#headless horseman fic

[bettyfrommars]

headlessHorseman!eddie x Reader

Welcome back to The Nightmare Factory

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18+ONLY

I had a request from @thiswaytoinfinity for a Headless Horseman version of Eddie, and this is what happened. Reader is AFAB and this chapter includes a surprise guest. Much love. wc: 3.3k

This is part of a collection of blurbs and short fics about Eddie only being able to communicate with you through your nightmares. It can be enjoyed as a standalone, but there is a story being woven through each chapter. Chapters with smut will be marked nsfw, but most of these are just pure silliness and yearning.

"None shall escape the horseman's sight! On your guard, the time is nigh! The Headless Horseman darkens the sky! No matter the realm, it's all the same; I will sear you all with burning flame!"

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You’d been marked by the Headless Horseman.

That much was obvious by the carved jack-o-lantern with a lit candle inside that appeared on your doorstep on that morning, the first of October.

A group of kids from town snickered and pointed at you, knowing that your demise was near, but you held your head high.

You didn’t believe in the Headless Horseman.

It was a fairytale woven by firelight to frighten gullible fools and babies—and you were neither.

You were a teacher now, and a good one at that.  Your students did not hate you like they had the schoolmaster before.  They didn’t hate you to your face, anyway.

You attended the fall festival behind the church that Saturday night, and Jesiah Smith would not leave you alone.  He kept refilling your apple cider, which was nice, but you had no interest in him outside of friendship, and he didn’t seem able to take the hint.  

The guy was standing way too close to you, Eddie observed from the shadows.  

Eddie was patiently awaiting his scene in the dream as if he were an actor waiting for curtain call, but now the extras in your nightmare were getting on his nerves.  It was impossible for Eddie to get to be in all of your nightmares, but he took the opportunities when they came.  

Thank god he could tell you were already getting bored with the people around you; even in dreams you preferred to avoid mundane chitchat.  He slipped back through the dark thicket of forest and mounted the black steed with ease—almost as if he’d paid attention in class this time. The horse with a long silky mane and red eyes exhaled hot air from its nostrils, and in the cold darkness, it looked like it was breathing smoke.

The wind picked up, scattering dead leaves, and you rubbed your arms to warm them up.  Above, the moon was so round and big, and it glowed a pale yellow—in the distance, a wolf howled.  You swore you heard noises from the forest over the sound of the fiddle that people were dancing to.  Horse hooves trotting, a crow cawing, and the low moan of the wind through tight fissures in the trees, singing like a warning.

Jesiah offered you his jacket, but you told him it was time to grab your shawl and go.  

He said he could walk you home, but you said no thank you.

He took hold of  your arm to pull you back, to keep you from moving away, and a horse neighed loudly from somewhere deep in the woods, making everyone’s heads whip around to look in that direction.

“I’m fine,” you assured, snaking your arm away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jesiah.”

There was a blip in time then, and suddenly you were in the middle of the forest, and all of the villagers from the festival were gone. 

 You were all alone.

The air felt cold and damp all at once.  Above you, the tops of the trees made a canopy way over your head like intertwined fingers that carved out a perfect slot for the mood between their knuckles.

You shivered again, but not from the cold this time.

You had no idea which direction to walk in order to get home.

An owl flew off of a branch near you and screeched as its big wings caught the air.

You turned on your heel, noticing a thin path that led into a denser part of the forest.  “That must be it,” you whispered to yourself, taking a few cautious steps in that direction.

Your legs felt like you were walking in quicksand; you kept moving, but were still in the same spot. 

There was a long silence filled with nothing but the chitter of crickets, the type of silence that pounded in your ears, and then you heard a branch snap nearby.  You tried to jump from the spot you were in, but your legs felt like jello.

It was then that you felt the hot, wet snorts of breath on the back of your neck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the huge body of a horse with a man sitting atop it.

You went to step and tripped, falling to the ground as you actively scurried back and a scream caught in your throat, choking you, making you gasp for air.  

The man was dressed all in black with pale skin and long, curly dark hair.  A long coat, and riding boots that came almost to his knees.  The black horse he rode was one of the biggest you’d ever seen—-and there appeared to be actual fire flickering in its eyes.

You noticed a thick, jagged line like a railroad track around the man’s neck.

“Are…are you the Headless Horseman?” You stammered, feeling like your voice was coming from somewhere outside of your body.  

He cocked the head in question, his voice was deep.  “Do I look headless to you?”

“No,” you managed to whisper, licking your dry lips.  

Eddie’s heart was racing.

He felt like in every dream, the two of you had to start all over, but this time—-your eyes were soft as you gazed up at him.  Almost as if  you found him…familiar.

You watched from a tuft of dead leaves on the ground with your knees pulled to your chest as Eddie dismounted.  

He dropped the reins and took a few steps toward you.  “Listen,” the man cleared his throat.  “I’m supposed to chase you out to the meadow and scare you, but I don’t really want to.”

 “Why don’t you want to?” You stared at him blankly.

Eddie kicked something invisible with his boot, rolling his tongue between his lips. After a beat, he squinted and dipped his head, crossing his arms over his chest.  “You don’t remember me?”

This was starting to feel surreal.  Did you live in the town nearby, or was this a dream? This couldn’t be a dream—-he was standing right in front of you.  You could feel the air moving in your chest.  

You furrowed your brow and tried to think, but then shook your head, disappointed that you could not place him.

With dramatic flourish, the man threw his hands to his chest as if he’d been shot and fell to the ground, catching himself in a push-up position before rolling onto his back in front of you and flopping there.  Orange leaves fluttered against him like lifeless butterflies.

You snorted a confused laugh and looked on, amused, searching his dark eyes as he got on his side and propped his head up on his hand.

“Wait,” you bit your lip.  The memory of him was like a pinprick of light at the end of a long tunnel, but you reached out through your brain as hard as you could for it while Eddie held his breath.

You lowered your gaze to the ground for a second and then returned your attention to him, about to let something out of your mouth that didn’t make any sense.  “Something to do with a ferris wheel?”

Eddie sat up and clapped, giving a fist pump of excitement.  “Yes! Ferris wheel!” He got to his knees and craned his neck to get his head closer to you.  

He was so close to you now, it wouldn’t take much effort to lean forward and kiss him; you had this deep swell of confidence that the two of you had kissed before. 

His rich chocolate eyes were in quite a bit of contrast to his chalk white skin, and his plump lips were pale too; a tiny blush of pink against flesh that refused to warm.  His dark hair was almost black and it matched the thick stitches that clamped down over the gash that seemed to go all around his neck.  

Eddie released a heavy breath and took your hand.

“I want to tell you everything,” he said.

You squeezed his hand back, silently asking him to continue.

There, on a blanket of leaves, under the unblinking, watchful eye of the moon, Eddie told you that he was from another dimension, a place where they created nightmares for dreams.  After a moment of hesitation, while he broke a dry leaf apart with his fingers, he raised his gaze to yours tentatively and admitted that he’d developed a crush on you the first night he saw you.

Nothing about this seemed strange to you, in fact, he might as well have been telling you that he worked for Foot Locker at the mall and was asking you out for a soda.  All perfectly normal stuff.  

A gust of wind brushed back his hair, and a murder of crows took flight.

“It wasn’t just the way you looked; you know.  Even though you are beautiful, don’t get me wrong.  Very, very beautiful, but it was…” he drifted off, a smile breaking his laugh.  “...the little people you made out of potatoes that sat on your desk, and the heavily worn paperbacks by your bed, and the way you slept with every body part under the covers except for your feet.”

You dipped your head shyly, self-conscious that he’d seen you in such a vulnerable state—but you were not at all horrified like you would be if a guy in your world told you he’d been standing over your bed while you slept.  Your reaction was that of someone who was familiar with Eddie and not at all bothered by the information he was admitting.  

Things feel so different in dreams.

He hesitated, trying to get a read on your expression. “Is this too much? Am I saying too much?”

“I..” your thought trailed off as you looked around at the dark shadows that loomed in the clearing.  “Is this a dream? Am I dreaming right now?”

Eddie brought his knee up and circled his elbow around it. He had picked the leaf in his hand clean, down to the vein, and turned the delicate piece over in his fingers.  “This is all we have, for now,” he said softly.

In the distance, a dark rumble of laughter—a menacing cackle—broke the cricket song of nature’s silence and all the birds scattered.

You turned to Eddie with wide eyes.  “W-what was that?”

“Crap,” Eddie lowered his lids for a long breath.  “I can’t believe it’s time already.”

“Time? Time for what?” You mimicked his movements as he stood and dusted himself off.  

The evil laughter continued to bellow as horse hooves pounded in the distance.  Through a break in the trees, you could see something or someone thundering along on horseback.

“Quick, take my hand!” Eddie shouted to get your attention.  He was already up high on the horse, but the ice grip of fear made you freeze.  You caught his hand and stepped into the stirrup, swinging your leg over the saddle behind him at his instruction.  

“Wrap your arms around me and hold on tight,” he shouted over his shoulder as the horse took a few steps, bobbing its head, eager to get a move on.

You did as you were told, pinning your cheek to the tight back muscles that were flexing under his coat.  

Delilah, the horse, was fast and strong and she took off like a shot at Eddie’s command.  “Just don’t look back!” Eddie told you as the wind blew his hair back into your face; it smelled like honeysuckle and campfire.  

Eddie crouched down a bit as he spurred her on, and you kept your body glued to his, your tailbone hitting the back of the saddle.

Faster…faster….

Delilah bounded into the air to avoid a huge tree that had fallen, and you squeezed your eyes shut for what felt like forever until her hooves met the ground again and you were bouncing behind Eddie to the beat of her strides.  

That was when you made the mistake of looking behind you.

Not too far back and gaining at paranormal speed, was an actual headless man atop a mean-looking horse that was even bigger than Delilah.  He wore a long, dark cape that flew out behind him, and he was barreling down on the three of you with a knife in his hand; the blade was long and curved and the steel glinted in the moonlight.

You gulped, knowing instinctively that it was your head he wanted.

“He’s gaining on us!” You screamed into the wind.

“I told you not to look back!” Eddie responded just as Deliah caught air over a fence and landed in a wide open meadow.

“Who is it? What do they want?”

“It’s another headless horseman,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, squinting into the velocity of the escape.  "And he wants you."

“There’s more than one??”  you took the chance to peek over your shoulder again, only to see that the headless man in question was gaining on you.  “Why do you have a head and he doesn’t?” you yelled as Eddie kicked his heels and urged Delilah on.

“I sewed my head back on just for you, baby.”

Eddie coaxed Delilah in a sharp right, bolting across the other side of the field.  Straight ahead in the distance was an old, covered bridge, and Eddie was telling Delilah to beeline right for it.

“Once we get you across that bridge, he can’t touch you,” Eddie said.

“But what about you?” Your voice cracked as the words left your mouth.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll find you again.”

The other Headless Horseman was right behind you now.  He cackled loud and brandished the knife high in the air to let you see that he was serious, and it glinted in the moonlight.

You never doubted for a second that he would use it.

“How is he laughing without a head?” You chanced to ask.

“Oh, he has a head,” Eddie shouted.  “It’s just not on him right now.”

Perfect sense, all of it.  

You were so close to the bridge…so close

But then the other horseman was coming up beside you—

He sliced his blade through the air, missing you both by a hair.

Eddie threw him a dirty look.  “What the hell, man?”

More evil laughter.

The blade came down again, this time, it would’ve clipped your arm if Eddie hadn’t made Delilah swerve in the other direction.

Now, you were headed away from the bridge.

“New plan!” Eddie yelled. 

“Yeah what’s that?” The last word that came out of your mouth was a scream as you saw that the other Headless Horseman was suddenly blocking your path, swinging his arm back, ready to chop Eddie’s head off.

Eddie cursed and Delilah reared up on her back legs as if to protect the both of you with her hooves.

You let out a high pitched wail that pierced the night as you and Eddie toppled from the horse.

You landed in your bed.

Eddie landed in the alfalfa meadow.

Your mouth was dry when your eyes flew open to reveal the calm, familiar bedroom setting, while your hands made tight fists in the sheets.  

It had only been a dream…but how could you still smell the campfire wood of his hair?

You’d never bolted from bed as fast as you did in that moment, scrambling for your pen and journal on the nightstand as you propped yourself up against the headboard.  The tip of your tongue darted over your top lip as you concentrated, writing down everything you could remember from the dream…things he said…the way it felt…

That morning, you drew your very first sketch of him, too.  It was rough, but you got the shape of his mouth correct and his hair, you even put in the details of the thick stitching around his neck that held his head on.

A couple nights went by before you saw him again, and when you did, it would be groundbreaking, because you would remember him for the first time.  

Back in the dream, Delilah resumed a small trot before pausing to snack on some of the grasses.  There was no more tension in the air, no more work to be done, now she could take a break.

On the ground, Eddie rolled onto his back with his arms out and groaned. The clouds gathered in the shape of a hand and cupped the moon in the dark blue sky.  

The other headless horseman was snickering as he dismounted and sheathed his weapon at his side, slapping his leg with the flat of his hand for emphasis on how hilarious it had been.

“Smooth moves, Munson,” Headless Horseman Steve chuckled, his shoulders bouncing.  “I only meant to scare you back in the forest, not start a hot pursuit.”

Still on his back, unwilling to move, Eddie grumbled,  “I should’ve never vouched for you when you came looking for a job, Harrington.”

When Steve finally found the willpower to swallow his amusement, Eddie sat up, patting his arms to release puffs of dirt from the fall.  “What the hell is wrong with you? Did you space out during safety training or what?”

Headless Steve stepped over to offer Eddie his gloved hand to help him up, but Eddie knocked his arm away and stood on his own.  

“Why are you so salty?” Steve's head had been tucked under his cape this whole time, but he procured it now, cradling it in the crook of his arm. “You used to get a kick out of fucking with them.”

“Yeah, well, not anymore,” Eddie mumbled as he picked a piece of grass out of his hair. He turned his back on Steve and strode over to Delilah.

“You want to go back to the factory together?” Steve called out to him.  “Maybe get a drink after?”

Eddie just shook his head before he got up into the saddle and kicked his leg over.  “I’ll catch you later, Harrington.  I need a minute,” and then he clicked his tongue and Delilah moved toward the bridge, to the portal that would take him back to the dream simulator.  

“Sure, man, okay,” Steve said weakly, his mouth moving on the head he had under his arm.  “Good talk.”

Eddie released a heavy sigh as he bobbed up and down to the sway of Delilah’s stride.  He felt like he really got through to you this time, and he wasn’t about to give up.  Even if he had used up all of his chances to appear as himself to you, he’d find a way.  

A big Sasquatch named Saul had ventured out of the woods to see what was going on, and now he stood next to Steve, watching Eddie go.  

“What’s the matter with him?” Saul asked, his enormous body towering above his coworker.  He was covered head to toe with brownish-red hair or fur, so much so that the only way you knew he had eyes was due to the fact that the hair on his face moved when he blinked.   

“Beats me,” Steve scoffed. He was a little hurt that Eddie hadn’t responded the way he’d expected.  It’s almost as if he…cared about the person who was having the dream? But that was silly.  Nightmare workers weren’t allowed to have any connection with their clients.

Steve collected his horse’s reins in his free hand.  “You feel like a beer?” He asked Saul.

“I am thirsty,” Saul responded, twisting to crack his back.  “Just need to let a few more people get a glimpse at me through the trees, and then I can’t meet you back at the lockers.”

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Thank you for reading 🧡

#eddie munson #the nightmare factory #nightmare!eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie munson series #spooky season fic #headlessHorseman!eddie #headless horseman

[2kmps]

IN A SLEEPY TOWN

headless horseman x reader masterlist | ao3

story synopsis; “the horseman who rides atop his alabaster steed, cloaked in crimson without a head.”

in the sleepy town of Moorwick, you are drawn into the legend of the horseman when you learn it is associated with your father’s disappearance twenty years ago. when the local ghost story turns to be anything but that, and a bargain goes awry, you delve into moorwick’s dark history with hopes of saving more than just yourself.

story warnings; graphic descriptions of gore & violence, stalking, manipulation, murder, brief mention of child murder, mc gets injured quite often, brief mentions of suicide, frightening & grotesque imagery, horror, manhandling bc the horseman is a tank, elements of mystery, very detail + prose heavy, implied parental negligence, mental illness is discussed at length in certain chapters. originally posted 11/2019.

thank you, @ceruleansol for proofreading 💙

chapter synopsis & links

chapter one; you travel to the sleepy town of moorwick in search of your missing father. with little more than some luggage and your car, you're immediately steeped in the mysterious ways of the residents and of their local boogeyman— the headless horseman.

chapter two; you spend a better portion of your day in the archives of the moorwick public library researching the phenomena surrounding the town. by nightfall, you wander into the haunted forest to confront these myths yourself

chapter three; with the town of moorwick abuzz for the parade, you make every effort to escape your pact with the horseman, only to be thwarted by suspicious circumstances. when you’re lured back to the atticus, your next encounter with the horseman is anything but pleasant

chapter four; some time has passed and you continue to return to the atticus, no closer to solving the mystery of the horseman’s head. after an encounter with the dead, along with something far worse, you were beginning to understand the horseman’s existence wasn’t so straightforward.

chapter five; you could no longer refute that your relationship with the horseman was more complex than you initially thought it to be. what did it mean? Just as you’re coming to terms with this, colson offers a gift that could change everything. and moorwick’s more prestigious residents let you know that there are eyes always watching.

chapter six; you are determined to get answers from the horseman regarding the whereabouts of your father. It goes horribly awry. to make matters worse, new information comes your way about the peculiarities of moorwick, making the search for the horseman’s head far more complex and there are some people determined to keep it that way.

chapter seven; following that bloody night in the forest with the horseman, you couldn’t bring yourself to go back. It’s only after a startling revelation from asta lang that you find the courage to return; albeit you find that the horseman isn’t your only encounter.

chapter eight; the mystery deepens as you confront the one person who may know more about colson’s intentions than anyone else: theodore sinclair. As the nature of your relationship to the horseman evolves, you’re left wondering what it all means.

chapter nine;

chapter ten;

chapter eleven;

this is a series repost from my deleted blog officiallytheduchess/cardeneiv. chapters 1-8 are not up-to-date with my current writing style, thus you are likely to see shifts in focus and storytelling as a result.

I do intend to revamp this series once officially completely and rebuild it from the ground up. as my skills as a writer have grown, so has potential for this story and the world within.

please reblog the individual chapters & the masterlist! reblogs are the only way that work gets shared around this platform and it's important to do so!

©️2kmps. all published work for this series belongs to me. you may not reproduce, translate, or publish it on any other platform without my explicit consent. fanworks are permitted with clear and obvious credit.

#headless horseman #dullahan #headless horseman x reader #headless horseman x you #headless horseman x y/n #dullahan x you #dullahan x reader #dullahan x y/n #monster fiction #monster fic #monster x human #monster fucker #monster story #monster #monster x y/n #monster x you #monster x reader #original writing #original fic #writing #.02 #2k writes #monsterfkr

[rin-bellatrix]

A Man After Midnight

"Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away?" - ABBA

Sasha's gone missing in search of the final vault key piece, and Fiona will be damned if another vault tries to take her sister from her - again. It doesn't matter who - or what - gets in her way, she'll find her sister - even when something supernatural is determined to make sure that she and Rhys never see the light of day again...

Written for the rhyiona lovers who are also Halloween lovers

Header art is by arymus (deactivated ☹)

I decided during the planning stages that this will be part three to "It Takes Two" and "U.N.I." sooo this is a multi-chapter work now I guess 🤷🏽‍♀️

Btw... it's a long one folks, get a snack and strap in lol

Fall leaves dividers from these posts and jack-o-lantern dividers from these posts. Orange swirl divider from this post

Trick or Treat~ ❤🧡💛🍁🍂🎃⚰🪦💀🕸🦇😈

Rhys turned off the car engine, pocketing the key and stepping out of the car with Fiona. The air was chilled and thick with mist that saturated the scenery and painted everything in a dreary sort of gray color. They glanced around and caught the looks of the wary townsfolk as they eyed the newcomers who had just arrived in their small rural town.

Fiona ducked her head, allowing the brim of her hat to cover her eyes - an old habit she never lost from back in her grifting days. 'Keep your head down, do your best to blend in and don't bring any unnecessary attention to yourself,' said the memory of Felix's voice floating in the back of her mind. But those days were behind her now. She was here for one reason and one reason only - to find her sister.

Meanwhile, Rhys shivered in the cold autumn air and tugged his jacket tighter around himself, glancing around the shrouded town to try and locate the hotel he had booked their stay at. All of the buildings appeared looming and ominous in this weather; he couldn't really differentiate one from another as they were half concealed with a wispy blanket of fog.

This was not some romantic getaway for the weekend, but rather an expedition to try and find Sasha. Her last known location had been here, this backwards little hole where she had followed a supposed "lead" to a new potential vault key piece. She had been conversing with Fiona, keeping a regular point of contact with her for the two days that she was there. On the third day, Sasha failed to check in and Fiona's big sister protective instincts flared to life, causing the vault hunter to abandon her current assignment and Fast Travel back to Promethea, where she could load up on gear and head over to her sister's last known whereabouts.

When he got the notification that his girlfriend was stopping by his company's home planet, Atlas' president grew excited at the thought of a romantic night out. Activating his newly programmed assistant, TIMM-E, Rhys allowed the program to take care of Atlas while its president was briefly away. He needed to work on making a body for TIMM-E, because as of right now, he was just an encrypted piece of data floating around Atlas' system. But for today, he could do his job well enough that his body would have to wait for later. Right now, love and romance were what Rhys was focused on.

Donning his expensive cologne and a fresh set of date night clothes, he swept by her apartment with a large bouquet of roses in hand, intending on asking her out for the evening. Expecting a tired but content vault hunter at the door, he was instead met with a laser focused, completely serious vault hunter who was not stopping by to rest for a few days before running off to her next adventure. She was only here temporarily, strapping up for what looked like a big battle.

He questioned her with a concerned wrinkle to his brow as he watched her check the sights of a rare gun before sliding a fresh clip into it. She briefed him about the little she knew, moving on to handle two different grenade mods, trying to decide which was the better of the two. The young CEO placed the roses in a vase, fanning them out a bit as the Pandoran woman clipped the chosen grenade mod to her hip, tossing the other one back into her storage container.

Seeing Fiona cycle through her inventory and attaching high powered weaponry to her belts, Rhys knew he couldn't leave her to face this alone. Sasha was her sister, but she was also one of his closest friends. They were all a family, bound by more than blood. He wasn't some kind of world class assassin, or really a fighter of any kind, but Fiona needed support and he'd give his all to be there for her and Sasha.

When he proposed that he'd come along to help, Fiona had outright refused, claiming that he'd just be putting himself in danger and that she didn't want to worry about her sister and her boyfriend too. But he insisted, claiming that his cybernetic inhancements would make tracking clues and ultimately finding Sasha that much easier. Eventually, the prospect of getting to her sister as soon as she was able to convinced the vault hunter to accept his help.

Rhys carefully reached out and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. "Don't worry Fi, we'll find her."

He could feel the various edges of her weapons pressing into his body, and truthfully it was a bit uncomfortable. But she returned his embrace and pressed her face into his shoulder, knocking her hat askew, and his discomfort didn't matter compared to his need to console his lover. Fiona was incredibly brave, but he knew that she was also incredibly scared. His own worry over Sasha's disappearance was hard to push back, but he didn't want to add to his girlfriend's already obvious distress.

They eventually broke away, and Rhys soon after hopped on a call to obtain their reservations for a hotel in the town Sasha had last been in. Fiona excused herself, needing to go down to the lobby of her apartment building and purchase ammunition from a vending machine, before getting ready to leave.

Turns out getting there was a little more complicated then they thought. The small town was so sequestered that not only did it not have a Fast Travel designated location, but it was miles away from the closest city that did. So Rhys quickly rung up the nearest rental and placed an order for a high-class (of course) but simple vehicle that would take them the rest of the way.

Now that they had arrived, they needed to grab their gear and make their way over to the hotel to officially begin their search. The company man and the Pandoran woman each took ahold of their own luggage, trying to ignore the feel of being stared at by dozens of watchful gazes. Closing the trunk and stepping away from their rented car, the young CEO activated the anti-theft alarm which seemed to chirp loudly in the lull of this tense silence. Turning towards the hotel, the couple began walking down the street when a voice called out to them.

"You can't park that here."

They both turned to find the speaker, taking in the older man leaning against a support beam in front of a shop. He looked less than impressed with them, his stare cold and unflinching.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is there a lot nearby or somewhere else I can park it?" Rhys asked, trying not to ruffle the feathers of the townspeople who were now all eyeing the newcomers with varying degrees of distain.

He glanced down the foggy street, but only then did he realize that there were no other vehicles as far as the eye could see. In fact, he hadn't seen any at all while driving into town. Their rental could most likely be the only car within a hundred miles.

"Sure," the old man shrugged easily, gesturing vaguely with a slight wave of his hand. "Best to park it in the next town over. Stay with it too, while you're at it."

Atlas' president frowned, not liking the way this guy just told them in a roundabout way to leave and stay gone. He opened his mouth to retort, when his girlfriend moved past him to step closer to this stranger.

"Look, we're only here because we're looking for my sister," she informed, watching his face carefully before turning and catching the eyes of everyone who was staring at them. "Has anyone seen her? A woman with light green eyes, her hair done up in thick locs? She was here for two days?"

None of the townsfolk spoke up or moved, they just continued to observe the couple as if Fiona had never said a word. They both knew that everyone watching had understood Fiona, it wasn't as if she was speaking Eridian. The people nearby were just purposefully ignoring her. The vault hunter pursed her lips, fighting back against the frustration wanting to get the better of her.

Rhys lifted his cybernetic hand, pulling up a hologram portrait of Sasha on his palm display. A blue digitized bust of Sasha sat in his hand, her smile beautiful and bright as she slowly rotated in a full 360 degree visual reference.

As soon as Rhys lifted his mechanical hand and brought up a glowing hologram, the reaction with the crowd was immediate. Everyone seemed to move back away from them, their murmurs of offense and scandle clear in the tones of their voices. They acted as if Rhys had just called forth fire from his hand. Startled, the young CEO quickly dismissed the hologram and dropped his hand, taking a step closer to Fiona. Likewise, she moved to face him, and one of the onlookers caught sight of the official vault hunter patch sewn onto the sleeve of her jacket.

"A vault hunter..."

"Vault hunter-"

"Did you see that-"

"Another one-"

Their frantic words ran together, almost unintelligible, but they both could hear the genuine fear and open disgust when the words "vault hunter" were spoken.

The people living in this backwards town had been coolly contemptuous, then reacting with indignation when Atlas' head had pulled up a hologram, acting as if modern technology didn't exist outside of this settlement. But the tone clearly shifted once Fiona was identified as a vault hunter, the air now thick with hostility and the promise of violence.

What these people had against advanced devices and vault hunters, she may never know, and to be honest, she really didn't care. Right now, they were in her way of finding where her sister was and if one of them even took a single threatening step closer, she'd have no problem whipping a gun out and showing them that she meant business.

"Everyone calm down, calm down now - these people are guests come to visit our fine town; let's show them some of our famous hospitality, shall we?"

A clear voice cut through the tension, making Rhys and Fiona turn towards the woman stepping through the small crowd that had gradually gathered around them. She was mature and elegant, holding her chin high as she swept towards them. Fiona, still on edge, kept her hand posed to reach for a weapon, eyeing the woman with open suspicion.

The older woman didn't seem to mind, looking between the two of them with a mild sort of curiosity. She was wearing what could only be described as an expensive gown, her collar bare and her skirt voluminous. She wore simple yet expensive jewelry along her neck and on her fingers. No one in the gathering stopped her or disobeyed her words, they only watched as she stood in front of the two newcomers.

"You must be the Strongforks, yes? You've procured your reservation for a stay at my hotel. My name is Lady Van Tassel, pleased to make your acquaintances," she stated, extending her hand demurely as she introduced herself.

"Oh! Yes, that's us, erm, t-the Strongforks, yep," Rhys fumbled, stepping over to delicately take her offered hand and give her a dainty shake.

He stepped back and Lady Van Tassel's hand was extended towards Fiona. Fiona wanted to ask Rhys about when they had gotten married and why hadn't she been informed, but that could wait until they were alone. She supposed for now she could play Mrs. Strongfork if it got them out of this situation faster. So she took her hand and also gave a gentle shake, noticing almost as an after thought of how soft her skin felt against her own.

Pulling away, the Pandoran mentally considered her own hands. The life of a vault hunter was rough, but that didn't mean her hands had to be. She made a mental note to moisturize more often.

"Please, come this way. I'll see you to your room," the Lady said, turning and allowing the out-of-town couple to follow behind her.

Glancing at the people who only moments ago were so keen on displaying their outright hatred for them, Fiona watched as they broke away and dispersed, not even sparing them one last disgruntled glance. Either their ire was extremely fickle, or Lady Van Tassel was someone more important than a simple hotel owner.

Entering between the large double doors of the hotel, all three of them stepped into the quiet lobby, with Ms. Van Tassel leading them straight to the check-in desk.

Despite Rhys' long legged height, as he followed closely behind the Lady and her vast swishing skirts, he reminded her of a baby duck, trailing in her wake. Fiona supposed that since she had taken them both in, that would make her a duckling too. She never liked to be indebted to people, especially those who she didn't know, but she had to admit that Ms. Van Tassel had pulled them out of a sticky situation.

"Thank you, for what you did back there," Fiona called out, catching the eye of the Lady as she turned to look at her from over her shoulder.

The older woman sighed, shaking her head once as she rounded the desk. "Let me apologize on behalf of my neighbors. We don't get very many visitors, and those that we do, some end up being vandals who call themselves 'vault hunter's' and only bring chaos to our quiet little town." She glanced up at them, her brow pinched with concern. "We've had a few... Unsavory altercations in the past. So many of us are wary, to put it lightly, of anyone who claims to be a vault hunter..."

Fiona nodded, stepping closer to the desk. "I understand, and I'm sorry for your troubles. But believe me when I say that I'm just here to find my sister. As soon as I do, we're gone. You have my word."

Lady Van Tassel regarded them quietly for a moment, before offering a small smile. "You two certainly don't come across as ruffians or scoundrels... I'll take you for your word, an unbroken promise between two ladies and a gentleman," she granted, reaching over the desk to take Fiona's hand again in another shake.

She then reached down and pulled out a large book, carefully opening up to a bookmarked page before turning it around and settling it onto the ledge in front of Rhys. "Sign here then, Mr. Strongfork," she instructed, pointing underneath a row of names to the next open space. "I'll get your keys ready and escort you upstairs to your quarters."

She turned towards a desk behind her and opened a wide drawer as Rhys scribbled his name across the page. Fiona sidled up next to him and together they scanned the names on the registry, looking for any of the names Sasha had used in the past. None had stood out to them, and so Rhys turned the book around as the Lady faced them, holding two copies of the room key out to them.

Taking one each, Fiona pocketed hers immediately and figured she'd question Ms. Van Tassel now while she had the chance. "Lady, have you seen a young woman in town, green eyes, thick hair locs? She was here for two days, I've lost communication with her almost a day ago."

"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen anyone around here that looks like that. She's your sister you say? I hope you find her soon, darling," the Lady murmured, coming around the desk to offer a consoling pat to the vault hunter's arm, before linking their arms together. "Now, let's get you two situated upstairs, and I'll have a hot meal waiting for you when you're ready to come back down. You can't go out searching on an empty stomach."

She guided Fiona towards the stairs, calling out behind her for Rhys. "Mr. Strongfork, please don't forget your lovely wife's luggage, be a dear and carry them up for us, won't you?"

Had she turned to look over her shoulder at him, she would've found said Mr. Strongfork blushing at the mention of Fiona as his wife.

"Y-yeah, of course... Wouldn't want m-... My... W-wife to-"

"Rhys darling~" Fiona called, interrupting his suspicious stammering.  If this town was as backwards as it has already proven itself to be, then perhaps an unwed couple sharing a room would be the last straw on the belliks back. "Don't keep us waiting, okay~?"

Their room was nothing too extravagant, but it looked comfortable and clean. Fiona was truly exhausted, only allowing herself to sleep on the car ride over, which had been a mere couple of hours. Before that she had been out on the field, completing some side mission for someone on Sanctuary. Now, the temptation of a clean bed called to her, her body desperate for some real rest. But the thought of her sister alone, possibly in a dangerous situation - or worse, hurt - kept her from being able to indulge in some much needed sleep.

So for now she shoved her luggage under the bed and straightened up to look at Rhys. "So... Husband of mine."

The ease with which Fiona could conjure a blush to her boyfriend's face was incredibly satisfying, but it didn't make up for the explanation he owed her.

"So, I'm sure you'd like for me to explain myself right?"

Fiona raised her scarred brow as a silent answer.

He glanced down shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as a subconscious show of discomfort. His still pink cheeks combined with a tentative smile made her soften towards him. "Well, when I called to book the reservation, you had just left to go stock up on ammo, so when Lady Van Tassel answered, I kinda had to wing it when I asked for a double and she inquired if my... Wife... Was coming along... So I just sort of said, yes..."

He looked up at her and she swore that at any moment, he'd start poking his index fingers together like a guilty child. "Hmm, maybe it's a bit too early for us, we still haven't had our one year anniversary yet..."

Rhys chuckled nervously, relaxing a bit but still looking as though he was expecting a solid reprimanding. "Hehe, yeah, definitely too early for like, marriage and stuff..."

Fiona made a show of tapping her chin in thought, humming to herself as he watched. "Though I don't think I'd mind if I was Mrs. Strongfork for a while..."

"...Oh...?" The hopeful tone in her boyfriend's voice brought a smile to her face.

"Yeah. After all, I'd get at least fifty-one percent of Atlas right?"

"Wha- fifty-one percent? If anything, I would get fifty-one percent because I'm the CEO-"

"Am I hearing fifty-two percent?"

"No, come on, that's not how negotiating works-"

"Fifty-three percent."

"You're not even listening-"

"Sixty."

"Please... I'm not gonna have a company left to manage-"

"Seventy-five percent and that's my final offer as your wife."

"...You are a cruel, cruel woman."

Fiona grinned, making her way over to him and planting a kiss along his jaw line. "That's why you married me, dear husband."

He slanted his head and leaned down, kissing her briefly over her ruby lips. "I wouldn't have it any other way, dear wife."

The vault hunter smiled, reaching down to link their hands together. "Let's go eat so we can find Sasha and get our asses back home."

Rhys patted his empty stomach with his free hand, almost salivating at the thought of a hot meal. "You don't have to tell me twice, I really hope it's delicious."

His girlfriend pulled him along, locking the door behind them. "As long as it's not chocolate dill pickle flavored, it should be good."

"Slanderous. I'm telling you, once you try Fran's yogurt, you'll be singing praises to whoever invented such a delicious flavor combination."

"We can only hope so Rhys, we can only hope so."

Their meal is simple but savory, hot and filling so it sits just right in their bellies. They thank Ms. Van Tassel as she collects their dishes and stacks them on a tray to take back to the kitchen. Turning to leave, they stop before the double doors and look back when she calls out to them.

"I should warn you, to please be back before night fall. There have been some... Strange occurrences lately, and I'd hate to see you two suffer from lack of knowledge. When night falls, come back here and resume your search tomorrow morning."

"Thank you Lady, but we're not afraid of the dark," Fiona answered. "We'll be alright, we're tougher than we look."

"I see..." The older woman murmured, clearly disappointed. "That may be so, and I can say nothing else to try and convince you otherwise. But if there is one thing you take from me, please let it be this - find shelter before the lamps go out, or surely you will be doomed."

Rhys glanced over at Fiona as the vault hunter considers the patroness, who stood by their table, the bottom of her apron twisted tightly in her worried grip. As a born and raised Pandoran, she had spent many nights out underneath the moons and stars, both as a penniless child and as fledgling vault hunter. Doing so now didn't concern her in the slightest, but she figured that she'd at least reassure the older woman and try to ease her mind.

"We understand. If we're out that late, we'll take shelter and wait it out 'til morning. Hopefully we'll find Sasha and be back before that's even an issue."

"You brave girl..." Lady Van Tassel murmured, gliding over to the younger woman and reaching up to cup her cheek tenderly.

Fiona thought that it was a little weird, but she understood that some people were comfortable with showing such displays of affection. On top of which, the Lady had been nothing but kind and welcoming to them, so if she wanted to...touch her cheek for whatever reason, Fiona didn't mind it too much.

"I was a lot like you when I was your age... Do be careful out there, both of you." Smiling softly, the Lady lifted her hand from Fiona's face while simultaneously a sharp pinch to her scalp caused the vault hunter to wince. "Oh! I'm sorry, this old ring pulled your hair, my apologies dear girl!"

The Pandoran woman reached up underneath her hat to rub at her scalp, eyeing the couple of strands that had caught on the back of Lady Van Tassel's ornate ring. "Ah... It's no problem, don't worry about it. Anyway, we'll be on our way now. Have a good night Lady, see you soon."

Fiona righted her hat and she and Rhys waved goodbye to the older woman who waved back until the double doors closed behind them.

Lady Van Tassel looked down and carefully extracted the younger woman's hair from her ring, pulling a small book of summoning from her apron pocket and tucking the hair in between the pages.

The couple start their search by checking any areas where Sasha could've gone or was most likely to go. There was a tailor a few blocks down (who absolutely refused to let Fiona in). Rhys went in alone and questioned him but had no luck there.

Next was the grocer (who didn't want to talk if Fiona was standing within ten feet of his shop). Rhys was told a young outsider bought some fruit from him but once, and he claims he hasn't seen her since. Supposedly she looked like Sasha but he wasn't entirely sure until Rhys folded some bills into his hand. (What a schmuck.)

Walking down the foggy street to their next stop, the company man nudged his girlfriend playfully in an attempt to tease her and lift her spirits. "You think any of the people here wanna join your fan club?"

The Pandoran woman rolled her eyes, leveling the taller man with an unperturbed stare. "I'm not here to win their miss congenitality contest, I'm here to find my sister. They can think of me what they like, as long as they don't get in our way."

The florist was next, but as Fiona stepped up to the entrance, the door was slammed in her face (nearly flattening her nose and knocking her hat off), before the OPEN sign was flipped to CLOSED in the curtained window. The vault hunter was about to start kicking doors down to get her answers whether people liked it or not, but Rhys gently guided his fuming girlfriend away to their next stop.

They both decided that Rhys would do the asking, because although he wasn't too popular amongst the locals, the vile vault hunter was tolerated as well as deadly plague. Which was to say not at all.

There was a general shop, owned by the same older man that had told them to park their car elsewhere. Fiona waited outside, arms crossed over her chest as she willed her irritation to subside. Her foul mood wouldn't help find her sister any faster - in all likelihood, it might even hinder the search. So she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to ground herself and ignore the people passing by who were obviously glaring daggers and muttering to each other about her. A shriveled old lady even spat at the ground by her feet as she hobbled on by.

It was safe to say that she was not making any new friends here.

Her boyfriend stepped out from the shop, the little bell above the door dingling as he exited. She turned to face him and he simply shook his head no. She was expecting that but the disappointment still stung. Glancing down to the small bag in his hand, she looked back up and raised a silent brow of inquiry.

"Wouldn't talk to me unless I bought something," the company man answered, lifting the bag and opening it, showing her that he bought about a dozen sticks of jerky.

"Why so much?"

Rhys shrugged. "In case we get hungry again while searching all night. Plus, if we find Sasha tonight, she'll probably be hungry too."

Fiona couldn't argue with that. "Fair enough. Now, where else can we check?"

Atlas' head ripped open one of the sticks of jerky and bit into it, using the uneaten portion to point down the road. "There's a church of some kind down that way," he spoke around the dried meat in his mouth. "Doesn't hurt to check it out."

The vault hunter wanted to make a comment about him talking with his mouth full, but truthfully she didn't have the energy to joke around right now. Exhaustion was weighing heavily on her mind and the gray skies were growing darker and darker with the night impending. "Alright, let's go."

The church was nearly empty, the only inhabitant was a priest doing some general upkeep around the building. He also observed them with obvious concern, but so far he wasn't slamming doors in their faces or hurtling insults at them, so he was infinitely more welcoming than the other people who they tried to talk to.

Fiona waited between the threshold of the door, half expecting to be verbally thrown out before she could get a word in. Rhys didn't want to waste any time, so he quickly approached and asked the devoted man if he had seen a woman bearing Sasha's resemblance anywhere in town.

The pastor seemed to hesitate a moment, his eyes taking in the sight of the lanky man before him with a glowing amber eye and a mechanical hand that clutched a plastic bag. The silent woman behind him who lurked in the doorway who had to be the vault hunter that people had rushed in to tell him about. He sensed no ill will from either of them, but he still remained wary of their true intentions.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you. Now please, leave."

"Can't or won't?"

Rhys looked back at Fiona, her bright jade eyes leveled on the priest in an unflinching stare.

"My sister is missing and no one in this whole town can tell me where she's gone? No one can help me, not even a man of the cloth?"

The Pandoran walked forward, moving past the young CEO and stepping closer to the priest. "I'm gonna ask you again. Have you seen my sister? Do you know where she is?"

The older man looked down at her, his eyes meeting hers briefly before skittering away. "I'm sorry..." he repeated, refusing to meet her gaze.

The vault hunter stared hard at the man before her. Her boyfriend reached over to put a hand over her shoulder, silently beckoning her away. She ignored him and leaned forward, invading the pastor's personal space.

"If my sister is hurt because no one in this town wanted to help, you will come to understand the truth in the saying, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' Remember that, Father."

Fiona turned and stalked down the aisle, afraid that if she stayed for one more second, she'd come to regret it. Rhys turned, sparing the sweating priest a backwards glance before quickly following his girlfriend out of the church.

The vault hunter stormed out, leaving the church behind and marching down the street. She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to get away. Her head was pounding and her eyes were watering for no reason. Her muscles ached and all she wanted to do was find her sister and sleep in her arms for a week straight.

Where was Sasha? Was she hurt? Why wasn't she contacting her? Did something bad happen? What if she needed Fiona right now but she was stuck here dealing with these wretched people?

Fiona stopped suddenly, so so tired and frustrated that she didn't try to fight the tears gathering along her lashes. She tilted her head back and sighed deeply, her breath billowing out in a short lived cloud. Dusk was truly settling in now and the already dark town was growing darker.

Homes with people who had all their loved ones safe and sound under one roof were drawing the curtains and dousing their lanterns. Shops that they hadn't been thrown out of were closing too, the owners locking up and heading home. No one wanted to be out in the dark at night, but Sasha was. She was out there all alone, and Fiona was failing her all over again.

She dipped her head down as she heard Rhys walk up to her. He seemed to hesitate, knowing in this moment that she was fragile. But eventually he sidled closer and whispered softly to her in the last sunlit hour.

"Hey... Can I give you a hug?"

She didn't turn her face up, keeping it turned down and hidden, but she nodded silently and turned towards him. He placed his bag of jerky by his feet before straightening and folding her in his arms. He squeezed her tight, and when her hat threatened to fall, he lifted it and placed it over his own wavy hair to keep it from hitting the damp ground. Her hair exposed, he placed a kiss on her crown and rubbed his hand down her back.

"Sasha is so lucky to have a sister like you. If I had any siblings, I'd want to have the same relationship with them that you two have." He swayed with her gently, speaking softly against her hair only loud enough for her to hear. "No one in this universe loves Sasha more than you do. Anyone can see that. You're doing your best Fiona, and you're not alone. I'm here to help you and Sasha too, remember that."

The vault hunter sniffled, rubbing her face over her boyfriend's expensive clothing. Normally she was tougher than this, but nearly two days without sleep was really wearing her thin, along with of course the constant worry. Also the abundant assholes in this town were getting on her last nerve, too.

She lifted her face and looked up at Rhys with her watery eyes. "...Thanks..."

He smiled lightly, bringing up his left hand to delicately wipe away any stray moisture from her face. "No problem beautiful."

"Sorry... I just need a moment to get myself together," she sighed, trying to summon some more strength from deep within herself.

"Take all the time you need, I'm not going anywhere," Rhys replied, taking the hat from his head and fitting it back onto Fiona's.

She adjusted it slightly, before tugging at her jacket, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. "How do I look?"

"Like you're ready to get back out there and threaten some more people."

An embarrassed smile broke out over her face and she reached out to slap him on his arm. "Well. He deserved it."

"Hey lady... Are you the vault hunter?"

The couple turn to look at a young teenage boy, who was staring at them like they were lunatics. Well, they were, kind of... Making a scene in the middle of the street...

"Yeah, that's me," Fiona answered, looking him up and down. He was watching them like they were loons, but she couldn't detect any hatred coming from him like every other person in town.

The boy looked around, making sure no one else saw him as he spoke with the two outsiders. It was very nearly dark now, and it seemed like everyone was inside already.

He faced the pair and cleared his throat. "Look... My da patrols the town at night, to keep our people safe. He says about a night ago, he saw the outsider lady head up towards the covered bridge, down that away," he gestured, pointing to the outskirts of town where the street lamps faded into the thick wall of mist. "She was by herself... If that's your sister you're looking for... I don't have much faith that she's okay - no one comes back who's been out after the lamps are gone, but... I hope you find her."

Rhys and Fiona looked at each other, before addressing the boy again.

"Thank you!" she called out, turning and almost running in the direction he pointed out.

"Hey, thanks kid, we really appreciate it," the company man nodded, snatching up his bag, digging in and giving the bewildered teenager a stick of jerky, before running off to catch up with his girlfriend.

Night has truly fallen, and the only light available to them now is the faint flickering glow from the street lamps and the light from the overly large moon. The rolling fog that blanketed the area earlier has only thickened with darkness taking over.

Rhys activates his ECHO eye, tracking the foot prints from a pair of shoes around the sparsely wooded area on the edge of town. They are Sasha's size and favorite brand, and they seem to be recent - within the last twenty-four hours. He tells this to Fiona who visibly sags with relief. They haven't found her yet, but they're finally on the right track.

As time passes, they recall the warnings not to be out when the lamps died out, and now they can no longer see the flicker of the tamed flames in town. It is past midnight, and the lights have finally burned out.

Rhys' glowing amber eye pierced through the rolling fog to look up ahead and locate the covered bridge the teenage boy had mentioned. He lifted his robotic hand and activated a beam of light to shoot out of his palm display. He angled it forward until the beam could cut partially through the churning mist and illuminate part of the structure of this bridge.

"I think Sasha had to come through here, her footsteps were leading up this way for sure."

"Can you see what's on the other side?"

"Too much fog right now, we have to cross the bridge first."

Breaching the entrance to this large covered bridge, darkness almost fully envelops the pair as their heeled boots clip and thump against the wooden floorboards. The company man raises the intensity of his light beam, guiding them closer to the end of the bridge. The mist on the other side seems somehow thicker, his light barely able to penetrate through its opacity.

They step off the bridge and start walking over hard packed dirt, following Sasha's trail deeper into the forest. The shrouded mist before them is so dense that they have to slow down to make sure that they're still following in the Pandoran woman's steps. Fiona steps closer to Rhys, even wrapping a hand over the sleeve of his metal bicep, because any misstep could easily separate them in this low visiblity. This was a missing person hunt for one, no need to add anyone else to the list.

After a couple of minutes of tracing carefully over Sasha's tracks, the two of them glance at each other as they can hear what sounds like distant galloping fast approaching. They turn to look behind them and the sound of hooves striking the hard packed dirt grows closer. Becoming uneasy, the couple share a look and Fiona begins to pull Rhys along, heading back towards the covered bridge that stretched over the rushing river below. At least for sure they know there's some kind of shelter to be had there.

Just as they make out the roof of the bridge a little bit away, they look behind them once more as the growing volume of someone or something approaching sounds like it's right at their backs.

The clouds above break, moonlight shining down and illuminating the churning mist in the distance. The fog parts suddenly, and out from its depths surges an equine-like creature with a rider cloaked in shadows. What causes the couple alarm is that the head of the rider appears to be a pumpkin, a crude face sawed out of its husk and spewing flames from its holes. It seems to set its sights on the only other people in the clearing, and after rearing its horse in a show of excitement, it heads straight for the couple like a bat out of hell.

They both turn and make a run for it, sprinting across the now visible clearing and just beginning to make it across the wooden floorboards as the rider draws closer. Rhys looks behind him just as the rider stops before the bridge and takes hold of its own head. The rider winds back and hurtles the flaming pumpkin towards them. Rhys shouts for Fiona and grabs her, pulling her down with him in an attempt to dodge the attack.

As they're falling, they can feel the heat from the fire and the force of the pumpkin fly pass them and explode further up on the bridge. They land hard and twist to look behind them to see... Nothing.

There's no rider on the other side of the bridge. The mist is flowing calmly as if there was never a disturbance.

They turn simultaneously to look for the smashed pumpkin, but there is no jagged pieces of rind exploded on the floorboards like they expect there to be.

Sitting up, they look at each other in complete confusion.

"Okay... That really just happened to us, right?"

"Yeah..." Fiona answers distantly, seeming preoccupied with trying to find a reason as to what the hell just happened.

"So we're not crazy right? Some whacko was really just chasing us, chucking flaming vegetables at us right?"

"Yeah..."

Rhys looks over Fiona and helps her up. "Hey, are you okay? You're not hurt or anything Fi?"

Fiona is staring hard into the distance, where the violent rider had emerged.

"Fi?"

Fiona turns to look at Rhys, a hard look across her face. "Rhys... The last time Sasha was seen was where that pumpkin bastard came out from. Maybe he's got something to do with Sasha disappearing... Listen, go back to the hotel and wait for me there, it's too dangerous to take you along."

"No, no way am I leaving you to go off by yourself after we just met that... That galloping ghost or whatever!"

"Come on, be reasonable here. Even if I gave you a spare gun, would you be able to hit anything with it considering your poor aim?"

"Hey! I've been practicing I'll have you know-"

"Oh yeah? So you're telling me that you're confident that you can actually shoot at and hit your target?"

"Yes!"

Fiona leveled him with a flat stare.

"...And by yes I mean maybe...! A strong maybe."

She sighed. "Juuust as I thought..."

"Look, that doesn't matter anyway because I've got this little doohickey right here~" he preened, opening a digital inventory just like Fiona's, and digitizing a small gun into his hand. He showed it off like it was something special. "What do you think?"

The vault hunter shrugged, crossing her arms across her chest. "What is it, your water jet flosser?"

Atlas' president grinned, unperturbed by her teasing. "Nooo, this is the future of Atlas! A new design for people who have less than ideal aiming skills. Equipped in this power packed pistol is an automatic aim assist, or AAA for short."

"Aaa?" Fiona repeated, incredulous.

His bright smile never left though. "You got it! See, the technology here is two-fold: the actual pistol locks onto your chosen target, then the bullets have a teeny tiny little tracker as the actual bullet head. No way can anyone miss with this bad boy! Buuut, it's a prototype, not officially ready for the market yet. Soon! But not yet."

Fiona was doubtful, but Rhys seemed pretty proud of his little experimental gun, plus some back up to fight this apparition would be nice... What other choice did she have.

"Alright, fine - but on one condition," she pointed a turquoise tipped finger in his face. "Once your shield is low, come back to the bridge to hide until it fully recharges again, do you understand?"

"Well, yeah I get it, but I don't have a shield," he answered, perplexed.

"You're taking mine," she answered, deactivating her shield and removing it from her belt. She clipped it onto Rhys' belt and it flared to life, gradually recharging even amidst his protests.

"Whoa, no no no no, I can't take your shield! You need that!"

She quirked a brow at him in response. "You're gonna need it more, plus out of the two of us, I'm faster on my feet. And don't worry too much about it, I've got a backup in my inventory."

She cycled through her digital items, selecting the other shield she had in her inventory. It wasn't too much weaker than the one she had given her boyfriend, so she didn't feel too exposed as she clipped it on and it rapidly charged to full capacity.

"Now, we've gotta come up with a solid plan on how to deal with Mr. Dramatic," Fiona started, watching as Rhys shoved his AAA pistol down his waistband and put the bag of jerky in the now empty slot in his digital inventory.

"Ooh, Mr. Dramatic, that's nice - but what about Captain Dramatic? Sounds funnier."

The vault hunter rolled her eyes. "Rhys, focus."

"Okay. But just hear me out... Doctor Dramatic, huh? Huh? Come on, you can't tell me that it doesn't sound funny and dastardly."

Okay... This was gonna be a while.

Stepping through the dense fog was anxiety inducing, it almost felt like it was purposefully moving against them and keeping the enemy from sight. At any moment, he could burst through the wall of mist and be upon them in seconds. They really had to strain their senses to catch even the slightest of changes to their environment.

Always aware, all of the time.

They didn't know how much time had passed, but soon it started to feel as if they were safe. Perhaps... Perhaps they had imagined a headless cloaked rider who threw flaming pumpkins at strangers in the woods. Certainly the idea itself was crazy - a far-fetched notion born from lack of sleep and constant worry.

The Pandoran stopped and tugged on her boyfriend's arm, pulling him to a stop alongside her. He had been stalking around just as on edge as she was, and it sort of felt silly to be walking around in circles in the middle of the woods at night. It was late in the year and night at this time of the autumn season was cold and wet. Truthfully, they could just continue to follow Sasha's boot prints rather than waste anymore time on this wild rakk chase-

A sudden glow to their left drew her eye, and immediately she shoved Rhys out of the way, jumping back herself as another flaming pumpkin crashed into the ground where they had been standing. Flaming bits of the jack-o-lantern pelted their shields, but that was of less concern than the rider on the massive steed that had just appeared.

His dark form cleaved through the fog, heading straight towards Fiona as another incendiary jack-o-lantern appeared instantly in his waiting hand.

"Rhys, remember the plan!" she called out, turning and drawing Doctor Dramatic after her as she sprinted towards the bridge for the second time that night.

If he answered back, she couldn't hear him over the sound of the horse's hooves galloping after her, and quickly gaining speed.

She ducked and rolled to the side as another firey pumpkin was thrown at her back, depleting her shield's capacity entirely. She hid behind a large tree by the edge of the clearing, trying to catch her breath as she brought out her assault rifle.

Checking the status of her recharge rate, she watched her shield capacity as it quickly started to fill up from zero. 'Okay, so pumpkins that happen to be on fire are very damaging and dangerous, noted.' She checked to make sure her safety was off before peeking around the edge of the trunk.

Fiona's ECHO rang and she answered it automatically without thinking. She was used to being contacted while crouched behind cover as bullets and/or axes whizzed by her (such was the life of a vault hunter), so this time was no different.

"Yeah?" she answered curtly, emptying a full clip into the horseman as he stormed towards her, before dropping back down behind her cover. The rider took a good sixty bullets to the chest like a sponge - this was not gonna be as easy as she'd hoped. She began swapping the empty clip for a new one when the caller spoke.

"Hey Fi, sorry it took forever to-"

"Sasha?!"

"Yeah?"

Fiona was half relieved, half incredulous in this moment. "Sasha, where have you been? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine, my ECHO just up and died on me, so I had to leave the creepy little town I was in to go to the city for the nearest repair shop-"

"I thought something bad had happened to you!"

"Nah, you know me, I can handle myself. Did you come all this way just for me? I can see from your ECHO location that you're in that old town I was in - it's creepy right? The vibes in that place are totally off-"

Another flaming pumpkin was thrown against her cover, bits of tree bark and pumpkin rind still on fire were raining down next to her crouched figure.

"Sasha, look... Rhys and I are in the middle of something right now, so I'll call you when we're done."

"Ew, I really don't wanna know that..."

Fiona's face burned red. "It's- NO it's not-" The vault hunter sighed in frustration over the sound of her sister's light giggles.

"I'm just teasing~ Enjoy your date and call me later. Bye Fi!"

"Bye, brat..." the Pandoran woman stashed her ECHO device away, turning to help her boyfriend finish this thing off.

Rhys was following the plan, drawing the horseman's attention to him by running and firing an entire clip into his broad back. Doctor Dramatic turned the horse and started charging at the young CEO. She couldn't hear him from across the clearing, but she could certainly imagine the sound of the yelp he let out as he fell back behind some cover.

She shot out of her hiding spot and ran down the edge of the treeline, keeping her sights locked onto their opponent. When he got too close to the small boulder that her boyfriend was taking cover behind, she stopped and lifted her assault rifle to point it at the rider's back.

She used the sights to aim because any stray bullet could miss and possibly hit Rhys, and even though he had a great shield, she still didn't want to take any chances. As soon as she had the middle of his cloaked back in view, she pulled the trigger and shot massive amounts of hot lead into their pursuer.

The rider seemed to lurch forward, dropping a pumpkin and almost falling from the force of being shot at, and Fiona started to hope that this would be the end of it. But her hope was fleeting as he seemed to shake off the attack and right himself in his saddle. He turned, and reached out to his side, materializing a sword out of nowhere. He swung it in a graceful but powerful arc, the sharp blade singing as it cut through the cloudy air.

'Oh shit...' she thought, having no time to panick as he forced his mount to start barreling towards her.

She threw the large gun onto her back and booked it towards the bridge. Drawing the vegetable tossing rider closer to the only safe space they had was part of the plan. She could just make out the roof ridge in the distance, its peak high enough that the mist seemed to thin closer to the top.

But the rider was on her sooner than she expected.

She heard the singing of the blade as it swung towards her from behind.

Rhys' shout in the distance, the heavy billowing breaths from the horse, the blade cleaving through everything with no resistance. Everything was happening all so fast and there was no time to react.

The sword sliced right through her shield, immediately making it crash to zero. In the arc of the same swing, the edge of the blade cut cleanly through her neck. Or it would have, but Rhys was unloading the last of his bullets into the rider and that altered Doctor Dramatic's aim. Instead of decapitating her, the sharp edge of the blade cut upwards and sliced through Fiona's hat.

She landed hard on the ground, her breath getting punched right out of her as the rider changed direction and started heading for the company man. She looked ahead of her as her beloved hat - now in two evenly halved pieces - tumbled onto the ground in front of her.

'My hat...!' she despaired, staring at what was left of it in absolute heartbreak.

Her eyes hardened and she pushed herself up, the fury of a thousand bullymongs making her seek not only victory, but revenge now.

Rhys pulls the trigger to his prototype gun, frowning at the empty clicking sound it was making. "Out of bullets already? Note to self: get the R&D department to extend the cliiIIIIP-"

He dropped down and covered his head as the horseman rode up to him and swung his blade over the young CEO. Fiona was on the other side of the clearing, and whatever she was doing was making enough noise that it drew the rider's attention again. This close to Doctor Dramatic, Rhys could activate his ECHO eye and see that the being sitting on top of the steed really had no head... His entire bodily form seemed as if it was constructed of shifting shadows. Even his gleaming, deadly blade looked as if it was made out of solidified moonlight.

Before Rhys could take in any more details, the horseman kicked off and raced back towards Fiona. He couldn't see his girlfriend from this perspective, the bodies of the rider and his steed obscuring his view. But she was still fussing with something by the sounds of it, so she needed more time. But he had nothing left...! Nothing, except for that one thing...

The vault hunter slides the last of the rockets into the chamber, loading the launcher properly as her enemy comes barreling towards her. As she flicks the safely off and moves to lift the giant weapon, she can hear her boyfriend shout from behind the fast approaching rider, "IT LOOKS LIKE YOU NEED A HAND!"

From behind the horseman she can see Rhys lift his cybernetic arm, leveling it at Doctor Dramatic's back before it explodes out of his sleeve and rockets towards his cloaked back. Rhys'... Mechanical fist strikes the rider down, making him tumble off of his horse. The horse then collapses into a cloud of smoke, blending with the fog swirling around.

The rider stands up and redraws his sword, but before he can come any closer, Fiona fires her rocket launcher at him, the kickback almost knocking her off her feet. The projectiles meet Doctor Dramatic, a massive explosion obliterating their relentless attacker in a rain of pumpkin guts that gets splattered all over them.

The vault hunter flinched upon impact, taking a moment to lower her heavy weapon from off her shoulder to rest at her feet, reaching up to wipe away stringy orange innards and pumpkin seeds from her face.

The head of Atlas jogs over to her, stopping midway through to retrieve his robotic forearm from the pile of pumpkin innards, shaking it off before walking over to her.

"Well... That was eventful."

She looked down at the partial arm he held in his left hand. "So when were you gonna tell me about that?"

Rhys shrugged, the beginnings of a shy smile twitching at his lips. "Eh, it's also, sort of... A prototype. I don't even have a name for it. Got the idea from a video game, heh."

He held out his partially empty sleeve towards her, and she reached over her rocket launcher to start rolling up the fabric. Once it was up over his elbow joint, he fit his mechanical forearm over the slotted edges and sealed it back in place. He flexed his metal hand to ensure everything was synced up properly.

"Hey... Did you say anything cool when you fired your rocket at him?"

The Pandoran tilted her head, "Why would I?"

"Aww, it's just, you missed an opportunity to say something badass like 'Take two of these and don't call me in the morning,' ya know, because we called him Doctor Dramatic? It would have been cool and funny..."

She scoffed in amusement, shaking her head at him. "Rhys, I think you're mixing up being a vault hunter with a movie star," she said as she dematerialized her launcher back into her digital inventory. "So is that what that whole 'Looks like you need a hand' thing was about?"

Clearly embarrassed, Atlas' president cleared his throat and brushed a hand down his jacket, flicking off pieces of wet pumpkin pulp. "By the way... I got a text from Sasha that said 'winky-face' so I'm assuming she's okay."

"Yeah, she called me in the middle of all that and told me her ECHO device had just died, but she's fine. I told her I'd call her back after we were done, so let's start heading back."

He pulled up his palm display and began entering a short message to Sasha as they headed towards the covered bridge. "I'm checking her location now and it says she's nearby. I'll text her back and ask her to meet us at the hotel."

"Great..." Fiona managed around a yawn, so glad that this awful situation was finally over with. "Hey, thanks for everything by the way. I couldn't have done it without you." She smiled tiredly up at her boyfriend.

He reached out and tucked some of her hair back behind her ear. "Hey, that's what husbands are for, right?"

She chuckled and reached up to flick a pumpkin seed off of the tip of his ear. "Whatever Mr. Rocket Fist..."

Rhys nudges the woman at his side and says "I don't know about you, but this has kinda put me in the mood for some pumpkin pie... What about you?"

"...Rhys... As much as I love you, I will strangle you. I don't wanna see another pumpkin for a long, long time."

"Aww, you said it first this time...! I love you too Fi."

Fiona looks over at him incredulously. "I want a divorce..."

Rhys shrugged, a bashful smile on his face. "What can I say, I just find you so cute when you're violent."

Fiona rolled her eyes, but as always, couldn't mask her affection for the dork by her side. She linked their pumpkin stained hands together and pulled him down for a quick kiss. When they broke, she looked up at him with a tired smile and said "Let's head back to the hotel and clean up, this is officially the worst honeymoon ever."

They turn and start walking hand in hand across the dark and quiet bridge, back towards the edge of town.

"A shower and a bed sounds really nice right about now..."

Fiona smirked. "Even better than a pumpkin pie?"

Rhys snickered, slinging his arm over his girlfriend's shoulders and pulling her against him. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"I could be persuaded to forget... With a little monetary incentive..."

"Of course, what else should I have expected?"

Fiona wrapped her arm around his slim waist, allowing them to press closer then before. "Well, I'll be nice and give you the soon-to-be ex-husband discount, of course."

"Ooh how generous, my sweet, kind hearted, vault hunter soon-to-be ex-wife~"

Fiona chuckled, nudging him lightly. "Dork..."

Entering the double doors of the hotel, the tired couple were immediately greeted by the one person they came to find. Sasha looked damn near radiant, breaking out into a big smile as soon as she saw them.

"It took you two long enough," she quipped, way too chipper for the likes of the incredibly exhausted pair.

"Shut up~" Fiona groaned playfully, stepping over to give her sister a hug.

She was stopped when Sasha held up a hand with a slight grimace. "Save the hugs for later, when you're not covered in..." She waved her hand in a vague gesture over the two of them. "Whatever this is."

"Fair enough," the older sister shrugged, dragging herself towards the stairs with her lanky boyfriend in tow. "Shower first, hugs later..."

"Actually," Sasha called out, "just get your bags, I'll drive us to the big city so we can get some five star take-out and bedding with a high thread count. My treat."

Rhys and Fiona sighed in unison at the thought of such luxuries after the ordeal they just had. Quality food and quality bedding sounded nothing short of heavenly in this moment. They quickly mumbled their agreement, heading off to fetch their belongings.

After retrieving their bags and coming down, they spotted Lady Van Tassel by the check-in desk. Something had soured her once sweet demeanor, and now she was watching them leave with clear irritation on her features.

"Sorry Lady," Rhys spoke, apologizing for such a quick exit. "We're canceling the remaining reservation but I'm happy to pay you for the night."

He took a step towards her when Sasha put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Go sit in the backseat with Fi, I'll pay for your stay. After all, you came all this way just for me, it's the least I can do."

"Oh, are you sure? Thanks, Sasha, I owe you one," he promised, eager to finally get some rest. "Thank you again Lady Van Tassel, goodbye...!" He turned and both he and Fiona make their way over to the car, the two already practically asleep on their feet.

If Rhys would have waited to see the older woman's reaction, he would've witnessed the scowl full of hate she was no longer able to hide.

Sasha looked over at her coolly, aware of who she really was. "Your attempt on their lives is payment enough, right... Witch?"

Lady Van Tassel glares sharply at her, but says nothing.

The younger Pandoran woman smiles knowingly, before turning and leaving the hotel behind her, making her way over to the car. Fiona and Rhys were just snuggling in together in the back when Sasha settled into the driver's seat. The company man had already inserted the key into the ignition, so all she had to do was start it.

She pulled out from the parking spot, turning the wheel easily and driving through the town. She glanced down to her right to see a plastic bag on the passenger seat. Slowing down to check its contents, she laughs quietly to herself as she finds it's full with sticks of jerky.

Continuing the drive, she finally makes it out of town and starts heading towards the cluster of city lights in the far off distance. Glancing in the rear view mirror, she smiles at the sight of the couple leaning against each other, fast asleep. Rhys was already starting to drool and Fiona was snoring softly, both of them clutching their luggage like teddy bears to their pumpkin stained chests.

This story was heavily inspired by Tim Burton's movie "Sleepy Hollow". Who doesn't love a good headless horseman?

♡ Tag List ♡

for everyone who interacted with these posts promoting (?) this fic (let me know if you'd like to be removed from the Tag List):

♡ @sanzosin ♡ @andaxay ♡ @admiralsweko ♡ @timothylawrenceatlas ♡ @elusivexx ♡ @yuuki-mishima ♡ @goddessluver27 ♡ @karedevil4ever ♡ @mordecaixhope ♡ @multi-ship-writer ♡ @anothergameofwickedgrace ♡ @z3pp3l1

©rin-bellatrix 2022

☆ borderlands masterlist ⋆ main masterlist ☆

#rhyiona #rhyiona or bust #rhys strongfork #rhys the company man #rhys the ceo #fiona borderlands #fiona the con artist #fiona the vault hunter #borderlands #tales from the borderlands #tftbl #rin's fic #happy halloween #sasha the kid sister #the headless horseman

[dullahandyke]

>see person with irish mythology url

>'oh sweet i'll check them out'

>pinned post is collage au fic of the ulster cycle

>'We Are Fundamentally Different People'

#absolutely not slagging off this person. godspeed god bless #however as someone who spiritually believes in a lot of irish myth and old religion (not the catholicism) #i am So Incredibly Fucking Cautious abt like. the way ppl treat pantheons and myths as like. fandoms #and like thats not to say u cant make adaptions of myth! ppl do that all the time! #but u have to be cautious not to be disrespectful yknow? #like keep in mind that these are things that genuine people did and do believe in #and if u like. reduce them to incorrect quotes n stuff without being careful its easy to minimise that #esp w minority religions like jesus x judas stuff is probs weird for the christians but i dont care as much abt them #like i feel so so sorry for like. believers in norse greek and roman myth specifically #because theyve become like. pop culture mythology almost #like if i talked abt my faith and people went 'oh like from marvel/percy jackson' i think id fucking bite them #anyway long story short i wont judge u for writing fic n that for myth bcos u could have been careful writing it #but like fuck if im gonna risk reading it to find that out for myself #practically the only 'modernised' gaelic myth i seek out is stuff regarding the dullahan #and thats bcos most of it either conflates it with the headless horseman as in ichabod crane and bram bones #or treats 'dullahan' as a species and isnt specifically about Gan Ceann himself which is where id have potential problems #am i making sense? #fuck knows

[twistedamusement]

This is a moodboard that I was inspired to create a while back for @everything-a-wolf-could-want for the following fic. Please check it out :)

I Won't Smile (but I'll show you my teeth) - LadySlytherin

Rating:     Explicit

Archive Warning:     Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:     M/M

Fandom:     Teen Wolf (TV), Sleepy Hollow (1999)

Relationship:     Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Ichabod Crane/Headless Horseman (Sleepy     Hollow 1999), Headless Horseman/Stiles Stilinski, Ichabod Crane/The     Hessian (Sleepy Hollow 1999)

Additional Tags:     Road Trips, Pack Bonding, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Derek, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, The Love is Requited They're Just Both Idiots, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Ghosts, The Pack Ships It, Derek Hale's Manpain, Derek Hale Needs To Use His Words, Stiles Stilinski Needs to Use His Words, Dreamwalking, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Jealous Derek, Power Bottom Derek Hale, Top Stiles Stilinski, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Anal Sex, Anal     Fingering, Blow Jobs, Virgin Stiles Stilinski, First Time, Bathing/Washing, Sharing a Bed, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

The summer after the Pack’s senior year, to promote bonding before everyone separates for college, Derek takes everyone on a cross-country road trip, letting everyone choose a stop along the way. Stiles chooses Sleepy Hollow, a place that has haunted his dreams for most of his life. Hoping for answers, Stiles gets far more than he bargained for when he finds himself face-to-face with the Headless Horseman himself.

#my artwork #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #sleepy hollow #headless horseman #ichabod crane #linked fic #the hessian #sleepy hollow movie

[celia-bracali]

"The Old Guard" fanfic recommendation:

"The Headless Horsewoman of New York

by Wind_Ryder

Summary:

On 28 October 1776 a battle took place in White Plains, New York.

Soon after, legends of a headless horseman riding the road from White Plains to Sleepy Hollow began circulating amongst the town people.

More importantly: Joseph really hates New York.

#tog #joe x nicky #immortal family #immortal husbands #nicolo di genova #fic #tog fic #the old guard #yusuf al-kaysani #andy | andromache of scythia #joe | yusuf al kaysani/nicky | nicolò di genova #headless horseman - Freeform #Sleepy Hollow - Freeform #fanfic rec #fanfic

[donghuamuqing]

Better see some whumptober for this fandom!!!!

#my post #almost every fic is super whumpy lol but STILL #tis the season and all that #im gonna turn this into MY mermay #mertober. there #fantasy halloween themed fics…. i could cry #this fandom is so ripe for it #human mike in between a bunch of monsters is my fav personally #but i like a good refined werewolf family so perhaps some werewheelers… #WEREWOLF NANCY. YEAH OK!! #harpy robin. witch byers #frankensteve #space alien dustin #vampire lucas #dullahan or headless horseman max

[none-ofthisnonsense]

I-

#it's not like #i'm writing a fic about #the headless horseman #or anything #nope #headless #headless: a sleepy hollow story #headless series #shipwrecked #shipwrecked comedy #headless horseman

[the-engdyssey]

@hetaween-event

Prompt: Day 1 - Folklore

“In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller.” ― Washington Irving, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

While I couldn't exactly call The Legend of Sleepy Hollow folklore exactly, I would say it's one of the oldest, most iconic, and certainly my favorite horror story from American literature.

So naturally I made an au where Alfred is the headless horseman. It's an idea I've been sharing in discord servers for years, but never did anything with. That's now changed, and it's something like this:

Arthur knows full well Alfred is going to win the revolutionary war. The knowledge smarts, but that's not what bothers him. He's irate that Alfred's grown a penchant for lopping off the heads of English soldiers. Alfred's going to win the war, but he's not stronger than Arthur. Not yet, and he'll never see his own victory. Arthur takes Alfred's head to remind the boy who exactly he's dealing with. Carving a face and performing an incantation on a pumpkin to give Alfred a new head? That was all spite. But the world has changed and so has Arthur. Anger and spite have given way to guilt, because without his brain....Alfred's kinda stupid. Exceptionally so. He doesn't have an ounce of malice in him. He's not interested in lopping off heads anymore, he just wants to race whoever ventures into his stretch of the woods. Sweet and stupid, and he still loves Arthur. So every Halloween, Arthur comes to visit until one fateful visit, with his wife in tow, Arthur comes to visit bearing a gift...

If you like the sound of this idea, stayed tuned becaus @phantom-wolf and I are writing a fic of this exact story.

Also check out under the cut for a few different versions of this piece! Thanks!

This one stays truer to the original colors of the piece, but wasn't dramatic enough for me.

And here's the original piece without any hue adjustments. It was a challenge on multiple fronts, but I'm super happy that I could create a very dark piece while varying in shades and tones. A struggle, but a worthy one!

#hetaween-event #alfred f. jones #hws america #aph america #headless horseman #headless horseman au #he's got pumpkin seeds for brains don't mind him

[swaps55]

Prompt from the Big Place discord server: Write a short fic with the words 'terror,' 'ghost,' and 'haunt.'

Kaidan finds Shepard in the barn in front of Echo’s stall, surrounded by black fabric, wire, scraps of wood, and most worrisome, a can of black paint. A pumpkin sits on a haybale right outside the stall door. Echo sticks her head out the open window, supervising the whole thing. “Do I even want to know?” Shepard holds out an arm’s length of fabric, deep in thought. “I had an idea.” “I can see that. Hence my concern.” “They’re doing that ghost thing in town next week.” He waves the fabric like a bat. Echo throws her head up and snorts. “The Halloween parade, yes.” “I had an idea.” That much is apparent. Kaidan rubs Echo’s forehead. She promptly uses him as a scratching post. “I am very afraid to ask what that has to do with the horse.” “Gonna ride her without a head.” Kaidan parses this for a moment before arriving at the intended interpretation of that sentence. “You want to be the headless horseman.” “Yup.” Kaidan looks at the impromptu craft pile, then looks at Echo, who tries to lip at the pumpkin perched just out of reach. “Doesn’t the headless horseman have a black horse?” Shepard pauses what he’s doing and examines the very much not black Echo with a critical eye. “Yeah, you might be right about that. Do you think fence paint is safe for horses?” “No.” Kaidan picks the can up and puts it away, just to be safe. “Then I guess in this case, the headless horseman rides a red horse.” Shepard wraps the black fabric around himself with a flourish and waggles an eyebrow. “I need a cape. And a way to hide my head.” Kaidan rubs his forehead with his fingers. “Unbelievably, my mother has done this before, and might still have the rig somewhere in the hay loft.” Shepard grins the kind of grin that used to be reserved for the Mako. “Gonna haunt the shit out of that parade.” Well. The tiny town of Summerland is about to get a face full of Sam Shepard. Or...something like that. ~ The air is brisk on the 31st, but the skies are clear, and a larger crowd than usual turns out for the occasion, perhaps in no small part because the moment Shepard expressed interest in participating, they made him the grandmaster of the whole thing. 

The parade itself is simple but constructed with love. Locals, several who Kaidan recognizes, put the finishing touches on homemade floats and costumes. More than a few kids who have crept “backstage” to catch a glimpse of their hero wear hand crafted N7 armor. Shepard sits tall in his saddle, an admittedly impressive black cloak draped around his black breeches. Kaidan wonders if he even noticed that his mother stole it and stitched an N7 on the back. The black shirt he’s got on underneath will be on the floor as soon as Kaidan gets his hands on it, but that’s for later, when they aren’t in the middle of downtown, surrounded by families and kids in costume. For now, he holds a rein while Shepard makes his final adjustments.  “Well, how do we look?” Echo, stomps a bored foot and swishes her tail, ears hanging lazily to the side. The ornate black bridle and hefty black breastplate would look pretty intimidating if not for the clump of grass hanging out of her mouth. Kaidan reaches in to tug it out, and is rewarded with a smudge of green slobber. “Like a terror of the night.” “To hell we ride.” Shepard settles the headless rigging over his actual head. “Can you see anything?” “It’ll be fine,” he says, voice muffled. Echo snorts and attempts to root for a carrot in Kaidan’s back pocket. With Shepard, it sure will be something. Further down the street, an emcee announces their heralded haunted guest. The agreement had been that Shepard would parade at a brisk trot. Instead, he urges Echo into a gallop with a whoop. Together they streak down the road, a red comet with a black horseman, to the delighted roar of the crowd. 

#mass effect #mshenko #kaidan alenko #otp: after all this time #my fic

[ginnyrules27]

Okay so I saw 'Once Upon a Studio' yesterday and I mean...I did not ask to be punched in the gut with emotions Disney! Spoilers under the cut in case you haven't seen it yet

-First off, just the concept of the animation studio almost being like Night at the Musem where the pictures come alive was so much fun.

-TREASURE PLANET GOT ACKNOWLEDGED! I GOT TO SEE JIM IN HIS JACKET ON HIS SOLAR SURFER!

-Dodger with Vanellope in the candy racer was adorable!

-Hearing Peter Pan say 'Here we go!' felt so weird when it wasn't followed by Jack Sparrow saying 'We have our heading', those commercials were the pinnacle of my childhood

-Did I mention Treasure Planet?!

-The 2D and the 3D animations really melded well together, especially the scene where Moana's holding Flounder!

-There's an elevator gag that made me burst out laughing when I first saw it

-ROBIN WILLIAMS' VOICE AS GENIE! And no, it's not AI! Disney got permission from Robin Williams' estate to use outtakes from Aladdin for this.

-Milo Thatch getting ready in the men's bathroom with Gaston, Chicken Little, Prince John, the Headless Horseman, Thomas O'Malley, and Doc! Oh, and the Cheshire Cat!

-Antonio Madrigal happily making his way to the photo with Pascal, Cri-ki, Pua, and Meeko and saving Jaq and Gus from being eaten by a lizard-type thing (okay I haven't seen the Rescuers Down Under so I don't know all the characters by name lol) with some help from Pluto!

-Kristoff and Sven hanging out with Ryder!

-"Come on puppies, you're going to get nightmares" is Kristoff's only line and it's to the 15 Dalmatian puppies watching Night on Bald Mountain and yet I feel that's peek Akiho energy and it may find itself into one of my fics

-ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN STEALING MONEY FROM SCROOGE AFTER THE PUPPIES KNOCKED HIM OVER!

-Pat Caroll's voice is the voice of Ursula and I'm loving the thought that the original voice actors stay the voices of these characters after their deaths

-Also what movie is the blue blobby thing from that's following Ursula?

-Also also why did Flounder need water but Ursula can walk around in her half octopus form?

-Can't have a Cinderella cameo without someone losing a shoe

-CINDERELLA HAS THE CORRECT COLOR FOR HER DRESS!

-"Eric, get your dog!" You can pry the fact that the princes are friends out of my cold dead hands!

-"Go Max go!" Aww, I love the fact that Cinderella can be goofy when she's not living with her abusive step family!

-The moment with Mickey and Walt's photo and 'Feed the Birds' in the background...yeah it's okay, I didn't need to do anything but cry for the next seven days

-Jeremy Irons as Scar!!

-"Make it pink" "Make it blue" was such a good bit

-The classic Goofy scream!

-STITCH!

-All of them coming to sing When You Wish Upon a Star...Mirabel playing with Scat Cat, Belle singing with Beast, James Woods as Hades' voice, Jodie Benson reprising the voice of Ariel...just all of it!

-Snow White bringing Asha from Wish to stand next to her with Mulan on the other side and characters from Disney's 'Dark Age' on either side in the background

-Speaking of the Dark Age characters, how do you think they were treated during all this at the time? Especially Black Cauldron since that almost saw Disney Animation close its doors but it was nice to see all the characters be part of the short

Safe to say I loved every second!

#once upon a studio #once upon a studio spoilers

[2kmps]

IN A SLEEPY TOWN - CHAPTER ONE

headless horseman x reader | 5,249 words

story synopsis; “the horseman who rides atop his alabaster steed, cloaked in crimson without a head.”

in the sleepy town of Moorwick, you are drawn into the legend of the horseman when you learn it is associated with your father’s disappearance twenty years ago. when the local ghost story turns to be anything but that, and a bargain goes awry, you delve into moorwick’s dark history with hopes of saving more than just yourself.

chapter synopsis; you travel to the sleepy town of moorwick in search of your missing father. with little more than some luggage and your car, you're immediately steeped in the mysterious ways of the residents and of their local boogeyman— the headless horseman.

thank you for proofreading, @ceruleansol

for more chapters: masterlist

The town of Moorwick was in rapturous applause that day on October 27. With their claps hard and strong, it became impossible to distinguish between them and the drizzle pattering atop clusters of colorful coats lining the streets outside of the town hall. There, a number of officials of the town council found agitation that the ceremony should be held today in the rain rather than break decades-old tradition and host it in the thickness of morning fog tomorrow or next week.

In the four-day span of your stay in Moorwick as of current, you became well acquainted with the region’s autumnal weather, which seemed to entail invigorating, crisp air at night in companionship with the type of rainfall that managed to seep through your clothes, flesh, and left you cold to the marrow. During the day, there seemed to be no shortage of police at work with their shrill sirens and flipping lights to block off landslides on the main roads from overnight.

Three of those landslides had thwarted your passage into Moorwick for a solid three days, leaving you to the mercy of cruddy motels overcharging for beds with stains a tad too dark to be anything auspicious and water with the faintest tinge of yellow.

During checkout at the final detour of your trip, the man at the desk went on a tangent about the old days as a fisherman on the coastline right up until his eye was plucked out by a crab and had to retire. You managed sounds from your throat that quivered from your discomfort, attention floating from the adjacent hallways hoping to reel another patron in alongside you.

“By the way there, you ain’t heading towards Moorwick by any chance, are ya?”

When you turned forward again, the man was nearly bent all the way across the counter, elbows just nearly reaching the end of the desk. In his one eye that didn’t catch an unnatural sheen from the dim, orange light overhead, you thought you saw traces of lunacy in it, the stare of a man with the anxiety and burden of stories to share.

You honestly didn’t want to know.

“Yeah,” you offered with a withering voice. “Going there for family stuff and whatnot. The town has a website. It looks nice enough. But they always do, right?”

The man shrunk back from the counter to his own side, digging his heels back down onto the floor. He regarded you with such a pitying look and a frown that it spurred a rush of shame to creep up your neck and across your face. “I see. Well, best do ya business and leave. Take my word for it when I say don’t go below the surface. Sometimes, taking things as they appear is better.”

He pulled a receipt from the register under his desk, fumbled with it in his knobby hands and bulbous knuckles to smooth out the wrinkles before handing it over to you. There for a moment, the slip of white paper hovered aloft in the man’s hand, unable to find yourself willing to reach for it.

Quick to take your reluctance in stride, he gave a hearty laugh that broke into hoarse cracks of coughs that he smothered behind a fist. “I only say—I only say that because ya giving me the feel of one of those folks who just doesn’t let things be.”

You slipped the receipt from his fingers quickly, crushing it into a wad against your palm with a taut smile pressing lines into your face. “Won’t say you’re wrong. Take care.”

His words stayed with you for days afterward, staved only by the static of the radio as your only friend on the stretch of road alongside the forest. The trees had tantalized you into a lull, unassuming, yet you often found your eyes veering from the road toward them as though noticing a stare from across the room. It was a sensation that ensnared you all the same even after your arrival in Moorwick.

The day of the ceremony at present wasn’t an exception to this. By that point, the rain had tapered into a fine mist that dampened your skin as you shucked the hood from your raincoat behind your head, face pointed purposefully ahead.

Standing front and center now on the lowest steps of polished, slick stone was the mayor of Moorwick, a man barely a decade older than your own, though even that was a generous assumption. As he reached toward his face, a single finger erect to move aside a piece of dark hair that had fallen out of place, a silver medal hanging by a thick ribbon of deep blue rattled in his hand. The other held a simple plaque inscribed with gold in the black facing.

He surveyed the crowd slowly, undoubtedly recognizing all of the faces present there in the crowd until you felt his gaze settle on you. It had to be that you were still paranoid from the car ride there, you thought; the mayor and yourself had never once crossed paths, not once. You were certain of that.

And yet, you were familiar with the chill that gripped you when you were being watched, observed. It was different this time around; it wasn’t some intangible entity that haunted the foot of your bed at night, but rather a man of flesh and bone with a stare that seared into you. Your heart plunged into your stomach, forcing your legs to shuffle around in place, feeling the men on either side jostle you with their elbows as they clapped along with the rest.

Just as you thought to yank the hood up to conceal yourself, his head snapped to the side while a smile fit for a dashing gentleman carved into his lips, teeth a glistening white. He took several paces to the side, arm extended to mold against an elderly woman’s back as she ambled out from the crowd, holding a hand against her hip as she went.

“Hard to believe it’s been twenty-three years since we began doing this, right?” he spoke mirthfully, his voice humming from a pair of speakers located on adjacent sides of the sprawling crowd. “Once again, for the twenty-third year in a row, I would like to present this, uh, award to Moorwick’s very own Asta Lang! One hundred forty-five, can you believe it?”

The commotion grew louder by the second; the buoyant shouts and cheers, whistles and clapping had begun to warp together into a single cacophony of noise so grating it struck you between the eyes. Although the clouds held their dismal tone, expanded over the town like an ominous specter, and the ruckus was head-splitting, you willed your feet to stay anchored to the front row.

You clapped along with everyone as Asta, a rather short and frail-seeming woman with gray hair situated in intricate braids, bowed her neck toward the mayor to accept the medal and plaque. Once adjusting the ribbon at her neck, he cuffed an arm around her again and ducked his head near her ear.

Asta found you then, undoubtedly with the help of the mayor, and her thin lips pulled high close to her wrinkled cheeks dabbed in roughly blended fuschia. She turned her hand toward you, waving far more vigorously than she had for anyone else, keeping her smile long enough to tempt one of your own.

“Asta Lang, everyone! Asta Lang! Give her a good round of applause.” His words won him that response, rousing yet another wave of cheer through streets that quickly ebbed like a tide receding from shore when he shook a hand above his head. “So, just a reminder, good folk! The parade is only four days away! Four! Make sure to submit your booth tickets and finalize paperwork with the town council. We want this year’s parade to be the best yet! Don’t forget the contest in unmasking this year’s Headless Horseman. Who will it be?”

You were relieved to find your opportunity to shoulder your way through the sea of bright raincoats to the opposite end where you had seen Asta depart just moments ago. The mayor had such an air about him that it was hard not to find yourself captivated by what he had to say, yet strangely, all he had to say was nothing of consequence to miss.

Either way, you seized your escape and trotted across the grass, sinking underfoot with a trail nipping at your heels whilst shoe prints gushed with brown rainwater. You found Asta some ways off from town hall at that point, heading toward the main road with her husband in tow and the shiny new medal still hanging low against her chest.

“One hundred forty-five. Even I can’t believe it. I’ll fix all of that moaning and groaning from those youngsters wanting my spot by downing a whole bottle of prosecco and cheese.” Asta gave a huff as you eased yourself into a slower stride alongside them. “But look here. Isn’t it beautiful? It will look wonderful on the mantle, won’t it, Winston?”

She pinched the thick silver coin between her fingers near his face, an older man himself of 120 with the looks of one barely challenging his seventies. He adjusted the rim of his tweed hat with a crooked finger, nudging at his wrinkled brow with a thumb as he leaned in to get a better look at the medal.

“Quite nice it is, ah, but,” he stuttered, flicking the medal a few times. “Will it fetch a nice price, I wonder?”

Asta swatted his hand away hastily, tucking the medal under the protective layers of her coat, offering her husband a final admonitory glance before finally turning toward you. Four days into knowing this woman did not lessen your astonishment that she was truly 145; the wrinkles in her face did not align with your imagery of a human to have reached that age. You complimented her upon your first meeting, saying she couldn’t have been older than eighty. She seemed moved to tears.

“This fool doesn’t know anything. Just ignore him.” Asta gestured with her head toward him, receiving a dismissive wave in return. “Oh, yes, dear, won’t you join us for dinner? Before we left for the ceremony, I put in just the loveliest roast. Winston and I haven’t had guests over in a long time. It would be nice to have that company again, won’t it?”

Winston gave an affirmative grumble, reaching toward his neck to stroke the loose skin hanging low. “I would say so. Could give us a good excuse to pull out the red wine from the cellar. It’s a fantastic age now.”

“Oh, Winny.” Asta sidled closer to him, fussing with the hat on his head. “You know what the doctor said. Don’t you dare. I may do my morning walks, but I don’t have the energy to haul your ass to the cemetery.”

Their exchange was an oddly endearing thing, urging you to smother a laugh in your throat that radiated out into your voice. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind the company? I haven’t had roast since I was a kid.”

Asta shuffled closer to you again, carefully winding her arms around one of yours, holding onto you in a manner you felt was almost protective. “Yes, yes, my dear. We’d love that. I’d rather you spent time with us rather than… sitting in that empty old house.”

“Been empty for twenty-some years now, hasn’t it, Asta?” Winston said, ruminating on this as he curled his fingers inward to rotate the gold wedding band clearly too small for the swelling in his hands. “Hard to believe it’s been over that already. When you get to a certain age, you just stop counting. You become a little less pressed on time you’ve lost and focus more on what you can still be doing.”

“Mmm, that is true. Getting old has its perks.” Asta jutted her lips, dark eyes flicked heavenwards in momentary thought, tightening her arms against yours more. “That aside, I would also like to talk to you about, well, your father as well. That’s why you’re even here in Moorwick to begin with.”

The mention of him jerked your head toward her sharply, curiosity piqued. Meanwhile, the thick letter resting in the knapsack on your back felt a great deal heavier than it did before. It’s unlikely you would have ever found your way to Moorwick had it not been for the letter, being that it was a town days from any significant metropolitan area. It wasn’t exactly the most accessible location.

You dug your heels into the soggy ground, pulling Asta to a sudden halt that teetered her a bit too much. “Asta, what can you tell me about—”

“Oh, good, good! I didn’t miss you all just yet!” called the voice of the mayor from a distance. He approached with careful strides through the grass, hiking his pants above his ankles so as to not sully them with rainwater or mud. He had yet to come to a full stop before he had his hand extended toward your waist, straight and rigid, and clad in black wool.

You took a step away, disarmed by just about everything about him. From a distance, he was rather attractive, but up close, he was unarguably handsome with eyes that you likened to amber and a warm complexion. His hair was far more disheveled than it had been previously, making you ponder on whether his townsfolk turned into an angry mob, or he ran all the way here.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He clicked his tongue, flinching as though to reprimand himself. “Colson Sinclair, Mayor of Moorwick. It’s always a pleasure to see new faces.”

Edging a smile to your lips, you took his hand and gave a strong shake, a slight nod, and offered your name to him as well. “Nice to meet you as well, Mayor Colson.”

“Just Colson is fine. No need for the formalities.” He flashed you a radiant smile, dwelling on the handshake for a moment longer before slowly releasing your hand. “I heard you’ve moved into your old man’s house. About time someone occupied it. It’s just been sitting empty all this time. Your father, though, I’m so sorry to have been the one to—to, well, break you that news.”

You stared him in the face, matching the intensity of his own stare. “Do you know much about my dad, Mayor Colson? I’m trying to learn everything I can. Come to terms with it, y’know?”

Colson made a noise under his breath, tilting his head against a bent finger scratching his cheek. “He and I were colleagues for a while, worked as a notary in town hall for a handful of years. Actually, he may have been there before I even became mayor. It’s been twenty years. Stuff gets fuzzy.”

Your eyebrows jumped up, yet you were careful with your words. They spun in your mind and danced like fire on the tip of your tongue. Nothing he said made sense. Perhaps it amounted to nothing more than the stress of his responsibilities, though.

The silence that permeated the air was disrupted by Asta as she gave a noisy sigh that hissed through her teeth. “Children, if you will, my feet are wet, and I am cold. I would like to go home and enjoy my roast. Colson, you come along as well. There’s enough for everyone.”

Colson patted a hand against his chest. His laughter was airy and smooth. “Always looking out for me, Asta. I’ll have to take a rain check on that, I’m sorry. Don’t make that face. Another time.”

With that left said, Colson was quick to toe his way across the drenched ground to the sidewalk, smoothing out his pants and giving a swipe across his peacoat and hands. He left for an unfamiliar part of town to you, toward the harbor if you had any recollection of the layout.

Tall sheets of fog waited ahead for him there, yet just as in his greeting to you earlier, he was dauntless and ventured toward it without so much as a falter in his step.

“Really strange guy.” you said, passing a furtive look toward the older couple.

Asta flicked her fingers with a scoff. “He isn’t a half-bad kid when you get to know him.”

“He’s a punk who’s never worked a day in his life,” was what Winston had to say, removing himself from Asta’s side to mosey on the path toward home. “I’d like to get home before dark, if you don’t mind.”

By the time you reached their home, the slithers of light through the bloated clouds had all but been swallowed by the curtain of nightfall. You thought that the night in Moorwick was darker than in the city, darker than anywhere you had ever been for that matter. There was a stillness in the air accompanied by a silence that felt loud in your ears.

It came to a great relief to you once you were settled at their dining room table, a quaint little round table fixed with a beige tablecloth that glistened beneath the light with accents of lace. With a single look around, you knew their home was a treasure trove of precious memories collected over nearly a century. A number of trophies and medals were lined meticulously along shelving on the walls, undoubtedly untouched for decades and a delightful home to some crawlies.

“In my youth, I was an athlete,” Asta explained at your side with her carving knife and tongs as she pulled apart the succulent roast from the bone and nestled a good portion onto your plate. The warmth of the morsel wafted around your head and in your nose; it was a comforting embrace from the bite of the autumn night and your unease. “I once tried out for the Olympics, you know.”

You rested your hands atop your thighs, drumming your fingers there to sate your impatience. “Oh, really? What for?”

She continued to gingerly load your plate with sauteed vegetables and the stewed potatoes and carrots that had marinated in the roast broth all day, reminiscing meanwhile on the better part of her life spent as a gymnast. Losing her chance at the Olympics did something to her, she told you, still harboring some weight of dismay in her tired voice.

“You’ve always done your best, Asta.” Winston flicked out a handkerchief to lay it flat across his thighs. “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve never done less than that.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” she replied, wiping her hands clean before taking her seat at the table.

Dinner passed pleasantly with Asta and Winston as they recalled times during their youth, particularly of their adventures getting hitched and gallivanting from country to country for a time, typically stowing away on boats to get to where they were headed. Their retelling of those stories meant something to them. You noticed it in the way their faces were aglow, their smiles just a little wider, and the softness that touched their eyes when they gazed at one another.

For a time, it was enough to deter your thoughts from the inevitable until it wasn’t. The tip of your fork lightly skimmed across the embossed veins throughout the plate in front of you, emitting a shrill scratch on occasion.

It was enough of an indication that the time had come. Winston was the one to collect the dishware and take it from the table while Asta led you toward the front of the house into the sitting room. There, the ceiling seemed to move away from you, and the room expanded wider at all sides. It was filled with the very same kind of novelties that gave the rest of their home its charm, and a pair of armchairs far too exquisite for you to sit in, but where Asta led you anyway.

“Take a seat, take a seat.” She gestured to your chair, chest rising and falling sharply with a sigh. “There is a lot for us to talk about. Some of it is better to sit to hear.”

The purple seat groaned beneath your weight when you dropped into it unceremoniously, knapsack pulled in front of you like a child’s toy while you rummaged it for a moment. Your fingers skimmed across a textured envelope, sturdier and far thicker in design than anything you had received before.

Asta’s jaw tightened at the sight of it, her chin tilting higher while her thumbs danced across each other atop a crossed knee. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen that. I’m glad it ended up in your hands.”

You nodded your agreement, dropping the stout envelope on the glass table positioned between your chairs. “I wouldn’t have found out anything otherwise. I’m still confused that I had to find out everything through a couple of letters instead of a phone call.”

“Would you have believed a phone call?” she challenged. “After all, we spoke a few times before you found your way here. I stay true to what I said before. I won’t guarantee the information I have on your father is what you want to hear.”

With a thin smile, you shifted to the edge of your seat and twisted your fingers together between your legs. “Asta, I packed two suitcases and barely gave my job notice that I’d be gone. I drove across the country for nearly a week, got caught up in three landslides, and now I’m here in an empty house that used to belong to my dad. I’ll be fine.”

“Yes.” She choked a laugh, a grin. “Yes, I think you will be as well.”

Just as Asta’s laughter settled into jumps in her chest, Winston shuffled into the room with a silver tray nestling an ornate teapot with a tall spout and a pair of cups similarly crafted. His hands trembled with the weight of the teapot, nearly missing the cups as he poured. “It’s a special blend, my own special blend at that. Never met a person who disliked it. Don’t be the first.”

You took the saucer and cup from him as he handed it to you shakily. “I wouldn’t imagine it.”

“Good, good,” he chimed, dropping a cube of sugar and then two more into the other cup, likewise offering it to his wife afterward. “Three cubes of sugar, tablespoon of honey. Just the way you like it.”

Asta craned her neck back to plant a kiss on his cheek, sending him off from the room then so you were alone with her. The first sip she took, she swallowed and blew out a breath; the second sip loosened her shoulders and molded her into the chair.

“As you know from the letter, your father is legally acknowledged as having passed. As you are the next of kin—his only kin—his belongings and property are now yours, should you choose to have them.” Asta began, lowering her cup to the table below. “It’s all a very complicated situation. My, how to begin…”

You didn’t drink from your tea but rather moved it to the table similarly. “He wasn’t present for most of my life. He upped and just disappeared one day. No explanation. No phone calls. No birthday cards, Christmas gifts. And then twenty-something years later, I get a letter with an official seal saying he’s passed, but you wrote me one, too.”

“Yes, yes, I did,” Asta replied, collectedly. “I asked Colson to have my letter included to you as well. Colson wrote to you all of the legal information, but I wasn’t satisfied with that. I wanted you to have a better understanding of the circumstances.”

Your eyes dropped towards the letter atop the glass table, recalling the pain that gripped your heart like a vise and opened a void in your gut. “Colson says dad is dead. You say he disappeared.”

“He disappeared twenty years ago on a rainy day in November. I remember it well.” Asta bobbed her head slowly, much like in a motion of a mechanical doll. “I will admit, no one truly knows anything about the circumstances around his disappearance. There was nothing left behind, there was never a culprit, nothing to collect. Only a fascination.”

She was egging on your curiosity, coaxing you to want to delve deeper into it. Whether it was by the uncertainties already surrounding this situation or the innate sensation to recoil—trepidation of an unalterable outcome—you hesitated to push the words from your lips.

“Fascination… of what kind, exactly?”

“Of a kind that I wonder whether you’ll be able to understand.” Asta eased closer to the end of her seat, reaching for the spoon in her teacup to swirl the black drink inside. “Moorwick has been my home for a very long time, and with my age, I have learned that the world is far more complicated than we give it credit for. Your father disappeared somewhere on the outskirts of the forest.”

You stared at her. “Was it searched?”

“The forest? Oh, dear, the Atticus Forest takes weeks to thoroughly search, and even then, it would be easy to miss something. For a time, it was, by daylight at any rate.” She continued, “You see, your father was fascinated by the forest and what may be hidden there.”

The way she spun her story to you sent your mind down a path you weren’t sure you wanted to hear. There in the sanctuary of her beautiful sitting room, you felt the cold grip of something at the back of your neck, bristling the hairs there and bumps high across your arms. Although the room bathed in a soft light, leaving no shadow to the vividity of the mind, you still sat there exposed to this room and town with a large chip in your armor.

With some dubiety to her, and the thoughts that swarmed in your head, you spoke at last without knowing what would tumble out in the tones of your voice, “So, you’re basically telling me that a ghost took him.”

There was something in the way that Asta withered back into her chair, taking glimpses from the corner of her eye as though looking for someone else there. You tightened your arms around the bag against your chest, occupying your fingers with the slim beads hanging from one of the pocket tassels. “What? Is there something else I should know, too? Just throw it out there to me, might as well at this point.”

Asta smacked her lips together and drew her hands together firmly. “As I’ve—as I’ve said, there are things that I wonder if you’ll be able to understand. Your father was no fool to what dwells in that forest. I believe he actually went deep into the heart of it with an intention, and he was noticed.”

“Noticed?” you urged her on. “Noticed by what? A hunter? A ghost? What?”

“The Headless Horseman, my dear.” Asta swallowed an exasperated laugh at bewilderment on your face, having expected that much of a reaction from you. “Moorwick, this wonderful town I love, has a very dark history and an even darker legend. The Headless Horseman who rides atop his alabaster steed, cloaked in crimson without a head.”

She spoke the latter like a nursery rhyme, trailing the tip of her tongue across her lower lip. “He is said to be the warden of the forest, though in life he was a ruthless man—a disgraced prince turned mercenary who lost his life twice. Twice.”

You weren’t sure how to interject to this ludicrous story; this old woman was actually trying to tell you that your father had been stolen by a headless horseman in the woods. For you to deplete so much of your time and funds just to hear this—what the hell were you even doing in this town?

Chasing ghosts now, apparently.

Asta didn’t balk at your disbelief. Rather, she pushed forward with her story. “The first time the horseman lost his life, he was felled and rose again to slaughter the town of Moorwick. The second time, he was decapitated by a sword and buried in a deep grave without his head. And again, he rose from the dead and has waited in the Atticus Forest ever since.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Finally, the thoughts in your head aligned with your words. “My dad is dead—dead at worst, missing at best, and you’re telling me a ghost story! A ghost story! Asta, what the hell?!”

She remained seated in her lush chair, unperturbed, posture impeccable yet stiff as you sprung up from your own and circled the room, tousling your hair with a hand to quell your nerves—better yet, to keep from agitating a fight with Winston should he overhear the ruckus.

“I told you that what I had to say may not be what you wanted to hear.” she reminded with an edge that stung you with the realization you had an outburst as a guest in someone’s home, and it flooded your face with hot shame. “Please sit down, and drink some tea.”

You didn’t for a long while. Instead, you dug a path in the high pile of her carpet, never once straying from the sitting room. When your nerves settled enough to speak without a bite of snark, you returned to your chair with a hard flop. “Okay. So, the Headless Horseman took my dad. Where would he have been taken?”

Asta blinked once, twice, opening her mouth to cracks and croaks snagging in her throat. She hadn’t anticipated for you to entertain the idea that there was something to what she said. “I—well, yes, he—I suppose he would have been taken into the heart of the forest to the Horseman’s grave. At least, that’s what the legend has us believe.”

You juggled her response with a subtle nodding of your head. Clearly, this woman was out of her mind, but it was the only lead you had to go on at this point. Searching a forest was unquestionably stupid, especially without a map or understanding the layout of the land, but yet there lingered a halo of light, a flicker of hope that somewhere in her contrived story, some truth rang to it.

“Moorwick has a library, right?” you asked.

She turned her head with a sidelong stare. “Yes. Three branches. The main branch is near town hall.”

Again, the room was plunged into silence while you considered your options from this point forward. You could easily pack your belongings from your father’s home, take everything you saw and hightail it straight out of this shitstain of a town. You could go back to work at the beginning of next week, block Asta’s phone number, and be done with this entire mess.

"Will I assume you’ll be at the library for sometime tomorrow, then?” Asta piped up, leaning forward with a far too curious glimmer in her sunken eyes.

You would have to leave your things as they were in your father’s home for a while. Hopefully, they didn’t gather dust with how much still lay there undisturbed in gray blankets.

“Yeah, I’ll be there most of the day.”

You wanted answers, and you weren’t going to leave without them.

divider @/anlian-aishang

repost from my deleted blog officiallytheduchess/cardeneiv

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog!

#headless horseman x y/n #headless horseman x you #headless horseman x reader #headless horseman #dullahan x y/n #dullahan x you #dullahan x reader #dullahan #.02 #monster fiction #monster fic #monster x human #monster fucker #monster story #2k writes #original fiction #original story #original writing

[imarvelatthestars]

#halloween prompts #i had to throw in the headless horseman for jango im sorry 🤭🙈

[gamergalcmc]

This is for my Halloween special chapter of my next fanfic "Post Pacifist Breach Drabbles" with is going to be a collection of fanfics that take place in my Pacifist Breach au. the chapters will release randomly as I get more ideas for scenarios/prompts. the timeframes will be random and out of order (maybe) but will occacionally have something going on in the background that may or may not show up in later works ;)

I will also be starting another compilation of fanfics that takes place before the events of Pacifist Breach that again will be random in it's updates. I figured that would be easier than putting a "time frame at the beginning of each fic.

Roxy is the Big bad (were)wolf, Chika is Little Red Riding hood, Monty is Frankenstein's monter, Freddy along with Bonnie are the headless horseman, Sun/Moon/Eclipse are Dr. Jekall and Mr. Hyde, DJMM is a gaurdian stalker from BOTW, Cece (my OC) is Link froom BOTW, Gregory is Glam Freddy, Cassie is Roxy and Vannessa is a generic witch because in my fic she doesn't like dressing up (due to being Vanny)

and this is the mysterious woman Cece stops but doesn't interact with in the fic. She's my design for a Glamrock Ballora but with a rabbit mask instead. the mask is inspired by the masks that Sander Cohen wears from Bioshock

#sundrop #moondrop #fnaf security breach #fnaf #fnaf moon #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #security breach #Pacifist Breach #glamrock freddy #glamrock bonnie #montgomery gator #roxanne wolf #glamrock chika #fnaf gregory #fnaf cassie #fnaf vanessa #fnaf au #my art

[annas-hair-donut]

My Kristanna Halloween/Fall Fics

The Grandfather Clock (T)

There's a demonic presence in the house Anna inherited from her parents, who died in unexplained circumstances. Determined to sell it and be rid of the burden, she enlists the help of her ex-husband Hans and Honeymaren's paranormal investigation team, but she finds herself relying on the local sheriff's expertise instead. (T)

Iduna's Apple (T)

Kristoff had been giving Anna baskets of his best apples for her Harvest Day pies for years, but he was always too shy to express his affection in any other way. Everything changed, though, when Anna got a goat named Sven with a taste for apples.

The Headless Horseman, a Chilling Tale (M)

One Halloween night, Anna finally left her violent and controlling husband Hans and fled through the dark hedges, which were said to be haunted by a headless horseman in search of blood and heads, to get to her sister Elsa. While the headless horseman was only a legend, Anna's cruel husband was real. Will the horrors of the forest be worse than than the husband she left behind?

The Jakku Lantern (E)

It’s Kristoff, his Mandalorian helmet, and Olaf the Pumpkin King, against Raggedy Anna and Elsa AKA Maleficent, in a pumpkin carving contest judged by Sandy Claws Sven. Will Mando get a happy ending, despite the helmet that just won't budge, in this alternate version of the charades scene from Frozen II?

Ginger Sweet Love (M)

Anna and Kristoff get a second chance to tell each other how they feel when Kristoff shows up unexpectedly at Anna’s Halloween/Friendsgiving party. Let's hope 17 years later isn't 17 years too late.

Seeing is Believing, Hearing is Deceiving (M)

Anna Oldenburg lives in a 19th century fantasy world of romance and ghosts and is dedicated to preserving the memories of the past, while her somewhat estranged sister Elsa Frost, an ice cream artist, does everything she can to focus on the here and now. Anna falls for Kristoff, the building conservator and maintenance technician at the Victorian mansion hotels owned by the Oldenburg family, but her over-protective father Agnarr keeps them apart. Their lives get turned upside down when Kristoff discovers a skeleton in the closet. Anna works with Kristoff to uncover the mystery of the skeleton, but she'll need her sister's help to learn the secrets of the past that are the keys to saving Elsa's son Olaf. [I have plans to rewrite this one but it keeps getting put off.]

#frozen #kristanna #frozen fanfic #kristanna fanfic

[flowers-inmyhair]

Headless Horseman (Erwin/Levi AoT Completed Fic)

Excerpt:

For months like this, they keep busy. In between heartened recruitment speeches and disheartened budgeting assemblies, Erwin insists on introducing Levi to the sunlight and the willow trees and the world as he’s never before seen it. Initially, he calls this, ‘reconnaissance.’ And of course, he’s being deceptive. Nevertheless, he drags Levi from the berry farms in Stohess to Yarhkel’s old basalt castles just to squeeze even the tiniest glimmers of wonder from his eyes. Inside Wall Sina, Erwin introduces Levi to a body of water called Lake Clia. In Year 756, the first prototype of the steel boat was built here. Erwin’s always mumbling a slew of facts and philosophies, stringing worlds together.

Stripped down to their underwear, they wade past the shore, where the water is thigh-deep and crystalline. Frogs croak, lily pads sway, and tadpoles nip at the space between Levi’s toes (“Tch, I will crush you little bastards”). Spring is fresh with sunlight, perfumed only by the wisteria swirling toward them. Erwin dives past the shallows, kicks around some. And not two minutes later, emerges, spitting water, running fingers pleasantly through his hair, dripping in jewels of light. Their battle scars have dissolved. For an entire afternoon, the sun blots out all evidence of the war. Levi’s never known light to be so full and water to be so vast. It’s like heaven fell wide open. On the shore, their Class A’s are balled up in the mud and the pages of their books dance lightly. Tomorrow, they return by train to HQ. Until then, Erwin swims and Levi watches, occasionally laughing and splashing at him.

In all his life, he’s never found the world beautiful.

Not before or since.

Read more: here.

#eruri #aot eruri #erwin smith #levi ackerman #levi x erwin #fanfiction #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #erwin x levi #levi aot #aot erwin #aot