#Puss In Boots The Last Wish OC

[rottennssoldier]

Tried drawing a teen version of Jack but I struggled 🙇🏽‍♂️ but have some doodles :]

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[shanxpennywise]

Puss In Boots The Last Wish OC: Shannon Horner And Her Big Jack Horner Plushies.

[proxylynn]

“The faithful dog and her master.”

[I really like how Jack turned out. Lynn was a bit more of a struggle, I think the eyes were fighting me. Was originally intending it to look like she’s rubbing his shoulders, but now I just like the idea she climbed up on his back and is using his height like a lookout perch.

Where’s her feet? My answer: in the belt loops of his coat like riding stirrups. My funny answer: On his massive cake of an ass!]

{This was based on a post by @raccoonome. Love your Lord Farquaad stuff.}

https://www.tumblr.com/raccoonome/720890734740406272/loyal-to-his-lord

[helpscribbles]

Mamá Gatito

~

I couldn’t help myself lmao. A new character, the “mother” to call cats giving them nine lives and all! Idk why I went lineless for this piece but I did and I’d say it looks pretty good!

[madamerebloger]

This is kinda my OC-insert ig

Basically "Mary mary, quite contrary" but it's the theory where it's about bloody mary aka Queen Mary I

Source: https://writingtoberead.com/2021/01/27/dark-origins-mary-mary-quite-contrary/

Also this: (source below) abt a theory how hes based off someone else

Short summery: based off this guy who made pies for the king (at that time was the father of Mary I)

So I was like: omgg that's so cute I can totally make them have some cute childhood best friend relationship

IM PRACTICING ON HOW TO DRAW JACK, His curves are too beautiful for my skills to handle.

I'll try and make her more like a self-insert and not everything based off queen mary because it wouldn't feel like "me" whenever I draw her or create cute headcanons

[foxwithapen]

Life AU Drabble time:)

"You!"

The wolf chuckled, her cloak swaying behind her, revealing a glimpse of one of her wooden sticks clutched tightly in her paw. "That's right." Her voice cut through the cave, clear and bright like a flute. "Me."

"H-how did you find me here?" Puss knew he had to keep her talking as he scanned the cave for an exit. It was empty except for the two of them, but there was still no other passageway to be found.

"Oh Puss." She laughed again. The sound could've been beautiful if it wasn't filled with such a cold fury. "Don't think I ever lost you for a second, gatito. I'm always there, whether you notice me or not."

Puss tried to hide the tremble in his voice. "If you're always nearby, how come I'm not dead yet?"

She started pacing the length of the cave. Puss had to scramble to stay out of her way, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. "You know, I don't really deal with death very often. It's not really my thing. But you, Puss—" she whipped out one of her sticks, it's end pointed straight at Puss "—you provide an unusual exception."

Puss had always assumed the wolf had something to do with death, the way she hunted him down with lethal accuracy. But...if she wasn't Death, what could she be?

Puss scrambled back in fear, tripping over the rocky ground of the cave, eyes wide in realization. He was lucky the map was magic, otherwise he would've punctured it with his sharp claws. "W-wait. You are—"

"Life." A crystal spire sprung up from the ground between them, blocking life from Puss's path but illuminating her face. Her image split between hundreds of purple shards, and in the middle of each was one of her pure white eyes. And they were all staring directly at him.

"So-so why are you trying to kill me then?" Puss stammered, scrambling away from Life as she took a step closer to him, her wings flared out behind her, casting tall shadows over the already darkened ground.

She laughed, bringing her two, twin sticks next to each other. She gave them a swing, and they blurred together until in her hand sat a long, wooden staff. "You know, I do love cats. They are the only creatures I've blessed with nine lives. So, tell me Puss—" another crystal sprung up besides her, this one showcasing his third death. He could recognize it anywhere by his gaudy green cape, and the intoxicated hiccuping his other self made. "—how come you took all of my gifts, and wasted them?"

She flung her hand out, eight more crystals encircling them, trapping Puss inside with Life. He looked around at the other versions of him, watching each of his foolish deaths. "Look at you. Do you know how many people would kill to have the gift I've given you? Do you have no respect for them?" Crystals shot up around her in her anger, one nearly spearing Puss. He had to jump out of the way to avoid it.

"But Life, I-I've changed! I won't waste my last one, I promise."

"You do?" She laughed again. "And how can I trust your word, gatito?" Puss's mouth opened and closed, but he couldn't form any words. He felt frozen, despite the burning heat that radiates off of her. She tsked. "People fear Death, and for good reason. I let them cling to my hand as I shoo my brother away for a little longer. But do you know why people don't fear Life nearly as much?" She struck the ground with the staff, sending cracks snaking their way up the crystals, shattering them. "I don't give people much to fear, Puss, but when I do, it's enough to send them crying to Death to go save them."

She lunged for Puss, her eyes blazing fiercely as she swung at him. Each mighty beat of her wings sent a gust of wind shooting towards Puss, knocking him off his feet. Puss managed to dodge out of the way as her staff's tip came swinging towards his chest, but it wasn't until after that he realized he was not her target this time.

The map flew out of his hands and up into the air, where another burst of Life's wind pushed it out of his reach. He chased after it as it flew towards the air, painfully aware of Life as she ran after him, her heat scorching the hair off Puss's back. It took all his willpower to not get distracted by the awful smell.

The stick collided with his back, and a burning pain spread through his body, so hot it was nearly ice cold. But the strike pushed him forward, and he managed to grab the map. He tried landing triumphantly, but the hill just outside the cave didn't allow for that, and he fell. He had just enough time to tuck his chin in before he rumbled down the hill, map clutched tightly to his chest.

He heard voices shouting for him behind him, ones that were warm and sounded like home, but he couldn't focus on them. Not with the ringing in his ears, or the haunting voice echoing from the cave's exit.

"Run."

[ghoulishceleste]

Sketches of my puss in boots oc Mary, the one w the little lamb lmaoaoao, (I’d love some more puss in boots mutuals ik the fandoms been quiet but I’m having a brainrot help)

also don’t ask Mary ab jack horner she’ll hit you with her staff

[rottennssoldier]

Been working on this pib oc their name is Faelyn Schumacher, and their from "the elf and the shoemaker". They have alot of history with jack but I'll post more of that later on 🙇🏽‍♂️.

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[shanxpennywise]

Puss In Boots The Last Wish: Rage.

[proxylynn]

"There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. She had so many children, she didn't know what to do. She gave them some broth without any bread; Then whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.” {There was a young girl who lived in that shoe. Whipped no matter what and hadn’t a clue. She vanished one day, leaving all in dismay; Swearing the Old Woman would eventually pay.}

[Okay, so I rather like where my head went with this...even though I once again make myself into a character with a fucked up history, seriously why do I do that?! Now to put down everything I have off the top of my head.

In Childhood Lynn was an incredibly shy and timid kid. She’d flinch at fast movement, raised voices, and would constantly apologize even for things she didn’t do. The Old Woman wasn’t great with kids, she mostly saw them as tiny servants, and the kids would be mistreated in many terrible ways. Malnutrition and beatings were a normal occurrence in the Shoe House. Her only safety was sneaking out to scavenge in the village. Traveling wagons were a usual thing to be seen. It’s easy money provided you have something to sell or have a talent others want to see...or you have magic of some kind. One of these wagons was “Horner’s Pies”, run by a couple of dejected bakers and their son, Little Jack Horner, which they used to advertise with his rhyme. Granted their pies were good and likely could sell on their own, but when competing with others who had magic or used it in some way, it was near impossible. Such rejection only made their son into a jealous brat who’d throw fits and run off in a tantrum. It would be in one of these fits they’d meet for the first time and he took a quick liking to the slightly bigger girl cowering from his envious rage. Basically, he would terrify her until he calmed down and she would just take it due to fear and this sad feeling of enjoyment for being interacted with. With his calming down came innocent questions like “Why are you such a scaredy-cat ?” and from her came not-so-innocent answers like “I’m sorry! I’ll do better next time! I promise!”. Wagons usually stayed at most a week depending on income before moving on, and in that short time, the two formed a weird routine. He’d get mad and vent on her, she’d take it and enjoy being around him once he was calm, he’d chat her up and she’d tell him back her troubles, and he’d end the interaction with backhanded advice. “If I were you, I wouldn't take that. You’re not a dog. Stop rolling over and bite back! Or don’t. It’s up to you. It’s no skin off my nose if something bad happens to you. It’s your life. Your choice.” It wouldn’t be long after that they would part ways and she’d end up running away after a particularly violent night.

Adult Lynn is everything her younger self never thought she’d be. Strong, confident, and capable of making people fear her. She still holds a softer nature deep down but it is not for just anyone to see. Roaming the lands taught her many skills. Most of which were less than lawful. It was during an attempted robbery of the Muffin Man that her future path would be set in stone as the humble baker mistook her for being a thug of Big Jack’s. From there, she followed any info to find him, which wasn’t all that hard. Over the years the former little poor boy had become a massive wealthy man, possessing a mansion and a thriving baked goods enterprise. Seems his family found success in a less magically populated area and business expanded from there. But as she would later learn, pies weren’t the only means of financial gain for the Jack Horner Pie Co. Jack’s jealousy for magic carried over into his adulthood and now that he had the means, he was able to indulge in taking anything magical for himself. From magical artifacts to icons of various fantastical stories, he would possess them all in a twisted collection, dominating the one thing that mocked him the most growing up. But it was never enough to fill this unhappy void in him. With each new item came a bitter victory that was like salt in a fresh wound. These trinkets were nothing to him now. Yet there was still one thing that might do the trick...If only he could get his hands on that damn map! She wasn’t sure what to expect when she wandered in. Certainly wasn’t expecting to be held at sword-point and then dragged before the man himself. This reunion was awkward, mainly because he didn’t recognize her nor cared, and her newfound sass didn’t help matters when she’d quip back when he’d make some callous remark. Only when his temper flared and his voice roared did her former anxiety trigger. The familiar sight stirred something in him, nothing good mind you, but it was enough to recall her and he humor her by offering her the chance to apply for a job. Needless to say, she still proves to be a very good source of entertainment for him and they even do their venting routine once more. Her loyalty is unquestionable even if their “friendship” very much is. Hell, it’s obviously toxic. But as long as he continues to acknowledge her in any way, she’ll continue to be his good obedient girl and see to it he finds his happiness.]

[nevertoomanyspiders]

careful where you point that thing...

[foxwithapen]

Violent Love's over, but content is not >:) I've got so much to do so little time. Anyways! Take my Life design, along with some plot rambling.

This is Life as she first appears! When Puss first encounters her instead of Death, she looks like this. I wanted to go with a 'wolf in sheep's clothing' esc design.

But, when she's fighting...

Bam! She sheds the cloak, revealing three pairs of wings and three tails. Life looks sweet at first glance, but she's just as much of a fighter as Death, if not more. Her patience is great, but when this orange cat wastes his precious lives, she's pissed. A life is a precious gift to be made the most of, and he just goes ahead and makes a mockery of himself, she knows it's time for her to step in.

[cantstoptheimagines]

Curador (Muerte | Puss in Boots: The Last Wish)

Series Masterlist 

Summary — Muerte aches at the sight of you whenever he comes home.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Soulmate AU; helping a lover with their injuries (includes mentions of blood); established relationship; takes place directly after the movie; writers’ law states that every time an animated wolf comes into existence, I must write a fic; in my opinion, we should be calling him ‘Muerte’, so that’s what I’m going with; a huge thank you to my dear friend, Yoshino, for helping me with the Spanish translations.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 639. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her). ➳ You will receive the same injuries as your soulmate (unless deadly).  ➳ Since Muerte is Death (straight up), why not make Life? I envision the Reader in this to be a spotted deer, who will be referred to as ‘Vida’. And who knows? I might turn this into a one-shot series if people enjoy it enough. Let me know what you think! 

FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule  

The slamming of a door made your ears twitch. You paused, eyes narrowing as you listened to the creaking floors within your home. A damp cloth was pressed against the corner of your lip, dotted with small specks of blood. 

Footsteps slowly grew closer to your room. A quiet sigh escaped your lips when you realized who they belonged to. Having a lover with nearly silent movements did nothing but cause you panic sometimes. 

You returned your attention to the small mirror in your grasp. A shadow moved about the room and a cloak was tossed next to you on the bed. Looking up at the towering figure in front of you, your gaze found red eyes staring back at you. More specifically, staring at the cloth against your lip. 

“El gato lives,” he muttered, his deep voice sending shivers along your spine. “I have given him another opportunity to prove himself.” 

A small smile made itself known, “Is that why your attitude seems so foul?”

He hummed quietly, ignoring your teasing remark about the infamous Puss in Boots, whom he had been chasing for some time now. His startling eyes were still zeroed in on the cloth. 

“You really need to stop playing with your food, Muerte.” 

His eyes snapped to yours. They narrowed into slits, shining with irritation. He snapped his jaws to the side, huffing loudly as he looked away from you. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing quietly.

His claws wrapped around the hilt of one of his sickles. The mirror was quickly tugged away from you and tossed onto the bed. Your head was forced to tilt backwards as the sickle’s sharp blade was placed beneath your chin. 

Anyone else may have had fear coursing through their veins. You, however, weren’t worried at all. 

Muerte stepped closer until his paw could replace the blade. The sickle was quickly returned to its sheath while he looked down at you with a blank expression. You allowed him to tilt your head back even further as he took up the space between your thighs.

“Cállate, Vida,” he ordered.

His claws wrapped around the cloth, finally removing it from your lip. It, much like his cloak and your mirror, quickly disappeared from sight. Your injury reflected his own, signaling to the world that the two of you were a perfect pair. 

“It hurt when you got it,” you said. “I wasn’t expecting it.” 

His expression softened. You leaned into his touch as one of his claws caressed your cheek.

“Lo siento, mi amor,” he muttered.

You gave him a small smile, along with a shrug of the shoulders, in an attempt to make him feel better, “It’s okay. No harm truly done.”

His grip loosened, allowing you to take his paw into your grasp and hold it in your lap instead. He lowered himself to his knees. Due to his tall stature, kneeling allowed his gaze to become even with your own as you sat on the bed.

“Ojalá tuviéramos un vínculo menos doloroso,” he continued. “Por tu bien.” 

“I don’t,” you replied, squeezing his paw tightly. 

His brow furrowed and his eyes searched for any sign that you may have been lying to comfort him, “Mi corazón—” 

“It lets me know you’re still there,” you whispered. “It lets me know you’ll be coming home soon.” 

He tried to hide a smile, looking away from you. That only lasted for mere seconds, however, since he couldn’t resist your gaze for very long. His red eyes explored your features. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the cut on your lip. 

“Déjame ser tu curador,” he muttered, and then he kissed you again.

“Always, Muerte,” you whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek and pressing a gentle kiss against his nose. “Always.” 

Spanish Translations, In Order of Appearance: ➳ Curador (de enfermos) — Meaning “healer (of the sick)”.  ➳ Muerte — Meaning “death”. ➳ Vida — Meaning “life”.

➳ “El gato...” — “The cat...” ➳ “Cállate...” — “Shut up...” ➳ “Lo siento, mi amor.” — “I’m sorry, my love.”  ➳ “Ojalá tuviéramos un vínculo menos doloroso... Por tu bien.” — “I wish we had a less painful bond... For your sake.” ➳ “Mi corazón...” — “My heart...”  ➳ “Déjame ser tu curador.” — “Let me be your healer.” 

[rottennssoldier]

Tee hee Lil something a did a couple days ago for my friend 🙇🏽‍♂️

Topher belongs to @thesimpinquestion !

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[shanxpennywise]

Puss In Boots The Last Wish: The Power Of The Belly.

[proxylynn]

MY WISH WAS ALWAYS YOURS (part #1)

Summary: Nursery rhymes are rarely given a fair chance in a world of magic and fairy tales. Often mocked and considered jokes. Little do most know of the hardships they endure. What they have to do to overcome their namesake. Most embrace it. Others fade away into obscurity. But few are able to break this mold they were placed in. They become something more than what their rhyme would allow. Sometimes for the better yet often worse. Jack Horner was one such mold-breaker. Overpowering his nursery rhyme to become something so much larger than a simple pie boy. Now he runs not only a substantially profitable pie company but is also a feared crime lord and collector of all things magic. Not bad for a buttered baker's boy. Yet he's not alone. Under his employ is another nursery rhyme character. One that owes him her life. You won't find her name in any book, and she prefers it that way. None know where she comes from or why she is so close to someone such as Jack. He knows her past and that's enough. It is this reason that she serves him. And nothing can break the chains that bind her to him. This is the story of an unlikely and very unhealthy friendship. The tale of a greedy man and a woman that seeks his happiness.

Do you know the difference between a nursery rhyme and a fairy tale?

Nursery rhymes are different from fairy tales for several reasons.

Nursery rhymes are usually poems, while fairy tales are narratives.

Nursery rhymes are usually meant to be sung, while fairy tales are spoken.

Nursery rhymes are usually kept short with little context, while fairy tales are long and full of details.

Nursery rhymes usually have a musical component, while fairy tales are more visually stimulating.

But there's also one big key difference between the two...Nursery rhymes rarely end well.

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Nestled in the heart of a Spanish industrial city, using its lake as a moat, and standing out as the tall centerpiece of it all is the Horner Pie Company. Currently, the Jack Horner Pie Co., ran by the man himself. This somewhat isolated enterprise where most employees even live on-site may smell sickly sweet from all the baked goods it produces, but don't let the alluring scent of pie deceive you. This compound is a base of operations for the owner's eccentric obsession with magic. He's hired various soldiers, assassins, and his own bakers to scout the lands to collect as many magical items as possible. Despite this, it is still a well-run business, even if conditions are a tad disheartening.

Imposing towering walls, giant dark wooden doors emblemed with golden J.H.s, barbed wire, red-tinted light fixtures, and rather warm stained glass windows are just some of the sights you can take in while entering its base. There's far more that awaits deep within the facility's main area and even the below. However, the seat of power is not all that distant from where the goods are made. It's easier to manage the bakers if one doesn't have to roam very far away from them. It is here that he sits at his large desk, "Big" Jack Horner, with quill in hand and going over numerous parchments that are slowly but surely making his right eye twitch with ever-building frustration. Something isn't adding up right.

"Big" Jack Horner is a very large sizable man, both height and girth, boarding on being eight feet tall. Rotund in both body and the cheeks of his face which are far bigger than the rest of the face. His short pink hair hasn't changed once from the childish bob cut of his youth and his piercing blue eyes have been known to cast the iciest of gazes. He wears a long ripe plum-colored overcoat over a mountain’s majesty colored dress vest detailed by little upturned pies, under that is a white buttoned dress shirt with a double triangular cut, pomp and power colored cravat ties around his neck, wine-colored textured leather pants, and black knee high buttoned leather boots with small heels complete his flawless attire that somehow resists all logic by not exploding from his bulk. His legs are much a contrast to the rest of him, being average-sized, if not smaller than the rest of his body. His right hand's thumb is stained a lovely shade of plum, an effect from all the pies he has and continues to stick it into.

While one would think based on his looks that he's a jolly giant, nothing would be further from the truth. This is a man you want to handle with care lest you live to regret it or live at all if you're lucky. A cruel, sadistic, irredeemable megalomaniac with a rather comical nihilistic narcissism to him. This is a man who would see a burning house then toss in fireworks and roast marshmallows on the smoldering remains. This isn't to say he lacks people skills, because he's actually a surprisingly patient individual. Calm and collected like a saint at times. Always trying to interact with those around him even if he's about to do something horrible. Like a true businessman, he's witty, charming, persuasive, and above all a master manipulator that loves toying with others for his enjoyment before ending them. It's such skills that have allowed him to rise to power and amass respect in those he deems worth his employ. These same employees stay out of loyalty and fear of him. No one crosses Jack Horner. No one.

*knock-knock*

The faint sound breaks his concentration but isn't loud enough to irritate him.

“Enter.”

The doors open with a small groan from the wood as a woman pushes in a tea cart before shutting the doors behind her.

“Forgive the intrusion, Master Jack. But it's tea time.”

This was Lynsie aka "Little Lynn", his personal assistant and bodyguard. The woman was small compared to him, by at least two feet, and a little on the thick side but it worked with her full figure. Her most striking features are her long tailbone-length brown hair and her deep chartreuse eyes that were highlighted by dark circles. She wears the standard musketeer guard uniform of a white buttoned undershirt, dark violet overshirt with matching trousers, a black vest with the crest of Jack Horner Pies emblazoned in fuchsia on the left breast held down by a dark gray belt, completed with black elbow length leather gloves and black knee high leather boots. Both of her ears are pierced twice with steel ball stud earrings. And around her neck, a silver choker band studded with a line of five amethysts.

Jack groans, running a hand through his hair as he leans back in his throne-like chair.

“Five already? Where did the time go?”

She tilts her head in puzzlement as she approaches his desk with the cart.

“You sound troubled. Is something amiss?”

“Bah. Damn quarterly reports. They're always a pain.”

“But...?”

She could tell there was something more to this than troublesome paperwork and her inflection was his invitation to elaborate further as she beings to fix up an assortment of goods from the cart. He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, knowing while she won't pester him about it now she'll do so later on.

“But...Some numbers from one of our distribution shops aren't adding up. Their sale totals aren't matching the given amount of product sold.”

“Oh dear. That's definitely not good...”

She places a plate of tapas on his desk and starts making his tea.

“You don't think they're foolish enough to steal from you, do you?”

He wastes no time in feasting on the meaty appetizers before him. It's at least something else to focus on other than damn work. That and in the fixation on his work he had missed lunch entirely.

“Normally I would suspect something like that. But this is from one of our lucrative shops. Business is great in that area so it's not like they need to. Not unless they want to lose out on their money maker.”

“What area is it? Mind if I take a look?”

She offers him a cup of warm plum tea and he takes it with a knowing look.

“Sure, fine, whatever. You're only going to do it anyway.”

He sips from his cup as she smirks.

“Well, you're no fun.”

She strolls around to be at his side and leans down to read.

“Work isn't supposed to be fun.”

“It is when with you, Master Jack.”

He merely rolls his eyes at her. Not many were comfortable enough to speak with him so casually. Or rather, he didn't allow many to be so casual. He didn't need employees to be familiar with him on a personal level. Fearful respect is better than loving admiration in his eyes. She was the only exception to this but for reasons he'd never admit to. Thankfully for him, she didn't push this rare privilege too far as he imagined someone else would.

“I think I know that area.”

His brow cocked at her.

“Oh?”

She double-checks just to be sure.

“Yeah. It's a small spot, but it's not far from a docking port. Sailors like to hit local places and splurge after being out at sea for ages. Very good coin to be made, that's for sure.”

She straightens up and puts her hands behind her back.

“If you want, I can check what the issue is personally. I'm sure I can find the cause of this discrepancy.”

Her soft, gentle voice dipped slightly into bitterness with that last word, making him smirk.

“Now, Lynsie, the last time I let you go off on your own it resulted in a less than discrete bloodbath.”

“To be fair, in my defense... They deserved it.”

To that Jack gave a much-needed laugh.

In stark contrast to her boss, Lynsie is someone most wouldn't think chose to be willingly around Jack. She exudes a calming and pleasant positive energy that can make a room full of roughhousing rouges disband with ease. Incredibly clever, civilized, and witty with a playful spunkiness. At heart, she's someone who'll bump into an inanimate object and then proceed to apologize to it because she didn't want to seem rude. Such a woman at first glance appears to be everything a man like Jack Horner isn't. Kind, sympathetic, and empathetic. But to be frank, she is only like that just to one person, Jack. Everyone else is merely tolerated for the sake of politeness. There is another side to her. A reason why Jack had made her his personal guard. A loyalty with no means of severing, unquestionable obedience, and a need to please that was scarred into her very core as a child. These are the traits that made a once gentle girl into a remorseless woman. Using her natural sweetness to persuade and disarm others into vulnerability before striking with deadly precision. If she targets you for any reason, it's too late to beg.

As Jack's mirth settles she leaves his side to return to the cart and tops off his tea.

“Ah...I needed that.”

“Always a pleasure to make you smile, Master Jack.”

And for her it honestly was. While it wasn't rare, Jack didn't smile often, and it filled her with pride whenever she was able to bring one to his face.

“Awe, well aren't you sweet. ...You're still not going.”

“Oh come on!”

Such a childish outburst is countered with a look of indifference and a rather hash flick to her forehead that makes her yelp.

“Do not raise your tone to me.”

His voice is stern with just a hint of warning. She rubs her sore brow and nods meekly.

“Yes, Master Jack. My apologies.”

He sits up straight and takes a slow sip of tea.

“As I was saying...You're not going. At least, not alone.”

She perks up at this as he continues.

“I do agree with what you said. This discrepancy needs to be handled with a personal touch. So take at least a few others with you and go.”

Her head tilts.

“Go? As in right this moment?”

His answer is just a look that speaks for him in a way that says “Did I stutter?”. She bows her head.

“Yes, of course. This will be taken care of post haste.”

She turns on her heel and starts to leave.

“And Lynsie...”

She pauses.

“See to it that this 'discrepancy' never happens again. Is that understood?”

A small smile comes to her.

“As you wish, Master Jack.”

She exits his office and he resumes taking in this moment of reprieve before getting back to work.

“*clears throat*”

She comes back in a minor sprint and grabs the cart.

“My bad!”

She shuffles out embarrassed which makes him chuckle. As he drinks his tea, he wonders if letting her out of his sight was a good move. Not that he had to worry about her fleeing or failing, no. If any of his subordinates can get a job done, it's her. The thing that concerned him was if she took things too far. Granted she only went ballistic one time, but still. The last thing he wants is more paperwork.

“Mr. Horner!”

A guardsman rushes into his office. Not a smart move. Jack doesn't like when people bust in like that.

“There better be a good reason you're barging in here.”

The look in his eyes is one of a snake ready to strike for this sudden intrusion. The guardsman gulps.

“Sir, yes sir. Lynn has been spotted in the stables and taking out one of the unicorns.”

Jack sighs deeply and palms his face, dragging it slowly down with a groan. Of course she took a unicorn. Those steeds are powerhouses. She going to ride into the night without sleeping. Typical.

“That woman, I swear...”

There's a small moment of silence. The guardsman is unsure what to do and Jack feels his eye twitch before his hand slaps down on his desk with a mighty intimidating 'THUMP'.

“Well? What are you waiting for?! Follow her!”

The guardsman stumbles a bit in fright from the shout but quickly turns tail and flees.

“Idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots. Oh...And they left the door open too? That's just fantastic!”

[Time Skip]

It's been two days now. No word had reached "Big" Jack Horner. But was he worried? Not at all. There's never a need to get reports by message when he could watch the events unfold before him in real-time and all in the palms of his hands.

The Trophy Room is where Jack keeps his more prized mystical artifacts, enchanted objects, magical icons, bobbles, geegaws, and trinkets. It's also where he keeps his research on the fabled Wishing Star, but that's neither here nor there. Cinderella's Glass Slipper? He's got it. The Beast's Enchanted Flower? He's got that too. Snow White's poison apples? He has them by the bushel. The mythical Sword in the Stone, Excalibur? You best believe he has it. Yet none of that was what he was engrossed in. In his imposing seat, he holds the crystal ball of the Wicked Witch of the West, a massive orb to anyone else but to Jack, it was like holding a simple child's toy. This particular object granted him the ability to see that which he knew of and his desires. Granted, a useful tool, but it was specifically limited otherwise he wouldn't need to pay thieves to find items for him.

With a mere thought, the crystal ball heeds his whims, and the storm of magical energy inside swirls to open in the center, revealing Lynsie with the other guardsman as they approach a room somewhere.

…

She pulls a key out from her her glove and turns to her associate.

“Keep watch out front. I won't be long.”

The man looks at her funny.

“Are you sure you don't need...?”

She shoots him a look dead in his eyes as if to say “Leave. Now.”. He flinches and steps back slowly.

“I...I'm going to go keep watch out front.”

She watches him leave and gives pause before unlocking the door then entering the dark room. Inside, she relocks the door and lights a candle left in the seemingly empty room, highlighting a man bound to a chair with a sack over his head. He doesn't appear to be moving. She gives a huff through her nose before snapping her fingers. This gets the man's attention.

“H-Hello? Who's there?”

He's nervous, as he should be.

“If this is about my tab, I swear I'm good for it.”

“Is that so?”

Her voice confuses him.

“Y-You're not from the bar, are you?”

“Afraid not. A shame really.”

She approaches the man.

“Why's that?”

“Because whoever you owe coin to would've been far kinder than I.”

She grabs the sack and yanks it off the man's head.

“Hello there, Simple Simon.”

It's clear he doesn't know who she is, but the moment he sees the crest on her uniform his eyes widen.

“Oh...Oh no...”

She smirks.

“I see you understand the situation. Good. Saves me the trouble.”

He starts to sweat a bit.

“L-Look...I...I'm sure we can come to an understanding.”

She tosses the sack to the side.

“Simple Simon met a pieman, Going to the fair; Says Simple Simon to the pieman, Let me taste your ware...”

She begins to circle the man while reciting his nursery rhyme.

“Said the pieman unto Simon, Show me first your penny; Says Simple Simon to the pieman, Indeed I have not any...”

“You don't have to do this.”

Her response is to slap him hard across the back of the head.

“Simple Simon went a-fishing, For to catch a whale; All the water he had got, Was in his mother's pail...”

He grumbles and stares down at the floor.

“Simple Simon went to look; If plums grew on a thistle; He pricked his fingers very much, Which made poor Simon whistle...”

She stops in front of him.

“He went for water in a sieve. But soon it all fell through. And now poor Simple Simon; Bids you all adieu!”

His eyes are still downcast and she doesn't like it.

“I know you're simple, Simon. But to be this stupid? To be pilfering pies from "Big" Jack Horner? Don't you know? No one steals from "Big" Jack Horner.”

“Don't you talk down to me!”

He snaps, glaring up at her.

“You have no idea what it's like being me. Being a nursery rhyme known for being a moron. I was just a dumb kid! What kid isn't dumb?!”

He grinds his teeth.

“No one wants to hire a simpleton. I have to scrape by on pity scraps just to live. A rich scumbag like Jack Horner doesn-ack!!”

His words are caught in his throat...which is currently in her grip.

“You shall not speak ill of that man.”

Her voice is as cold as ice. This did little to sway Simon's ire, as he then spits in her face. He probably expected her to release him and he could try to mess with his binds while she'd distracted by being grossed out. But to his dismay, she doesn't move. In fact, her grip only tightens and her eyes intensify.

“Big mistake.”

He has only a moment to gulp in terror before she begins to pummel the ever-loving snot out of him. Gloved knuckles meet his face repeatedly. His pleas fall on deaf ears. It is clear she is not going to listen. She will stop only when satisfied with doling out this punishment to such a disrespectful soul. After a good couple of minutes, she relents, wiping the spit and blood from her face on her upper arm sleeves. His bound and busted body lies broken on the floor.

“You truly are simple. Do you think your nursery rhyme traps you? You couldn't be more wrong. Your nursery rhyme doesn't hold you back, Simon. You do. You chose to stay in its shadow. To let it control you. You are the reason for how your life is.”

She retrieves from her vest's inner pocket a small pouch.

“Nursery rhymes get dealt a bad hand compared to fairy tales. You admit to knowing this. So to knowingly steal from a fellow nursery rhyme, well...That's just asking for a bad ending.”

She kneels and grabs his face.

“You can insult him all you want, but you're just mad because he overcame his nursery rhyme. He made something more of himself. Something you'll never do.”

She forces his mouth open and crams the pouch in his gob, expelling the contents then making him swallow. He sputters and somewhat chokes as a strange powder fills his insides.

“*coughs* W-Wha...What was that? What did you give me?”

She merely lets go of him.

“Jack Horner is a man. A real man. But you? You are nothing.”

His body begins to tremble. He can feel things from within begin to change. She puts her hands behind her back and watches him as he panics.

“What's happening to me?! What did you do?!”

Her expression is as dead as a gravestone.

“You are nothing. Nothing but an insignificant bug.”

His body suddenly implodes, bursting into a puff of glittery dust. When the dust clears, where once there was Simple Simon now is only a small bug. Using the pouch, she scoops the bug up and seals it inside.

“I should kill you, Simon. Do you know what you've done with your stupidity? Not only have you stolen from my boss, making him very upset. Not only have you insulted the only friend I have, making me very upset. Not only do you bring shame to all of us nursery rhymes by being so damn pathetic. But, most personally annoying, you got me to leave his side!”

She snarls and her grip locks to prevent crushing the pouch.

“I have been gone for two days...NEARLY THREE! YOU MISERABLE PIECE OF ABSOLUTE SH-!”

*knock-knock-knock*

“WHAT?!”

She barks at the door.

“...Is everything okay?”

It dawns on her she's being rather loud and unbecoming. She shuts her eyes, takes a few breaths, then runs a hand through her hair to center herself.

“Forgive me. That was rude. I didn't mean to snap.”

“...So...Is all okay in there?”

“Yes...”

She looks at the pouch and leers at it.

“All is well.”

Getting the key, she unlocks the door and opens it to face the guardsman who can see the now empty room.

“We're done here.”

…

Jack can't help the grin that spread across his face. Now that was the kind of display that stirred something in him. Is it something good who could say? Maybe it was respect? Maybe it was admiration? Or more likely it was the enjoyment of seeing her beat the crap out of someone before dooming them. That's always something to take delight in.

“Good girl.”

The images inside the orb get lost in the magical storm as he gets up and returns the ball to its pedestal.

[Time Skip]

It would be a day and a half before there would be another knock on the door of Jack's office.

“Enter.”

He doesn't bother looking up from his book as the door opens and she steps inside.

“I've returned, Master Jack.”

“I can see that.”

He remarks without actually looking.

“You know the drill. Tell me everything.”

She nods and shuts the door, slowly strolling over to him.

“Upon arrival, we questioned the shop in case they knew anything. Turns out, in the dead of night someone was sneaking in and stealing product. We proceeded to wait for the culprit to make an attempt the following night. They never saw it coming.”

She pulls from her pocket a small jar containing the bug.

“Meet the culprit, Simple Simon. Now in a more condensed form.”

That got him to glance her way.

“You kept him alive?”

His tone was that of lack of interest with just a hint of surprise.

“Not going to lie, I've been tempted to just crush him or release him into a swamp full of hungry frogs. Damn fool pressed my buttons in all the ways to tick me off the longer he spoke. But...”

She puts the jar down on his desk.

“He's the one that wronged you. Stole from you. Insulted you. Thought so little of you...”

The way she said that word causes his grip on the book to tighten harshly. If there's any way to get under Jack Horner's skin more, it's remotely insinuating him as little. He spent years under the humiliation of being "Little" Jack Horner. It's why he worked so hard to get out of the shadow of his nursery rhyme. His face reddens a bit as his breathing is more labored and he glares daggers at the jar.

“I can do this for you if need be. Just say the word and this fool will be nothing but a memory. All you have to do is give me the order.”

His hardened stare goes to her and she backs up a bit. His attention falls on the bug in the jar, the tiny thing cowers in its glass prison knowing full well it can't do anything as this giant of a man is now the judge, jury, and executioner of its fate. In a swift motion, he grabs the jar, gets up from his chair, and storms out of his office with a haste that would trample any unfortunate enough to be in his path. She is quick to follow after him. His heels cast ominous speedy clops on the stonework floor as he reaches his destination...the bakery.

The bakers turn and look up from their work as he enters, looking like curious and worried prairie dogs. Jack scans the room, his eyes landing on an unoccupied oven and he makes a beeline for it. All just watch as the massive man goes to it and hurls the jar in with pure hate before sealing the doors shut.

The bakers find this confusing before sudden screaming is heard. It starts out rather small, even squeaky, as if from something tiny. But then it gets louder and deeper, till it is undoubtedly the recognizable voice of a man. It is an agonizing burning sound. And it's made all the more haunting by how long it lasts before smoldering silence takes hold.

“Let that be a lesson...”

The fury he once had seemed to have dwindled but was not quite gone yet.

“No one...And I mean, NO ONE, disrespects "BIG" Jack Horner!”

Without another word or even a look of confirmation, he huffs and fumes his way back toward his office. The bakers merely look at Lynsie who is smiling for reasons they probably don't want to know.

“Let it be...”

She mutters.

“Give it two hours to cremate the body. Then clean the remains out and wash it thoroughly. We can't have a single oven be compromised or out of operation for long.”

She turns on her heel and waves to them over her shoulder as she begins to go after Jack.

“You're all doing a great job. Keep up the good work everyone!”

The bakers are left in a state of unease. This was not something they were used to. Body disposal is normally a weekend thing and this is still early in the week. Whoever that guy was, he was unlucky.

Back in Jack's office he leans over his desk and settles down, his hands splayed over the fine wood. His chest slowly returning to a steady rhythm. It isn't often he lets his temper flare that much. But damn did it feel good. Nothing quite like getting rid of a pest that’s been bugging you.

“Are you alright?”

Her voice makes him flinch just ever so faintly and he rumbles low.

“Did you forget how to knock?”

She ignores this and shuts the door for privacy.

“That got a bit intense out there. Do you need to talk?”

Perhaps she is misreading the moment, but something felt off and her natural instinct was telling her to be supportive. Maybe he just needed to vent his frustrations.

“You know, I'm here for you if you need to let off some...”

“Lynsie...”

His tone is slightly off. Playful, sure. But off. See for him, now that he had calmed down and collected his thoughts, it occurred to him that something wasn't quite right. A question stews in his head that needs answering.

“That was quite the interesting means of dealing with Simon. Turning him into a bug and all. But I must say it begs to question, where did you get the transmogrification powder?”

His question stuns her and her silence has him turn to face her with a smirk.

“Granted, it made clean up a lot easier after you had beat his face in. A bug is lighter to carry than a full-grown man after all. But still...Magic of any kind has never been part of your arsenal. So where did you get it from?”

His sterner tone makes her demeanor shift. She'd never dare lie to this man. Even if it meant punishment.

“I...I made it. Using a recipe from one of your books.”

She scrunches timidly inward, her eyes looking away at the floor while holding her own hands as a means of keeping herself together. His amusement becomes conflicted yet he still finds a means of enjoyment in it.

“Perhaps I've been too lenient with you.”

She tentatively looks up as he beckons her with a few curls of his finger, which she does all be it with the slightest hint of hesitation. The moment she is within his range, he grabs her by the face and she freezes in place. Her eyes wide and blinking rapidly with uncertain nervousness as his huge hand smothers her, keeping her silent as well as still. She's far from the same woman he witnessed in the crystal ball. No longer confident or sure of herself. This shy and frightened woman is a side only he knows of. One that he met long ago.

“You know better than to touch my things without permission. Are any other little tricks up your sleeves? Better tell me now. I would hate to have a reason to be disappointed in you, Lynsie. And you don't want that. Do you?”

His voice is almost mocking her. But even in mockery his aura of strength is ever present and isn’t to be taken lightly. She shakes her head as best she can in his grasp and starts turning out all her pockets to show she has nothing. Accepting this, he shoves her back and she stumbles before falling onto her rear.

“You're going to be making it up to me.”

She nods weakly.

“Starting first thing tomorrow, you'll be given extra duties to perform around here. Is that understood?”

She nods again but this time he shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

“*tsk-tsk-tsk* What are you a dog? Speak! Use your words!”

His voice raises just above his normal volume and she freaks out in a rush to apologize.

“Yes, Master Jack! I understand, Master Jack! Forgive me, Master Jack! I'll do better, Master Jack, I promise!”

Oh, how watching her squirm and revert to a begging child tickles a twisted part of him. He loves it. He loves knowing her weakness. It's how he knows she'll always be under his big purple-stained thumb.

“Good girl.”

With those two words, he could see in her eyes just how fragile and easy to manipulate she was for him. He could visualize the chains of his control binding her further to his needs. But for her, hearing those words fills her with a comforting warmth. A feeling of recognition and worth from the one she respects above all else, including herself.

This was their dynamic.

Jack, the one in a position of power and dominance that overshadowed everything that he once was.

Lynsie, the subservient eager to please one that yearns for the approval that had always eluded her.

The conqueror and the follower.

It is perfect.

Perfectly toxic.

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

[I do plan to add more to this. I think you’d all find Jack and Lynn’s background together interesting. If this goes well I’ll begin on chapter two soon. I only made it seem like it ends here in case my brain decides to crap out on me. Best not cliff hang anyone, even myself. Thank you all and I hope this was a good read. Have a pleasant day/night. ^_^]