#burton us open

[rttnz0mb]

⦻ Creepypasta Headcanons pt. 1 ⦻

Warnings: sfw, fluff, Mentions of gore, slight nsfw, slight angst, Multiple characters

Disclaimer: these are just a few head cannons I have for some of the creepy pastas, i'll probably make more head cannons on these characters again sometime!!

Jeff The Killer

🔪 very impatient and hotheaded, making talking to him not the easiest

🩸 has a bit of a southern accent - more noticeable when he gets mad and starts yelling

💀 never really apologized to liu but they still talk a little bit but he wishes they could be as close as they were when they were younger

🫀 Prop has many one night stands an isn't really interested in having a serious relationship with anyone

🔪 Doesn't like people arguing or loud noises so he always has headphones on him just in case he needs to cancel noise out

🩸 doesn't like people touching him especially when hes overwhelmed and if people do he usually get very triggered and flips out on people leaving him feeling guilty especially if its liu

💀 sometimes asks liu if he could sleep in his bed with him because his nightmares get really bad sometimes

🫀 favorite slasher movie is scream and one-time he dressed up as ghost face for Halloween and went out scaring little kids

🔪 he's actually really into the gyaru and y2k fashion but he will never admit it

.

Toby Rogers

🪓 Likes painting his nails different colors - its something he used to do with Lyra so he likes having his nails painting almost constantly

💀 Doesn't like the nickname "ticci toby" because hes insecure of his tics especially when hes meeting new people and he has to explain his tourettes to them

🔥 Has more of a western emo type of style

🗝️ Doesn't like to be around people who are drunk because it reminds him of his dad

🪓 Has to cut his hair very often because it grows super fast and it gets super curly and out of control

💀 likes when people he's close to pat his back or caress his hands when he's stressed to calm him down

🔥 wears a bunch of Lyra's old jewelry even though they are girly he doesn't really care

🗝️ Sees Tim and Brian kind of like father figures and is really close with them and often comes to them for advice

🪓 LOVES tim Burton films like he watches them year round, his favorite one is Edward Scissorhands

.

Ben Drowned

🎮 Has a terrible water phobia and gets mad when anyone jokes about it

💧 Doesn't really enjoy energy drinks to much but he does drink them if he wants to have extra energy (like he needs it)

🕹 Really misses his life as a normal kid and wishes he could've experienced a normal teenage life

👾 Loves um gardening if yk what i mean

🎮 Smokes with Jeff a lot so there kinda close

💧 Doesn't really sleep because he's a ghost and because he has nightmares of drowning so he usually doesn't unless he's mentally exhausted which is a lot of the time

🕹 he definitely bully's kids on Roblox and then hacks there account once they say something rude back

👾 HATES the perv allegations like so what if he has pictures of woman in his drawer like.. ( no I'm joking please don't get mad :) )

🎮 Sometimes hides in different electronics when he needs a break from everything

.

Bloody Painter

🎨 very soft spoken and doesn't really enjoy having conversations with others unless there close which it takes a long time for him to open up to people

🩸 Doesn't really see himself as a serial killer only as an artist

🖌️ gets aggravated easily with the other pastas so he usually traps himself in his room until hes hungry and needs to eat which he sometimes forgets to do if hes really into a painting hes working on

🎧 He likes more classical music especially when hes painting he also really enjoys jazz music

🎨 He doesn't like when people use his name because he doesn't like thinking about his past which his name reminds him of it

🩸 Not a huge fan of screaming so he Usually cuts his victims throats first so they cant scream plus he also gets a lot of blood for his paintings this way

🖌️ He enjoys drinking wine every now and then

🎧 The thought of having a partner scares him a lot since he probably has really bad attachment issues

🎨 can come of as rude and cold but he really just doesn't want to come of as sensitive and soft

Okay that's it for now hope you enjoyed!! I'll def do more of these with other creepypastas just request any if there's anyone you want me to do cuz I'll probably do the more popular ones first but I def wanna do the more underrated ones too!!

OKAY BYE BYE!!!

[fictionalmenxyn]

•✧𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰✧•

Pairing: Drew x singer/actress!reader

(The parts that are Itallic are what you would see in the video rather than in person)

Warnings: language, slightly emotional reader (for good reason)

Face claim: Billie Eilish (what a cutie 😊)

•✧•✧•

Once again, your time has come. Your yearly interview.

This time, Drew was sat behind the camera. You sat in the directors chair. You smiled at the camera and spoke “Hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n.. it’s currently October eighteenth, twenty-twenty-four” you smile.

Other versions of you repeat those words, only difference is the year… oh! And also your appearance, obviously.

Drew was sat on a chair opposite you and behind the camera. A big smile on his face. He loved these interviews of you.

First question ‘biggest thing that happened in your career?’ You smiled and scrunched your nose. You then lean forward in your chair and whispered the camera “I got two oscars.” You balled your fists in excitement and scrunched your face. “Two! Not one, but two… still feels like a dream”

You watch your year-younger self, “I got six Grammys! Ah!” You chuckle at your past self. You looked to the camera “two oscars and six Grammys… damn..” you and Drew laugh.

‘What’s the most important things to you right now?’ You smiled at the question. You tilt your head to look around the camera and to Drew. You answered “my love, my everything… Drew mother fucking Starkey…” he chuckled. You wave him over “c’mere, babe…” he got the green light from the director and walked over to you.

You opened your arms, he leaned down and hugged you as you sat in the chair. As he pulls away slightly, he kissed your forehead. You smiled “this is whats important to me… my Drew…” you both knew the fans were gonna make edits and comments about this. You were honestly excited to see the edits. You loved how cute your fans were when it came to you and Drew.

You and Drew watched your younger self “uh probably my boyfriend… he’s the best-” younger you looked to the camera “I love ya, Drew!” You both laughed.

Drew kissed your forehead once more, then went back behind the camera; sitting in his chair once again.

‘Craziest fan moment?’ You answered “it was at New York, my latest tour. I noticed a girl in the crowd. She looked like she had something in her hand. So when we did our usual ten minute break. I walked over to her, cause she didn’t leave her spot. She held a box, saying it was a gift for me and she couldn’t get vip tickets to meet backstage. So I opened it, and i literally broke down crying, happy tears of course. What was in the box, was a handmade painting of Drew and I. In a frame, it was our photo I said was my favourite of us. On the set of outer banks, still dressed in our characters clothes. On our characters dirt bikes, our heads against each others. She said it took her eighteen hours. It’s not a crazy moment, but definitely sentimental…”

You watched younger you, ‘dude, everyone kept throwing T-shirts with Drew’s face on stage!” You laughed. Still having them shirts. You never got rid of them. Never crossed you mind to get rid of them.

‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ You smiled and shook your head “no I don’t…” your grin grew bigger as you lifted your left hand up “I got a fiancé!!” Drew’s smile only grew bigger. God you were so cute in his mind. Always have, always will.

You look at last year’s clip “yes I do, Drew, my childhood bestie, and lover, love his soul… miss my baby, haven’t saw him in a few hours… gonna see him later though excited.” You laughed at your younger you.

‘Describe your style in three words’ you smiled and tilted your head “open to opportunity.”

Your 2023 self said “live laugh Drew” you bursted out laughing and replied “I said that?!” You laughed.

‘Favourite movie?’ You smiled “ooo probably Beetlejuice… the original, although the new one is really good.. you know I love a good Tim Burton movie…”

You answered “Batman The Dark Knight, Cillian and Heath are soooo good in that movie, so was Christian Bale… but Cillian and Heath…” you playfully roll your eyes at younger you. You remarked “god I was practically drooling over that movie” you laugh.

‘What are you working on currently?’ You smiled “well, as you recently found out, I’m working on an album… which is half done… and I’m starring in the newest Outer Banks season, once again…”

2023 you spoke “a movie and Outer Banks… oh! And a single…”

‘One thing you’d like to do with your career this year?’ You smiled “as usual, to star in a Tim Burton movie…” you wink at the camera.

Younger you answered “obviously star in a Tim Burton movie, pretty sure I said that since like the third year, right??” You chuckle.

You look to the camera, “thanks for checking in on me, Vanity Fair… once again a great yearly catch up! I love you guys!” You waved Drew to come back over. Which he did. He leaned down to get into frame. You both smile, you spoke “we love you all! See you soon!”

•✧•✧•

[herpsandbirds]

Please, friend, what are some differences between legless lizards and snakes?

Legless Lizards vs. Snakes

Well, it can get complicated... some people consider snakes to be a distinct and varied group of legless lizards. Also, there are different groups of legless lizards that have different anatomies.

Here is the basic set of differences:

Snakes do not have ears in the way that other vertebrates do. They do not have ear openings on the head. (They can hear, however, using other methods.)

Most legless lizard groups have ears, and era openings, but not all.

Snakes do not have functional eyelids, so they cannot close their eyes. (They instead have a clear 'scale' called the brille that covers and protects the eye. This is most likely forms from the fusion of eyelids during embryonic development.)

Most legless lizards have eyelids.

Snakes have broad belly scales, used for locomotion, that legless lizards lack.

Snakes have forked tongues, and legless lizards do not.

Limestone Eyelash Pit Viper (Trimeresurus ciliaris), family Viperidae, Thailand

Venomous.

Newly Described species, 2023.

One of the smallest pit vipers in the world.

This species specializes in feeding on day geckos.

So far, it has only been found in Trang & Satun provinces in Thailand, as well as Perlis state in far north Peninsula Malaysia.

photograph by Rupert Grassby-Lewis

Burton’s Legless Lizard aka Burton’s Flap-footed Lizard (Lialis burtonis), female, family Pygopodidae, Australia

photograph by Rob Valentic

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Edward Scissorhands x Reader

On her quest to make at least one sale for the day, Avon lady Peg cautiously steps into the eerie mansion of a known inventor. She soon learns that it has long been devoid of life, with the exception of Edward, a synthetic human creation left unfinished. She returns to the bright suburbs accompanied by the poor young man, earning the curious stares of the bystanders. Among the colorful houses, however, Edward spots a gloomy dwelling that the neighbors seem to avoid. Who is the mysterious occupant?

Winner of the Halloween Poll! A short gothic romance in the style of Tim Burton, where two outsiders find solace in each other.

[Horror Masterlist]

The light yellow car slows down as it reaches the driveway and the engine stops. Peg makes her way out and hurries over to the passenger side, keys dangling between her fingers. She helps Edward out once she sees him awkwardly shuffling in the seat, unsure of his next step.

"You'll love it here. I just know it."

The woman hastily closes the door behind the tall, peculiar visitor. She places a gentle hand on his back and guides him down the asphalted path. 

Edward's gaze briefly wanders further into the street. The houses are slithering along neatly, their vivid colors somewhat tiring to his unaccustomed eyes. Yet one of them sticks out. Strangely enough, it reminds him of home. A rusty iron fence surrounds the property, and patches of lush, unkempt vegetation creep through the bars. The walls are dark and crooked and the black tiled roof casts a shadow over the entire abode.  

"Who lives there?" The question escapes his lips almost unconsciously. 

Peg follows his gaze, eager to introduce the area to him. Once she settles on the source of his inquiry, her smile falters for a second.

"Oh, my. That's, well..." she lets out a forced laugh and encourages him to continue walking. "I'm glad you're already so curious, Edward dear. You'll get to know everyone soon, don't worry about it."

One more push and the guest has securely entered the house. As she prepares to twist the knob into a lock, she peeks out for the last time, surveying the surroundings with mild worry. A neighbor is walking their dog, whistling in the distance. As they approach the mysterious building, the animal begins to bark and the owner scurries to the other side of the street. 

"He's so...strange!" one housewife exclaims, sipping on her lemonade.

Joyce is biting the temple tips of her sunglasses as she carefully inspects the dark haired man, currently using his sharp, spear fingers as barbecue skewers. She's batting her long eyelashes, entranced. She does like her men on the enigmatic side. In fact, she might just have a word with him. She folds the sunglasses and hangs them by the collar of her low-cut blouse. Of course, she doesn't forget her famous ambrosia salad as she departs from the rest of the fidgeting women. 

"Ed, darling. You must try out my signature dish!" she daintily holds up a spoon and attempts to feed the pale newcomer. 

He cautiously opens his mouth, unsure of how else to respond to the gesture. He tries to find Peg within the crowd, hoping she'll give him a new task away from this uncomfortably touchy person. And as luck would have it, his savior has come to the rescue. Peg doesn't hesitate to pull Edward away, cheerfully mumbling a domestic excuse. 

Once freed from the shackles of awkward social interactions, the man tiptoes his way out of the yard and down the street. He doesn't like the constant murmur of people talking. He doesn't understand the jokes, the loud laughs, the complicit slaps on the back. He feels as if he's on the other side of a glass window, separated from an audience demanding cooperation despite him only being able to discern muffled, discontinued meaning. 

None of this was mentioned in the Etiquette book. Or perhaps it has always been there, and the Inventor never got to the specific chapter. Died lamentably before he could explain how one navigates neighborhood BBQ parties.

Edward's step is clumsy and he doesn't have a particular direction in mind. In his scattered daze he nearly trips over something and turns around apologetically. You're sitting on the ground, resting against the fence. The book you were reading is now thrown aside, as you're too busy massaging the ankle that just got kicked by the sudden intruder. You look up, ready to scold the responsible airhead, but your eyes stop on an eccentric feature that catches your attention. 

"What happened to your hands?"

You're a little embarrassed by your unexpected, tactless curiosity. The man seems entirely unfazed, however.

"They weren't finished. I'm incomplete."

"Hmm. Isn't everyone?" 

Edward considers the question and recalls the people he's met so far. Peg and her husband. Joyce. The children. 

"But they don't look unfinished. They have all the body parts."

You chuckle slightly at the literal observation. 

"Well, you can't check them on the inside, can you? Most people have missing parts. Or broken ones."

"Where would you get it fixed, then?" Edward is startled by this new discovery. 

"You learn to fix it yourself. Otherwise it just stays like that, maybe forever."

He lifts his hands and stares at them. Is he going to be like this forever, too? He hasn't pondered the concept of time much before Peg had found him. Yet now, 'forever' feels unsettling. 

"Do your hands bother you that much?"

Edward doesn't know how to reply. He wishes he could resemble everyone else, that much is true. Then people wouldn't stare. And they wouldn't be afraid. As he mulls over the right words, he suddenly becomes aware of his surroundings. It's the house he noticed earlier, when he first arrived here. Which means...

He examines the person before him. They, too, look complete. So why?

"Why does everyone avoid this place?" He remembers the gathering he just left. "You weren't at the neighborhood party either. I thought all neighbors will show up."

"I was never invited."

"Why?"

You shrug.

"You're also not currently attending, are you? Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"I took a break. It's too loud. Can I sit here?"

Before you can answer, he drops himself next to you with a thud. His fingers swish together as he adjusts his posture. 

"Oh, sorry, I forgot. What is your name? I'm Edward."

"Uhh... (Y/N)." You mutter, taken aback by his direct approach. What an odd fellow, you think to yourself.

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)." As he scans your features again, he feels compelled to add, "You look rather pretty."

A faint blush takes over your face and you twirl your hair in an attempt to hide it. Is he mocking you? You genuinely can't read his intentions. 

"You don't look too bad yourself, Edward. I think the hands add to your charm." You eventually find the confidence to blurt it out, quickly following up with a laugh.

His heart tightens and he almost forgets about his hazardous extremities, having to stop himself from touching his now throbbing chest. He's never malfunctioned before. It doesn't feel like anything is wrong, either. Your comment, for some reason, made him very happy. 

(Y/N). Looking back to everything that happened, he's glad. Maybe he should thank Joyce next time he sees her. He wouldn't have met you otherwise. 

As the sun begins to set, you remind Edward that it's impolite to leave a party for too long. He protests, stating he prefers your company. As flattered as you are, you rephrase it as Peg being worried about his sudden disappearance and he feels bad enough to agree on his early retirement. On the condition he can hang out with you again. Once you guarantee a reunion, he makes his way back home. 

As he lays on Kim's bizarrely fluid mattress, tucked into the layered pastel sheets, Edward is overwhelmed by a strange, unfamiliar warmth. A wide, childish smile is plastered on his face and won't go away. Each time he closes his eyes to fall asleep, he pictures the encounter. (Y/N). It's a nice name, isn't it? He finds it particularly charming. He whispers it out loud in the dark room, as if making sure it's real. Reminding himself you're real. 

He can't properly explain it. It's the same thick window that stands between him and the world, but you're next to him. An outsider. A rejection. The idea that someone else out there shares his struggle has cleansed him of any longing for acceptance. Why bother with a sea of foreign, smudged faces? Peg becomes Joyce, and Joyce fades into Marge, and they all become a generic crowd of smiling pleasantries. It's a funny thing, being among humans. Once he left his old mansion behind, he realized how truly alone he had been. Still, being surrounded by people he could not comprehend made him feel even more lonely. That is the tragedy; sitting at the grand table, empty handed, unseen, unheard. Misunderstood. No one's fault, really. It just happens. But every now and then, if fate so allows, one might just find another starved attendant. With the same glint in their eyes, of someone not belonging. 

Oh, he can't wait to see you again.

It's unusually noisy outside for a late evening and you can't help but glance out the window. That's when you notice the roaring crowd, trampling in a hysterical march of unknown purpose. You have a bad feeling about it. The horned moon leers down at you like a bad omen and you quickly throw a jacket on, sprinting into the street. 

"What's this all about?" you shyly ask the nearest group. 

"Witch!" Esmeralda scowls at you with a pointing finger. 

Peg notices the commotion and runs towards you, completely disregarding the prophetic warnings of the woman. 

"Oh, (Y/N). It's Edward. They..." she sighs, frustrated. "I know I don't have the right to ask you this, but you're his friend. Could you please make sure he's alright?" Her voice is pleading and regretful. 

You nod without saying anything else. Before you turn to leave, you swiftly gesture to Esmeralda, raising your index fingers up and mimicking a devilish look. She gasps and throws her hands together in prayer.

It had to be done. 

Meanwhile, Edward has reached his old mansion and just now stopped in the entrance hall, panting anxiously. He feels nauseous and helpless. It's not that he's being chased by the enraged members of the neighborhood that alarms him. He cannot stand the possibility of not being in your presence ever again. How frightful, how agonizing! He claws at a nearby column in turmoil. 

It can't be, it won't happen. He'll tear his way through the masses if he has to. Oh, what a terrible thought. His Inventor would roll in the grave if he knew the violent ruminations that plague him right now. But if he has no other choice...Would he go as far as taking someone's life if it was for your sake? Well, technically speaking, his sake, really. He wants to see you. He needs to.

Panic slowly creeps through his body. The thoughts are piling up in an erratic hum and he can't find his focus again. He paces back and forth, attempting to recollect himself, but there's an urgency that drowns him in cold sweat. 

"Edward?"

The ringing stops. A switch has been flipped and he snaps his head in the direction of the voice. It's you. Completely spellbound, he extends his hand to touch your face, verifying whether you might be an illusion of his feverish desires instead. The blade pierces your skin, leaving a bright red trail behind. 

"I'm so sorry-" he cries out, realizing his act. 

You softly lower his hand with a reassuring smile. 

"It's just a small cut. Don't worry about it. I think we have more important matters at hand, won't you agree?" you joke as you nudge your head towards the window. 

"I spoke to the police officer on the way here, so we shouldn't have any surprise guests." 

You remove your jacket and throw it over some dusty furniture before climbing up the stairs. Halfway through you briefly stop and urge Edward to join you. He simply nods.

When the issue is settled and everything has been said and done, will you return to your miserable exile? Won't the neighbors become suspicious if you're frequently seen sneaking up the hill? Perhaps even the utmost secrecy won't prolong the visits much. 

And then what?

As he considers the potential scenarios, he becomes increasingly impatient. The joy of your return has been tainted by the impending doom of abandonment. He wishes you'd just stay with him here, forever. 

Once the conclusion has been reached, he lets out a quiet apology. Maybe to you, maybe to the beloved Inventor, maybe even to himself. He inserts a finger into the entrance lock and silently twists it. 

You must forgive him. Or at least try to understand him. He just loves you too much, (Y/N). Is it truly such a hideous crime? To want to keep you safe? If so, he will live with the guilt. But not without you. 

You're home. 

[spider-stark]

house of the dragon masterlist // link to my general masterlist

General Warnings -

⚔️ This blog is 18+

🛡️ This particular masterlist currently contains only Aegon II Targaryen, Benjicot Blackwood, Aeron Bracken, Gwayne Hightower, and Criston Cole. however, i am open to writing about other hotd characters

⚔️ All of these fic's contain dark themes or content that is considered inappropriate by some readers, so adhere warnings! I am not responsible for your content consumption; so please read responsibly!

🛡️ If you happen to notice that something is not tagged appropriately or you feel a fic needs a particular warning, please let me know and I will do my best to correct this mistake.

⚔️ And, as always, happy reading!

A CRUEL FATE

⚔️ SUMMARY - Having been in love with Aegon your entire life, you always assumed that he never felt the same. Now set to wed his brother, Aemond, your frustration finally peaks and leads to you confessing your feelings.

🛡️ WARNINGS - suggestive language/actions, light use of y/n (sorry), sad aegon lol, obvious incest

LITTLE DRAGON

⚔️ SUMMARY - Your elder brother, Jace, attempts to teach you how to wield a sword. Aegon, your new betrothed, interrupts.

🛡️ WARNINGS - slight Jace x Reader, incest

THE CONQUEROR'S CROWN

⚔️ SUMMARY - After being captured by a member of the Kingsguard on your way to Winterfell, Aegon calls for you in the throne room.

🛡️ WARNINGS - light smut, oral, kidnapping, blades/blood, possible hematolagnia, eludes disappointed mom!rhaenyra (absolutely no bashing tho), and obvious incest

JEALOUSY

⚔️ SUMMARY - Dealing with the consequences of making Aegon jealous

🛡️ WARNINGS - abusive/toxic relationship, definite masochism, choking, brief mentions of blood, brief mentions of blades, targcest

PRECIPICE

⚔️ SUMMARY - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

🛡️ WARNINGS - implied targcest

SPARRING PARTNER

⚔️ SUMMARY - You and Aegon have hardly spoken since sharing a particularly sensual moment a month ago. Now he thinks he stands a chance in a sparring match.

🛡️ WARNINGS - implied targcest, hints to smut, blood, horny/stupid argon & reader

SWORN RIVALS

⚔️ SUMMARY - Taking up sparring with your sworn rival is likely never a good idea.

🛡️ WARNINGS - kieran burton fan cast, all character 18+, barely edited, blood, implied fighting, suggestive language but no real smut, likely ooc given that the episode hasn't even aired yet lmao

LADY STRONG

⚔️ SUMMARY - Stuck in the Riverland's on a marriage tour, you pretend to be Lady Strong when Benjicot Blackwood doesn't recognize you as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms

🛡️ WARNINGS - kieran burton fan cast, all character 18+, not edited!!

THE BRIDGE

⚔️ SUMMARY - Your wardship with House Blackwood was meant to bridge the chasm between your families. Years later, you return to Stone Hedge as the whispers of war spread—only for Lord Tully to call for a hunt.

🛡️ WARNINGS - fem!reader, complicated sibling relationship, fighting, (probably excessive) mentions of blood, talks about hunting/killing wild animals, !angst!, adult language, reader def suffering from identity crisis, probably deviates from canon some, kieran burton fan cast for benji, all characters 18+

THE GOLD TANKARD

⚔️ SUMMARY - Benji is a regular at the tavern you work at—and you're starting to think he's forgetting his coin on purpose.

🛡️ WARNINGS - fem!reader, kieran burton fan cast, all characters 18+, suggestive/sexual language, not edited bc I'm lazy and wrote this for fun in like an hour

GOLD

⚔️ SUMMARY - You go sneaking through Bracken territory for some time alone with Aeron.

🛡️ WARNINGS - fem!reader, blackwood!reader, mentions of blood, mentions of fighting, no real plot, hurt/comfort, subtle rivals-to-lovers, aeron grabbing boobies lmao, maybe some grammar errors idk

LITTLE BRACKEN KNIGHT

⚔️ SUMMARY - You sneak into Aeron's room at Stone Hedge.

🛡️ WARNINGS - fem!reader, blackwood!reader not edited, suggestive language, hints towards smut but there is none, secret relationship trope ig, blackwood!reader being a little shit

A CONVERSATION BETWEEN OLD FRIENDS

⚔️ SUMMARY - Devotion will never be enough to make the Gods forgive you for the sin of your existence. They will keep finding new ways to punish you.

🛡️ WARNINGS - fem!reader, bastard!reader, septa!reader, mostly edited, heavy religious themes & guilt, angst, yearning, *slightly* ooc gwayne but mostly cause he's drunk and bitter lmao

SWORN PROTECTOR

⚔️ SUMMARY - After sneaking back into the Keep from a night spent out in the city, you find your sworn protector, Ser Criston Cole, waiting for you in your room.

🛡️ WARNINGS - fem!reader, targtower!reader, not edited, reader has mommy/daddy issues, duty turned devotion type bullshit, criston can't just guard a woman without falling in love ig, yearning

[eyecan02]

Reasons Why Tim Burton Should Make Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Happen

1.) The sequel not only made over 100 Million, it also made even more than the original.

2.) The sequel leaves doors open for several returns. As we know, death by sandworm is not permanent. Delores, Rory, Wolf and even Bob (his soul could've been released when Delores was eaten) could return, except this time they expand on and flesh out Delores and Wolf's character.

3.) Winona, Keaton, Justin and Monica all ship Beetlejuice and Lydia together! They all see what we see! They see the potential!

4.) Tim said it took 36 years to make the sequel so he said he would be over a hundred before the next one is made but while Winona, Keaton, Catherine and everyone look great right now, they won't be around forever. No time like the present to get started on the final movie to properly wrap up the franchise.

5.) The ending itself leaves the door open to the possibility of Lydia living a day to day life with Beetlejuice clinging to her and to how she wants to move forward with that and what she wants to do with the next step of her life and how she wants to use her ghost seeing abilities.

6.) Because we the fans would like to see Beetlebabes truly canonized just like Winona does!

[herefortheships]

I hope we get a third Beetlejuice move and Lydia is the one trying to contact Betelgeuse this time around. That can even justify the movie being called "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice", because you have to say the name three times to summon him!

Why does she need or want to contact him? It can be for whatever reason, really, but my favorite is this: Betelgeuse has pretty much disappeared from Lydia's life and she isn't seeing him "haunting" her anymore, and she realizes or can sense that he is in danger, and Lydia knows she is the only one who will care or even want to save him.

Then she can start wondering why she is even doing this, why does she care? And she realizes he's sort of been watching her and protecting her from afar all this time and maybe she even has started missing his shenanigans. She realizes that even when she thought he was scary, he was actually looking out for her all along because he really loved her. And they share that psychic connection too, which she will probably use to find him if she can't summon him in the third movie for whatever reason.

Look, the ending left the door open for many possibilities for a final installment and I just hope they decide to do it and give Betelgeuse and Lydia their happy ending! Third time's the charm and they can marry for real. My only concern is that they may not be able to top the beautifully romantic wedding scene from the second movie. Who knows? That was so a Tim Burton aesthetic. We'll see. But that wedding needs to happen!

I honestly think Lydia's failed romantic relationships have to do with the fact that her true soulmate is in the "Neitherworld". Soulmates born too far apart from each other. Betelgeuse will wait for Lydia forever, and after the second movie I'm sure she will start to see him a different way. Maybe not romantic yet, but something must have changed, having seen a different side of him. Yes, he will always be creepy and gross, that's just who he is (come on, he is a ghostly entity or a demon of sorts, a "thing of nightmares"), but he does love her and will do anything for her. And by the end of the movie, she will know they belong together! As weird at that might be. haha

[lovebugism]

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?” with a grumpy scrooge eddie!! maybe he and reader move into a new neighborhood with friendly neighbors who go all out for christmas and are always caroling? i can’t imagine the people of hawkins showing up at his door lol

ty for requesting :D — the metalhead freak gets stuck with a bunch of carolers and runs to his girl for comfort (established relationship, fluff, eddie "loves being babied" munson, 1.2k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Eddie moves to the nice side of Hawkins with you. Not the suburbs, exactly, but pretty damn close. 

It’s a house with stairs and a sliding back door, both of which only existed in movies for a kid who grew up in a trailer park. The backyard is fenced in, too — big enough for a dog. A couple of them, even. And maybe a pool if his music career takes off. The realtor also told you that the school district is “to die for,” and even though that’s not really an issue right now, Eddie figures it’ll be important sometime soon.

These are all things you’re supposed to care about when you’re settling down with someone you can see a future with. Eddie thinks so, at least. He can see himself getting old with you, in this house and on that front porch. He’ll be holding your hand on your afternoon walks until both of yours are spotted and wrinkly.

The only bad thing about life (halfway) in the suburbs is running into all the assholes he used to know in high school. Vicki Carmichael was walking her too-expensive dog yesterday morning, and the afternoon before that, Tina Burton had the whole cul-de-sac down the street shut down for her kid’s first birthday party. What the hell is a one-year-old even supposed to do with a bouncy house?

It’s totally trippy. 

But Eddie’s been able to avoid them well enough. Or maybe everyone else is avoiding him. Either way, he’s grateful.

“No— where are you going?” you whine as Eddie slides open the glass door of the shower. You’re still getting used to being able to do this with him now that you’ve moved into the new place. The bathroom back at the trailer was barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“I’m already done, and you’ve barely even started,” he answers, laughing at the dramatic desperation in your voice. 

He steps onto the plush mat outside the tub and wraps a towel around his tattooed hips. Steam flows out, and the outside cold swoops in. It pricks your skin and makes you shiver. You duck under the faucet for warmth until he closes the door behind him.

“You’re gonna be in here forever, and I’m gonna get all pruney,” Eddie insists, right before shaking out his damp curls like a wet dog.

“You usually like it when I take my time,” you joke, laughing when it makes him silent.

Eddie’s brain gets all foggy at your words. Worse than the heavy steam filling up the bathroom. He’s contemplating whether or not to jump back into the shower with you — and really let you “take your time” — but a knock on the door throws a wrench in his plans.

“Can you get the door for me, honey?” you ask just to tease him, ‘cause you know he’s milliseconds away from pressing you against the shower wall.

He listens to you, because he always listens to you, and then ultimately decides he never will again.

Eddie leaves the warmth of the bathroom, shoves on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that do little to protect him from the bitter cold outside, and finds a number of familiar faces standing on his porch. 

It’s an entire crowd of people who used to bully him in high school — plus a bunch of snotty private school kids — all dressed up in the most horrendous, white-bread Christmas outfits the world has ever seen.

“Oh, shit…” Eddie mumbles under his breath, the evidence of his words leaving in a thin white cloud. He hadn’t even meant to say them out loud. They just sorta spilled out in the moment. Honestly, he thinks he might be dreaming.

The town’s resident metalhead is forced to sit through a botched rendition of Deck the Halls and Holy Night. And since you’re still in the shower, you can’t even swoop in to save him from it all. He just suffers through the half-out-of-tune caroling while his drying hair frizzes, a wavering smile of confusion stagnant on his face. 

When they’re finally gone, Eddie shuts the door with a chest-deflating sigh. He isn’t totally sure he’s taken a single breath since he opened the damn thing.

“Who was that?” you call from the top of the stairs, a fuzzy towel clutched to your chest. The warm scent of your body wash flows from the opened bathroom door and down the steps.

Eddie turns to look up at you from the bottom of them. He feels so suddenly drained. Like he just ran a marathon or pulled an all-nighter — something utterly exhausting that’s taken a piece of his soul. Maybe it’s dramatic, but he feels a little like his suffering has stripped ten years off his life.

“Remind me again why we can’t kill the carolers?” he jokes as he trudges up the stairs, the railing of them lined with glowing garlands.

“Those were carolers?” you gape, eyes wide and brows raised to your hairline.

Answering the door isn’t really Eddie’s thing. Conversations with strangers at the door aren’t really his thing, either. You think he might’ve just lived through one of his greatest fears.

“Yeah,” he scoffs, laughing through an exhausted sigh. He walks to your shared bedroom and flops on the center of the bed. A heavy sigh falls from his lips like he just got done working a twelve-hour shift. 

You’d laugh at his dramatics if you thought they were anything but totally real. So instead, you sit gingerly beside him, careful to keep your towel from falling, and try to comfort him without giggling.

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry,” you mutter, rubbing a palm up and down the length of his back. You’re grateful he can’t see your smile from this angle, lest he think you aren’t taking this seriously.

“Oh, don’t be,” he tells you, muffled into his pillow. Sarcasm drips from his honeyed lips like venom. “It was tons of fun seeing Jason fucking Carver on our doorstep.”

“Jason was out there?” you gape, a little louder than you mean to. Your shock is palpable.

Eddie huffs and turns onto his back. “Yeah— did you know he has a kid now?”

“What?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods with a small smirk. The life returns to the chocolate of his eyes now that he can gossip. “She was a really cute baby, you know, considering. The odds weren’t really in her favor there.”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder and cup his jaw with a warm hand. Your thumb rubs gently over the flushed apple of it, tinted cold from the outside weather. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you,” you tell him, half playful but with a sincere glimmer in your eye.

“No, it’s okay,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m glad you weren’t there to see that.”

You can’t tell if Eddie knows you’re teasing him or not. Or if he’s joking about the whole thing ‘cause it’s over now. Your boy’s too hard to read for his own good. You decide to keep pitying him anyway. His love language is basically being babied.

“Want me to make you some hot chocolate?”

He nods, a small pout jutting out his rosy lips. “With the mini marshmallows, please?” he mumbles.

You bend at the waist to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Whatever you want, babe,” you promise in a gentle murmur.

[girlintodust]

New intro post! You can find the old one here ♡

Welcome to my little special corner of the world, where I post pretty moodboards and reblog things I like (mainly involving pink and cute things) already 3 months with an active account and this girlblog is one of the few things that keep me sane, love you all.

✩ previously @anaghostprincessblog !

✩ asks and dms are always open ♡

✩ tysm for 2.2k + !!

my posts are under #nini boards ♡ and #nini talks ♡

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝒜𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑒 ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

˖࣪ ໒꒱ 20 year old teenage girl, aries, bisexual, infp

˖࣪ ໒꒱ my birthday is April 2nd

˖࣪ ໒꒱ i'm a university student majoring in philosophy

˖࣪ ໒꒱ my first language is spanish, but i'm fluent in english and italian

˖࣪ ໒꒱ IMPORTANT: this blog is destined to all things i love which is a mixture of a couple different aesthetics. however, i migth use this account to vent sometimes: i suffer from an eating disorder, depression and anxiety. while i DO NOT encourage eating disorders by ANY means (this is NOT a pr0 an@ acc) i might talk about it or reblog things related, so please be advised. my dm's are always open to anyone who wants to talk, but i will not be giving advice or stats. i might also reblog or post +18 content.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝒶𝓋𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

˖࣪ ໒꒱ books: the secret history (henry winter apologist), the solitude of prime numbers, to the light house and mrs dalloway by virginia woolf, anne frank's diary, kafka's metamorphosis (anything kafka really), the stranger by albert camus, jane eyre, wuthering heights, madame bovary, the bell jar, simone de beauvoir's memoirs of a dutiful daughter, alejandra pizarnik's diaries, prozac nation.

˖࣪ ໒꒱ movies/shows: crimson peak, pride and prejudice (2005), the grand budapest hotel, leon the professional, chungking express, all about lily chou-chou, howl's moving castle, the wind rises, marie antoinette, girl interrupted, edward scissorhands, alice in wonderland, the queens gambit, gilmore girls, criminal minds, modern family, fleabag, the last of us.

˖࣪ ໒꒱ music: lana del rey, fiona apple, jeff buckley, mitski, bôa, david bowie, ichiko aoba, her's, the smiths, plums, adrianne lenker, mazzy star, the cranberries, bruce springsteen, elliot smith, beach fossils, cafuné, radiohead, the cure, kate bush, the sundays, slowdive, pj harvey.

˖࣪ ໒꒱ people: matthew gray gubler, nana komatsu, sylvia plath, jane birkin, hope sandoval, jeff buckley, tim burton, humphrey bogart, audrey hepburn, gregory peck, keira knigthley, margaret qualley, kristine froseth, kirsten dunst, sofia coppola, anya taylor joy, elle fanning, pheobe tonkin, fiona apple, joel miller, aaron hotchner, spencer reid, theo james, pedro pascal, kate moss, franz kafka, vladimir nabokov, albert camus, tanya dziahileva.

[alextydaisuda123]

New AU(?) (Part 3)

Pizza Granny / Pizzaface

No further comment here, Granny Pizza is the assistant of the main boss of the fortress. Is she stupid? Yes. Does she understand what she's doing? Also yes. Pizzaface only has a sign and his name, nothing more.

Pizzabro (Pizzaslice) / Pizzahead

Pizzaslice (I changed the name for convenience, since I couldn't find his name on the wiki, and I don't want to call him just "Pizzabro", sorry) replaces Pizzahead. But.. Pizzaslice... IS NOT A VILLAIN! He's not even evil, the real villain is still Pizzahead. He just uses him as a puppet and gave him control of the tower/fortress so that he would carry out his plan instead of him. Pizzaslice wears almost the same thing as Pizzahead, but he also has a collar on his neck, which PH put on PS so that he would not dare to disobey him and finish the plan ahead of time, and he cannot take it off because of the curse sent by PH, the collar will only be removed when the curse is broken.

John / Jerome

Here, too, without unnecessary water, instead of John, Jerome was bewitched. And here the question is, was it an accident or an intentional curse, it is unknown. John is a cleaner.

Mr. Stick... uh... I think he's the only one who won't swap with anyone. Why? After all, he can be eliminated just like Gustavo with Brick and Noisette. Well... who else will beg for money to open the bosses? Burton? Well, he could, if he wasn't a sweetheart. And Stick doesn't care who he takes money from.

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - On the night of a record storm, Shanda Bracken sneaks into the land between the Brackens and the Blackwoods known as the Borderlands. Hoping to do routine reconnaissance she gets more than she bargained for when the guard on duty is the Blackwood heir himself.

Warnings - fem!reader, mentions of violence, fighting, suspense, female rage, strained family dynamics, complicated relationships, adult language, period typical misogyny, not cannon compliant, kieran burton fancast, terminal benji brainrot

Word count - 2.5k

!MinorsDNI!

There will be more!! Bc I am feral.

Pt. 1 of 11 currently

The sound of the wind hammering against the castle walls seemed as if it intended to blow Stone Hedge down. The gods were angry with them but Shanda couldn’t figure a reason for it now. Beyond that, she had plans tonight. Plans that wouldn’t wait for a storm, no matter how great. As she carefully pulled her hood up, she peeked around the ground floor column again. Empty, she’d timed it just right. Quickly she ducked through the room and down the servants staircase descending as fast as she could manage. The kitchens were empty and she did not linger, quietly making her way outside.

The wind threatened to steal the door from her grip when she finally thrust it open. Nearly falling down the steps, she managed to firmly shut the door. Gazing out at the darkened yard, lightning flashed for a moment illuminating the path ahead. Shanda moved with haste, if her father caught her out here again… It was best not to think about that. The only reason she’d gotten this shot was thanks to her brother. Martyn was on guard tonight and had agreed to look the other way as it were.

Shanda was on her way to the borderlands. It was stupid, reckless and irresponsible behavior. That was undoubtedly true, however the reward was worth the risk in her mind. Her father happened to disagree with that sentiment but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She’d been on these missions to the borderlands three times prior, always sneaking up behind Blackwood guards and listening to their private conversations. They were all terrible gossips and it didn’t take long for them to start disclosing secrets. She wasn’t stupid, she was quiet and didn’t stick around long. Choosing different spots to spy on each time she came and ensuring she left no tracks to be followed back by. That’s why the approaching storm was perfect. She’d show up, steal some intel and let the rain wash all of her tracks away.

Outside of the gates in the free and clear, Shanda made her way into the dense, tall grass that acted as an excellent cover. She’d made sure to wear dark wash colors and opted for trousers under her thick cloak. The night was silent, with all of the animals hiding away from the incoming storm, the only sound came from the howling winds blowing across the ocean of grass she hid in. The moon was obscured by clouds and she had to stop often to squint into the distance to orient herself. But before long she could hear the blackwood guards' voices carried by the winds.

“… declare for the new ki…” “It won’t matter will it? Not if… certainly a c… olent swine!…”

Shanda frowned as she approached as far as she dared. The wind was working against her it seemed. There were two guards, both unremarkable to her. Black haired, tall, enemies. The only thing she wanted was a better chance at hearing them. They sat close together, the broader one closest to her had his back positioned towards her, while she could see the profile of the smaller man. He appeared older, and wore a sour look on his face. He seemed to be the one doing most of the speaking.

“… ell him, I will. He’s the lord of… crimes against us in our own land, it doesn’t b…”

She strained to hear against the roar of the leaves shivering in their branches as the wind picked up again and the voices rose louder in it.

“Get a grip! And don’t bother me about it anymore!”

She crouched low and lay still when the older man abruptly got up and gazed over at the field where she lay hidden before storming away. She ducked back into the grass, hand poised on a borrowed dagger. Her heart was racing but after a few moments of nothing she carefully peeked back out. The younger man sat alone now still, with his head in his hands. She waited for a good thirty minutes in silence. Then she weighed her options. She hadn’t gotten much of anything and it had taken a lot to get back out here. Going back now was unsatisfactory. On the other hand, it didn’t seem like the guard was sending a replacement and the lone man apparently didn’t feel like talking to himself anytime soon. She resolved to wait a while longer when the rain started.

At first it was just a bit of cold hard rain pelting down at her but it quickly turned into a deluge unlike any she’d ever seen. All other thoughts flew out of her mind in the present moment except getting out of the rain. The problem was she kept slipping, caught in a tangle of mud and grass. A clap of thunder rang out so loud she jumped, nearly crying out in fear. Half drowning as she looked up, she noticed the fire put out and the guard missing.

“Shit.” Her eyes scanned all around her but it was a pointless exercise. She couldn’t see anything from the sheer amount of water in her eyes, the world a big muddy blob as her vision clouded over.

“Come on.” She commanded herself, standing and making a run for it. That is to say she tried to run, the mess of weeds and mud wrapped around her legs made her slip. The fall knocked the breath out of her and she lay there stunned, watching the rain fall for a moment gathering the mental strength to try again. She never did though, the knife in the ground beside her head inches from her eye was the motivating factor.

Moving with a deftness she hadn’t possessed moments before, she was up, grip tight on her own weapon as she moved to strike. Her assailant was quick and it was sheer luck he hadn’t struck true on the first blow. Shanda took care to stay out of his attack range. Using their height differences to her advantage, she would duck in and slice. But she hasn't made contact even once. The rain is so thick it's suffocating and it becomes increasingly more clear that she is outmatched here.

“Fucking spy! I’ll kill you.” His voice is rough but carries over the rain.

She has no doubt he means it, the Blackwood’s are all brutes. She tries to get a good look at him, but he snags her cloak and a struggle ensues. His strength doubles her own and she decides instantly to cut the fabric. A clap of thunder rings out like an explosion, shaking the ground beneath them. Or is it him shaking her? The last thread snaps and she’s free again. This time she doesn’t waste a second before turning heel and running. There’s a league of borderlands between her and home, the run is agony.

Worst of all, the guard has set upon chasing her screaming obscenities the entire way. If she weren’t terrified she would commend his lung capacity . Hers was waning and the ground grew softer and softer as they went. She sprints hard aiming for the clutch of trees approaching. She can’t keep this pace up for much longer, her ankle screamed from the earlier fall and her breath is ragged. She doesn’t slow as she enters the cover of the canopy. It’s quieter here and she tries to move with care aware her pursuer is still there. She can now make out his taunts.

“Coward! Be a man. Stop hiding like a babe.”

“Did the rain waterlog your mind? Or are all spies brazen fools?”

Panting behind a tree she rested for a second before darting behind another. It would be worse for him to discover she couldn’t man up and fight him. She berated herself for messing up, for staying when she should have left. She should've called it early and packed up when the first guard left. Better yet, if she hadn’t come at all like her father had commanded. Heaving gasps of air, soaked to the bone in the pitch darkness probably wasn’t the time to have second thoughts though.

It was then she acknowledged how quiet it was, the rain muffled by the trees was distant. Hopefully it was dying down while she rested but the mongrel hunting her had gone silent. And that did not bode well for her she knew. Now she moved as delicately as possible, working to disturb no branch or leaf as she crept through the trees. It was impossibly dark and it was memory alone that guided her forward. Shanda had been on several hunts with her brothers, who were always sneaking her places she shouldn’t be. She hadn’t cared much for it, lots of waiting. Now her heart was pounding so hard it was difficult to hear anything else. She had to pause, coming to a complete stop to strain her ears for any noise. Each time she paused her heart beat grew faster til she was sure she would faint.

When the edge of the trees finally appeared she could have weeped as she leapt to exit. A hard jerk from behind pulled her up short. She audibly choked as her assailant dragged her backwards into the trees once more by her hood. She clawed at her cloak trying to undo the clasp. Finally, he released her and she flailed gasping again for air.

She used the movement to grab her knife.

“None of that.” He was quicker than her this time, using the back of his own knife he hit her hand so hard she cried out and dropped it. He then snaked one arm around the middle of her and the other held the blade at her throat. Her back pressed against the front of him, she didn’t dare breathe.

“Now, care to tell me why a fair maiden like you is out this time of night, sneaking around the borderlands no less?” His tone was mocking, arrogant and condescending. It made her blood boil. She desperately tried to think of a way out of this situation that didn’t end with her death but she was utterly unable to form a coherent thought. Her only advantage was that she wore no sign of her house.

“Care to get your filthy fucking hands off of me?” She spat as a way of answer.

He burst out laughing at her reply, the sound rumbling through her own chest deep and heavy. The knife at her neck never moved an inch during and that was scarier to her than if he’d nicked her. He was careful, controlled. He’d known exactly where she was going to exit the trees from and had circled around to cut her off. And now he was laughing at her.

“Such foul language but no fouler than the crime you’ve committed.”

“What crime?” She scoffed, wanting to twist out of his hold.

His answer was inconsequential to her, she was trying to find a way to knock the knife out of his hand. She could see her own knife on the ground a few feet away. If she could manage to get his knife away from him then -

“Attacking the heir of Raventree of course. Attempted murder is a nasty crime. Not to mention the spying and if I’m not mistaken a breach of the recent peace treaty.”

Her thoughts froze along with all of the blood inside of her body. Nameless Blackwood guard number whatever was one thing, but the heir of Raventree? This wouldn’t just reach her father, it would reach Riverrun. Lord Grover Tully would punt the issue down to Elmo and the gods only know what would happen there. A man known for mischief, it sent a shudder through her. Considering this would be the third conflict in a moon's turn it wasn’t likely to be a light punishment. She had well and truly stepped in it now.

“Preposterous, are you going to admit to a crowd that I nearly bested you? Sad look for a sad house, I suppose it works.”

“I did say attempted.” He pushed the blade harder against her throat, causing her to push further back into him to avoid it.

“If anything you’ve attempted harm here, not me. I was minding my own business, when you attacked me.”

“Minding my business you mean. We knew someone was sneaking in to spy on us. Never dreamed it was a woman, tracks were covered too well.”

Shanda aggressively rolled her eyes at that.

“I wasn’t minding your anything, now unhand me and we can forget this entire ordeal.” She said suddenly very tired.

“Afraid I can’t do that darling, you’re a wanted criminal and my chance to win the argument you saw earlier.”

“You knew the whole time?” Her tone was incredulous and her hope for escape was waning by the moment.

“The tracks were covered well, but not well enough. Why do you think I was down there? The guards were disputing over your existence.”

If only she hadn't been caught! She could’ve been the Bracken ghost wreaking havoc on dumb guards. Now she made a deliberate grab for his sword. It was a stupid move, she couldn’t hope to pull it from its scabbard.

“Quit that, what are you…”

She was right in her assessment that it would distract him though and when his grip loosened she sprung into action. First she elbowed him as hard as possible in the chest, and slammed her head back into her captors. It should've been enough to make any man let go of her but the Blackwood heir didn’t budge. It was only when twisting and writhing away from him she managed to knee him hard in the groin that he fully let go of her. She grabbed her knife off the ground as his arms wrapped back around her, pulling her up. This time she made contact, a long slash traveling up his shoulder. When he gasped in pain, she’d heaved with all her might and tipped him off balance using her leg as lever.

They both fell into the thick mud underneath them. Legs and arms wrapped and fought against each other in a web so complicated she couldn’t separate herself from her assailant. She’d also lost her knife in the struggle and in an underhanded move, freed herself by rubbing mud in his eyes. She knew if he got his arms around her again it was over. She jumped to her feet and took off again, bursting through the trees and back into the pounding rain which had been patiently waiting for her. In the distance she heard a voice rise up.

“Make it your last!”

She had no intention of stopping now. When the stakes were so high and the reward so tantalizing. The heir on guard duty, maybe her father might see reason after all for a borderlands scout.

Pt.2

[herpsandbirds]

Hi, Paxon! Hope your Gulf Coast trip went well :)

Could you please explain the difference between snakes and legless lizards? And how you can tell the difference visually?

It was very nice! I had some lovely hikes with a lot of good fungi, and some cool birds.

AHA! Legless Lizards and Snakes:

(Here's something I wrote for the blog last year...)

Well, it can get complicated… some people consider snakes to be a distinct and varied group of legless lizards. Also, there are different groups of legless lizards that have different anatomies.

Here is the basic set of differences:

Snakes do not have ears in the way that other vertebrates do. They do not have ear openings on the head. (They can hear, however, using other methods.)

Most legless lizard groups have ears, and ear openings, but not all.

Snakes do not have functional eyelids, so they cannot close their eyes. (They instead have a clear ‘scale’ called the brille that covers and protects the eye. This most likely forms from the fusion of eyelids during embryonic development.)

Most legless lizards have eyelids, but not all.

Snakes have broad belly scales, used for locomotion, that legless lizards lack.

Snakes have forked tongues, and legless lizards do not (not in the same form anyways).

There are legless lizards in different families, such as Amphisbaenidae, Anguidae, Scincidae, and Pygopodidae.

The snakes are in the same order as lizards, the Squamata, but are in their own separate suborder called Serpentes.

There is some disagreement as to how to order the taxonomy or snakes and lizards within the order Squamata.

Cape Legless Skink (Acontias meleagris), family Scincidae, Western Cape, South Africa

Photograph by Tyrone Ping

Burton’s Legless Lizard (Lialis burtonis), family Pygopodidae, big Desert, South Australia

photograph by Matt Clancy Wildlife Photography

Broad-banded Copperhead (Agkistrodon laticinctus), family Viperidae, west central TX, USA

Venomous.

Formerly considered a sub-species of A. contrortrix.

This population was formerly called Trans-pecos Copperhead, which is no longer considered a valid taxon.

photograph by Haplochromis

[maxwell-grant]

The Penguin Episode 4: Cent'anni Breakdown

She goes through all these different levels of all these different personas: excellent daughter, overachiever, and this horrific feral state in Arkham. And it's not until the yellow dress that she finds the one that fits.

Kind of like sharks can't stop moving or they sink. It's that relentless pursuit of justice.

This changes her forever. She never comes back. Something so much bigger than her takes over in order to survive - Cristin Milioti

This was pointed out to me by my friend and, show of hands everyone, who else thinks it's unbelievably fucking sick that it is Sofia who gets to show up at the Falcone dinner table, wearing a thematically appropriate embodiment of her childhood trauma, and do a "None of you are safe" speech?

(Episode 1) (Episode 2) (Episode 3) (Episode 5) (Episode 6) (Episode 7) (Episode 8)

It probably felt odd to spend time with Sofia when we’re in a show called The Penguin. But I think it’s just as important so you can understand Oz psychologically. Even though I don’t view Oz as a hero or a villain, he is a greater villain in the show than anyone else. And for you to feel that way, I think you have to understand his primary antagonist more. And that’s Sofia.” - Lauren LeFranc

I gotta say I'm generally not enthusiastic about Penguin being depicted as overtly disgusting, like drooling and eating raw fish and all that Burton stuff (actually I do think the black bile is cool, but only so far as as that version goes), but for that opening scene, that was a spectacularly well-placed bit of grossness. Like this sheer craven animalistic ugliness of DeVito's Penguin descending for a second to show us how Sofia sees Oz, and even how right she is to do so at the moment because holy shit hahahahahaha

From what we can see of Sofia's pre-Arkham life, she was basically the Meadow Soprano of the family: The smart, overachieving golden child, whose social standing and eligitibility for leadership wouldn't even be up for debate if she was born a man like her loser brother (love AJ, relate uncomfortably to AJ, he's not at all morally comparable to Alberto, but he is very much a loser). Socially conscious and sticking up for victims but only if you don't poke too closely at her victim-generating family business, aware of some things but willfully blind to her own hypocrisy and insistent that daddy is still in average a good man who isn't as bad as people around her may say he is. I'd even say that the Sofia we see here is a more moral person than Meadow, although obviously being the daughter of Carmine Falcone is a much scarier, more isolating and horrific prospect than growing up the daughter of Tony Soprano (the ways in which the two Sopranos kids diverged and majorly prefigured American socio-political developments that kicked off after the show is a topic for another post).

(Also, I don't really want to bring up Sopranos comparisons because the shows are similar, they're really not, but I finished The Sopranos yesterday so they're gonna come up still)

I think Mark Strong does a really good job here filling in for John Turturro's role, even if he's not quite as good in it as Turturro. I think he plays the character differently in a way that works really well for this being a past version of Carmine, filtered through Sofia's vision. He is imposing and quiet and mighty, a lone titan of unquestionable power over the entire world, not even remotely someone to be defied or displeased. Turturro's Falcone was charismatic and affable and oozing with unspeakable yet casual cruelty, and I would have liked that here, but I like the idea that we're seeing a Carmine from before he was invincible, when he still needed Sofia to help him get Congressman Hill on the phone and still worried about the future of the family at Alberto's hands, a Carmine from when the Maronis were still around and he wasn't the sole ruling power in Gotham, who could still possibly lose even without vigilante intervention.

He is larger, more imposing, a stern and stoic father who had little use for pleasantries, and with no mirth to be had at the expense of the little people who think they can do anything against him that matters, even if he is getting there. I think the difference here adds a nice little arc to Carmine: there was a time where he needed to keep up appearences, there was a time where he raised his voice above a whisper to get things done, and there was a time where he wasn't the real mayor of Gotham. There was a time where he was a "proper" Don, when he acted like his comics counterpart, and none of that really became necessary over the following decade, when he grew more and more invincible and isolated and comfortable in this nightmare he made the city into.

They also confirm here that apparently the Iceberg Lounge/44 Below existed way back when Oz was just Sofia's driver, and it was already Carmine's prostitute slaughterhouse even then and Alberto knew about it. Possibly explains why Oz was handed the club in the first place, because the Falcones already called him Sofia's penguin and putting The Penguin in charge of the Iceberg Lounge would fit their idea of a laugh (and given how much Oz hates being called Penguin, he would hardly come up with the name himself)

Lmao, those dog comparisons I keep making really don't stop justifying themselves.

Credit again to Mike Marino and the prosthetics team for this younger Oz make-up, he strikes a very nice middleground between current Oz and the one we see as a kid.

Really like what we see of Sofia and Oz's dynamic here, again reinforcing that for all intents and purposes he was the sidekick in her HBO protagonist life. We see how Sofia likes his company and how she even kinda defends him from the family, but she really cannot bring herself to respect him very much and disdains him from the same very upper-class perspective the rest of the family does, she's just nicer about it. And in turn we see parts of where Oz's resentment to her comes from, and also the extent to which Oz was always lying in wait for an opportunity to get ahead regardless of her, his justified grievances as well as him being a conniving fuck. The really thin line this treads though, is that it establishes that neither of them were lying about how they meant something to each other, even if it doesn't help.

Sofia did have her life ruined partially because of Oz, she did endure horrific things while he got a promotion because he ratted her out to Carmine, and he very much did in part because he wanted to get ahead and saw an opportunity to do so. But also, Oz genuinely had no idea that this is what Carmine would do, and I think in large part this was also about keeping himself safe. It's not even that unbelievable that he was genuinely looking out for her, because holy shit you do not talk to the press about Carmine Falcone, daughter or not, and he tried warning her in the car before she rebuffed him and insulted him pretty deep for good measure. If Sofia talked to the press and would not stop talking (since he didn't know in the car that she rebuffed Gleeson) and shit started happening because of her snooping around, he would have absolutely gotten punished/murdered for it, it is not at all a stretch to assume that Carmine would have done something to Oz as punishment to Sofia.

Oz didn't plan any kind of misfortune, at no point did he mastermind her admission into Arkham (or even help keep her there with the letters, like the rest of the family), he just told Carmine something he shouldn't have, and neither of them expected anything too terrible was gonna come out of it. They both wildly underestimated what a complete scumbag Carmine is, but with Carmine (and the others) gone, there's nobody else to turn those grievances to.

Even if Oz could claim deniability for the Arkham thing, which he kinda can't but Sofia even tried to grant him anyway, he sure as shit can't for everything else he does in the opening minutes.

Oh hey it's Mr Mustache With The Broken Nose.

A thing that came to mind when I was watching the episode was the story of Rosemary Kennedy, JFK's sister whose father arranged for her to be institutionalized and lobotomized at age 23 as a reponse to "difficult" behavior. I'm not recounting it in more detail here because the rest of it is just too horrific, look it up yourself if you're curious. I remembered it because reading about Rosemary Kennedy ruined my fucking day and it still pumps up the breaks in my train of thought every now and then, so it came to mind watching this story about a young woman horrifically institutionalized and butchered for the sake of her wealthy family's image. Later I heard the podcast, and turns out that actually was exactly what Lauren LeFranc based Sofia's story on, which was nice. I'm glad it also fucks Lauren LeFranc up and that we both agree she should have gotten to wreak revenge on the entire family over it, thank you Penguin Show that continues to be made for me, this was nice.

Oh hey, Magpie. Just the name, yeah, but that was another nice surprise. I used to have a bit of a soft spot for Magpie, occasionally I thought there was something to get out of her and Penguin together, so a part of me likes that they put Magpie in The Penguin show even if just in name. Yes, she only exists to be annoying and die, but that's what she already tends to do anyway. And y'know, much as I may like her, she is still a John Byrne character, so she doesn't really deserve much more than that

Jesus Christ this episode gets uncomfortable.

I like that this establishes that Julian Rush kinda did make an effort to help her and kinda felt bad about it, but not nearly enough, and that he is very much a complicit contemptible creep who has it coming as much as any of the people who put Sofia in there.

Cannot state enough how much I appreciate that they didn't put any actual named Batman villains in the Arkham Asylum episode, guarantee a lot of creators would not resist the temptation. I mean okay I guess there is a Ventris already in Batman but, come on, you know who I mean. This did not need any references to like, Jeremiah Arkham or Jonathan Crane or Hugo Strange or any of that, and that's not a diss on any of those guys, it's just that unlike pretty much every other Batman story, this episode does not undercut it's point about the horrific institutional horrors dehumanizing and destroying Sofia by pinning it on a chief boogeyman supervillain that Batman is going to fight later. Dr. Ventris is not responsible for the systemic rot that got her there nor is he the sole orchestrator/perpetrator of the abuse it's inmates suffer, he simply answers to those, and thus perpetuates them, by doing his job in a mental institution.

I am still haunted by the inmate committing suicide with a fork. It is so fucked up that Sofia was tortured and goaded by the doctors into murdering another inmate, and when that failed, they tortured her again and again and again until she snapped. The whole point was to push Sofia beyond the breaking point to justify further incarceration. The doctors just standing there letting her kill Magpie.

I want Dr.Rush to die.

I have more thoughts on Arkham, but I'd call this the most horrific take on Arkham so far, because it is the most honest take on Arkham so far. Even at it's most run-down and monstrous, it is usually never at all into question that Arkham Asylum is necessary, because if it wasn't there, all the crazies would run rampant in Gotham. Over the years, it's monstrousness has always been tied directly and specifically to it's inmates, and whenever people have pointed out the shoddy conditions and inhospitable environment of Arkham as a factor for repeat offenders, it's pretty much always as a fandom joke outside of Batman stories proper, and if there is anything wrong with the way the Asylum works, it is always the fault of particularly evil villains attached. A Lock-Up, a Jeremiah Arkham, a Hugo Strange, etc. Arkham Asylum is in general a Batman concept that's raised a lot of discussions and calls for revision over the years, and a lot of the issues with it tie into larger issues around superhero depictions of the carceral system, that @artbyblastweave went into here.

Here, in large part because this is a realistic world and a Gotham without a rampaging supervillain contingent of repeat offenders who can magically break out constantly, it is never into question that the patients are the victims of this system, and if they are being turned into potential supervillains, it is because of Arkham inflicting this on them. This is an Arkham Asylum that remains a nightmarish, horrific force in this world, but not because it's Castle Dracula where all the crazy villains hang out, not even just because the rest of Gotham is hopelessly rotten and corrupt, but because it's a mental institution and depicted accordingly. It gets to dig into the real life horrors mental institutions inflict on it's patients without having to justify those measures as benign or necessary to keep crazy crimes from happening. Frankly, this take on Arkham Asylum has been long overdue.

In every form of Batman media, just about the worst thing that can happen at any given moment is Arkham Asylum falling and it's inmates escaping into the streets, that's generally what happens when Batman needs to deal with apocalyptic stakes (which is why of course it happens all the fucking time now). Here, that scenario would be regarded with cheer, because the worst thing that can happen in this universe is being sent to Arkham Asylum. It isn't just Batman's unofficial personal prison / punching gallery, if anything it massively raises the stakes on this Batman's next adventures, because now we know this is what's waiting for him if he gets caught and unmasked.

I like that Sofia and Oz are both trying to save/protect those they see as younger versions of themselves, while inflicting on them the kinds of tragedies that ultimately created them

Oz reached out to this poor disabled kid from the streets and is showing him the ropes, while also belittling him as a nobody and distorting his worldview and dragging him into life or death cornered scrapdog situations chipping away at his morals. Sofia saves her little niece who laughs at bad table manners and doesn't quite do what her family says, gently lulling her to sleep so she can kill her mom and her entire family.

Extremely important that Sofia Falcone makes her formal arrival as a villain by showing up dressed in a sexy yet fitting extension of her trauma / cultural reference (The Yellow Wallpaper / the walls in her mother's bedroom), before putting on a mask and enacting Gotham's first Mass Casualty Gas Attack, we love to see it.

I was frankly already calling Sofia one of my favorite Bat-villains even before this episode, I'm just glad everyone seems to be on the same page with me now. I'm seeing a lot of posts on Twitter and Instagram talking about how they're rooting for Sofia instead of Oz, that she deserves to win this war, and good, fucking amazing that they're doing this, again, this show is hitting home runs I could not have foreseen.

It is incredible what a character they've made out of Sofia, and the fact that we now see Oz as her antagonist as much as we see Sofia as his, and the fact that if Penguin wins, he will win this as a villain. He will steal a victory he does not deserve and rub it in your face and he will make the children of the world cry for it as any villain worth his name should be doing, and it frankly wouldn't be much of a fight if Sofia wasn't every bit the complicated, engaging protagonist he is. Lauren LeFranc claimed that she sees Sofia is the closest the show has to a hero even if she is not, and this is the episode that sold everyone on it.

Halfway through the show and it's only gotten better and better, can't wait for what's coming next.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Something fluffy and romantic with Cliff? Cookies if he survives the bus crash and the driver dies instead.

A/n: Cookies, now >:(

Warnings: Hospital setting with hospital stuff, Cliff is in the ICU

You heard all about it, the ice, the crash, most importantly your boyfriend Cliff. He'd fallen from the window of the bus and was crushed under it.

The call nearly broke you, James was panicked on not too clear as he spoke so that didn't help. There was an accident, Cliff had gotten crushed under the bus and was currently in the hospital, that's the most you could make of it.

It was too risky for him to get flown back home so the guys paid for you to get flown to Sweden. You were panicking the whole way but you had to see him, you had to make sure he was ok and you were going to be with him if he died, as much as you didn't want to think about it you needed him to know you were there with him.

You were restless on the flights and the ferry, the taxi three hour long taxi ride to the hospital. You had just one bag that carried all your things, that's all you brought.

You ran straight to the nurses station, breathing already heavy even though it wasn't that far far of a run. You hadn't even noticed the tears welling in your eyes.

"I-I'm looking for Cliff Burton?" You asked, desperation in your voice.

The nurse behind the counter sighed. "And who are you in relation to the patient?" She asked, sounding far more tired and annoyed than you could handle as tears started streaming down your face.

"I-I'm his-his partner? I-I came all the way here from L.A., please, just-just let me see him, I need to see him!" You pleaded, knees shaking under you. You hid your face in your hands, wanting to curl up back home in bed in Cliff's arms. You wanted it all to just go away.

A hand landed on your shoulder and you spun around to find Lars standing behind you. "He's fine, just in the ICU."

"That's not fucking fine, Lars." You bit, he rolled his eyes and started leading you down the hall to an elevator. Lars was happy to be your human punching bag, he understood your pain so he didn't mind if it came with a few harsh words. He was just happy you were here and he'd let you cry on his shoulder.

The bright lights that surrounded you hurt your head, the white walls and floor and ceiling mixed together as Lars led you down the maze of halls. You got to a part in the hall where women swarmed, all gathered with gifts and when they noticed Lars they ran to him, asking for information he didn't have or couldn't give out.

You struggled to get through the crowd, eventually getting pushed further back away from what was very evidently Cliff's room. You stood there, watching as these girls who didn't know your boyfriend tried desperately to love him in a way they couldn't.

Tears continued to fall from your eyes and you did your best to keep your sobs quiet.

The door to the room opened and you saw James push his way through the crowd, barking and nipping at the women to get lost as he made his way over to you, strong arms wrapping you up in a warm hug.

"It's ok, Cliff's fine." He assured, keeping his voice low in your ear. He held you tight, letting the compression comfort you. "Well, he's not fine, but... he's alive, doctors have high hopes."

You looked up at him and he brought a hand up to wipe away your tears. "Can I- can I see him?" You asked through sniffles and choked out sounds. James nodded and pulled you with him to the door, using his bigger body to get through the crowd of girls who he couldn't but glare at. Such a serious situation and they were treating it like a meet-and-greet.

You got through the doors and froze when you saw Cliff. The room was dazzled with flowers, on his bed tray he had some empty pudding cups along with a heart box of chocolates.

Cliff had tubes sticking out of him every which way, you tried not to look too closely but it was hard. You moved closer to him and he pulled you onto the bed the second you were within arm reach.

Cliff held you tightly to his chest, hissing at the pain it caused with his stitches and wires, it didn't matter, you were finally with him. "I missed you so much." He mumbled, pressing kisses all over you, wherever he could reach.

Your crying only got worse, you knew he was in pain, you knew you getting on the bed was painful, but you wanted to be selfish for a minute and Cliff didn't mind.

"I-I-I thought you-you were dead, Cliff!" You cried, body shaking with sobs. Cliff rubbed your back soothingly and nodded.

"I know you did, but I'm not! Isn't that great?" He asked, kissing the top of your head as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. "I'm alive, and when I'm better we're going back home and we're gonna get that perfect house, you hear me?" You gave a weak nod. "Good, now lighten up, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

"You kinda can't, there's a tube up your dick, Cliff." James muttered, looking over his friend with his arms crossed over his chest. He was tired, you could see it in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes at the blond and focused back on Cliff. "You don't get to scare me like that again." You said. "Better buses from now on, and you don't sleep by windows.

Cliff chuckled but nodded nonetheless. "Whatever you say, princess." He cooed, letting you relax against him, although he did have to adjust you so it wouldn't hurt him or pull out any of the stitches.

[pars-ley]

Title: I still want you (part one)

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

Summary: Legend has it that there's a being of nightmares residing in a dark castle deep within the woods. But...what if the man who roams those halls is not the monster he's made out to be?

Genre: fantasy au / cursed jimin / strangers to lovers / fated lovers / angst / fluff

Rating: 18+ (sfw) (part two will have smut)

Warnings: mentions and descriptions of demons / description of murdered character (not main character) / talk of curses and spells / really insecure Jimin / 

Word count: 7.3k

Banner: @caelesjjk is the G.O.A.T for this perfect banner 

Moodboard: Me

Beta: @anyamaris @colormepurplex2 @heathfritillary thank you so much for all of your help, suggestions and endless cheers for this!!!

Authors notes: for @ksmutsociety ’s ‘the velvet vault’ event with the prompt dark academia. Inspired by “the truth untold” song, mixed with Beauty and the Beast meets Tim Burton. The poem at the end was written by the wonderful @colormepurplex2 thank you so much.

My playlist:

The truth untold - BTS

Who - Jimin

Not by the moon - Got 7

Dopamine - Jackson Wang

Like crazy - Jimin

Scene one

Hearing tales about this infamous garden is one thing, but seeing it before you, that is something else entirely. 

Your eyes must be deceiving you, for such beauty couldn't exist in just one place; especially within this dark, cruel town. 

People here have long given up on happiness, love, even decency. With more magical creatures being discovered and invading the town, some wreaking havoc and others spreading fear like wildfire, a lot of people feel trapped here. 

You, being one of them. 

Living a life constantly looking over your shoulder is not ideal but it is something you have come to accept. Especially after the death of your mother, which has shaped you into a much more vigilant adult.

One evening, she didn't make it home before the darkness blanketed the sky, your mind raced throughout the night, until first light peeked through the trees and illuminated your answers.

Her lifeless body strung up in the centre of town, by those demonic, soulless beings, hung for everyone to view and gawk at. The image still haunts you almost four summers on and so does the comprehension behind her death.

Your mother had been a powerful enchantress, having regular visions that, more often than not, came true. She could charm objects with magic to bring a variety of privileges; protection, love, knowledge, luck, anything to help ease the wickedness of the world. She made potions from the plants that grew on our windowsill, all medicinal and all made with heartfelt care. 

All of this made her more capable of protecting herself than anyone in this town and yet, she still ended up dead. 

Her dagger, laced with a protection spell, had still been tied tightly to her thigh, not even an attempt to be taken out of the harness. Had she even had the chance to try? 

You had removed it from her lifeless body and kept it close to you ever since. 

You did not know what she had been doing in the woods, or what kept her out so late on that fateful day, but you knew that whatever it was, surely involved magic. If she pushed herself too hard with spells, she lost too much energy and wasn't able to use more if needed. 

The questions around her death have plagued you ever since. 

Here in the garden, however, you feel an odd sense of peace, something you haven't felt in a long time. However reckless it may be for you to enter, you slowly open the unlocked gate. The loud creaking of the hinges makes you pause, frozen in panic while you scan your surroundings. Your hand moves to your mother's dagger that now resides hidden under your skirt, tied to your outer thigh with a makeshift holster.

When nothing moves or makes a sound in return, you slide yourself in through the small gap and step onto the stone pathway.

The smell hits you like an ocean breeze; intoxicating fragrances swirl around you, trapping you in a cage of flowers. One that you would gladly lock yourself into.

Your feet seem to move of their own accord as you stroll through the abundance of colourful flowers, softly skating your fingers along velvet petals with a ghostly touch.

As you walk, a little basket full of berries in hand, you realise how much lighter you felt, as if you were lifted on a floating cloud, carrying you along in the wind. Your aching heart felt calmed; soothed just by being in here. 

The variation of flowers is unlike anything you'd seen, every colour you could think of in so many shapes and sizes it is hard to fathom them all. But it’s the white rose bush in the centre of the garden that catches your eye and draws you in further. As you had given in and succumbed to the temptation, trespassing onto the grounds of the large, ornate castle your town spoke about frequently. The fear and the guilt, however, had left you as soon as you entered. 

In closing the distance between you and the rose bush, you also edge much closer to the tall, round tower that stands alongside it. Surrounded by a wildflower floral blanket and yet, the dark, unwelcome castle looks out of place in all this beauty, and a shiver cascades through you. 

Unsure if your mind is playing tricks, you glance up at the windows, searching for any sign of the eyes you can suddenly feel upon you. Every part of the castle seems thick with shadows, empty and un-lived in. But you have heard many rumours of the man within. A twisted man who stays hidden away inside, so grotesque and sinister he hides from the world. Many stories shrouded in mystery, kept the village alight with curiosity, but all of them had the same message. 

Stay away from the castle.

Maybe you are a fool for coming here, although searching for the reality from the tales was not your initial intention, but admittedly, you are surprised by your surroundings. It’s as if two different worlds coexist within the outer walls.

A garden so beautiful it wouldn't be unbelievable to see cherubs and angels holding hands and dancing around the shrubs, but with the backdrop of a dark, secret dwelling housing an angry beast.

Seeing no movement or signs of life in the many windows, you continue on your venture.

Your footsteps make no sound as you tiptoe carefully across the grass to the roses.

Such a simple flower but your unmatched favourite.

White roses remind you of your mother, a delicate, breathtaking woman who stood out everywhere she went, but with a natural, understated beauty. 

Leaning down to deeply inhale the familiar scent, the promise of satin petals on your fingertips grew too much as you reached out to touch one. Your fingers glide like silk along the curled edges, tiny dew drops still inside from the morning's breath.

What you wouldn't give to just have one of these roses in your pitiful garden, but it would be too out of place and unbelonging. Much like yourself in this garden.

Placing your basket on the ground beside you and kneeling down to the bush, you want nothing more than to crawl inside its stemmed cage and stay there. 

The sounds of birds chirping echo around you, as the orange afternoon sun breaks through the clouds, glowing and warming your skin slightly. Angling your face up to it and enjoying the feeling on your skin, you sit humming peacefully to yourself.

The sudden sound of a gasp from above silences you. Your eyes fly open and your head snaps up sharply to an open window on the first floor of the tower.

You manage to catch a glimpse of someone before they retreat out of sight and back into the shadow. You bolt upright to stand, frozen in place. Your eyes remain fixed in the same spot, looking for any sign of movement. The ability to call out is swallowed by fear in your throat, and so you stay silent and unmoving for what feels like an eternity before half a face peers out at you from behind the window frame. 

There were many tales of the grotesque character that resides within these walls, but no mention of a man so breathtaking he could be a fairytale prince. 

Perfect skin that glows in the peachy sunlight and smooth, plump lips that could make the beautiful roses in front of you envious beyond measure. The one visible dark eye, a hidden jewel in a cave of wonders, widens briefly as he meets your gaze before quickly retreating back into concealment.

"Hello?" you call out softly, finding your voice but not wanting to startle him further. "I'm sorry for intruding, but your garden is so beautiful I had to see it for myself.”

Silence.

Worrying you've made a grave mistake, you're about to turn away and leave for fear that your presence is not welcome, when a shy and yet alluring voice sounds; echoing around you.

"Please, stay and enjoy it."

Turning back up to the window, your eyes find his half-form, noticing his ivory knuckles as he clings to the window frame as if forcing himself in place.

“Thank you.” You nod and sit on the grass once again, your skirt billowing out around you. Your eyes remain stuck on his statuesque stance.

“I had no idea anyone actually lived here,” you say into the thick silence, your voice echoing across the empty grounds.

The one eye of his that you can see darts around at the woodland area beyond the walls before returning to you. Not even a whisper of a response, and so, you continue to try to find out more.

"Are you alone?" you ask, eyes roving around the castle windows once again, waiting for the beast you've heard so much about to appear.

He nods. “I've been here for many years.” He finally speaks up, but with wavering hesitance you can hear as his voice trembles.

Your brow furrows as you try to piece together this puzzle in your mind. 

What could this man have done to warrant such hostile tales being told about him, or is it simply because he hides himself away that the townsfolk fear him?

He doesn't look much older than you, if he had ventured into your town you would remember him. You can't help your curiosity. “Why have I never seen you?” you question innocently.

You're not certain, but it seems as if he grimaces, shrugging into the shadows for a brief moment. “I don't really venture out much.”

How lonely he must be. Alone, in such a vast castle, hiding himself away, what a sad existence.

You are in no position to talk about anyone else's existence, as you're not exactly jumping for joy about yours, either.

Shrugging those thoughts away, you realise how impolite you're being, especially after breaking into someone else's garden and you introduce yourself.

His cheek reddens as he stammers out, “I-I’m Jimin, P-park Jimin.” 

Unable to help the smile that stretches across your mouth from this endearing, timid man, you reply, “It's nice to meet you, Jimin.”

A furious blush spreads to his hairline and down his neck, a sight that not only intrigues you but warms your chest, too. Your gaze stays locked on the sight until you see his eye drift out, looking over at the expanse beyond the castle.

“The sun sets, you should not be out in the woods during darkness.”

His warning is apt and true, you know that better than anyone. Since the world of magic had taken over, nighttime is when the most demonic creatures come out to do their bidding.

Glancing back towards the gate, you know you should leave, your head screams at you to go, but something else pulls you to stay.

Almost as if he senses your hesitancy, he asks, "Will you come back again?”

A strange tightness pulls across your chest, a feeling you've never experienced before. "Would you like me to?"

"Yes," he responds, nodding eagerly, and with that one-word answer, your mind is made up.

“I can return tomorrow?” you suggest bravely, hoping you're not overstepping his boundaries, but pleasantly discover the opposite, with a half smile so breathtaking you're almost blinded.

“Tomorrow it is, then,” he says simply, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. 

A distant cackle snatches your attention away, a stark contrast to the sound of his melodic voice. You collect your basket and whisk yourself away, out of the garden and into the dusky woods, leaving just as quietly as you entered and running home as fast as you could before nightfall envelopes you. 

Before all the monsters come out to play with the mere mortals, unable to resist their sadistic and seductive ways.

That night, you lie in bed, listening to the havoc created outside around you but unable to stop thinking of Jimin.

Seeming so meek and sweet you wonder what he's doing there all alone. Why do the village tales only ever speak of a monster who hides within the castle and not angels who could be guarding it?

He seems so desperate for company and yet, so afraid at the same time. Questions race in your mind, unable to silence them as you wonder about his story.

Who is he? Why is he in that castle all alone and hiding from the world?

You’re consumed with him until sleep takes over, and instead of the usual terror that frequently haunts your dreams, you are visited by the beautiful man in the dark tower.

Scene two

The following day, before the noon sun reaches its highest peak in the sky, you begin the journey to the castle in the woods. 

Your feet seem to move of their own accord, faster than usual, with nothing but the image of the mysterious man from the tower in your mind.

The gate creaks open as you push through it, and your eyes go straight to the tower window. 

You're met with only darkness. 

Stepping quietly into the garden, you make your way to the rose bush, bringing you directly in sight of the window. That's when you notice them. 

A bunch of five white roses, tied together with a pale pink ribbon, lay on the grass in front of the bush, the stems perfectly trimmed and now beautifully symmetrical. Gently, you skate your fingers lightly over the petals. 

“Do you like them?” a soft voice sounds from above.

Your mouth pulls into a smile upon hearing his gentle tone echo around you, comforting you in an unfamiliar embrace. Although, he'd conquered your waking and sleeping thoughts since your meeting yesterday, you had not done his angelic voice justice in your mind.

You turn to greet him. “I do. Are they for me?”

Half peering out at you like before, he nods, his left cheek glowing pinkly in the sunshine.

“Thank you. I will cherish having a part of your beautiful garden in my home.”

He beams at your words and hides even more of his face further behind the wall. “They will protect you from evil.” 

Glancing down at the flowers in your hand, you notice nothing out of the ordinary and wonder what he could possibly mean. “How so?”

“M-magic,” he whispers, although even that seems to echo into the silence around you.

A bird flies out of a tree nearby, squeaking loudly, and you both look over to it. The atmosphere seems to change by the mere mention of the word. Magic. Most folks tend to stay well away from anything involving that. It wasn't easily accessible or cheap to purchase, which leads you to wonder how this could be possible. 

“Are you a sorcerer?” you ask, pondering the idea.

He laughs, “Unfortunately not. I was given some seeds bewitched with a spell from an enchantress. No evil can enter this garden or my home while these flowers grow here.”

Mulling that over, you stroke the petals of the flowers in your hand, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia. His words are like a blast into your past, making you miss your mother’s magic, something that, unfortunately, does not come as naturally to you. 

So, as long as you have these, you will be safe from the evil that roams in the dark blanket of night. Relief fills you, alongside a hope you thought was lost long ago. 

“Thank you, this is a very kind gift.” Smiling up at him, you set the flowers back down on the ground. “Speaking of gifts, I also have one for you.” Squatting down to your basket, you lift the handkerchief off to reveal the fresh loaf of bread, the mouth-watering smell hits you, but you ignore it. “I baked this loaf for you this morning; it's still warm.”

He stares down at you, still half hiding but trying to get a better view into the basket. “F-for me?”

You nod. “Would you like me to bring it to the door?”

The silence stretches on, as his eyes bounce around the garden, looking everywhere but at you. Instantly, you panic that you've made him uncomfortable, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth and quickly, you interject, “I could just leave it in the doorway, and you can collect it when you like.”

Waiting for what feels like an eternity for a response, your feet welded awkwardly to the ground, until you hear him let out a heavy sigh. “N-no, wait by the door, I'll just be a moment,” he replies quietly, as he whisks himself away back into the shadows of the tower.

Heading in the direction of the large main doors into the castle, walking slowly along the pathway through the garden, your heart beats hard within your chest, the sound echoing in your ears, and possibly loud enough to be heard on these grounds.

Slowly, you ascend the steps and wait in the large arched doorway. The wooden doors are old and carved with grotesque faces. Leaning closer, they look to have been carved crudely and without care, seemingly having been placed out of anger or fear instead.

The sound of the wood creaking makes you jump, as the door opens just enough for you to place your basket through it. An elegant hand comes out to greet you and as you place the basket handle in it, your fingertips graze his. A vision hits.

A scene playing out before your eyes.

Images flash quickly in your mind. All of you and him. A hooded Jimin. 

At first, they start off with smiles and light touches before evolving into passionate nights and warm embraces. A heat cascades through your body that you've never experienced, your face feeling aflame under his hesitant, one-eyed gaze.

“Is everything ok?” he asks, concern etched in his furrowed brow. 

Swallowing hard, you nod. “I'm fine.”

You do not wish to tell this stranger about your own powers of clairvoyance. If the wrong person knew, you would be punished and left outside at night for the demons. Besides, you need to determine the meaning behind this vision first, unlike any other you've had before, they are very rarely about you.

“Thank you,” he whispers, snapping you out of your thoughts as he begins to withdraw.

“Wait,” you say urgently, “won't you come and walk with me? It's a beautiful day, and I would love a tour of the garden.”

Your eyes search the dark gap in the opening, but are unable to find anything.

“I can't.” His voice is barely audible.

“I would like it very much, if you would join me,” you ask again gently, but not wanting to push or make him uncomfortable.

“No, you wouldn't, not when you see me.” The sadness in his voice makes your chest tight.

“Jimin, I don't care what you look like,” you stress, “I do, however, want to enjoy your garden, it would be a shame if I can't have the person who created such a paradise show it to me.”

You're met with only silence until you hear a long, sad sigh from inside. “I'm sorry, I can't. Please enjoy it, I need to return to my tower.”

Before you have a chance to respond, the door is closed, and you're left longing to get to know the man who could be your future.

Scene three

Several sunsets pass, each day involving a visit to Jimin’s garden where you spend your time sitting in the floral atmosphere, letting the calmness wash over you and enjoying the sun on your face. 

He stays up in his tower, watching, while the two of you speak endlessly. Exchanging tales of your childhoods, memories you’d long forgotten coming to the forefront of your mind and escaping past your lips. 

You explain your love of drawing, anything you see beauty in, which nowadays isn’t much, so you drew your memories and your mother. 

He expresses his love of poetry, often reading by the fire every night before bed, sometimes writing his own. Whenever there’s silence it is never uncomfortable, just more time to sit and enjoy each other's company.

You discover he’s an author, having written many stories of his own. He gifted you three of his books to read after you had begged to know his writing; embarrassing him and turning his cheeks pink until he agreed.

His way with words is like nothing you have known before. Every sentence enters through you and embeds itself in your soul. Every word is a caress to your heart, feeling his poetic prose touch places inside you never knew existed. 

It inspires you. 

Before you can process the thought, you reach for your last bit of charcoal and let all your emotions illustrate the page, continuing on until the morning.

As soon as the sun appears over the hill beyond the view from your window, you get ready and leave, bringing your picture rolled up and tied with the same pale pink ribbon that bound your magic, undying roses.

You can’t wait to gift him a piece of your art, and if you were honest, a piece of your heart. No feeling could describe the way your entire body felt fit to burst, with the way this man made you feel. Your heart previously only beating out of necessity rather than desire. Skipping through the gate to your usual spot, you call out, “Jimin!” 

Your heart pounds wildly inside you in a rhythm that is a personalised symphony just for him. You wait only a moment before he appears, smiling out at you.

“Someone is up bright and early today,” he remarks joyfully.

Seeing him, you’re always taken aback by how your memories have not done him justice at all, especially in the bright first light of morning, his flawless skin illuminated gold from the rising sun.

“I have not yet been to bed.” You laugh.

Worry creases his brow. “Whyever not? Is everything alright?”

Holding your hands up to calm his concerns, you add, “Everything’s fine, better than fine, actually.” Your feet begin to pace in circles around the white rose bush. “When I finished your books I-”

“You finished all of them? Already?” he interrupts, bewildered.

Nodding, you continue on, “How could I not? Jimin, they’re beautiful.” 

His entire face reddens before he shields it with his hood, the sight makes you flustered in a way that surprises you. Making your own skin feel hot, even on this chilly morning.

Clearing your throat and swallowing to try and ease the tightness you feel, you pull your scroll out of your basket and hold it up to him. “Now, it is my turn to give something that lasts longer than a loaf of bread.”

He peeks out from his hood, eyes widening with curiosity.

“Can I?” you ask, pointing to the main wooden doors.

He hesitates briefly. “Give me a moment.”

Rushing to the entrance, almost tripping up the steps in your impatience, you wait, fiddling with your skirt nervously. When the heavy door creaks open, your heart deafens your ears, the erratic beating the only sound you can hear momentarily. You place the scroll through the gap in the doorway and watch as his slender hand comes out to take it gently from yours, his half-face appearing from the shadows.

He pulls the bowed ribbon and you watch as it falls silently to the ground. When he unrolls your parchment your eyes remain fixed to him, observing his reaction. Watching as his apprehension turns to astonishment has your heart singing with relief. His fingers reach out, kissing the paper briefly. He stutters, then stops, words disappearing into the thin air, the breeze carrying them away. 

His cheeks turn scarlet again and you watch as his eyes take in the close proximity of the two of you sketched out on the paper. Inspired by the many emotions that have been building a slow crescendo inside you for the past few weeks of being in his company. You let a story of your own play out on the page, one full of hope.

The two of you; surrounded by fragrant blooms with his tower far in the distance. Your hands entwined, with your eyes on him as he looks out of the page, hood up covering half his face in shadow.

“I-it’s beautiful,” he whispers, eyes not wavering from the picture clasped tightly in his grip. “You are very talented.”

It seems to be your turn to blush now, as you glance away shyly, mumbling a thank you. 

“I will frame this and hang it in my bedroom, so I can look at it every day.”

This makes your heart soar. 

“Jimin?” you speak up hesitantly, not wanting to spoil his mood or ruin the moment but unable to restrain from asking again. 

He meets your eyes then, “Yes?”

“Will you please accompany me in the garden today?”

His brow furrows, expression pained as he looks back down at the picture and returns his gaze to your face. Just when hope starts to fade, he sighs and nods. “Just a moment.”

Your heart jumps gleefully, rattling your chest like a caged animal desperate to escape and be reunited with its owner.

The door closes for a few minutes and, just when you think he's changed his mind, disappointment seeping in, it opens again.

Hesitantly, he steps out. His hood is pulled up over his head, as he’s focused solely on the ground, casting his whole face in darkness. You are desperate to see him, his pillowy lips and crescent moon eyes.

Slowly, you reach out and entwine your hand with his, slotting perfectly together. He stills briefly before squeezing yours in return. That confirmation is all you need. Closing the small amount of space between you and cupping half of his face, you whisper, “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he does so. You’re surprised to see his visible eye watery with tears, almost brimming over the edge, and your heart breaks. Unable to stop yourself, you wrap him in your arms and hold him tightly, cradling him close to your body. His scent swirls around you, taking over your senses and replacing the floral scent of the garden; fresh, clean and woody. Alluring in the most intense way. 

His arms wind around your waist hesitantly, and when you feel him relax in your embrace, you, too, feel the swell of emotion inside. While he had not yet spoken of what had happened to him in the past, you were hoping that one day he would trust you enough to tell you his story. Who knows, today might be the day of many firsts for you both.

Scene four

Walking hand in hand, followed with sounds of the chirping birds surrounding you through Jimin’s garden, is something you didn’t realise how much you craved, until you were doing it. 

Having his hand in yours feels like a dream, after so long of waiting for this bridge between you to be crossed; unable to keep the smile off your face as you tread carefully through the grounds.

It wasn’t until this day you realised you had seen only a part of this estate. Jimin leads you through a walkway enclosed with tall rose bushes, surrounding you in a floral cage. 

“Did you make this yourself?” you ask, admiring the wicker trellis.

He nods shyly, glancing slightly across at you. 

You are in your element here. The days spent with him are your brightest and most enjoyed, but when the walkway ends the sight that greets you has your mouth hanging open in shock. 

“Jimin,” you gasp, “this is beautiful.”

Your eyes scour your surroundings. A beautiful pond covered with lily pads and pink water lilies, is encircled by large rocks and such a variety of vibrant flowers a rainbow would be envious of the colours.

“Shall we dip our feet?” you ask, childlike excitement evident on the wide-eyed look you give him. He smiles, unable to stop, but you can sense his slight hesitation. Pulling his arm, you lead him to the edge of the water where you slip off your shoes. Sitting on the stone ledge, you gently pull him down to you. Obeying your request, he timidly joins. The water is cold as you dip your toes and as you look down into it, you’re surprised by how clean it looks; able to see right down to the bottom and the fish residing there.

“You must be in this garden all the time?” you ask, stroking his hand with your thumb.

“I used to, before…” He stops himself, and you can feel him tense beside you, turning his head away slightly.

“Hey, it’s ok. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

A frustrated breath leaves him, his head hanging in defeat. “I do want to. I want to tell you everything,” he admits, “but I must confess, I’m not used to being around other people.”

That much you had gathered, but hearing it breaks your heart just the same.

“And,” he continues, “I have never been as close to anyone as I am with you.” He glances at you then, attempting to gauge your reaction.

Smiling, your cheeks warm from such an admission, you toy with the words you should use to respond. “I’m glad to hear that, Jimin. I can assure you, the way you feel is very much reciprocated.”

He scoffs, and the sound confuses you as you attempt to find his eyes within the darkness of the hood, but to no avail. His head hangs low. “I think you underestimate my words.”

Frowning, you grasp at what he could mean by this, and panic sets in, thinking you may have the wrong idea about the direction your relationship is heading.

“I don’t expect you to mirror my feelings and believe me, you are under no obligation to keep coming here, I do not want your pity.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Jimin, I do not pity you. I’m here because I want to be.”

He finally meets your eyes, desperately searching yours. “Really?”

Taking his hand and placing it on your chest and over your pounding heart, you say, “I have never known anyone like you. Someone so…” You search for the right wording, wishing you were capable of his prose, “fascinating. You are truly an enigma to me that I'm more than happy to keep trying to figure out.”

He looks out at the water, the sunlight highlighting the pink glow of his cheeks. 

“I come here because I want to spend time with you. I wake up and look forward to seeing you everyday and I will continue to come here until you are bored of my company and turn me away,” you add teasingly, but a real fear lies underneath somewhere. You silence it by looking at your hand still wrapped with his.

He laughs, “You will never have to worry about that, I could never tire of your company, you mean far too much to me.”

Your chest tightens with an emotion you cannot hide as you lean your head on his shoulder. He moves taut under your action, but quicker than you could imagine, he softens under your touch and leans his head atop of yours. You sit there for what feels like hours, talking and basking in the warmth of the late afternoon sun until the skin of your feet turns pruned and your stomach grumbles, breaking another comfortable silence. It is only when a demonic screech echoes from the woods outside of the walls, do you realise the time. 

Jumping up, water splashing as you do, you look at the setting sun and gasp. “Oh, no.”

The darkness has begun and you will not have enough time to make it home. Images of your mother’s lifeless form haunt your mind briefly before you force them away.

Jimin is up and at your side in a flash, arm cradling your shoulders. “It's ok. You're safe here,” he says gently, rubbing one of your arms with his thumb. The action soothes you and brings you comfort. “Come, you can stay with me tonight, I have many rooms.”

You relax slightly in his embrace and find yourself sinking into the crook under his arm, relishing in the close contact you've been craving. He pulls you closer, a firm grip around you and pins you to his side. 

Your arm ventures under his cloak and winds around his waist, holding yourself against him.

Glancing up, he's already smiling down at you and you can't stop the blush that heats your entire face.

You both head back towards the castle, you nestled against him as the darkness slowly envelopes you. When you head up the stone steps to the castle, nerves turn in your stomach, the realisation of spending the night in his home dawning on you. 

Watching the doors close, shutting out the night and the chaotic noise from outside, you sigh to yourself, feeling surprisingly at home with his warmth and presence by your side.

Scene five

The tour of the castle is long but riveting. So many rooms to explore, and he shows you every single one. Pointing out various art pieces handed down from his parents, endless novels in the library, and even an old dungeon below, unused and dusty.

He discloses that his father had died when he was little, too young to remember him, but that he has a portrait of him in his mother's bedroom he often looks at. His mother had passed away when he was fifteen, after becoming ill during a harsh winter and grew too weak to recover. He has been alone ever since. Your heart aches for him. To have been alone since then must have been truly isolating, but you could relate to him in more ways than you care to admit.

You share your story of your beautiful mother, enchanting to everyone who knew her, who had been killed by the demons just after your 18th birthday. A father who you have never known and, as far as you had been told, had never been in the picture. All you knew about him was that he was a sailor and from what your mother expressed, was more in love with the sea than her. 

You learnt not to ask questions about him as it only made her sad and distant.

Your shared experience with loss and loneliness cements your bond further as he shows you the room you could sleep in, adjacent to his.

“You will be safe here. I will be right across the hall if you need me at all.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand as your fingers stay entwined the entire route through the castle.

“Jimin?” you interject.

He looks over at you, hood still pulled over, casting half his face in shadow.

“Will you take this off?” you ask, fingering the soft velvet of his cloak.

He stares at you but his eyes soon turn distant as a frown furrows deep in his brow, a scene playing out in his mind that you are not privy to. “I cannot let you see,” he whispers.

You turn him to face you, cupping his visible cheek in your hand. “I promise you, Jimin, it will not change how I feel about you.”

He laughs sadly, “It will.”

“Park Jimin, are you calling me shallow?” raising an eyebrow, you challenge him.

He simply shakes his head. “I'm a monster. You shouldn't even be wasting your time here with me.”

“You could never be a monster, your soul is far too pure and good.” 

Slowly leaning up on your tiptoes, you place a chaste kiss against his cheek. “Please, don't hide from me anymore,” you beg.

His eye widens from the touch of your lips and he can't help but turn towards you, focused on your mouth. When his hand comes up to stroke your hair, you lean into his touch and before you know it, your lips are connected. Heat races through you, making your limbs move without thought, hands sliding inside his hood and around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you.

His arm winds around your waist as he moans into the kiss, desire and love vibrating through you. His soft, pillowy lips mould to yours, moving with fierce determination as your back suddenly meets the doorframe of your bedroom. His hands slide up your spine, pinning you against him. You luxuriate at the feeling of the strong muscles of his body pressed against you.

Wrapped up in his scent, with the feeling of his mouth on yours and his hands embracing you so tightly, your bosom grows with the love your heart has housed for him, still expanding tightly inside you.

You pull away slightly only to gasp for air, and that's when you notice his fallen hood. His body stills when your eyes connect and you see the panic in them, but before he can move, you grab his hands and entwine your fingers with his.

“I hope you are planning on kissing me again, because I don't plan on moving just yet?”

He doesn't respond, but his gaze drifts to your lips and you can see the conflict in his eyes, between running away and giving into temptation.

Detangling your fingers from his, you cup his face with both hands, your thumb strokes the puckered skin on one side of his face. The scars appear like burns, covering one side of him, marring one eye so bad he could barely see out of it. Your fingers go to his thin hair on that side, patches of it missing beneath your fingertips, he looks down and away from you but you steer him back.

“This doesn't change anything, Jimin. You're still the most beautiful man I've encountered.” 

His eyes flit from each of yours, tears brimming the edges, searching for truth within them.

“I would like you to kiss me again,” you say, your voice thick with want, “please.”

Leaning in slowly, he surrenders to your request, pressing his mouth against you once more.

Scene six

When your desire subsides somewhat and your head clears, the two of you manage to part from each other, your growling stomach interrupting the shy silence.

“Shall we eat?” he asks, before taking your hand and leading you down to the kitchen. 

Sitting at the table, you watch in awe as he prepares fresh tomato soup to go with the second loaf you had given him yesterday on your visit. All vegetables grown in his garden and picked by him.

You eat together in silence, exchanging flirtatious and sometimes shy smiles. When your stomachs are full, with night truly closed in, he lights a fire in the drawing room, closes the curtains, and beckons you to join him on the fur rug. 

Watching him in the orange light of the fire, you feel overwhelmed with need. The need to be close to him, the need to take care of him and protect him, even the need to claim him, something you have never felt before. 

“Will you read to me?” you ask, as you join him.

“If that is what you wish of me, then of course.” He grins, and you get lost in it for a moment. The way his two front teeth slightly overlap, his eyes narrowing and his cheeks rounding, everything about him draws you further into the opening blossom of love. 

“May I lay on you?” you ask, pointing to his lap.

He stares at you hesitantly for a moment, before nodding and moving his hands out of your way.

Positioning yourself comfortably on the rug, you lay your head on his legs, feeling the way he tenses slightly from the action but soon relaxes under you.

His hand lingers by your hair indecisively before he pushes any apprehension away and plays with the strands loosely between his fingers. “What would you like me to read?” his voice whispers pleasantly above the crackling firewood. 

“Something you've written.”

“Would you like to hear the poem I wrote for you?”

Your heart soars, hammering wildly in your chest. “You wrote something for me?”

“Hmm-mm.”

You nod frantically, nerves suddenly drying your mouth and rendering you speechless.

He clears his throat quietly and starts,

“In the quiet din of morning's light,

You creep silent and curious into my domain,

An alluring spectre; a breathtaking sight,

Welcomed like that first sweet kiss of spring rain.

The roses bend to catch your gaze,

And the dainty lilies stretch in quiet grace,

As if the garden, in silent praise,

Seeks to beholden the awe of your face.

Your fingers brush the leaves so light,

A touch that makes the greenery hum,

Like a velvety kiss of soft delight,

Or warmth from the day to come.

You pause to take in your fill,

Ivy curling in lazy spirals at your feet,

And for a moment, time stands still,

Even the songbirds pause their larking for a beat.

I watch you, quiet like a shade,

As you explore the blooms beyond my window,

Careless and free, with no mind paid,

Like a beacon of light against unrelenting shadow.

With every glance, you draw me near,

But still I keep my secret held tight,

Afraid you’ll flee if you could hear,

The pain that shapes my heart at night.

Yet in your eyes, I see a spark,

A light that calls to me, calm and clear,

A love that could find me in the dark,

And chase away my most crippling fear.

I wear this pain, my broken mask,

Staying hidden within my castle walls,

But it's in your warmth and light that I wish to bask,

A blue flower in your garden; no longer a ghost of these hallowed halls.”

A wet trail down your cheek spills onto his trousers, a swell of emotion that you could no longer contain. His angelic voice quoting such beautiful prose from memory creates a whirlwind of feelings inside you. Seeing yourself through his eyes and hearing his feelings, so raw and open, moves you in ways you could never have imagined. 

You feel beautiful and emboldened. 

Sitting up, your eyes meet. He smiles sweetly when he sees your tears and gently wipes them away with his thumb. Pressing your lips to his, the inability to stand the distance between you any longer overwhelms you. 

As he holds you in his arms and you lose yourself in the kiss. A vision snaps behind your eyes, removing you from the moment entirely. Unlike the first one, full of love and happiness, this one freezes the blood in your veins and stops it cold as you take in every detail of the horror behind your eyes.

Fire wilts the flowers in the garden, petals curling and turning to ash. Orange light blinding and thick smoke choking, tightening your heaving chest. Demons running rampant through the grounds as you wander unsteadily to find him. And when you do, everything else around you ceases to exist, as your heart splits inside you.

Jimin's lifeless body, upturned and suspended from the tower.

[evandorkin]

Hello Mr. Dorkin, you're awesome. I wanted to express appreciation for your creations- they helped ignite my passion for drawing again! Also, I found it incredibly meaningful that you use your platform on bluesky to advocate for human rights.

Alright, segue, here it comes, another Elting ask.. Can you see the Eltingdudes ever being friends with a trans dude if he had the same interests? I hope you aren't tired of all the Eltingville attention. Thanks for taking the time to read and tell winky a stranger said yo-ho!

Only Jerry would be a human being about it, open to being friends with anyone. The others are already unable to deal with straight cis people, or anything "real" having to do with sexuality or gender, and iirc in the epilogue Bill says something very shitty about a cosplayer which is based on a real incident at a NYC convention many years ago, where some industry people were all over a Catwoman cosplayer from the Burton movie -- until they found out it was a guy. The Eltingville Club does not reflect my own attitudes. We agree about Godzilla and comic books being cool but not about all the toxic stuff. (Also, Winky is asleep but I'll give her a few pets for you later).