#Dark Fantasy Series

[theomenmedia]

"Castlevania: Nocturne" Season 2 trailer is here!

The night has just begun! "Castlevania: Nocturne" Season 2 trailer is here, and it's darker than ever. Are you ready for the ultimate vampire showdown?

Check out the trailer right here: https://www.theomenmedia.com/post/vampires-and-vengeance-castlevania-nocturne-season-2-trailer-unleashes-epic-darkness

[joncronshawauthor]

Continue the Dark Path: FORGED IN BLOOD Early Access Announcement!

🗡️ The guild’s shadows deepen… I’m thrilled to announce that FORGED IN BLOOD, the sequel to GUILD OF ASSASSINS, will be available for early access through Patreon starting October 29th! What this means: – Two chapters released every week – Months ahead of retail release – Exclusive access to the story as it unfolds – Direct interaction with me about the developing narrative – Be among the…

[thegodwithinblog]

My AI Book Covers

So, I want to show you the images and book covers I made for my BENJAMIN JONES series...

[darktraumabomba2]

[divineandmajesticinone]

THE HEART KILLERS (2024) I EP. 2 "I like your name, by the way. Fadel."

[dreorcaul]

A piece I did for the cassunzel zine! It was fun to do this piece! is there an ongoing Locked tomb zine? I wanna join one!

[7brownsuga7]

The God who answers after dark ☆ The intro:

Summary: You used to pray to the Gods after dark before you went to sleep, always thinking that you were praying to the good kind. The kind that showed mercy. However you were mistaken, as time passes and you grew older and wiser it will be revealed that your prayers were answered, but not by the Gods you thought you knew, but the dark kind. The kind that your grandmother used to warn you about. Ones you hear in stories. The kind that you should fear, but how can you when it's all you know. How can you when he was the only one who answered?

Tags&warnings: Jungkookxfemreader, mostly fluff I guess, a bit of smut if you would call it that?!?? age gap I guess?!!? Jungkook is obsessed with reader, a bit delusional. Slight manipulation???! MDNI!!!

Word count: 3k+

Note: making this into a series🫶🏽 this is just a little something that I wrote when I was bored. Be prepared for more obsessive and possessive Jungkook!

Was inspired by the book invisible life of Addie-Larue

The God who answers after dark ☆ series master list: Here ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It was dark.

The night creating shadows in the corner of your room, allowing your imagination to run wild, creating things scary to imagine.

You wasn’t scared though, because you knew it was your imagination. And because you’ve experienced something way darker. You invited him into your home with a simple whisper, let him talk to you throughout the many dark nights, telling him your dreams and wishes of a better life where you are happy and loved.

You was always an imaginative child. While you watched others make friends, you created your own, that grew along with you. Who only came out at night.

You first called upon him when you were only seven. Mindlessly talking to the open air. You had wanted a friend. A friend you could talk to, play with, share secrets with. So you stared off into the dark and talked about nothing and everything. However, when you saw the shadows in the corner of your room move, and sit before you did you realise that you summoned something else. Not a friend, not an imaginary one, something much darker. Still you spoke to it, and it spoke to you like rough winds in the cool night. It comforted you like a cool breeze in a summers heat.

You found comfort in him. You would mindlessly tell him your dreams. He would make empty promises of giving you that dream felt life. Empty, because they came with a price that you were not willing to pay for. Still he would sit beside you and listen to your stories and dreams.

You had asked him what his dreams were and he had told you that he was the son of a God - he had none, but he could grant them within due time. When he himself became a God. So he settled with telling you stories about Gods and wars. Desperate souls and deals. The kind his father spoke to him about, the kind he experienced himself.

Then, he was an angel, the son of a God he refused to speak of. Now, he is a God himself, the God of Darkness. Like the type you’d find deep in a forest, hidden behind the shadows of the trees, infused within the night that covers the sky like a blanket. Comforting to some, suffocating for others.

You was a child who had a lot to wish for and no control of your imagination back then. His company grew on you so much that he was like an accessory to your room. Like a cushion that decorated your bed, a small plant that had a home on your desk, a stack of books that rested in a pile on your bedside table. He felt like home.

The man that would sit before you, appearance created from your imagination - answered you everytime you called on him. He was always there with you. When you looked out of your window at night, when you wrote in your diary about the stories he’d tell you. In your dreams. He was always there.

It was dark.

So you did what you’ve always done when the lights went out, and people lay deep asleep. The night silent and still.

You called for him.

“Yes my love?” He appeared from the dark corner of your room. Once a shadow, now a man that sat before you on your bed. The only bit of light was the shine from the moon and the small warm lamp next to your bed.

You always expect the bed to shift as he sits down, but his weight is like a feather held in one’s palm. Light and weightless. Proof that the form you see before you is none other than what he has stolen from your imagination. His true form something like a stream in the night. Dark and shallow.

His lean body presented in a white button up shirt and black slacks. Very simple, but styled so well. He was always so well presented, dressed so elegantly. You knew that that wasn’t your imagination that created the fine attire, it was simply him, the Darkness who was a charmer, who had lived many years before you. Of course he’d picked up some style on the way.

“I want to be loved” you spoke out, tone delicate like a whisper, too embarrassed, too afraid.

“Y/n my dear, you are loved by many. Your mother adores you, friends cherish you, need I say more?” His eyes match his soul, dark and intense, yet they still seem to be so warm, inviting. It’s either that or his voice that draws you in. So soothing yet so deep. Like a calm ocean that holds many depth below.

“Not that kind of love. I want to be loved by a man. I want to feel that type of love I read in books and see in movies. The type of love my grandparents have. The type of love that won’t make me feel so alone anymore”

He chuckles a beautiful melody.

You always surprised him. The things you’d speak and dream of so bizarre yet so intriguing. Out of all the souls who begged for his help and all the humans he’s encountered, you’re the one that amused him most. A girl who asked and wished for so much, yet all she needed to do was look in the mirror and realise her worth, her power.

But he of all people knew that wishes were easy to slip from one’s lips. Words slide out of people’s mouths just as easy as a balloons string slips out of a child’s hand, so effortlessly. People are so careless when it comes to words. If only they knew the power it holds.

Wishes, prayers. They were all the same to him. It didn’t matter because they both had the same outcome, the same deal, the same promise, the same fate and the same desperation. The person was always begging and pleading in the end, too desperate to have their prayers answered to form a logical sentence, and to understand a twisted deal.

“You are not alone my love. I am here, I’ve always been here. I am the breeze that embraces you in the night, the darkness that lulls you to sleep. I am here. And you are loved.”

“You are not a man, even if you choose to be in this moment.” Your words are harsh, yes, but that’s what he loved about you. You were honest with him, you weren’t afraid.

“I can be the darkness of the night, a friend when you need company, I can be a man…”

When you make no move to respond to him, he rolls his eyes and sighs. “But before all of that I am a God. A God that answers wishes, say the words and I’ll give it to you, for a price”

This isn’t the first time he’s said this, and this isn’t the first time you’ve asked for something. But it always ends up with the same outcome, an offer of a sacrifice that you refuse. And then the whole interaction is swept away in the night, forgotten.

“Im not sacrificing my soul to you”

“My dear, you’ve called upon me countless of times, I’ve stayed by your side for years, you must know by now that you’re mine. I may not have your soul entirely, but yours is bound with mine, through shared memories and dreams, nights and years.”

“Don’t you get tired of chasing something that doesn’t belong to you? That will never be yours?”

“I have patience” is the only thing he says before he changes the subject back to your previous wish.

“I’d love to help you. You know I always do. But you should know by now that I can’t just give you that. I can’t just muster up a man for you that will make love to you. You want me to grant your wish of being loved by a man, that I can’t do, but like I said, I can be a lot of things.”

His hand reaches out to touch your jaw, thumb caressing it. His touch light, smooth. And despite everything, you wish he would touch you more, so you lean into his touch.

“I can be a God, an Angel, a Devil, a Human. Whatever you’d like me to be, as long as I am yours and you are mine”

“That’s not the type of love I’m talking about” your voice is shaky, unsure of what you want. What you need.

“Oh isn’t it? All those nights you would touch yourself to images of me… where you would talk to yourself about wanting to be touched. Those days where you would listen to all your friends stories about being with another, being touched by another. You envy them. You want to be loved in a way that has your skin littered with goosebumps, chills running down your spine” his fingers brush along your collarbone and you feel a shiver come across your body.

You think back to the nights where you would dream of his fingers against your skin. Light, cool and delicate.

“You must know by now that your body is mine. Your mind, your heart, your soul. Stop wasting your time being stubborn and let me give you what you want. The love you hope for, a world where you’re happy, things go your way. I can give you all of that if you would just be mine”

You hate the fact that he’s partially right. You have dreamt about him and thought of many nights where he would lay you in bed and take you as his. It was one of your dark fantasies that you never spoke of, you couldn’t , not to him.

Just as much as you were, he was stubborn. And as a God that always gets his way, he hates being told no.

“I see you’re making it a habit of calling me yours. You may be a God, but I don’t belong to you. I won’t”

“Within due time”

You don’t say anything else, instead you focus on the stillness of the room. The way his presence is so strong, the way you feel relaxed around him.

“You want me to grant your wish of being loved by a man? I can’t give that to you if you don’t sacrifice, but I can show you how to be loved, y/n. I can show you what it feels like to be touched” his hand brushes the side of your face. His eyes pouring into yours, if you didn’t know his games you would almost fall for his tricks. Almost.

“Is this how you get people to give you their souls? Is this one of your twisted games? I give you my body and you take my soul as a keepsake.” Your breath is shaky as his touch takes over your body, so intense, so wrong but so right.

“I don’t just want your soul y/n. I want your heart, I want your touch, I want your love and your word that you will be mine.”

“You aren’t capable of feeling those things. you’re n-“

“Not human, I know. You’ve told me many times” his fingers brush along your thigh. “But when you have lived amongst humans and dealt with them for as long as I have, you begin to understand real emotions. I’m more human than you’ll ever know ”

His lips brush along your earlobe. “Let me show you”

He lays you down on the bed, hovering over you.

“No man on earth can give you what I can give you. I’ll take their souls if they tried. I can give you the world, the luxury of never having to worry about anything. A life of happiness, a life of freedom. If only you would let me have you”

He spoke so much about making things happen. He could make things happen with the click of his finger. And you wondered if he ever manipulated you in anyway. And why he hasn’t so far. If he really wanted you like he said he does, then why doesn’t he use his power to get you?

He spoke so softly in your ear, his voice like a blanket of silk. You don’t realise that you have yet again leaned in to him. Drawn in by his words, the way he spoke them so effortlessly and so passionately.

“You have me, I’m here right now” you give up your fight and give in to what your body craves.

Your eyes flutter close as you let yourself escape in everything that is him.

Just like when you were a child, you use your imagination to create your own little world. Just you and him for the moment.

You’re lost in his earthy scent. The night sky drawn around you like a blanket, protecting you. A sense of freedom as you seep into the darkness of the night that is him. But when you open your eyes you see more than just the darkness. You see the stars in the night. His eyes mimicking the galaxy as he watches you with so much want.

There in that moment is when you realised how powerful he was. How powerful his words were, his presence was. And his touch…

His touch that had your body reacting in ways you never knew it could.

His touch light, like a cool embrace of the wind.

Except your skin is like the sun, setting your skin on fire as his hands caress your body. You hate that your body reacts so easily to his touch. But over anything else, you hate how he knows your body when you don’t even know it yourself.

He knows just where to touch you, just where you crave another’s touch.

Just where to touch to have the hairs on your body stand up. Eager for more.

His face is in the crook of your neck lightly running his lips along the service, just before he litters small pecks to it. He smells you, breathes you in, humming in the process.

“I’m so full of everything I can have in life, and yet I still crave you”

You shiver when he pauses just by your earlobe.

“What are you doing to me my love?”

You both lock eyes for a second, the world stopping in the moment that is just yours. You don’t answer him. He seems elated with just watching you anyways.

“You’ll let me have you?”

You hold your breath, unsure of what to say. Yes because you want him to take you here right now, but you know how sneaky he can be, you’re afraid that your words would be used against you.

When you make no move to speak, he smirks against your skin and whispers, “Smart girl, I’ve taught you well.”

He takes no time in playing with the lace of your panties. You feel wetness stick to the fabric, something that started once he laid his fingers on you.

He’s always been good with his fingers. One night he played you a song on your guitar, his fingers moving effortlessly over the strings. In this very moment you feel like an instrument. The way his fingers work on you, you creating sounds so melodic you don’t even recognise yourself. The way he holds you so gently as one would with their instrument. You’re not afraid when you’re with him. There’s no need to be when he holds and touches you so gently.

His voice is almost a whisper when he speaks to you. His fingers working inside of you making your back arch and toes curl. Your fingers grab your sheet, mind going crazy because you know you shouldn’t be doing this. This is crazy and it’s not like you at all. And with him?

“You’re so stubborn. Why won’t you be mine? Look how your body is reacting to me. The moment I made myself present, your breathing changed rhythm and heart increased pace. You don’t think I know how you feel?”

You release a pathetic moan. A desperate one that has you cringing with embarrassment because of how needy you sound.

He leans in towards the crook of your neck with a low, “hmm?”

You look away. Too embarrassed and too in awe at the way he’s making you feel - making you act.

“Look at me”.

You find the courage to look at him. His fingers that work inside of you have your pussy creating sounds you never knew it could. You take deep breaths, slight frown on your face as your body’s taken over by the pleasure.

“You’re so wet for me. So needy.”

He continues to watch you with half-lidded eyes. Taking in the moment. Taking in everything that is you.

As the night progresses, you find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into it.

You’ve given yourself to him in this moment - not entirely as he had hoped, but having his way with you in this point in time is more than enough.

He takes you there on your bed. The same place you would speak to him every night, dream of him every occasion.

He’s gentle, careful. His motions precise, enough to have your breath stuck in your throat.

Your mind has been lost in the darkness that is him. You don’t even want to find it.

He’s hovered over you, your legs wrapped around him. Kisses given with each thrust.

He speaks beautiful words to you, hand caressing your face every now and then.

And in this moment you’re sure you’re making love. Even though you know it can’t be because you both know nothing of the sort, but this is exactly how it feels like.

You reach a hand out to him, brushing back his dark stringy locks that fall in front of his face.

He kisses you with so much passion, speaks to you with words that has your heart aching for more.

In this moment you almost give him your word. Your life, your soul. Your head clouded by this intense emotion, a feeling that you can’t grasp. He’s taken you to a whole different universe, mind lost in everything that is him.

You almost give him your word, almost.

And when he brings you to your climax you sink deeper into him, into his embarace. Letting your body infuse with his.

You both lay there in silence for a while until he voices, “Even if you deny it. I’ve given you my word that I’ll stick by your side. There’s no getting rid of me”

You don’t need to ask him about what he means.

You know.

His fingers caress your skin as you close your eyes, letting his words fill the air.

“A soul as beautiful and pure as yours is a soul to wait a lifetime for. And I’ve got a lot of time”

And when you open your eyes, you’re met with nothing but the darkness of your room.

The God who answers after dark ☆

- mimi ☆

[jon-sedai]

And remember kids, the next time someone tells you, "George R. R. Martin wouldn't make Jon Snow the typical fantasy hero because that's cliche".....

Oh yes he would!

One viewer wants to know what character would you play (on the show)? GRRM: If I could magically clap my hands and become a different person, it would be cool to play Jon Snow who's much more of the classic hero. Everybody wants to be the classic hero! ABC Interview, 2014

GRRM: And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Meduza Interview, 2017

In fact he already has ☺️

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fantasy 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Curtis Everett

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Curtis and Whimsy.

Summary: the bookshop window holds intrigue for both buyer and seller.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The door creaks shut as another customer enters. Curtis looks up, greets them with a silty, hey, then goes back to reading. His business isn’t extravagant. He doesn’t need one of those paperback mills selling mass-produced ‘Now a Feature Film’ shills. He works for himself, by himself, and he likes it that way. 

The sunlight traces the outline of the marquee painted on the window onto the table of fiction classic and ripples over the floor. A silhouette appears on the other side of the glass, another passing by. He looks without lifting his head. He’s honed the skill of looking without looking. 

It’s her. She passes everyday, twice a day. Once alone, and once with that man. As she admires the cover he hand-painted to display on the ledge, her escort comes back to hurry her along. Her disappoint darkens her eyes and tugs at her lips. She turns and walks away with him. 

Curtis sighs. She deserves better. Almost a year of her stopping and staring and she’s never set a foot inside. It’s not the business he mourns, it’s the smile that faded at least nine months ago. She used to point out the displays to that other man but after he shrugged her off enough, she stopped trying. 

He can’t claim sainthood. He’s not the most enthusiastic person but he never blights out someone’s passion. He has his own, it’s his business fortunately enough, and he keeps it locked up to keep it safe. Some might see him as stoic but he’s really just cautious. 

He closes the book. He’s not in a mind to read anymore. He can’t follow the dialogue. The customer comes up to pay for a three for five combo and he packs it in a paper bag before sending them off. 

As he sits on his stool, he pulls out the old anthology of Grimm tales he found on eBay. He can restore it but he’s not sure he should just fix the binding or replace the cover altogether. He has an idea, a princess and a cad, robbing her away from her tower... 

Hm. 

The hours tick by and customers come and go. A few children flurry in with their mother only to be disappointed by the lack of Dog Guy or whatever the new fad is. Their guardian pays for a copy of Bronte and goes, promising ice cream to her unsated brood. 

He closes up at six. He has routine. He balances the till and locks everything up. His stomach stirs as he stands outside the door. That night, he has other plans. 

He did it one time. Once. He followed her and that man. He locked the door and left a sign, back in twenty. It was an hour. 

He retraces the steps he made all those weeks ago. The ones he strode in his dreams. He should be doing this. He gets to her building and turns back. He stops himself at her corner. 

He opens Discord. He pulls up the chat with Jake. 

‘You there?’ 

A minute then it shows his friend typing. 

‘Sup?’ 

Curtis doesn’t know how to explain. He knows he can tell Jake anything; Jake tells him everything. 

He gets his thoughts together. He leans on a pole and taps the keys. ‘I’m here.’ 

‘At my place????’ 

‘Hers’. He sends and a shiver rolls over him. 

‘Everything ok?’ Jake asks. 

‘Don’t know why.’ Is all Curtis can come up with. 

He puts his phone away. It doesn’t matter what Jake says. He's there and he’s not turning back. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to do anything. 

He walks by her building. She’s on the second floor. He saw her in the window the first time. It’s hard to see up but climbing a tree is a little much. He sees the lamp light and her shadow, but not much else. He’s annoyed. He didn’t think this through even though it’s all he thought about. Ever. 

He lingers, retracing his steps, wandering around the building, avoiding odd looks. It’s almost nine. The side door opens on his twentieth lap of the block. He pauses at the jangle of cans. He knows her by her gait, even as he can only see her legs behind the big bin of recycling. 

She goes to the taller bins lined up behind the dumpster. She struggles to get the lid up before she dumps the contents. She leans the empty container on top and sniffles. She wipes her eyes and winces. She pulls away but lingers at the corner of the building. 

She touches her cheek as if checking it. It must be tender as she lets out a squeak. He doesn’t know many ways she’d hurt herself there... 

His sole scuffs and she flinches. She looks over at him and hikes up the bucket. He’s been caught. 

“Nice night,” he says and tries not to cringe. He sounds as cheesy as Jake. 

“Sure is,” she agrees with a croak. 

Silence. Awkward and unfurling. She teeters as if afraid to move. He can tell she wants to flee. He doesn't want her to be afraid of him, not like she is with that man.

“You okay?” He asks. 

She twitches again, “f-fine,” she ekes out. 

“Sorry to bother,” he says, “have a good one.” 

“Thanks... you too,” she turns and flops away in her slippers. 

His chest is tight. He makes himself walk away. That was too close.  

He takes his phone out at the end of the street. Jake sent him several messages. He assures him everything is alright. He knows his friend won’t read it for a while. It’s late and he’s doing his ‘surveillance’. All the better, Curtis doesn’t feel like talking. 

[theguywithaplan]

List of Video Games turning ten (10) years old in 2025

Alone in the Dark: Illumination (if you thought the AitD game from last year was bad, check this shit out).

Angry Birds 2 (yes, there was a 2).

Animal Crossing: Happy Home Designer

Animal Crossing: Amiibo Festival (two AC games from 2015 and neither of them were what people wanted).

Assassin's Creed Syndicate (the Bri'ish one).

Atelier Shallie

Axiom Verge

Batman: Arkham Knight

Battlefield: Hardline (the last game from Visceral Games, the guys who made the Dead Space series).

The Beginner's Guide (the second game from the creator of The Stanley Parable).

Bloodborne (anything for the 10th anniver-- no. Never gonna happen).

Broken Age

Call of Duty: Black Ops III

Chibi-Robo! Zip Lash

Cities: Skylines

Crypt of the NecroDancer

Devil's Third (one of the rarest Wii U games ever).

Disgaea 5: Alliance of Vengeance

Disney Infinity 3.0

Dragon Ball XenoVerse (the first one. not the second).

Dying Light

Evolve (these guys would go on to make Back 4 Blood).

Fallout 4

Fatal Frame: Maiden of Black Water

Final Fantasy Type-0 HD

Game of Thrones (the Telltale game)

Guitar Hero Live

Halo 5: Guardians

Hatred (a game so edgy and terrible that it got itself kicked off of Steam).

Helldivers (the first one).

Heroes of the Storm (the Blizzard MOBA).

Hotline Miami 2: Wrong Number

HuniePop (for all you pervs out there).

I Am Bread

Just Cause 3

Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes (the quintessential VR game)

Kerbal Space Program

Kirby and the Rainbow Curse (one of the few Wii U games that hasn't been ported to the Switch. And probably never will be).

The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel

The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask 3D

The Legend of Zelda: Tri Force Heroes

Lego Dimensions (a crossover game with about a billion different franchises).

Lego Jurassic World

Life is Strange (controversial opinion: I sacrificed Chloe and felt nothing).

Mario Party 10 (the only MP on the Wii U)

Mario Tennis: Ultra Smash

Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain

Monster Hunter 4 Ultimate (back when the 3DS was single-handedly keeping MH alive)

Mortal Kombat X

Need for Speed (the reboot)

The Order: 1886

Ori and the Blind Forest

Pillars of Eternity

Pokemon Super Mystery Dungeon

Prison Architect

Rainbow Six: Siege

Rare Replay

Resident Evil: Revelations 2

Rise of the Tomb Raider

Rock Band 4

Rocket League

Saints Row: Gat Out of Hell (RIP Volition. You were too good for the modern day).

Shadowrun: Hong Kong

Skylanders: SuperChargers

Soma (the best horror game ever made. Play it if you haven't yet).

Splatoon

Star Wars: Battlefront (the EA reboot).

StarCraft II: Legacy of the Void (RIP StarCraft. You were too good for modern day Blizzard).

Steven Universe: Attack the Light!

Story of Seasons (the very fight one)

Super Mario Maker

Tales from the Borderlands (the best thing that Telltale EVER made).

Tales of Zestiria

Tembo the Badass Elephant (published by Sega and developed by Game Freak... the Pokemon guys).

Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 5

Total War: Attila

Transformers: Devastation (RIP PlatinumGames. You... kinda started sucking after Astral Chain).

Undertale (yep, it's happening).

Until Dawn

Warhammer: End Times - Vermintide

The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (just in time for the 4th game)

Wolfenstein: The Old Blood (remember, kids: Nazi lives don't matter).

Xenoblade Chronicles X (finally escaping the Wii U this year).

Yakuza 5

Yo-Kai Watch

Yoshi's Woolly World

[nshi-ao3]

A recurring trait, among others.

[joncronshawauthor]

Your First Steps into the Gritty World of Grimdark Fantasy: Top 33 Books

Welcome to the dark, brooding underworld of fantasy literature—the Grimdark genre. If you fancy stories where the sunlight rarely breaks through the clouds and your heroes are just villains who’ve had a worse day, then you’ve come to the right place.  This handy beginner’s guide to grimdark fantasy will help you navigate these shadowy realms like a pro. Defining Grimdark: It’s Not All Unicorns…

[romangoldendream]

dark smile only for you

[darktraumabomba2]

Scene.

[kthice]

JJK'S CASE | JUNGKOOK FF (M) •ongoing #2

Summary: A town shrouded in mystery. A detective entangled in a web of secrets. As Jungkook delves into the buried past, he unearths a truth far more sinister than he ever imagined. Some stories are forgotten for a reason—because once the truth is revealed, there is no turning back.

pairing: jungkook x reader •genre: dark romance, psychological thriller,mystery detective oc

warnings: vióléncé ánd gráphíc dépíctíóns óf hárm, psychólógícál ábúsé, mánípúlátíón., dárk thémes óf révéngé ánd páín., déscríptíóns óf ínténsívé cáréss, térrór, ánd prófánítý, mátúré lángúágé (prófánítý) ánd viólént áctíóns, RÈVÈNGÈ, 18+, m*rder, g*re and several mature scenes.

MASTER LIST

• 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 •14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 epilogue

Chapter 2

YONGDONG POLICE STATION

6 PM

Jungkook stepped into the office, the scent of aged wood and ink filling his nostrils. The place felt frozen in time, as though it had been untouched for years, its walls lined with shelves crammed with old files and records. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights above only added to the eeriness of the space, flickering every now and then like the place was fighting to stay alive.

--

He sat stiffly in the dimly lit conference room, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and old paper. A large corkboard stood at the front, covered with photographs of people-men, women, and even children-all pinned under the same glaring title: Missing.

Captain Min, an older man with sharp eyes and a tired expression, stood at the front, flipping through a thick file. Beside him, Detective Jiho leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he exhaled sharply. The atmosphere was tense, the weight of unsolved cases pressing heavily on the room.

Jungkook cleared his throat.

"So... what's the situation?"

Captain Min didn't look up as he spoke.

"We've had multiple disappearances over the last year. No bodies, no ransom notes, no traces left behind. These aren't ordinary cases, Jeon." He finally lifted his gaze, his voice taking on a grim note. "And they go back way further than just last year."

Jungkook frowned. "How far back are we talking?"

Jiho pushed off from the desk, grabbing a separate stack of files and tossing them onto the table. "Fifteen years," he muttered. "But the pattern only became noticeable in the last few."

Jungkook flipped open the nearest file, his eyes scanning the reports. The victims had no direct connection-different ages, different occupations, different social backgrounds. Yet there was something eerily similar about them all.

"No leads? No suspects?"

Captain Min exhaled. "We had a few, but nothing ever stuck. The locals don't talk much, and the ones who do either disappear or... stop talking."

Jungkook glanced at him. "Stop talking?"

Jiho's jaw clenched. "We've had cases where witnesses swore they saw something-strange figures, movement in the woods, people who weren't supposed to be there. Then, a week later? They refuse to say another word. Almost as if something... or someone... got to them."

Jungkook felt a chill creep up his spine.

Captain Min looked at him with a firm expression ."Maybe an outsider like you will see something we missed."

Jungkook  nodded. But as he looked down at the collection of names, dates, and photographs, a sinking feeling settled in his gut.

Something wasn't actually right about this town.

--

Jungkook's desk

Jungkook adjusted the stiff collar of his navy-blue shirt as he stepped into the dimly lit briefing room. The space smelled of stale coffee and old leather, the air thick with an unshakable weight. A low hum of murmured conversations, the shuffle of case files, and the occasional tap of a pen against a wooden table filled the silence.

A manila folder landed in front of him with a dull thud.

"This is yours now," Jiho said, voice edged with something close to resignation. The senior detective leaned back against the desk, his sharp gaze flickering to Jungkook. "It's not pretty."

Jungkook ran his fingers along the worn edges of the folder before flipping it open. A stack of aged documents, faded photographs, and crime scene reports greeted him. The first page detailed names and dates-people who had disappeared over the past fifteen years.

He frowned. "Brief me about it properly, will ya?"

Jiho sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Too long. At first, it was one or two people-easy to write off as runaways or accidents. But then, it kept happening. People just... vanish."

Jungkook flipped through the photographs-grainy black-and-white snapshots of smiling faces, now nothing more than ghosts of Yongdong. No common thread. No known connections.

"And no bodies? No traces?"

"Not a damn thing," Jiho muttered. "They don't leave a trail. No calls, no bank activity, no signs of struggle. Just... gone." His fingers tapped against the table. "And the weirdest part? Most of them disappeared near the forest."

Jungkook's grip tightened slightly on the file. He had passed the forest on his way into town-its dense, towering trees forming an almost impenetrable wall of shadows. There was something about it, something unspoken. Too still. Too watchful.

Jiho smirked, almost like he could read his thoughts. "Welcome to Yongdong."

Jungkook glanced up. "What's with this 'welcome to Yondong thingy you're doing? Its annoying"

Jiho let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Yongdong's a graveyard with a heartbeat." He turned toward the corkboard pinned with old, yellowed newspaper clippings. "Used to be a normal town, but after the disappearances started, people packed up and left. Now? It's mostly the ones too stubborn or too afraid to go. The ones who pretend they don't know anything."

Jungkook followed his gaze. An old aerial map of the town was tacked onto the board. It was a simple layout-clusters of houses, a single main road cutting through the center, and at the farthest edge, the forest. The ink had faded, but the darkness of the trees remained, swallowing the borders like an ink stain spreading across a page.

"The locals don't talk,or else we would have some track in hand" Jiho continued. "They keep their doors locked, their heads down. Outsiders? They don't like us much. Not because they think we'll solve this." He scoffed. "Because they think we won't."

Jungkook thought back to his arrival. The wary glances. The hushed whispers that cut off the moment he entered a room. The way the shopkeepers turned away like they hadn't seen him at all.

He tapped the folder. "And this?"

Jiho sighed and pulled out another document. This one was older, the pages yellowed and fragile. A deep red stamp at the top read:

Cold Case.

Jungkook scanned the details.

Crime: Double Homicide Date: 15 years ago

He turned the page, eyes landing on the first crime scene photograph.

A man, lying in a pool of blood, his skull fractured beyond recognition.

The second photo-another body. An older man, stab wounds deep in his chest.

His stomach tightened. The brutality of it was different from the disappearances. This was messy. Personal.

And then his gaze fell on the witness statement.

Witness: Kim Taehyung.

Jungkook's breath stilled.

His fingers hovered over the name as an unsettling feeling curled in his chest.

Jiho was watching him carefully. "He was a kid when it happened. Eleven, maybe twelve. He was the only one who saw it."

Jungkook flipped to the next page-a shaky, handwritten account.

"I saw the man with the axe first. He was standing in the clearing, staring down at the other man. There was blood on the ground. A lot of it. He looked at me, but... his eyes. They weren't normal. It was like he wasn't real. Like something else was wearing his skin."

Jungkook swallowed.

"He was found in the forest the next morning," Jiho added. "Alone. Barefoot. Kept saying the same thing over and over."

Jungkook looked at him. "What did he say?"

Jiho's expression darkened.

"The forest keeps them."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Jungkook closed the file, pressing his palm against the paper as if he could absorb the weight of it.

Outside, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting elongated shadows through the station windows. The town of Yongdong stretched beyond them, quiet, unmoving.

Watching.

Jiho exhaled, pushing off the desk.

"I hope you find them, Jungkook." His voice was quieter now, tinged with something that almost sounded like regret. "But in this town? Hope doesn't last long."

Jungkook didn't respond.

Because for the first time in a long time, he felt it.

The distinct, creeping sensation that he was stepping into something far bigger than he could ever understand.

And that maybe, just maybe-

It had been waiting for him all along.

---

Somewhere in Yongdong

The world was painted in hues of gold and green, the late afternoon sun stretching long shadows across the mossy ground.

The forest hummed with life, but in a quiet, unintrusive way-soft rustling leaves, the occasional chirp of a hidden bird, and the gentle murmur of the stream flowing past smooth stones.

Hanna sat on the edge of a large, sun-warmed rock, her legs dangling freely over the water. The cool current lapped at her ankles, sending a pleasant shiver up her spine as she let her toes skim through the ripples. Tiny fish darted away from the disturbance, their silvery bodies vanishing beneath the glassy surface.

The weight of the world did not exist here.

She tilted her head back, closing her eyes, letting the warmth of the sunlight seep into her skin. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching in the light like strands of silk.

For once, she wasn't thinking about anything.

No worries. No responsibilities.

Just the steady rhythm of the water, the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, and the feeling of absolute peace.

And then-

A rustle.

Barely audible, just a shift of movement behind her.

Before she could react, something soft brushed against her hair, featherlight and delicate.

A voice followed, low and teasing, filled with a warmth she knew all too well.

"Guess who?"

A small, knowing smile ghosted across her lips. She didn't need to turn around.

"Taehyung," she murmured, not bothering to hide the fondness in her voice.

A rich chuckle. "How do you always know?"

"Because you're predictable," she teased, finally opening her eyes. Her fingers instinctively reached up, brushing against her hair-only to find something woven into it.

She blinked.

A crown.

A delicate, slightly uneven wreath of wildflowers, their petals still dusted with tiny specks of earth. Daisies, buttercups, and small white blossoms she didn't recognize had been carefully braided together into a makeshift circlet.

Hanna turned her head slightly, watching as Taehyung plopped down beside her, stretching his long legs out next to hers. He was grinning, clearly pleased with himself, his dark brown curls slightly ruffled from the wind.

"You should've seen me," he said, shaking his head dramatically. "I nearly died fighting off a bee for the last flower."

Hanna laughed, tilting her head. "A bee, huh?"

Taehyung leaned back on his elbows, his deep brown eyes glinting with mischief. "It was ruthless. Stared me down like I had stolen its family heirloom."

"Poor thing," she mused. "Maybe you did steal its favorite flower."

Taehyung gasped in mock horror. "Are you taking the bee's side over mine?"

Hanna shrugged, fighting back a smirk. "Maybe."

A soft breeze wove through the trees, rustling the leaves above them. The world felt so distant here, yet so perfectly whole. The golden light of the setting sun dappled the ground through the canopy, bathing them in warmth.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Taehyung reached out, picking at a stray blade of grass beside him, his fingers absently twisting it around as if his hands always needed to be doing something. Hanna watched him from the corner of her eye, taking in the way his lips curved ever so slightly at the corners, the way his eyes softened whenever he was around her.

"You're too quiet," he murmured after a moment, his voice gentler now. "What are you thinking about?"

Hanna hummed, swaying her feet in the water, watching as tiny ripples fanned outward. "Nothing."

It wasn't exactly a lie.

But if she said the truth-that she felt safe in this moment, that she wished time would slow down, that she never wanted this kind of peace to slip away-she wasn't sure she'd be able to meet his gaze.

Taehyung didn't press her. Instead, he reached for a stray daisy resting near his knee, twirling it between his fingers. The motion was slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

Then, with an almost imperceptible smile, he leaned in and tucked the tiny flower behind her ear.

His fingers brushed against her skin-warm, fleeting, but enough to send an unspoken weight into the air between them.

Hanna swallowed. "What was that for?"

"You looked like you needed one more," he said simply.

She stared at him, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. Something soft. Something unreadable. Something she didn't want to name.

Instead, she let out a small laugh, nudging his arm. "You're impossible."

Taehyung smirked. "And yet, you tolerate me."

Hanna pretended to think. "Maybe because no one else will."

"Hey!" He gasped, pressing a hand over his heart as if deeply wounded. "I'll have you know, I'm very lovable."

Hanna turned to face him fully, raising an eyebrow. "Are you?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

A pause.

Then-without warning-he reached out and flicked water at her.

The cold droplets hit her skin, shocking her out of the moment.

"Taehyung!" she shrieked, scrambling backward, barely avoiding the second splash aimed at her.

But he was already laughing, his deep, boyish chuckles echoing through the quiet of the forest.

"Oh, you're in for it now," she warned, scooping up a handful of water and launching it at him.

Taehyung yelped, shielding himself with his arms. "Hanna, no-!"

Too late.

Within seconds, they were locked in a full-blown water fight, splashing and laughing, their carefree joy blending into the golden afternoon.

By the time they finally collapsed back onto the rock, breathless and drenched, Hanna was laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach.

"You-" she gasped between giggles. "You look like a wet cat."

Taehyung turned to her, his hair dripping, his lips stretched into a helpless grin. "And you-" he tapped her nose lightly with his finger, "-look like someone who just lost a battle."

"Lost?" She scoffed. "I so won that fight."

Taehyung sighed dramatically, flopping backward onto the rock. "Fine, fine. You win, your highness."

A victorious smile tugged at Hanna's lips. "As long as you remember that."

Another pause. This time, the silence between them was softer, filled with nothing but the quiet sounds of the stream and their steady breathing.

Taehyung turned his head slightly, watching her. His expression had changed.

It wasn't mischief anymore.

It wasn't teasing.

It was something else-something unspoken, something lingering just beneath the surface.

Hanna felt it too.

But neither of them said it.

Instead, she sighed, resting her chin on her knees, letting the moment stretch on for just a little longer.

Here, with Taehyung beside her, with wildflowers tangled in her hair and the sun dipping lower into the horizon, she could pretend-for just a little while longer-that the world beyond this stream was still kind.

That nothing bad would ever come for them.

Even though, deep down, she knew better.

---

The sun dips low in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest as the evening settles in.

The golden light bathes everything in a soft, fading glow, but the cool breeze that sweeps through the trees whispers a warning of the night to come. It's a time of transition-day to night, light to darkness, safety to danger.

And Jimin is there, hidden in the shadows, his eyes never leaving the pair of figures walking ahead: Hanna and Taehyung.

His posture is rigid, almost predatory, as he stands just outside their line of sight, his body melting into the trees, becoming one with the forest itself.

His eyes, cold and unblinking, narrow in an almost calculating way. He watches how Taehyung moves, his steps protective, the way his body subconsciously shifts to shield Hanna from whatever might be lurking in the open spaces of the woods.

The tension between them is palpable, a quiet electricity that Jimin can almost taste.

He leans slightly forward, his breath barely audible, but the steady rhythm of his pulse is deafening in his ears. His fingers twitch as he watches Taehyung subtly place his hand at the small of Hanna's back, guiding her, his thumb brushing against her skin in what should be a comforting gesture.

But Jimin sees it differently. His lip curls ever so slightly, his chest tightening with a feeling he can't quite name but knows too well. He imagines himself there, standing in Taehyung's place, his hand on Hanna, his thumb brushing against her soft skin.

The thought alone makes his skin crawl in a way that excites him.

No one can protect her like I can, he thinks, an edge to his thoughts. Taehyung doesn't know what she really needs.

He's just a distraction.

Hanna, completely unaware of the eyes on her, keeps walking, her pace slow and peaceful, but there's a tension in the way she holds herself, the way she glances nervously around the woods.

She's on edge-good. Jimin smiles to himself. He can see the cracks in her mask, the way the unease settles in her bones. She's not as untouchable as she thinks.

His gaze flicks between her and Taehyung, studying every moment, every glance, every subtle shift of their bodies. Taehyung's protective nature irritates him, but there's something else-a fascination, a twisted admiration. He doesn't like that someone else feels the need to take care of Hanna.

He doesn't like that she might be turning to someone else for safety, for comfort, for attention.

The light from the setting sun seems to illuminate Hanna in a golden halo, casting her in an ethereal glow. It's almost beautiful. But the beauty feels wrong to Jimin.

It should be his to control, his to shape. It burns his mind that she's not looking at him, not seeking his help, not relying on him.

He can feel his anger rising, though it's tempered by something darker-a twisted sense of control. Jimin smiles to himself, eyes gleaming as he watches Taehyung speaking softly to Hanna, his voice low and soothing. Jimin can't hear their words, but it doesn't matter. He knows what Taehyung is doing-he's trying to reassure her, trying to ease her into the safety of the forest's dark embrace.

But she doesn't need him, Jimin muses, stepping slightly closer. His shoes barely make a sound on the forest floor as he moves, just enough to close the gap between them, just enough to get a better look at Hanna's face. Her eyes are darting around, her mind working through a dozen possible scenarios, but her gaze never shifts toward Jimin.

It's like she doesn't even know he's there-doesn't know that he's been watching her for days, stalking her from the shadows, waiting for a moment just like this.

The darkness that swells inside of him sharpens. It's not just jealousy now, it's possession. Hanna is his-she always has been, even if she doesn't realize it yet. She'll see it soon. He'll make her see it.

The forest feels suffocating as his mind races, each thought darker than the last. Jimin watches as Taehyung's protective grip tightens slightly on Hanna's arm. Taehyung, ever the good guy, ever the hero. But what Jimin sees is a weakness, a flaw-a vulnerable crack in the armor.

Hanna laughs lightly at something Taehyung says, her voice sweet, and for a fleeting moment, Jimin can almost hear it in his mind, the way her laugh might sound when it's directed at him, when it's just the two of them, alone. But then it's gone, and the jealousy flares again.

The ache to be the one she trusts, to be the one she relies on-it's overwhelming, and Jimin can't help but feel the need to close the distance, to finally step into the light.

But he doesn't. Not yet. He enjoys the torment of watching them from the distance, enjoying the growing sense of power that settles into his bones. The sense that he controls this, that every step they take is only bringing them closer to him.

His fingers curl into fists, the sensation of adrenaline coursing through him. Soon, he tells himself. Soon.

As the evening light begins to fade, Jimin watches as Taehyung and Hanna stop at a clearing. They exchange a few more words, and Jimin can't help but let a quiet, psychotic chuckle slip past his lips. It's not loud enough to be heard, but it's there, dark and filled with intent.

Something will happen soon. Something he's orchestrating from the shadows, something that will change everything.

---

The motel room was suffocating. Stale air clung to the walls, mixing with the faint scent of cigarette smoke from whoever had stayed here before him. The flickering yellow light above the bed did little to push back the shadows curling in the corners.

Jimin sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers gripping the cheap motel phone, thumb hovering over the dial pad. He didn't want to make this call. He had promised himself he wouldn't.

Yet, here he was.

A deep breath.

He pressed the button.

The dial tone rang once. Twice. A third time.

Then-a click.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and expectant. The air on the other end of the line was eerily still, as if the person on the other side was waiting-watching.

Then, finally-

"You took your time."

The voice was smooth, almost pleasant, but beneath it lurked something sharp. Something cold.

Jimin felt his grip on the phone tighten. "She's here."

A quiet hum. No surprise. No rush. Just patient amusement.

"And?"

Jimin swallowed, his throat dry. His knee bounced restlessly. "I-" He hesitated, licking his lips. "I don't know what to do."

A soft chuckle. "Yes, you do."

Jimin's heart slammed against his ribs. His fingers curled into his palm, nails digging into his skin. "No, I don't," he snapped, though his voice wavered. "This wasn't-this wasn't part of the plan."

A pause. Then, that voice again-calm, composed, like someone explaining the rules of a game to a reluctant player.

"It's always been the plan. You just don't want to accept it."

Jimin exhaled sharply. He rubbed his temple, trying to push away the weight pressing down on his chest.

"She's different," he muttered.

The other person chuckled again, but this time it was laced with something darker.

"You sound like a fool."

Jimin's teeth clenched. "You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly," the voice countered, unimpressed. "You're hesitating. You're letting sentiment cloud your judgment."

Jimin shut his eyes, pressing his palm against them as if he could block out the voice in his ear. "I never wanted this."

"But you do," the voice murmured, almost tender now, almost mocking. "You want her, don't you?"

Jimin's breath hitched.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then-

"She won't stay if she finds out," Jimin whispered. "If she-"

"She won't find out," the voice interrupted smoothly.

Jimin wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe a lot of things.

"You don't have to do this," Jimin tried, one last, desperate plea. "There's another way."

A pause. Then, the voice on the other end exhaled slowly. The sound was thoughtful, measured.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

A faint tapping sound came through the receiver, like fingers drumming against a surface.

"I have plans."

Jimin's stomach twisted.

"Big ones."

The tapping stopped.

"She's just the beginning."

Jimin's skin went cold.

Before he could respond, the call ended.

The dial tone buzzed in his ear.

Jimin sat there, staring blankly at the wall, the echo of that voice still ringing in his mind.

Somewhere, out in the city, someone was already setting things in motion.

And Jimin... Jimin had just run out of time.

---

A dim, flickering bulb cast long, distorted shadows across the small, cluttered room. The air was thick, suffocating, the scent of burning wax mingling with something more metallic-something faintly coppery.

Hanging up his phone, the lone man stood, his fingers tracing over old, yellowing newspaper clippings pinned to the cracked wall in front of him.

He smirked, lips curling into a slow, unsettling smile as he tilted his head, studying the overlapping photographs, notes scrawled in red ink, and faces crossed out with thick, jagged lines.

Some were missing persons reports; others were crime scene photos. His fingers stopped at a particular image-a young girl, smiling in the photograph, completely unaware of the dark fate that had awaited her.

He let out a soft chuckle, almost amused by the naïve innocence frozen in time.

The room was silent except for the rhythmic tap of his fingernail against the glossy surface of the photo.

His eyes flickered to another pinned article-a report from fifteen years ago, detailing the brutal murder of Kim Yoohan and another man whose identity had been erased from public records. His gaze darkened.

"So, they're still searching for ghosts, huh?" he murmured to himself, voice laced with mirth. "How adorable."

He turned away from the wall and reached for the small wooden table nearby. A candle burned low, its wax pooling over the edges, and beside it, a small, battered notebook lay open.

Ink-stained pages held scribbled notes, calculations, and dates. His hands, steady and precise, picked up an aged silver lighter, flicking it open with a metallic snap. He held it over the pages, watching the flame dance dangerously close.

But he didn't burn them. Not yet.

Instead, he shut the notebook with an almost reverent touch, pressing his palm against the cover as if it held something sacred. His fingers tightened, nails digging into the leather-bound surface.

"It's almost time."

His voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the room, it carried an eerie weight. He let out a slow exhale, eyes flickering to the only other source of illumination in the space-a single, grainy CCTV monitor set up on the desk.

The screen displayed a dark, deserted street outside a café. A woman walked across the frame, her dark hair swaying slightly with each step.

Unaware. Unprotected.

He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving the screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, tapping absently, as if contemplating his next move. Then, a smile-cold and knowing-spread across his face.

"Patience, patience... We'll see each other soon."

The screen flickered.

The candle sputtered.

And in the suffocating quiet, the darkness around him seemed to hum with anticipation.

---

The night stretched like an abyss, swallowing every whisper of sound. The dim glow of the streetlights flickered uncertainly, casting elongated shadows across the nearly deserted alley.

The town, though small, was never truly silent-yet tonight, an eerie stillness lingered, thick and suffocating.

Footsteps echoed against the damp pavement.

A young woman-mid-twenties, wrapped in an oversized beige coat-hurried along, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. Her breath misted in the cold air, her pace quickening with each step. Something wasn't right. She could feel it.

The sensation of being watched slithered down her spine, an unshakable weight that made the hairs on her arms rise. The streets were empty. No stray dogs rummaged through trash. No late-night wanderers stumbled home from the town's lone bar. It was unnatural.

A whisper of movement-a faint shuffle, barely there-sent her heart into a frenzy.

She turned sharply. Nothing. Just the yawning darkness of the alley behind her.

Her fingers fumbled inside her coat pocket, searching for her keys. She was only a few streets away from home. If she could just make it-

A metallic scrape rang out. The sound of something dragging along the concrete.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to move faster. Her shoes slapped against the pavement, the only noise in the oppressive quiet. She didn't dare look back again.

Then-

The light above her flickered and went out.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

She barely had time to scream before something cold and gloved clamped over her mouth. Her body lurched backward, arms flailing, trying to fight-but whoever was behind her was stronger. Much stronger.

A sickly-sweet scent flooded her nostrils. Chloroform.

Her vision blurred, limbs losing their strength as she thrashed uselessly. The last thing she saw before the void took her was a vague silhouette-tall, unmoving, watching. And then she was dragged into the shadows, disappearing without a trace.

The town remained silent.

As if it never happened .

-----------

A/n : aah this chapter is so short. But i promise to write long chapters as we gradually move on with the story. Things will slowly get revealed soon.thanks for reading<3 . Don't forget to vote and comment ily ❤️

[mast3r-rainb0w]

Them Funny BONE Cousins (Phoney, Fone, and Smiley) by Mast3r-Rainb0w

If you remember these guys from a certain classic graphic novel series, you deserve a reward! Thought I'd draw the 3 main cousins from Jeff Smith's comedic fantasy comic, Bone. Enjoy the fanart!