops. There is quiet from behind the door.

For a moment, you feel an icy wave of terror wash over you. Have you overstepped? Will he force his way in now, and kill you for your insolence?

“I-I’m not letting you in until you agree to let me go.”

You swallow thickly, holding fast to your momentary courage; if you have dug your own grave by now, you may as well lie in it.

Silence. Then, you flinch as you hear the metallic step of his sharp sabatons, scraping against the floor. They become more distant and faint, until you are certain that he is walking away, away into the labyrinth to do God knows what, only you hope he does not come back to punish you.

You cannot sleep after that. Fear and hunger gnaw at your senses; you fed your apple to your captor’s mare. Miserable, you try distracting yourself by humming that innsong, but you find you have forgotten the tune. Little by little, your past life is slipping away from you.

When he opens the great door, you cannot stop him. But this time, he does not pass the threshold. You watch as this massive armoured being does the most unexpected thing: he kneels before you. His flames burn brightly, as deep a blue as Summer’s night sky. In his sharp, unsure gauntlets he offers up a bundle of fabric you quickly recognise as a collection of your old clothes, and between his fingers he clutches a beautiful red poppy.

This… You stare at him, unable to think or speak.

He does not move, only remains bended at the knee, awaiting your response. Your mouth is dry. Even you recognise this as a romantic gesture. Your captor is trying to court you, his own prisoner. You want to laugh at him for his absurdity; laugh madly.

“…I’m not taking it unless you let me out.” You say.

But he does not agree; or he cannot communicate without action. Still you know that your attempt to escape is futile, and that refusing the gift would ultimately be pointless. Slowly, hands shaking, you receive the gift. The fire on his neck hisses, flaring so suddenly it would’ve made you jump in the past. Now, you expect it. As a show of defiance, you still shut the great door on him, and he makes no effort to stop you. Soon, you hear his footsteps again, fading into the dark unknown.

You look down at your hands full of items. The poppy almost appears as if it will wilt in your fingers; in this place without life or light. You know now that it is Summer, and some sense of peace and calm washes over you. Now, with your old clothing, with a reminder of the overworld, you feel at strange ease.

Autumn

By now, you have adapted well to your new routine.

There is no sun, and the only way you can measure days or weeks is by the frequency of his visits. Each time he returns, he kneels upon his knee to meet you, offering a poppy. Each time you reject him, only you ask if he will let you go, or let you see your home again. He refuses, then leaves to resume his duty. Thus begins and ends the cycle of day and night.

Your suitor is not forceful, but he is persistent. He brings you other things, too, to make your cage more homely. It is the most comfortable and warm place you know in this underneath, catered to your fragile human body. You feel betrayed by your own emotions, as you find yourself touched by his consideration. You know you are a prisoner here, but somehow you see him in new light; with no others to talk to, you have started to confide in him despite your risky position here. He stays close and endures your occasional insults, and now you suspect he delights in your better mood, or at least in the idea that you have accepted your fate.

You speak, he listens, and watches you. Before, no one would ever do this, and dismiss you. All your flights of fancy, no matter how strange, are humoured in a way you never expected. When you express a desire to see something that will grow still in this barren place, your idea for a mushroom farm is fulfilled. It gives you something to do and look at; you adopt hobbies and pastimes you never considered before, too burdened with your work.

Still, you refuse his love. But as time passes, you feel less discomforted by his presence. His aura is calm and steady, reassuring like something ancient that has been in existence forever, like the stone circle you remember from your home. Then, as you feel more secure in your standing here, you leave your room again to explore the labyrinth.

Now when you meet him here, you greet him. You are no longer afraid, for you have learned with time that he detests to harm you. He starts, as if he is just as surprised as you yourself are. Together you sit in the dark, two prisoners at peace. When you feel tired, he extends a hand to you, offering to pull you up. You hesitate for a moment, remembering how he snatched you before. Still, you take it, and though it is cold it is not discomforting like you expect, but solid and cool. Without thinking, you hook your arm into his, though he is tall and dwarfs you. He leads you happily back to your room so you may sleep, and when you watch him leave you find yourself wondering what his hand, underneath the gauntlet, truly feels like.

After that, the connection between the two of you begins to strengthen. The barrier that kept you from touching now has seemingly been broken, and when you walk to and from your chamber it is together, arms linked as if you were both on a leisurely stroll. When you pretend that it is, it makes things simpler, so that you can forget the gloom that surrounds you. Better shackled as one than divided and alone, left to rot in this desolate place.

So your affection for him is not only of the heart, but rational. You make the most of your shared imprisonment. Perhaps you forget that it was he that dragged you down here, but as he caresses your face so lovingly, it no longer seems to matter. You learn then that his embrace is strong and enveloping, and see ashen skin beneath the armour which you kiss, falling further into the abyss, losing sight of all that you had sworn to fight against. He is, to you, as devoted and passionate a lover as any human man could be, and far greater still. You no longer have the willpower to deny your heart’s desires.

Perhaps now the outside world had begun to wither and die, as the seasons change and the leaves begin to fall, rotting into the dirt. You, a trifling mortal, should see fit to be buried with them; but your fate has been altered, changed now. Loving so utterly has transformed your heart and mind, your soul, and you still eat of the sweetest fruits and drink from the clearest spring, boons earned by your lover’s exploits. You now wish to become like him, without end. To become deathless, and forget, forget it all…

Winter

Still, you recall the sweetness of spring, the fruits of summer, the colours fading in the harvest, giving way to cold and deathlike winter.

This time, when you ask him once again to bring you back to your mortal world, it is not to leave him, but to experience these joys once more before you must let them go forever. To be his forever. He agrees, though reluctantly, as if you are terribly fragile and sick; though you feel so feverishly cheerful, as if you have gained new life and new being now. Only he bids you to hold on tightly to him, gripping your hands firmly in his as he holds the reins. You obey and bury your face into his travel cloak, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. The atmosphere shifts, the air is fresh, and you breathe in deeply, crisp and serene.

Your eyes, accustomed to darkness now, sting painfully in the light. Even though the skies are grey, sombre clouds brooding over the land, you see life once again for the first time in an aeon. Dying now - or already dead - to be reborn in the next life.

“I want to see my-my old home...” Your teeth chatter. He squeezes your hands that tremble against his chestplate. It is cold; not like he is cold, but from the bitter chill of winter. Under your shared shroud of fog, the grass is frozen, you see all around you the pale glaze of white. All is still, and the howling gale quiets in your lover’s commanding presence, pacified.

Together you ride across the moor, concealed by shimmering mist. Though you still recognise your country, you soon realise it has been changed. Then, with horror, that your old house has long been gone. All is replace now with new, alien structures and colours and brightness, a future so grotesque you are repulsed by it. You regret coming here now.

How many years have passed? The familiarity, the comfort you expected to find here, is gone. All that is left now is urgency and confusion and noise. Time has abandoned you as readily as anyone you have ever known; except for him, your lover. You no longer belong here, but to him, to his world.

You look at your hands. What is your essence, now not human, but also not like him? Now you feel that you wish to turn back, return to the dark and quiet of the underneath. But your folly leaves you untethered to your lover’s cloak, and in that moment his mare draws up and you slip off her back.

Then, you fall from the horse. You hit the ground.

As your body touches bitter soil and earth, you revert entirely; for you always have belonged to the overworld, a mortal fool. Your hands soon appear gnarled and withered, your hair overgrown and grey, as you age into a feeble elder, returning once again to the dying land. The last thing you see is that black gauntlet reaching out for you, as longingly as it did on that Spring day. But Death takes you first and steals you away, a cruel twist of fate that ends your story, as pitiful and as unfortunate as it had began.

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @bluecoolr, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @flower-crowned-lady, @solmints-messyocdiary, @probably-a-plant-thing, @myers-meadow)

#the seasons idea came from the whole Hades and Persephone myth #the ending was inspired by Irish myths/folklore though #Ciarán #🗡️#Ciarán x reader #oc x reader #slasher oc #horror oc #dullahan #fic #my writing

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