#he is the spooky season embodiment

[raffinthebox]

Back again to introduce you to the last member of the party, played by my friend and angst expert @thesilvanghost:

Aldebaran Crumblepie (he/him) 3rd year Ravenclaw

Campaign: A day at Hogwarts Mastered by: @all-unwoven

[tbaluver]

Spending Halloween With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre/ tags: fluff, slightly silly, might be ooc maybe a/n: hi everyone! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა happy halloween! are any of you all dressing up? :o what are you guys plans! lmk <3 i apologize if im late i know it might not even be halloween for some of you when i post this but i hope you still enjoy ! if you don't celebrate it, i hope you still have a happy day <3

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier didn’t celebrate or see the appeal of Halloween before until he saw on his phone of couples doing festive activities together. Whether it was you or him that suggested doing anything for this month, he wanted to spend these experiences with you this season and every single one in the future.

Peanut Butter and Jelly Costumes. He might accidentally misread your text and accidentally dress up as an actual peanut costume while you dress up as a jar of jelly.

Honey and Bear Costume. This was his idea because you’re his ‘honey’ so it was very fitting for him to dress up as a bear well because-

Prince and Princess Costume. He would definitely look good as a Prince but he’s not dressing up by himself without his princess. Unless you had a different costume in mind, he doesn’t mind wearing the prince costume by himself

He wouldn’t mind giving out candy or doing trick or treating with you but he most prefers cuddling with you while watching a spooky movie. Does not flinch when a scary scene comes up but he’ll make sure to pull up the blanket over you when you’re scared.

If you two were to go trick or treating he'll make sure to give you all your favorite sweets on your pile and will take the ones you don't want.

Zayne:

Doctor Costume. Not just any doctor, a neurosurgeon doctor. He would explain to you that being a neurosurgeon is a costume because it’s different from his job and that he already had his costume set up. Of course he does. You would have to explain to him that he needs to find a different costume that’s not a doctor. A costume that doesn’t involve him similarly from his real job.

Vampire Costume. When he finally caves, which didn’t take that long, he took your suggestion on being a vampire. A vampire usually looks very sophisticated and elegant which was already fitting for him so all he needed was the cape and some fake fangs

Before you both started to give out candy, you both took a stroll around your neighborhood to appreciate the decorated neighborhood in the area.

Your shared home would be decorated for Halloween. Just right outside your door would be the pumpkins you both lovingly carved and selected together from the pumpkin patch. They all sit together with a candlelight flickering inside them to illuminate the intricate designs you both made.

It wasn’t even close to midnight and almost all of your fun size candy and chocolates are gone. Until you found the culprit in the kitchen caught red-handed as he was about to unwrap the next one in his hand. You guys might have to visit the dentist next week.

Rafayel:

Rafayel didn't really understand why humans dress up and beg random people for candy on this day so he's never really done anything for it. But if you wanted to do something with him for Halloween, with no hesitation he try to do anything with you.

He’s either the type to dress up with the most intricate and well thought out costume that he had made throughout the year with you. It would either be dramatic and some high quality costume or he’s the type to dress up as something very specific. Like a random scenario specific to mess with you. “I’m you when you slipped in the shower.” or he’ll dress up as a silly looking fish and say that it’s you.

He would have SO many ideas of what costumes you both could do or what would look good on you that he ended up making all the costumes in the end. I think he would love dressing you up as Lemurian the most, thinking you would look embody the beauty. So the whole day was just a fun little dress up day for you both and many many photos of you saved with your beautiful or silly costumes.

He would also definitely uses his artistic skills to carve out the most beautiful pumpkins with you.

Sylus:

Vampire Costume. Do I need to say more? Kids would ask, if they weren't scared of him, if his crimson eyes were real and he would definitely act the part and play vampire.

Red Riding Hood and The "Big Bad" Wolf costume. He loves the color red on you and the way the corset of your dress compliments your figure.

Devil and Angel Costume. A little basic costume if you two didn't have enough time to prepare a matching one. Although he does love seeing the color red on you, you are his angel and his dove so he doesn't mind being the devil.

You two would enjoy the evening by the cozy fireplace as you wait for the trick-or-treaters to knock on your door. He would pour you a cup of your favorite drink before he pours himself a glass of wine.

He’s definitely the house known for handing out the biggest candy bars and secretly loves it when he hears how children think his home is the coolest because of the mountains of candy he’s given them.

He does give out a little too much but he wants to make sure every kid leaves with an overflowing bag. Honestly he probably bought a warehouse full of candy so you don’t run out for the night.

[astrxq]

The Prince Among Spirits

jacaerys velaryon x ghost!reader

words: 16k

notes: Jacaerys encounters the ethereal ghost of a girl who embodies beauty and longing. Bound by an unbreakable connection, they navigate the depths of love and loss, exploring the bittersweet reality of their intertwined fates as they seek solace in a world beyond death. - i thought i'd like this a lot better but yeah… a bit of a spooky season fic. @earth4angels proofread this,, lomlism <33

The air in Dragonstone always felt heavier than the other places Jacaerys had traveled. It wasn’t the salt or the wind, nor the way the clouds pressed low against the horizon, but rather something deeper – something he could never quite shake. Maybe it was the ancient history of the island, soaked into every stone, or the looming presence of the dragons that had made their home there for generations. The weight of legacy.

He grew up with it, after all. The weight of expectation.

As the eldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, Jace had always understood what was asked of him, even before he fully understood why. He was to be a prince, a protector, and eventually, a king. The gravity of it all had followed him through his years like a shadow, growing darker as his boyish days slipped away. But, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t always carry it well. 

The streets of Dragonstone were thick with more than just history; they thrummed with whispers, the kind that lived in the cracks between stone walls and echoed through the corridors of old castles. Jacaerys had heard them all his life – quiet, unsettling tales of figures that walked in the dark, too pale, too still, to be truly alive. 

Ghosts, they said. The dead who still lingered in the places they once loved, haunting the alleys and gardens of the ancient fortress.

They were spoken of in hushed tones, as if giving the rumors voice would summon the spirits themselves. Dragonstone was old, older than most could remember, built in the heart of volcanic rock and guarded by dragons for centuries. Some said the spirits were the restless dead of Old Valyria, others believed they were simply the shades of those who had perished in Dragonstone's violent history, lost souls unable to find peace. The smallfolk loved these stories, passing them on like secret treasures.

The most persistent rumor, however, was that these ghosts were not like others. They were so close to human form that they could be mistaken for the living, dressed in the garb of commoners or even high lords. People claimed to have seen them at twilight, their faces blurred in the fading light, their movements slow and deliberate. They said these figures could walk past you on the street and disappear around a corner, only for you to find that no one had been there at all. Some swore they could hear faint whispers in the dead of night, words that made no sense but chilled the blood all the same.

Baela and Rhaena, his cousins, adored the stories. They would sit together at night, recounting every tale they’d ever heard with wide eyes and eager voices, pressing Jace to join in their excitement. To them, the whispers were a mystery waiting to be solved, a chance for adventure. They dared each other to explore the darker parts of Dragonstone, to look for signs of the ghostly visitors.

Jace had always dismissed the rumors, shaking his head at their enthusiasm. He was pragmatic, after all. Ghosts didn’t exist – not really. The world was full of real dangers, real threats, and he had no time for fantasies spun by smallfolk in taverns or idle kitchen maids. His life was one of duty, of preparation for the crown that would one day be his, and the weight of that responsibility left little room for idle thoughts about the dead.

But the stories had a way of creeping into his mind, especially at night when the castle felt too large, too quiet. Sometimes, walking the shadowed halls, he would feel a prickle at the back of his neck, as if he were being watched by unseen eyes. And when Baela and Rhaena would laugh, teasing him for being too serious, a small part of him would wonder if they were right to believe – if the whispers held any truth at all.

Dragonstone was full of secrets. Jace had grown up with that knowledge, had learned to navigate the unspoken currents that ran beneath the surface of the island. The weight of expectation was one thing – the inheritance of power, of responsibility – but there was also the weight of all that had come before. The ghosts of history, both literal and metaphorical, pressed down on him, whether he acknowledged them or not. 

* * *

The air in Dragonstone carried more than just salt and wind that day. It carried the echoes of Jacaerys’ twentieth nameday, a milestone that should have felt like triumph – like a step closer to the throne. Yet it weighed on him like another layer of the legacy he could never quite shake. The feast had been grand, as expected. Lords and ladies from across the realm gathered, offering gifts and well-wishes, their smiles polite, their voices careful. Rhaenyra had watched him with a mother’s pride, but even she could not hide the small flicker of expectation behind her eyes. He saw it in everyone, really. 

But as the night wore on and the torches burned low, Jace had slipped away from the celebration, craving a quiet that the great hall refused to offer. The weight of all those eyes, all those expectations, had grown too heavy, pressing against his chest like the very stone of the fortress.

Out in the gardens, the air was cooler, the breeze carrying the scent of the sea and damp earth. He walked among the towering statues and overgrown paths, the familiar surroundings offering a strange sense of detachment. The moon hung low over the water, casting the gardens in a silvery light, softening the edges of the world around him. Out here, in the stillness, it was easier to breathe, to think.

“Jace,” Baela had laughed just the night before, tossing her long braid over her shoulder, “if you don’t believe in them, why do you always look over your shoulder when we speak of them?” Her tone was teasing, but there was a gleam in her eye, as if she enjoyed toying with the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, their older cousin wasn’t as grounded as he seemed.

Jace had shrugged it off with a smile, though he couldn’t deny the strange feeling that sometimes washed over him, especially when he wandered the darker corners of the island alone.

Jace found himself wandering deeper into the heart of the gardens, where the shadows were thicker, the stone walls nearly hidden by ivy and ancient trees. It was the kind of place Baela and Rhaena would have loved – haunted, they’d say, their voices full of thrill. A place where the dead could walk alongside the living, where the ghosts of Dragonstone might choose to show themselves. 

He shook his head, the thought slipping into his mind unbidden. No, he reminded himself. No ghosts, only shadows. Yet the stillness of the night made the stories feel too close, as if they lingered just beyond the edge of his perception. 

Then, he saw you.

At first, it was nothing more than a shift in the air, a faint ripple in the moonlight that drew his eyes to a stone bench half-hidden beneath a gnarled tree. There, sitting as still as the statues that surrounded you, was a girl. 

Jace stopped, his breath catching for a moment. You weren’t moving, and yet, there was something about you that made it impossible for him to look away. The pale light of the moon seemed to cling to your skin, casting you in an almost ethereal glow. Your gown – simple but elegant – flowed around you as if it were part of the night itself, blending into the shadows, making it hard to tell where you ended and the darkness began.

His heart skipped once, twice, as he took a tentative step closer. Something in the way you sat, so still, so serene, made him hesitate. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything that might break the strange silence, but no words came. 

You turned your head, slowly, as if you had been waiting for him all along. Your eyes met his, and in that moment, the world around him seemed to fade. There was a softness to your gaze, a quiet kindness that pulled at something deep inside him, something he hadn’t realized had been so desperately seeking to be found. 

Jace swallowed hard, forcing himself to take another step forward. His voice, when it finally came, felt too loud, too real in the stillness of the night. “Who are you?”

You smiled – a small, almost wistful smile – and though you didn’t answer right away, there was a gentleness in the way your eyes lingered on his, as if you were measuring him, deciding whether to speak at all. The silence stretched between you, long enough for Jace to feel a faint prickle of unease at the back of his neck. He’d walked these gardens a hundred times before, yet now they felt unfamiliar, as if he had stumbled into a place where time moved differently, where the rules of the world no longer applied.

“I... didn’t mean to disturb you,” he added quickly, feeling foolish. 

You tilted your head slightly, the gesture almost curious, and for a brief moment, Jace wondered if you were real at all. The moonlight flickered through the leaves above, casting fleeting shadows across your face, softening your features even more. You looked too perfect, too poised, to be someone he had simply missed in all his years on Dragonstone.

“You didn’t,” you finally said, your voice soft and light, like the rustle of leaves on the wind. There was something strange about it, something that sent a chill down his spine and yet warmed him all at once. 

Jace felt a flutter in his chest, the kind that came not from fear, but from something far more uncertain. Your voice, though gentle, carried an unfamiliar weight – like an echo from a place he couldn’t quite reach. He couldn’t remember ever hearing it before, but it resonated in the air between you, settling in his bones.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The prince who had been trained his entire life to command rooms, to hold the attention of lords and knights, now found himself at a loss for words before a girl sitting alone in the moonlit garden. There was something in the stillness around you that quieted the noise in his mind, that stilled the thoughts of duty and expectation that always seemed to swirl just beneath the surface.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” he managed, the words feeling clumsy on his tongue.

You smiled again, that same soft, almost secret smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. It was as though you held something precious within you – something you weren’t yet ready to share.

“I’ve been here a long time,” you said, your gaze flickering briefly to the garden around you before settling back on him. “Perhaps you simply haven’t been looking.”

The response unsettled him. He’d walked these grounds all his life – knew every stone path, every gnarled tree. He couldn’t imagine missing someone like you. And yet, as you sat there, so at ease in the shadows, he wondered if that was exactly what had happened. Perhaps he had been so consumed with his duties, with the weight of what was expected of him, that he had overlooked the quiet mysteries of the place he called home.

He wanted to ask more, to understand who you were and why he had never seen you before, but something in your expression made him hesitate. There was an air of fragility about you, as if a single wrong word might break the delicate balance of this strange, unexpected encounter.

Instead, he said, “It’s a peaceful place, isn’t it? The gardens, I mean.”

Your gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the moon hung low over the sea, casting long shadows across the garden. “Yes,” you murmured. “It’s peaceful... but also lonely.”

There was a note of sadness in your voice, a quiet sorrow that stirred something inside him. Jace found himself stepping closer, the pull toward you growing stronger with each passing moment. He wanted to understand you, to know why you carried that sadness so gently, so beautifully. 

He took a breath. “Lonely? Why–”

But before he could finish, a gust of wind swept through the garden, stirring the leaves and carrying with it the distant sound of laughter from the feast inside. It reminded him, abruptly, of where he was supposed to be – the prince, the heir, the guest of honor at his own celebration. But standing here, in this forgotten corner of the world, with you sitting so quietly before him, all of that felt distant and unimportant.

“You should go,” you said softly, your eyes lingering on his. There was no urgency in your voice, only a gentle suggestion, as though you knew exactly what was waiting for him beyond the garden walls. 

Jace blinked, momentarily stunned by the abruptness of your words. He opened his mouth to protest, to tell you he wasn’t in any hurry to return, but something about the way you were watching him made him pause. There was a knowing in your gaze, a deep understanding of the weight that sat on his shoulders, even though you couldn’t possibly know the burden he carried.

Before he could speak again, you stood, the movement so graceful it seemed as if you were gliding. For the first time, Jace noticed how your feet barely disturbed the earth beneath you, how the hem of your gown seemed to float above the ground. 

His heart skipped another beat, a small thrill of something unnameable curling in his chest. You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Ethereal, otherworldly. His thoughts wandered back to the whispers, the tales of ghosts that walked the halls of Dragonstone – so real, so human, they could be mistaken for the living.

No, he shook the thought from his mind. Ghosts didn’t exist. At least, not the way the smallfolk told their stories. You were just a girl, a mysterious girl, yes, but nothing more.

“Will I see you again?” Jace said, his voice soft but resolute, an unspoken promise woven into the words.

You didn’t answer, only offering him one last fleeting smile before you turned and disappeared into the shadows of the garden, your form fading like mist into the night.

Jace stood there for a long moment after you were gone, the silence around him thick and heavy, the scent of salt and damp earth still clinging to the air. His heart was still racing, his thoughts tangled in a way they hadn’t been in years.

And as he made his way back toward the grand hall, back to the feast and the people waiting for him, a single question echoed in his mind as he crossed the threshold of the garden's edge and back into the light of the torches.

Who were you?

* * *

He stepped back into the grand hall, the lively chatter and the clinking of goblets nearly drowning out his thoughts. The laughter seemed to echo louder, sharper, in contrast to the quiet he had just left behind in the gardens. But despite the merriment that surrounded him, the image of you lingered in his mind like a haunting melody – soft, mysterious, and infinitely compelling.

As he navigated through the throng of guests, their faces blurred by the weight of his own thoughts, he searched for Rhaena. She was a breath of fresh air, a flicker of understanding amidst the oppressive expectations that seemed to hang in the air. He remembered the way she often rolled her eyes at the festivities, how she would slip away from the noise with a knowing smile, as if sharing a secret with the shadows.

Finally, he spotted her, tucked into a corner of the hall where the light was dimmer, away from the enthusiastic throng. Rhaena leaned against a stone wall, a glass of wine cradled in her hand, her gaze unfocused as if she were lost in her own thoughts. She looked up just as he approached, her expression shifting from boredom to curiosity.

“Jace,” she greeted him, her tone light but with an undertone of concern. “You’ve escaped, then? I was beginning to think you’d actually enjoy your own nameday celebration.”

“Not quite,” he replied, a small smile flickering across his lips. “I needed air.”

“Or a moment of peace,” she said knowingly, and he felt the warmth of her understanding.

Jace sank onto the stone bench beside Rhaena, the coolness of the surface grounding him in the midst of the swirling revelry. The distant laughter and the warm glow of the torches felt like a world away from the quiet intimacy he had just shared with you in the garden. Rhaena held out her goblet, a small smile teasing the corners of her lips, her hair catching the flickering light.

“Here,” she said, her voice playful. “A toast to your twentieth year. Or to your newfound appreciation for solitude, whichever suits you best.”

He accepted the goblet, its cool metal pressing against his palm, and took a sip of the rich wine. The taste washed over him, filling his senses but still unable to distract from the lingering impression of you. Rhaena raised an eyebrow, leaning in as if she could sense the weight in his heart.

“What’s on your mind, cousin?” she prompted gently, her expression shifting from playful to concerned.

He hesitated, searching for the right words, the right way to convey the inexplicable feeling that had settled deep within him. Jacaerys glanced around, ensuring that no one was within earshot before leaning closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I saw a girl in the gardens.”

Rhaena’s eyebrows raised in surprise, her interest piqued. “A girl? Here? At this hour?”

Jace nodded slowly, his eyes distant as he recalled the encounter. "She was... different." He paused, struggling to find the right words to describe you. Then, he shrugged.

Rhaena leaned in closer, her voice dropping to match his hushed tone. "Different how? Was she a guest? A servant?"

"I don't know," Jace admitted, his brow furrowing. "She didn't seem to belong to any particular station." He trailed off, remembering the way the moonlight had seemed to cling to your form, the otherworldly grace of your movements.

"Go on," Rhaena urged, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

Jace took a deep breath, knowing how his next words might sound. "She was so still, Rhaena. So quiet. And when she moved, it was like... like she was barely touching the ground." He shook his head, frustrated by his inability to capture the essence of what he had experienced. "I know it sounds mad, but for a moment, I almost thought..."

"You thought what?" Rhaena pressed, leaning even closer.

"I almost thought she might be one of them," Jace whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the feast. "One of the ghosts from the stories."

Rhaena's eyes widened, a mixture of excitement and disbelief flashing across her face. "Jace," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. But then, seeing the seriousness in her cousin's expression, she paused. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she shook her head gently.

"Oh, Jace," she said, her tone softening. "You know those stories were just for fun, right? A bit of excitement to pass the time." Rhaena reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I've never actually seen a ghost, and to be honest, I don't think I ever will."

Jace furrowed his brow, torn between the rational explanation Rhaena offered and the undeniable otherworldliness of his encounter with you. He opened his mouth to protest, but Rhaena continued before he could speak.

"Have you considered that she might have just been another guest?" Rhaena suggested, her eyes scanning the crowded hall. "Perhaps she needed some air, just like you did. It's been quite a night, after all."

Jace followed her gaze, searching the sea of faces for any sign of you. But even as he looked, he knew he wouldn't find you there. The memory of your ethereal presence in the moonlit garden seemed at odds with the warmth and noise of the feast.

"I don't think so," he said slowly, turning back to Rhaena. "If she had been here, at the celebration... I would have noticed her." Even as he said it, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. Would he have? He'd been so preoccupied with his duties, with being the perfect prince and heir, that he'd barely registered most of the guests.

"Did you get her name?" Rhaena asked gently.

"No," Jace replied, frustration coloring his tone. "She disappeared before I could ask. She told me I should go, that I was needed here, and then... she was gone."

Rhaena reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Will you look for her again?"

Jace hesitated, his heart a battlefield of emotions. He shrugged, the gesture feeling insufficient to express the turmoil he felt. How could he explain the magnetic pull you had on him, the way your laughter still echoed in his mind?

Rhaena's gaze narrowed, studying him closely. He sighed, leaning against the nearby column, its cool surface a stark contrast to the warmth pooling in his chest. "Not sure.”

Seeing the flicker of conflict in his eyes, Rhaena’s demeanor shifted, her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. “Perhaps she is a ghost, or the young prince has gone to folly”

Jace couldn’t help but chuckle, though a part of him wondered if that might be true.

They settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts as the feast continued around them. The sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and spirited conversation filled the air, yet Jace felt detached, like a spectator in a world that felt all too distant.

He picked up the goblet, the rich red wine swirling within, and took a sip. The warmth spread through him, a comforting embrace in the midst of the chaos. Rhaena did the same, her expression contemplative as she gazed at him over the rim of her glass.

They drank in quietude, the weight of unsaid words hanging between them like a delicate thread. Jace watched the revelry from the periphery, his heart still racing with the memory of your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled under the moonlight, weaving a spell he couldn't shake off.

* * *

The days following the feast were a blur for Jace. Duties piled upon duties, conversations blending into each other, faces coming and going in a ceaseless stream. Yet, through it all, one memory remained sharp in his mind – your figure bathed in moonlight, as fleeting as a dream, but more real to him than anything else.

He couldn’t explain it. He had only spoken to you for a brief moment, had only heard your voice for mere heartbeats, but your presence lingered. You had slipped away before he could ask for your name, disappearing into the night like mist. Every time he thought of you, the memory felt like a whisper at the back of his mind, a soft tug urging him to seek you out.

His nights were restless, his dreams filled with fragments of that brief encounter. Each night, he told himself it was folly, that he was chasing a phantom. But every morning, the pull in his chest remained, stronger than before.

And so, he began taking walks.

At first, it was subtle. After finishing his duties for the day, he would wander down to the gardens where he had met you. He told himself it was simply to clear his head, to enjoy the serenity of the greenery and the quiet rustling of the leaves. But deep down, he knew he was hoping – hoping that he might see you again.

The gardens were large, a labyrinth of neatly kept hedges and winding paths. Lanterns lit the walkways at night, casting long shadows that danced with the flickering flames. Each evening, as he made his way through the familiar paths, Jace found himself listening for your voice, searching for any hint of your presence.

For the first few nights, the garden was empty. The quiet was soothing, but it wasn’t the quiet he longed for. He wanted the soft cadence of your voice to fill the space, your footsteps to match his.

Jace scolded himself for his foolishness. What was he doing, wandering aimlessly through the garden like a lovesick boy? He should be attending to his responsibilities, ensuring the safety and future of his house. He was the heir to the throne, for the gods’ sake, and here he was, chasing after someone he barely knew even existed.

But it was as if he had no control over it. His heart was leading him, guiding him back to the garden each night. It was the only place where the restless yearning inside him seemed to quiet, even if only slightly.

After a week, Rhaena began to notice his nightly walks. She teased him lightly at first, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Still searching for your ghost, cousin?” she’d ask, her tone playful yet knowing.

He would brush her off with a smile, but inside, her words stung. Maybe it was foolish. Perhaps you were just a figment of his imagination, conjured up in a moment of vulnerability. But then he’d remember the way the moonlight had caught in your hair, the sound of your soft voice, and the pull in his chest would return, stronger.

A fortnight passed. Each night, Jace made his way to the garden, wandering the paths as if on some invisible tether. He grew more frustrated with each passing evening, the weight of his uncertainty pressing heavier on him. The moon hung in the sky, pale and distant, casting its silver glow over the trees and flowers, but you were nowhere to be found.

One evening, as he sat on a stone bench tucked away in a secluded corner of the garden, Jace let out a long sigh. The night was cool, the soft breeze carrying the scent of blooming jasmine through the air. The garden was quiet save for the faint rustling of leaves. He should give up, he thought. You weren’t coming back. It had been foolish to hope otherwise.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. What was it about you that had him so captivated? He had met countless people, but none had left such an impression. 

Jace was about to rise, to leave the garden behind for the night, when he heard it – a csoft breeze, barely audible, approaching from behind him. His heart leapt into his throat, and he froze, hardly daring to breathe.

Then, he heard a familiar voice.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here again.”

He turned, his heart racing, and there you were. Standing a few paces away, your expression both surprised and amused. The moonlight bathed you in its glow, just as it had that night, casting an ethereal sheen over your figure. The sight of you, so vivid and real, made something inside him stir, as if a piece of him had finally fallen into place.

“I could say the same for you,” Jace managed to reply, his voice softer than he’d intended. He rose slowly, afraid that any sudden movement might break the spell and send you disappearing into the night again.

You smiled, that same quiet, knowing smile, and took a step closer. “What brings the prince to these gardens so late at night?”

His heart thundered in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Just needed some air. It seems I’ve found a good place for it.”

You tilted your head, studying him with those eyes that seemed to see right through him. “And here I thought you might be searching for something.”

Jace swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He couldn’t lie to you, not when the truth seemed to hang in the air between you, unspoken but palpable. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his voice low.

The silence that followed felt heavy, charged with a tension he couldn’t quite define. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the garden wrapping around you both like a cloak. Then, you took another step forward, your presence filling the space between you, and Jace felt that magnetic pull again, the one that had kept him returning night after night.

“I think,” you said softly, “you’ve already found it.”

Your words sent a shiver down his spine, and for the first time in weeks, Jace felt a sense of clarity. You were here, standing before him, no longer a phantom or a distant memory. You were real, and in that moment, he knew – he would do whatever it took to keep you from slipping away again.

Jace's heart raced as he stood before you, the moonlight casting a soft glow around your form. He struggled to find the right words, his usual confidence replaced by an unfamiliar nervousness.

"I... I've been hoping to see you again," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't stop thinking about our last encounter."

You smiled, the expression both enigmatic and gentle. "Time moves differently here," you said, your voice carrying on the night breeze. "What feels like weeks to you may be but a moment to me."

Jace furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of your words. "Who are you?" he asked, taking a tentative step closer. "Where do you come from?"

Your laughter was like the tinkling of distant bells. "Those are heavy questions for such a beautiful night, don't you think?" You gestured to the garden around you. "Shall we walk instead?"

Without waiting for an answer, you began to move along the moonlit path. Jace hurried to fall into step beside you, acutely aware of how your feet seemed to barely touch the ground.

"I've never seen you at court," Jace said, his eyes drinking in your profile. "Are you visiting Dragonstone?"

You turned to him, your eyes twinkling with an otherworldly light. "I've been here longer than you might think. Dragonstone holds many secrets, young prince."

Jace's breath caught in his throat. There was something in the way you said 'young prince' that made him feel both seen and exposed. "Do you... know who I am?"

"Jacaerys Velaryon," you said, your voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Heir to the Iron Throne, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen. But that's not all you are, is it?"

Jace stumbled slightly, caught off guard by your words. "What do you mean?"

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. The moonlight seemed to bend around you, creating an almost glowing aura. "You're more than your titles, Jacerys. More than the expectations placed upon you. I see the weight you carry, the doubts that plague you."

Jace felt his chest tighten, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through him. How could you know these things? How could you see so deeply into him?

"I don't understand," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Who are you, really?"

You reached out, your hand hovering just above his cheek without touching. Jace felt a coolness emanate from your palm, like a ghostly caress. 

"Understanding isn't always necessary," you said softly. "Sometimes, it's enough to simply feel."

Jace closed his eyes, overwhelmed by your presence and your words. When he opened them again, you had taken a step back, your form seeming to shimmer slightly in the moonlight.

Your smile was bittersweet. "The garden holds many secrets, Jace. If you listen closely, you might hear them whisper."

As you began to fade into the shadows of the garden, Jace reached out, his hand passing through the space where you had been. "Wait!" he called out. "At least tell me your name!"

Your voice came as if from a great distance, carried on the night wind. "Names have power, young prince. Perhaps next time, you'll earn the right to know mine."

And then you were gone, leaving Jace alone in the moonlit garden, his heart pounding and his mind reeling. He stood there for a long moment, trying to process what had just happened. Despite the lingering doubts and questions, one thing was certain – he would return to this garden, night after night, until he saw you again.

Jace stood rooted to the spot long after you had vanished, his mind reeling from the encounter. The garden around him seemed different now, charged with an energy he couldn't quite explain. Every rustle of leaves, every shadow cast by the moonlight, held the possibility of your return.

Finally, he let out a long, shaky breath and sank onto a nearby stone bench. His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Names have power," he whispered to himself, repeating your parting words. What did that mean? And how did you know so much about him? The way you had spoken of his doubts, his fears... it was as if you had peered directly into his soul.

A cool breeze rustled through the garden, carrying with it the faint scent of salt from the sea beyond. Jace closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. But every time he did, he saw your face behind his eyelids, your enigmatic smile, your eyes that seemed to hold secrets beyond his understanding.

He should be frightened, he realized. Or at least concerned. You were an unknown entity, someone – or something – that seemed to know far too much about him and the inner workings of Dragonstone. As the heir to the Iron Throne, he had been taught from a young age to be wary of such mysteries, to see them as potential threats.

But fear was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, he felt... alive. More alive than he had in years. The weight of expectation, the constant pressure of his duties, seemed to have lifted, if only for a moment. In their place was a burning curiosity, a desire to unravel the mystery that surrounded you.

Jace stood up abruptly, pacing the moonlit path. He needed to approach this logically, to try and make sense of it all. But how could he apply logic to something that defied explanation?

You had spoken of time moving differently, of being here longer than he might think. Were you truly a ghost, as he had first suspected? But you had seemed so real, so tangible. He could still feel the coolness that had emanated from your almost-touch, could still hear the musical quality of your laughter.

And what of your knowledge of him? Not just his titles and lineage, but the deeper truths he kept hidden. The doubts that plagued him in the quiet hours of the night, the fears he dared not voice even to those closest to him.

Jace's mind raced with possibilities, each more fantastical than the last. Were you some kind of seer, gifted with the ability to read hearts and minds? A magical being, drawn to the ancient power that thrummed through Dragonstone? Or perhaps...

He stopped in his tracks, a new thought occurring to him. Could you be connected to the dragons somehow? The great beasts that had made Dragonstone their home for generations were said to be creatures of magic and mystery. Could their presence have drawn you here, or even created you?

The idea both thrilled and unsettled him. If there was a connection between you and the dragons, what did that mean for him, for his family's legacy?

Jace shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was getting ahead of himself, spinning tales based on nothing but speculation and fantasy. What he needed was more information, more encounters with you to try and piece together the truth.

As he made his way back toward the castle, Jace found himself already planning his return to the garden the next night. And the night after that, and every night until he saw you again. He knew it was risky, knew that his nightly wanderings would eventually draw attention. Rhaena was already suspicious, and it wouldn't be long before others noticed his distraction.

But the risk seemed small compared to the pull he felt toward you, the desperate need to unravel your mystery. For the first time in his life, Jace felt as though he was on the cusp of something truly extraordinary, something that existed beyond the rigid confines of duty and expectation that had defined his existence for so long.

As he reached the castle doors, Jace paused, looking back at the moonlit garden one last time. The breeze picked up, carrying with it the faintest whisper, so soft he might have imagined it.

"Until next time, young prince."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Yes, there would be a next time. Of that, he was certain. And when it came, he would be ready. Ready to ask the right questions, to push for answers, to finally understand the enigma that you presented.

With renewed determination, Jace entered the castle, his mind already racing with plans for tomorrow night's visit to the garden. Whatever secrets you held, whatever truths lay hidden in the shadows of Dragonstone, he would uncover them.

After all, he was Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne. And now, he had a mystery to solve.

* * *

The following afternoon found Jace and Rhaena in one of Dragonstone's many secluded alcoves, a favorite spot of theirs since childhood. Sunlight streamed through the narrow windows, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Rhaena sat perched on a window ledge, her legs dangling, while Jace paced restlessly before her.

"So," Rhaena began, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to tell me why you've been wandering the gardens every night like a lost soul?"

Jace paused mid-step, turning to face his cousin. He hesitated for a moment, weighing his words carefully. "I saw her again, Rhaena," he finally said, his voice soft with wonder.

Rhaena's eyebrows shot up. "The mysterious girl from the feast?"

Jace nodded, a dreamy look overtaking his features. "She's... she's… The way she moves, it's like she's floating on air. And her voice..." He closed his eyes, as if trying to recapture the sound. "It's like music, like the softest whisper of wind through leaves."

Rhaena leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "And what did this ethereal beauty have to say?"

"She spoke of time moving differently, of secrets hidden in Dragonstone." Jace's eyes flew open, burning with intensity. "She knew things about me, Rhaena. Things I've never told anyone."

"Things like what?" Rhaena pressed, her teasing tone giving way to genuine interest.

Jace shook his head. "My doubts, my fears... it was as if she could see right through me, right into my soul."

Rhaena's brow furrowed. "That sounds... unsettling."

"No, no, it wasn't," Jace insisted, resuming his pacing. "It was... freeing. Like for the first time, someone truly saw me. Not the heir, not the prince, just... me."

A soft chuckle escaped Rhaena's lips. "Oh, Jace," she said, her voice warm with affection. "You sound like you're in love."

Jace stopped again, his cheeks flushing. "I... I don't know. Maybe I am." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. "Is it possible to fall in love with someone you've barely met?"

"With a ghost, you mean?" Rhaena teased, but her smile was kind.

"She's not..." Jace began, then paused. "Well, maybe she is. I don't know." He moved to the window, gazing out over the castle grounds. "When she reached out to me, I felt this... coolness. Not quite a touch, but almost. And the way she moves, Rhaena... it's so smooth, so graceful. Like she's gliding rather than walking."

Rhaena slid down from her perch, moving to stand beside her cousin. "Jace," she said gently, "are you sure this isn't just your imagination? The stress of your duties, perhaps?"

Jace shook his head vehemently. "No, she's real. I'm sure of it." He turned to face Rhaena, his eyes blazing with conviction. "Maybe she's a ghost, or... or an angel." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I wonder if the gods sent her just for me."

Rhaena's eyebrows shot up. "An angel? Jace, listen to yourself."

"I know how it sounds," he admitted. "But you haven't seen her, Rhaena. The way the moonlight seems to bend around her, the wisdom in her eyes... it's otherworldly."

Rhaena studied him for a long moment, "Jace, I don't doubt you've seen something,” she said slowly, her tone cautious yet kind. "But this… girl, spirit, whatever she is – don’t you think it's a little dangerous? You’re talking about her like she’s more than just a fleeting dream."

Jace's jaw tightened. “I know what I saw. What I felt.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t.” Rhaena folded her arms, her gaze softening. “But ever since we were children, you’ve carried so much on your shoulders. I worry this... mystery might be more of a distraction than a blessing.”

Jace turned back to the window, the garden below bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. His mind was still full of last night’s encounter, the way you seemed to understand him in ways no one else had. His thoughts drifted back to your smile, the coolness of your almost-touch.

Rhaena sighed, stepping beside him. "I don’t know what to tell you, Jace. But just – be careful, alright? Sometimes, things that seem too good to be true... well, you know how those stories go.”

Jace met her gaze, nodding, though his heart wasn’t in it. He appreciated her concern, but how could he explain what he couldn’t even fully comprehend himself? He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something important, something that reached beyond his understanding of the world.

* * *

The next night, as the moon hung high over Dragonstone, Jace returned to the garden. The path before him was illuminated by soft moonlight, the shadows deep and thick between the ancient trees. His heart raced with anticipation, every step fueled by the memory of your voice, the ghostly coolness of your near-touch, and the mystery that clung to you like mist.

He paused at the stone bench where he had waited the night before. The same jasmine fragrance filled the air, a familiar perfume to this place. His eyes scanned the garden, searching for any sign of you.

For a moment, the silence was absolute, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves in the night breeze. And then, faint but unmistakable, the softest whisper of movement behind him.

“You’re back,” your voice floated toward him, just as it had before. It was light, like a breeze that stirred only for him.

Jace spun around, his breath catching in his throat. There you were, standing just at the edge of the moon’s glow, half-shadowed, half-illuminated. The sight of you, so familiar yet still impossibly elusive, sent a shiver through him.

“I said I would return, didn’t I?” he replied, his voice hushed as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile connection between you.

You stepped closer, your movements as graceful as ever, your eyes glinting like distant stars. “Many say such things, young prince. Few mean them.”

“I meant it,” Jace said, taking a step forward as well.

There was something in your expression – an emotion too complex for him to decipher. You tilted your head slightly, studying him, your gaze intense but soft, as if you were measuring something deeper than his words.

“And what did you hope to find this time?” you asked, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the corners of your lips. 

Jace’s gaze flickered over your face, searching for answers he wasn’t even sure he had. What did he hope to find? He knew it had something to do with you, but the reason felt just out of reach, like a whisper in the wind – intangible, fleeting. His lips parted, but no words came at first. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t sound absurd? 

You. I was hoping to find you.

But he couldn’t tell you that. Not when he barely understood it himself. His hesitation stretched the silence between you, thickening the air with something unspoken, something both alluring and unsettling.

“I–” he faltered, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to shake when you were near. His pulse quickened again, betraying the calm façade he tried to maintain. “I suppose I was hoping you might still be here.”

A soft, enigmatic smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I am always here, Jacaerys. But not everyone can see me.”

Your words made his heart stumble, though he wasn’t sure why. He took another step forward, feeling as if he were being pulled deeper into some untouchable place, a world where you existed just outside the bounds of reality. Close enough to touch, but too far to reach.

“I see you,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You raised an eyebrow, that hint of amusement still playing in your eyes. “Do you?”

The question made him pause. Did he really? Or was he only seeing what he wanted to – what he hoped to? The thought unsettled him, a ripple of doubt threading through his mind. But as his gaze lingered on your face, he was certain of one thing: you were no illusion. There was a depth to you, a presence that stirred something deep within him, something ancient and unfamiliar.

“Yes,” he said, more certain this time. “I do.”

You watched him closely, the smile fading, replaced by something more thoughtful, something almost… sorrowful? The weight of your stare made his chest tighten, as if you could see through him, past his words and into the very heart of what he wasn’t saying.

Jace’s hand twitched at his side, instinct guiding him forward as a stray lock of your hair fell across your face. His fingers ached to reach out, to tuck it gently behind your ear, but something stopped him – something more than hesitation. It was like an invisible wall, a cold pressure pulling at his skin as he neared you, a barrier he couldn’t push through. His hand hovered inches from your cheek, and the chill seeped into his bones, sharp and unnatural.

You didn’t move, watching him with that same strange, sorrowful gaze. The touch he so desperately sought seemed impossible, slipping further out of reach even as he closed the distance. His pulse hammered in his ears, louder than the whispering breeze that stirred the garden, louder than his racing thoughts.

For a moment, the world stood still. His breath hitched, and all he could feel was the cold emptiness where your warmth should have been. It wasn’t just distance – it was as though you weren’t entirely there, not in the way he was. His fingertips brushed the air between you, but they might as well have been miles apart.

Before he could process the disappointment tightening in his chest, you lifted your hand with a fluid, almost ghostly grace, and tucked the strand of hair behind your ear yourself. The motion was so simple, yet it was accompanied by a sad, knowing smile, one that deepened the ache in his heart. You looked at him as though you understood something he didn’t.

“You can’t touch me, Jacaerys,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with a sorrow that mirrored the chill still lingering in the air between you. 

The weight of your words crushed him more than he expected. He didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to tell you that he could, that he would find a way – but the cold that still lingered on his fingertips was a painful reminder of the truth. His hand fell slowly to his side, the loss of your touch – a touch he never even had – leaving him hollow.

"Why?" he whispered, barely audible, though his voice betrayed the frustration that churned beneath his confusion. He didn’t understand why you remained just out of reach, why you were always close but untouchable, like something woven from mist and dreams.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked past him, your gaze distant as if your mind had wandered to another time, another place. “Some things,” you began slowly, your voice almost too quiet to hear, “are not meant to be held. Not in the way you wish.”

The words hung heavy in the cool night air, filled with a meaning he couldn’t fully grasp. Jace’s jaw clenched, his frustration simmering under the surface. He hated this feeling – the helplessness, the confusion. He hated that you seemed so sure, so accepting of something that made no sense to him.

“But, I see you,” he said again, more firmly this time, trying to reclaim some sense of control, some sense of clarity. But even as the words left his lips, he felt the doubt creeping back in, poisoning his certainty. He saw you, yes, but he didn’t understand you. He didn’t know why he couldn’t reach you, couldn’t hold onto you.

Your eyes met his, and there was a flicker of something – regret, perhaps. “I know,” you whispered, your voice heavy with an unspoken weight. “But seeing isn’t always enough.” 

The sadness in your words twisted something deep inside him, and for the first time, he wondered if you were trapped just as much as he was. If this distance, this untouchable space between you, was a prison for you too. But before he could ask, before he could say anything, you took a step back, retreating into the shadows that clung to the edges of the garden.

His heart leapt, panic flashing in his eyes as the distance between you grew once again. “Wait–” he began, reaching out, though he knew it was futile. You were slipping away, like the night itself, and all he could do was watch as the moonlight barely clung to your form. 

“Don’t go!” he called out, desperation lacing his voice. Each word felt like a plea, a thread fraying in the cool night air. He took a step forward, willing the distance to close, willing the invisible barrier to dissolve, but it only widened as you stepped back, shadows enveloping you like a shroud.

You paused, turning slightly, and in that fleeting moment, he caught a glimpse of the sorrow etched on your features, a reflection of his own tumultuous emotions. “I have to,” you replied, your voice soft but firm, resonating with a certainty that left him both bewildered and aching.

“Why?” Jace's heart raced as he fought against the rising tide of frustration and helplessness. “Why can’t you stay? Why can’t we…” The question hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, echoing the unsaid words that lingered in the spaces between you.

You looked away, gaze drawn to the heavens above, where stars shimmered like distant dreams, unattainable yet hauntingly beautiful. “You know I can’t,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “This world… it is not mine. I belong to something else.”

His breath caught in his throat, the weight of your words settling over him like a heavy cloak. “But what does that mean?” he pressed, stepping closer, defiance mingling with desperation. “You’re here now. I see you, I can feel you. You can stay.”

A pained smile flitted across your lips, one that only deepened his unease. “You feel me, yes,” you said gently, the softness of your voice contrasting sharply with the coldness that still enveloped him. “But I am not meant to linger. I am but a whisper in the night, a fleeting moment. You have your life, your duties… your path to follow.”

“I don’t care about my path!” he retorted, the words bursting from him, fierce and unguarded.

You hesitated, and he could see the internal struggle etched across your face. You uttered your name in almost a whisper, like a song that resonated in the quiet night. “I will come to you again. I promise.”

He repeated your name, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. It felt like a gift, a treasure he could hold onto. “Can’t you stay?”

A sad smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your expression a mix of hope and sorrow. “I will always find my way back to you, Jacaerys,” you said, a gentle certainty in your voice. “But know this: our paths, as intertwined as they may feel, are different. I may linger in your dreams, but my reality is… not your own.”

His heart sank at your words, a heavy ache settling in his chest. The thought of you slipping away again, of returning to the shadows from which you emerged, filled him with a deep sense of loss. “Then don’t go,” he urged, desperation bleeding into his voice.

“I wish it were that simple,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But some boundaries cannot be crossed. Not without consequence.”

The chill of your words wrapped around him, but beneath it lay a promise – a flicker of hope that ignited within him. “Then I’ll wait,” he declared, his voice firm and resolute.

You gave him one last, lingering look, your sad smile etched in the moon’s glow. “I will see you soon, Jacaerys. Hold onto that promise, for it is all I can give you.” you whispered, though your voice felt as far away as the stars. 

And with that, you were gone, leaving nothing but the jasmine-scented air and the fading memory of your presence. Jace stood there, his chest rising and falling with the weight of everything left unsaid, his hand still tingling from the cold where you should have been.

* * *

The days passed, each one marked by the silent promise of your return. Each night, as the moon rose over Dragonstone, you appeared in the garden, weaving through the shadows like a wisp of smoke. With every encounter, Jacaerys felt a pull, an undeniable connection that deepened with each passing moment. 

He learned more about you, your laughter that echoed like a melody in the night, the way your eyes sparkled with untold stories and sadness, each visit drawing him deeper into the tapestry of your existence.

Yet, as the nights turned into weeks, Jace’s heart grew heavy with the knowledge of your intangible nature. The realization that he could never truly reach you, never feel the warmth of your skin or the comfort of your presence, began to weigh on him like a leaden cloak. The thrill of your appearances faded, replaced by an ache that nestled in the very core of his being. It gnawed at him during the day, haunting his thoughts and overshadowing his duties as prince. 

Desperate to bridge the chasm that separated you, he turned to the maesters, seeking answers cloaked in scholarly words and dusty tomes. He approached them under the guise of curiosity, his inquiries carefully crafted to mask his true intent. “What do you know of spirits?” he would ask, feigning casual interest, hoping they would unwittingly share the secrets of the otherworld. 

Yet the answers they provided were frustratingly vague. They spoke of ancient tales and long-lost rituals, but none offered the solution he so fervently sought. He was left with nothing but more questions and a gnawing sense of helplessness.

In secret, he sought out witches, drawn to their whispers and charms, clinging to the belief that perhaps they held the key to your return. He ventured into shadowed corners of Dragonstone, where the air crackled with magic and danger. Each encounter with a witch felt like a gamble, a dance with fate, but he was willing to risk it all if it meant bringing you back to him. Each time he faced a new practitioner, he wore a mask of casual interest, his mind racing with possibilities, a pulse of urgency thrumming through him. 

Yet the more he searched, the more consumed he became, his obsession slowly pulling him away from his duties and family. His conversations with his mother and siblings grew strained, their worried glances punctuating the silence that lingered around him. He felt their concern, the weight of their expectations pressing down like a stone, but he could hardly pay them any mind. All he could think of was you – the laughter that lingered in the air, the sadness in your gaze, the warmth of your presence that remained just out of reach.

And still, night after night, you returned to the garden. You would stand before him, half-shadowed, half-illuminated by moonlight, your presence a bittersweet balm to his aching heart. Each reunion was a comfort and a torment, a reminder of everything he longed for and could never possess. You would talk, your voice weaving tales of places beyond his imagination, stories of a life that felt just beyond his grasp. But as the conversation deepened, so did the distance, the invisible barrier that kept you just out of reach.

One night, as you shared a particularly vivid tale about the stars and their secrets, he interrupted, his frustration spilling over. “Why can’t you stay? Why do you keep slipping away?” His voice cracked, the pain evident in every word.

You paused, your gaze softening with understanding. “I have told you, Jacaerys. Some things are not meant to be held,” you replied gently. But this time, there was an edge to your voice, a deeper sadness that echoed in your words.

“Then tell me how to break this,” he urged, his desperation clawing at him. “I would give anything to bring you back.” 

Your eyes flickered, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of hope, a light in the depths of your sorrow. “There are costs, Jacaerys,” you warned, your voice low and serious. “Some boundaries cannot be crossed without consequence.” 

“I don’t care about the cost,” he insisted, his heart racing. “Just tell me what to do.”

But you shook your head, sadness etched in your features. “You cannot rush fate. I am not a prize to be won or a ghost to be summoned.” 

The words struck him like a physical blow. He felt the ache in his chest grow, squeezing the breath from his lungs. The weight of your absence settled in the silence between you, and he struggled to find the words that would convince you to stay.

Jacaerys clenched his fists, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. The moonlight cast long shadows across the garden, the cool night air thick with the unsaid words hanging between you. He could feel it, the ache building in his chest, the unbearable weight of seeing you standing there, so close, yet unreachable. Your eyes held his, a flicker of sadness mirroring his own, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

“Do you have any idea what this is like for me?” His voice trembled, anger and desperation entwined in each word. “To look at you and not be able to touch you? To speak with you every night and wonder if it’s the last time? You vanish with the morning, and I’m left alone, not knowing if you’ll return. It’s a torment.” 

You flinched at the sharpness of his words, but your gaze never left his. The silence between you grew heavy, thick with all the unspoken longing and heartbreak. His breath came faster, his frustration spilling out in waves. “I can’t see you, except like this,” he gestured toward you, his voice cracking, “only when the night comes. It’s not enough. You’re not here. Not really.”

You took a step closer, though still, there was that distance, an invisible chasm separating you. Your eyes, filled with a depth of sorrow that only mirrored his own, softened. “Do you think it’s any different for me?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Do you think I don’t feel the same?”

He blinked, taken aback by the rawness of your words.

“I look at you,” you continued, your voice growing steadier, though your expression betrayed the weight of your own pain. “And I feel the same longing, the same ache. I listen to you speak, and I wonder if the night will be kind enough to let me see you again. It is the same for me, Jacaerys.” Your voice wavered, the sadness you carried settling into the space between you.

His anger faltered, giving way to the hollowness that had taken root within him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms, to feel the warmth of your body and chase away the cold emptiness that had haunted him for weeks. But you were a breath away, and that might as well have been a world apart.

“I don’t want it to be this way,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, laced with the same vulnerability that twisted deep in his gut. 

The words hung in the air, fragile and trembling between you. Jacaerys felt his heart pounding, as if it was fighting against the truth that lay before him. You stood there, not quite a ghost, not quite real, and he couldn’t bear the space between you any longer. He could see the sadness in your eyes, the unspoken grief of knowing your worlds were separated by a veil neither of you could pierce. His fingers twitched at his sides, the need to reach out to you overwhelming, but the fear of his hand passing through nothing but cold air held him back.

“I don’t want it to be this way either,” you said softly, the edges of your voice thick with emotion. “But I don’t have control over it. This… this place I come from, it’s not my choice.” 

Jace’s brows knit together as he listened, his mind swirling with a thousand questions. There had to be a way, something he hadn’t thought of yet. The witches, the maesters, even the old stories of dragons and magic – none of them had given him a path to you. But surely, something was out there. He couldn’t accept that this was all fate had to offer him: a lifetime of nights filled with conversations that would fade with the dawn, and a heart that would never stop breaking when he woke up alone.

“Is there no way?” he asked, his voice a plea, raw and jagged. “No spell, no ritual, nothing that could change this?” His eyes searched yours, desperate for even a glimmer of hope.

You shook your head, and he saw the pain in your expression, as if his suffering mirrored your own. “Jacaerys, you don’t understand what you’re asking. The world of the living and the dead… they’re not meant to cross. Not without great cost. If we try to break that balance, something will break with it.”

His jaw tightened. “Then let it break,” he spat. “I can’t keep living like this, with you slipping through my fingers every time the sun rises. I need you here, with me.” His voice cracked, and the vulnerability in it made your heart ache.

“I want that too,” you whispered, stepping closer, your ethereal form catching the moonlight in a way that made you seem almost solid. Almost real. “But it’s not about what we want, Jacaerys. It’s about what is.”

He shook his head, stepping forward to meet you. His hand hovered in the air between you, trembling, unsure whether to reach out or hold back. His voice was softer now, a whisper as his eyes searched your face. “What if I’m willing to pay the cost? What if it doesn’t matter to me, so long as I have you?”

Your breath caught, and for a long moment, the two of you stood in the garden, bathed in silver light, the night eerily still around you. His words hung in the air, and you felt the weight of his desperation settling into your chest like a stone. Jace had always been fierce, determined – qualities that made him a leader, a dragonrider. But this… this was a path that even he couldn’t understand.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “The cost isn’t just yours to pay. It affects everything around you – your family, your kingdom, your dragons. Some boundaries are there to protect you, not to hurt you.”

Jacaerys’s eyes flickered with defiance, but beneath it was a deep sadness. He was a prince of the realm, and yet here, in this moment, he felt powerless. The idea that you were beyond his reach, no matter how hard he tried to grasp you, was unbearable. And still, he knew you were right. There was something dangerous about tampering with fate, something even he couldn’t predict. But how could he simply let you go?

“I just…” His voice faltered, and he lowered his gaze, unable to meet your eyes. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

A soft, broken smile played across your lips, and you reached out, though you didn’t touch him. “You haven’t lost me. I’m still here. Every night, I’ll be here, as long as I can. But you have to live your life, Jacaerys. You have a future – a future that doesn’t end with me.”

His heart clenched painfully at your words. The future without you felt like a hollow promise, a cold, empty thing. He didn’t want that life, didn’t want to face the possibility of moving on from you. The thought of it felt like a betrayal, as though by accepting the life waiting for him, he’d be abandoning you.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice shaking with the weight of everything left unsaid. “I can’t just move on like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t matter.”

“This isn’t about forgetting me. It’s about living, Jace. You still have so much ahead of you.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. The fire of his anger had dulled into a quiet despair, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. The reality of the situation was settling in, and with it came the crushing weight of inevitability. He couldn’t change this. He couldn’t fix it. All he could do was hold on to the nights you shared and the fleeting moments that came with them.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Your heart ached for him, and though you couldn’t touch him, you leaned in as if your presence alone could offer some comfort. “You will,” you murmured. “In time. But for now… we have the night.”

Jacaerys nodded, but the hollow feeling inside him didn’t ease. He didn’t know how he could ever accept a world where you weren’t truly a part of it. But for now, he would cling to these nights, even if it was all he had. For now, he would hold on to the promise of your return, no matter how fleeting.

You stood there, a ghostly presence wrapped in moonlight, and Jacaerys, with all the fervor and fire that he carried in his blood, could not stop his thoughts from spiraling into what could have been – what should have been.

“If you were alive,” he began, his voice cracking in the stillness of the garden. He could feel the words clawing at his throat, desperate to escape, even though he knew they were futile. You tilted your head, curiosity flickering across your ethereal face, but there was sadness in your eyes as if you already knew where his words were heading.

“If you were alive,” he repeated, voice softening, as if saying it would somehow will it into existence. “I would make you mine. In front of all the realm, I’d declare it. Betroth you to me, like the old ways, in the halls of Dragonstone. The banners would fly, and no one would dare stand in our way.”

A wistful smile tugged at your lips, but the sadness never left your gaze. You watched him with the kind of tenderness that only came from knowing a truth the other could not accept. His words hung in the air, thick with longing, the very fabric of what could never be.

“We would spend our days together,” he continued, his eyes glazing over as he began to weave a tapestry of a life that, deep down, he knew was just a dream. “I would show you everything – the islands, the seas, the hidden coves of Dragonstone. You would meet my brothers. I can see it now… Lucerys would love you; you’d laugh together at the table, and Joffrey… well, he’d try to impress you with some half-baked stories. They’d look up to you.”

He swallowed, his throat tight, his voice growing rough with the weight of his words. “And I’d take you to the town.” His face lit up, momentarily lost in the fantasy. “I’d show you every corner of the market, every stone in the streets. You’ve probably already seen it all… in your past life.” He faltered, reality creeping back in, but he pushed through, holding tight to the dream. “But I would make it new for you, show you the best places, the hidden ones only I know. We’d laugh, walk together until the sun set behind us.”

His hand lifted as if to reach for yours, but it hovered, trembling in the space between you. “I would touch you,” he whispered, barely able to keep the ache from his voice. “I would hold your hand, run my fingers through your hair, feel the warmth of your skin under mine. You wouldn’t be cold, like the air between us now.”

You blinked, a single tear tracing a path down your cheek, catching the moonlight as it fell. But you said nothing, letting him continue, letting him live out the dream in the only way he could – through words.

“And the kisses…” Jace’s voice grew even quieter, more fragile. “I would kiss you every morning, every night. I’d kiss you under the stars, when the world went quiet, and it was just us. I would steal your breath away, like you steal mine now.”

His chest heaved, and he took a shaky breath. “If you were like me, like us, I would never let you go. I would fight every god, every ghost, every shadow for the chance to keep you. We would have a life together. A real one.”

The silence that followed his words was deafening. He stood there, the weight of all his unsaid desires crashing over him, the impossibility of it all hitting like a blade through the heart.

And then you stepped closer, so close that, for a heartbeat, he swore he could feel your warmth, even though he knew you were nothing but air, a wisp of what you once were. Your gaze softened, and your lips parted, but no words came at first. Instead, you watched him with that endless sadness, the one that said you wanted all of this too but knew it could never be.

“I know,” you whispered finally, your voice trembling with the weight of your own grief. “I know, Jacaerys. And if I could… if I could be like you, I would want those things too.”

His heart twisted painfully in his chest, the air thick with the shared ache of two souls that could never truly meet.

“I would give anything,” he whispered, his voice broken, “anything to make it real.” 

But you only shook your head, stepping back ever so slightly, the distance between you growing once more. “Some things are not ours to change,” you said softly, your gaze filled with love and sorrow in equal measure. “But I will hold on to this dream with you, for as long as the night allows.”

Jacaerys clenched his fists, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. The reality of your words felt like a noose tightening around his heart. He couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear the thought of a world where you were only a memory, a fleeting shadow in the night. But as you began to fade into the silver light, he knew, deep down, that this was all he had – the nights, the dreams, the fragile hope of what could have been. 

And so, as you vanished into the air once more, he whispered into the darkness, “I will never stop trying.”

But the night, as always, gave no answer.

* * *

The air in Dragonstone had always felt heavy with the weight of its history, but tonight, it pressed down on Jace with a different kind of burden. He sat in the dim glow of flickering candles, surrounded by old, forgotten texts scattered across the stone table. The parchment crinkled under his fingers as he turned another brittle page, his eyes scanning the faded script for something – anything – that might give him a chance to bring you back. His heart ached in the silence, the hollow emptiness of your absence gnawing at him, consuming his every thought.

He had been here for hours, locked away from the world, desperate for answers. His brothers had noticed his absence at dinner, but he hadn’t cared. Nothing mattered anymore except the promise of seeing you again, of having you by his side in a way that didn’t leave him clutching at shadows when the dawn came.

His fingers paused on a passage written in a language so ancient it looked more like a series of symbols than letters. His pulse quickened as he squinted at the script, the words slowly taking shape in his mind. A ritual. A spell. His breath hitched as he read further. It was dangerous, forbidden, the kind of magic spoken of in whispers, but it was there – a way to bridge the divide between the living and the dead. His heart pounded in his chest, a sudden surge of hope lifting the weight that had been dragging him down for weeks. He could barely believe it, yet the words were there, right in front of him. 

Jace shoved the other scrolls aside, pulling this one closer, devouring the details. His fingers trembled as he traced the lines of the incantation, each phrase searing into his mind. Could it work? Could this be the answer? It had to be. After everything he’d lost, after every night spent staring at the place where you used to be, this had to be the way.

He didn’t waste time. Grabbing the parchment, he hurried through the empty halls of Dragonstone, the walls echoing with the faintest whispers of his footsteps. His heart raced, but this time it wasn’t just from grief – it was from hope. A flicker of light in the darkness that had swallowed him whole since you were gone.

When he found you, standing in the moonlit garden as you always did, his breath caught in his throat. You looked just as you always had, your silhouette soft and haunting beneath the silver light. The sight of you, as beautiful and distant as ever, twisted something deep inside him. But this time, he carried more than his usual sorrow. He had a plan.

“Jace?” your voice was gentle, a balm to the storm raging inside him. You tilted your head, a soft frown pulling at your lips as he approached. “What is it?”

“I’ve found a way.” His words came out rushed, breathless with excitement. He could barely contain the trembling in his hands, his body thrumming with energy as if the very air around him had shifted. “A spell, a ritual. It can bring you back.”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting in shock. “What?”

Jace stepped closer, thrusting the parchment toward you as if that alone could make you believe it. “It’s here, in this ancient text. I’ve been searching for weeks – no, months – and I finally found it. A ritual that can let us be together again, not just like this.” His hand waved between the two of you, the unbridgeable gap of life and death hanging in the air. “But truly. You, here, alive.”

You stared at him, your expression softening into something achingly familiar – sorrow, deep and heavy, but also love. Always love. “Jace…” you breathed, shaking your head gently as if you already knew where this was going. “No.”

His heart lurched at your response, but he pressed on, his voice almost desperate now. “I’m serious. I can do it. I’ve learned enough, I’ve studied the texts. It’s dangerous, yes, but nothing worth having comes without risk, right? Please, just – just trust me.”

But you were already stepping back, your hands clasped in front of you as sadness clouded your gaze. “You don’t know the cost of this. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Frustration flared in his chest, a sharp burn that contrasted with the dull ache that had settled there for so long. “I’m asking for you,” he insisted, his voice rising slightly, more insistent. “I’m asking to bring you back. I don’t care about the cost, I’ll pay whatever it is–”

“No!” Your voice was firm this time, your eyes glistening with the weight of your decision. “You don’t understand, Jace. This kind of magic…it’s not meant for the living. It’s not meant to be tampered with. The consequences–” You swallowed hard, glancing down at the parchment in his hands. “They’re far worse than anything you can imagine.”

He shook his head, refusing to accept it. “I don’t care about the consequences. I care about you.”

Your gaze softened again, and you reached out as if to touch him, but your hand hesitated, hanging in the air between you. “And I care about you too much to let you do this. Don’t you see? I would never ask you to pay that price.”

His heart clenched, his hope starting to slip through his fingers like sand. “But there has to be a way…” His voice was hoarse, strained with the weight of his desperation.

Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head. “There isn’t. Jace, please. I know you’re hurting, I know how much this hurts. But you have to let this go.”

Those words were like a dagger to his chest, sharp and cold, cutting deep. He stood there, frozen, the parchment still clutched in his trembling hands as the hope he’d carried so fiercely shattered before him. The flicker of light in the darkness was extinguished, leaving only the cold, endless void that had been with him since you’d gone.

“I don’t know how to let go,” he whispered, his voice broken.

Your eyes softened with the same unbearable sadness that had haunted him for so long. “I’ll always be with you, Jace. But not like this.”

He lowered his head, the parchment slipping from his fingers and falling to the ground, forgotten. His chest ached, the weight of his grief pressing down on him again, heavier than before. 

“I’m still here, in a way. But you can’t hold onto something that was never meant to last.”

He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe past the tightness in his chest. You were right. He knew it deep down, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. The love he felt for you was too strong, too overwhelming to just let go.

But he had no choice.

When he opened his eyes again, you were standing there, watching him with such tenderness it almost undid him. He wanted to reach out, to hold you, to pull you close and never let go, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Not in this world.

You lingered longer than usual in the quiet expanse of the garden, the moonlight spilling like liquid silver over the vibrant blooms and whispering leaves. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the petals, mingling with the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine. 

Beside you, Jace sat with his head resting against the cool stone of the low wall, his breaths slow and even, a stark contrast to the storm that churned within you.

You glanced at him, your heart tightening at the sight of his furrowed brow, the lines of worry etched deeper than before. His exhaustion was palpable, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on his shoulders like a cloak of lead. 

This was the first peaceful night he had experienced in what felt like an eternity, the tension of his world fading away in the gentle embrace of slumber. You wanted to memorize this moment – the way the moonlight danced over his features, casting soft shadows across his face, the way his dark hair fell just slightly over his eyes, giving him an air of vulnerability that made you want to reach out and touch him.

You did, your fingers almost brushing against his arm, pulled back by the cold force that kept you apart, seeking that connection that felt so vital. You caressed his skin, feeling the chill that seemed to seep into your very being, a reminder of the void that existed between you. 

The coldness of your absent touch pricked at your heart, a reminder of the harsh reality that loomed over both of you. He needed warmth, needed the light of hope that had grown dim in the shadows of despair. At your closeness, he shivered.

But the silence hung thick in the air, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of a future that felt increasingly uncertain. You had both chosen not to speak of the bridge again – the dangerous path that laid before him. It was a bridge of dreams and desires, but also of dark sorcery and heart-wrenching consequences. 

The memories of your conversation swirled in your mind, filling you with a mixture of sadness and fear. He had been so adamant, his eyes shining with fervor as he described the ritual, a lifeline he believed would tether you together forever.

In that moment, watching him sleep, you felt a sharp pang of regret. You wished you could take away his pain, ease the burden that threatened to crush him. The thoughts of all that could be flooded your mind: the moments you had shared, the laughter, the quiet intimacy of simply being together, and the love that blossomed in the quiet spaces between you. And yet, here you were, confronted by the reality of what you could not allow him to do.

You let out a soft sigh, your heart aching with unspoken love. Jace stirred slightly, his face softening as he unconsciously leaned closer to you. You felt a flicker of warmth bloom in your chest, but it quickly dissipated, swallowed by the chill of your predicament.

The first light of dawn crept slowly over the horizon, bathing the garden in hues of gold and rose, signaling your time together was drawing to a close. You felt the familiar tug at your being, the bittersweet ache of departure settling in your chest. 

With one last glance at his peaceful face, you felt the pull deepen, the soft light of dawn fading into the background as you began to slip away. He stirred again, a frown creasing his brow as if sensing your departure. You wished you could linger just a moment longer, to bask in the warmth of his presence, but the light of day beckoned you back to your ethereal realm.

When he awoke, the garden would be empty, echoing with the silence of your absence. You hoped he would remember this moment, this fleeting night where peace settled over him like a warm embrace, even if just for a time. As you faded, the ache in your heart felt heavier than ever, knowing the truth of your parting would leave him more vulnerable than before.

In the quiet of the garden, the morning sun rose, the shadows shifting and stretching as if reluctant to let go of the night. You slipped away, leaving only a whisper of your presence behind, a lingering sense of love intertwined with sorrow. The silence enveloped the garden, and Jace, awakening alone, would find only the echo of your touch and the hollow ache of your absence, a reminder that love, while eternal, often came with a cost far too high to bear.

* * *

Whispers swirled through the halls of the city, soft yet insistent, painting Jace as a fool, a prince teetering on the edge of madness. They spoke in hushed tones of his folly, the madness of pursuing a ghostly love, feeding on their suspicions like wolves drawn to the scent of blood. 

One of the witches he had confided in curiously, emboldened by too many cups of wine, let slip secrets of his obsession, igniting the rumors that danced through the court like shadows. 

But Jace didn’t care. The laughter and scorn of those around him faded into a dull roar, drowned out by the thundering of his heart, filled with a desperate hope that this ritual might bridge the chasm between life and death. In his mind, this was not insanity; it was a daring act of love, a chance to grasp what fate had cruelly stolen from him.

Each day, he navigated the city with a singular purpose, his thoughts consumed by the idea of you, and the hope that perhaps – just perhaps – this could be a way for you to remain at his side.

Yet every time he envisioned a future with you, a stark reminder loomed in the corners of his mind: the unyielding divide that death had carved between your worlds. The weight of that truth settled heavily on his chest, a chain that grew tighter with each passing moment. 

His duties as prince, once a source of pride, now felt like shackles. He neglected council meetings, the mundane discussions of trade and alliances slipping away like sand through his fingers. His advisors, sensing his distraction, exchanged concerned glances, their voices laced with unease. “Jace, you must focus,” they urged, but he only nodded absently, his mind already wandering back to thoughts of you. 

In the evenings, as twilight draped the kingdom in soft shadows, he retreated to the solitude of the garden where you lingered. Each night, he felt the pull of that sacred space – the air heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine and moonlit petals. He sought solace there, hoping to reclaim the fragments of joy you had once shared. But the weight of his unfulfilled longing pressed down, sharper and more suffocating than ever.

The moments spent with you grew more intense, electric with a mixture of desperation and longing. He would sit on the stone bench where you had once laughed, your voice weaving tales of adventure and mischief. Now, it felt more like a requiem for a love that could never fully blossom. 

Each word was a dagger to his heart, carving out the reality of your absence with an aching precision. He could almost feel your phantom touch, the brush of your fingers against his skin, igniting a fire that burned deep within him through the cold feeling of your closeness.

As the days turned into nights, the conversations shifted from dreams to regrets, heavy with the weight of the choices that lay before him. “What would it be like if you were still alive?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would you still laugh at my terrible jokes? Would you dance with me in the moonlight?” The questions lingered in the air, unanswered, yet their weight hung over them like a storm cloud.

But each exchange only deepened his despair. The yearning within him grew sharper, more acute, a constant ache that gnawed at his soul. The more he sought solace in these stolen moments, the more painfully aware he became of the reality separating you: a gaping maw of darkness that swallowed every hope, every dream, leaving him grasping at shadows.

One fateful night, as he clutched your hands in his, he noticed how your fingers slipped through his like mist. It was a haunting reminder that even in the moments he felt closest to you, there was still an insurmountable distance. Jace’s heart thundered in his chest as he realized how far he was willing to go to close that gap. 

As the stars blinked down upon them, Jace felt time slipping away, each moment a countdown to an unknown fate. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew he was ready to cross that line, to risk everything for the chance to hold you again, even if it meant tearing apart the very fabric of reality. The tension crackled in the air, heavy with unspoken words, as he silently resolved to pursue the only path he believed could bring you together again, unaware of the darkness that lay in wait.

* * *

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a gentle silver glow over the garden, illuminating the vibrant flowers that swayed softly in the night breeze. The air was sweet with the scent of jasmine, weaving its way around you as you stood in the sacred space where you had spent countless hours with Jace.

He approached, a shadow stepping into the light, and as he drew closer, your heart fluttered with a mix of warmth and longing. You had always felt a magnetic pull toward him, a connection that transcended the bounds of life and death, binding you in an invisible thread of love and desire.

“Jace,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in the stillness of the night. His gaze locked onto yours, a mixture of hope and yearning dancing in the depths of his dark eyes. He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

“I just want to feel you,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine, and for a moment, everything around you faded, leaving just the two of you in this suspended moment of intimacy.

He reached for you, his fingers stretching out, trembling with anticipation. Your heart raced as he attempted to touch your cheek, but the chill of the air intervened, and with it, a sudden surge of panic washed over him. In his eagerness, he knocked over a nearby candle, the flame flickering violently as hot wax splattered across his hand. A gasp escaped your lips as you watched, horror-stricken, his skin marred by the sudden pain.

“Jace!” You reached out instinctively, your hands hovering over the injured area, desperate to comfort him. His hand had reddened, a raw reminder of the recklessness born of his longing. But when he turned to you, a grin broke across his face, and it was so achingly beautiful that it momentarily took your breath away.

“It’s just a scratch,” he laughed, the sound echoing through the garden, bright and defiant against the night. “It’s nothing.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, as if he were not just a prince who had just hurt himself, but a boy caught in a moment of pure joy.

You frowned, your brow knitting together in concern as you reached out to touch his hand, careful and gentle. “You’re hurt! We should get you some water and–”

He interjected, his voice steady and full of warmth. “But I felt you.” His smile widened, a radiance that illuminated the shadows of the garden. “For a moment, I felt you.” The sincerity in his gaze made your heart ache with a fierce mix of love and worry.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly despite your concern, the sound mingling with the cool night air. “Jace, you’re reckless.” But even as you chastised him, you were drawn to the warmth that spread through you at his words. The way he looked at you, with that mixture of joy and determination, made the air crackle between you.

He held your gaze, and in that moment, all worries faded. The pain in his hand became a distant echo, overshadowed by the warmth of your connection. “I’d rather feel pain if it means I can be close to you, even for a second.”

You felt a rush of emotion swell within you, the profound weight of his words settling around your heart. You studied the way his hand trembled, and despite the coldness of his injury, he seemed so alive, so vibrant, and so utterly present.

* * *

As the days turned into months, the whispers of the young prince’s death echoed through the corridors of Dragonstone, weaving tales of sorrow and longing among the castle’s inhabitants. They spoke of the prince who had joined the ghosts, a boy who roamed the halls with an ethereal presence, forever bound to the place he loved. 

With each passing twilight, the soft glow of candlelight flickered against the ancient stone, illuminating the memories etched in the walls – moments of laughter, shared secrets, and the bittersweet ache of lost time. The air was thick with nostalgia, a fragrant reminder of the love that transcended life itself. 

In the garden where you had once nurtured your dreams and hopes with Jace, the scent of jasmine wrapped around you, weaving its way into the fabric of your being. There, you felt the weight of his hand in yours, a warm and gentle presence that defied the chill of his spectral form. Together, you wandered through the memories of your shared past, reliving the joy and heartache of your fleeting moments together.

Though the world outside continued its relentless march forward, you remained anchored in this sacred space, your heart entwined with his in a delicate dance of longing and peace. The whispers of the castle spoke of tragedy, yet you found solace in the closeness that enveloped you both – a haunting, bittersweet sense of comfort that came from knowing he would never truly leave.

In this realm of shadows and dreams, Jace had finally found the closeness he had yearned for, though it came at the ultimate price. You understood the weight of his sacrifice, the depths of love that bound you together beyond the veil of death. Each heartbeat echoed the promise of eternity, a reminder that love knows no bounds, no finality.

As the moonlight bathed the garden in its soft glow, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the peace that wrapped around you like a shroud. You could feel him beside you, his essence entwined with your own, a flickering flame against the darkness. In this quiet sanctuary, you understood that love, in all its forms, endures.

Jace had always yearned for closeness, a desire that had pulsed in the very fabric of his being. In life, it had manifested in impossible touches, stolen glances, and moments that felt both too brief and too precious to contain. Now, in death, he walked alongside you with a presence that felt transcendent. His ghostly form was not merely a shadow; it was a testament to the love that had forged its way through the veil between worlds.

And so, hand in hand, you embraced the eternity that awaited you, forever tethered to the ghost of the prince who had defied fate for the sake of love. Together, you would walk the ethereal paths of Dragonstone, your hearts united, whispering the echoes of a haunting tale that would resonate through time – a story of longing, sacrifice, and the bittersweet beauty of forever.

taglist: @smurfelle @elliaze @sillylittlepenguin181818 @lustrz-anna @lovelyteenagebeard @misshale21 @cecestea @n4tsha @inspirationquxxn @rin588 @anoravx @bbubbllejisoo

gc lovelies tags: @benjinotes @earth4angels @xxselenite @eldrith @princessbellecerise @bryscorner @v3laryons @vee-mage @softspiderling @swordgrace @hxtd @divinesolas @housetargaryenloyalist @bucksplum @cregan-starks @fyrewept

[finalgirllx]

Could you do headcanons for going to a haunted house with Mattheo?🤭

the horror fan in me is melting at this idea. it's officially six months until halloween, that counts as spooky season. right? right?

mattheo riddle embodies the cliche of a man, unafraid at a haunted house attraction. even though the attractions in hogsmeade use oodles of magical jinxes to scare your pants off, he dodges every trick and scream easily, appearing suspiciously unbothered by every provocation. you give him the benefit of the doubt as he keeps his chest held high, flashing a smirk in your direction when you latch onto his side while in the queue to enter. 

mattheo readily positions the two of you at the front of the group to make sure you face the thrills head-on. whether you bury your head in his shoulder or make wisecracks with him towards the clowns, ghosts, and other monsters that get in your way, mattheo finds it endearing because he relishes in getting to be 'your hero', pulling you snug against him whenever you get targeted. you listen as he turns damn-near into a comedian as you traverse the tight-squeeze hallways. couldn't be his attempt to compensate for the fear. definitely not. 

there's also no way a haunted house doesn't stir up mattheo's protective instincts. we vibe with some red flags, yeah? he should know it's all in good fun, but an actor coming too close to you for his comfort still gets him seething. mattheo immediately gets in their face, growling threats if they dare come near you again. ever the romantic mattheo is. to prevent yourselves from being barred from the attraction midway, you spout a flurry of embarrassed apologies at the actor and take the lead for the first and only time, grabbing mattheo's hand and yanking him deeper into the attraction and away from more trouble. 

it wouldn't be a date with mattheo if he didn't find at least one dark, secluded corner to pull you in, wrapping himself around you in his furnace-like embrace and sneaking a kiss, insisting it's necessary to lighten the mood. 

the brave facade mattheo maintained the entire evening almost has you fooled. once you two end your night out and begin your trek to the castle, you finally relent and praise him for his guts. the cocky smirk that appears on mattheo's face looks like it could become a permanent fixture of his expression. the pride is short-lived when, of all things, a stray critter rustling in the bushes is the final straw, prompting mattheo to shriek in a pitch you never knew he was capable of. you (and his friends, when you giddily recount the incident later that night) will never let him live that one down. 

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟎𝟕. 𝐠𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ 'Cause I'm all that you want, boy / All that you can have, boy / Got me spread like a buffet / Bon a—, bon appétit, baby — Katy Perry, Bon Appétit

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 7.2k

pairing— rough!dom!gn!reader x needy!sub!gojo

cws/tags— flatmates to fuckers, foodplay (melted chocolate), masochist satoru, finger sucking/face fucking, oral fixation, biting & gagging, petnames (“sweet thing” & “sugar”), spit kink, semi-clothed sex, reader is AFAB & wears a skirt + panties but isn’t gendered, oral (reader receiving), unprotected p in v

You stood in the dimly lit apartment's kitchen, a soft glow emanating from the pendant lights overhead, casting a warm ambience over the space. Positioned in front of the sleek, marble-topped island, you rested your hands on your hips, frustration evident in your furrowed brow.

In the midst of this culinary battlefield, three small bowls sat before you, each containing once-promising chocolate that had succumbed to the unpredictable art of tempering. The rich aroma still lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle notes of vanilla from earlier attempts. The chocolate, normally a delight, now seemed to mock your culinary ambitions.

As you peered down at the bowls a sense of disappointment washed over you, knowing that the dream of presenting homemade Halloween chocolates had met an untimely demise. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, a mixture of frustration and resignation, as you brought your hand up to rub the tense muscles at the back of your neck. The dream of crafting perfect, glossy chocolates for the spooky season had slipped through your fingers. 

Satoru, your affable and easygoing flatmate, stepped into the room, the soft fabric of his customary loungewear draped loosely over his athletic frame. The dim lighting of the apartment accentuated the subdued tones of his grey sweatpants and the way the black compression t-shirt clung to his physique, emphasising the sinewy contours of his muscled form. Each movement he made seemed to embody a sort of graceful confidence, a testament to his inherent athleticism.

However, as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, an air of concern etched itself onto his handsome features. His normally unwavering composure faltered upon encountering your sour expression, directed toward the trio of pitiable bowls harbouring the remnants of your chocolaty struggle.

The scent, thick and enveloping, wafted through the room, a bittersweet reminder of the culinary clash that had taken place. He chose to remain still, absorbing the atmosphere and discerning the unspoken frustration that hung in the air.

You managed an awkward smile, a mixture of sheepishness and embarrassment colouring your expression.

"A failed experiment," you clarified, attempting to lighten the mood. "Any chance you have a sweet tooth?"

Satoru hesitated for a brief moment, contemplating the question. His curiosity got the better of him as he stepped closer to the kitchen island to inspect the unfortunate outcome of your chocolate endeavour. Extending a hand, he scooped a bit of the still-warm milk chocolate with his finger, eyeing it thoughtfully.

After a few contemplative moments, he turned to you with a playful yet polite inquiry, "D'you mind?"

You shrugged, your gaze shifting back to the three bowls with a resigned acceptance.

"Have at it. I can't have all of this by myself," you conceded, gesturing toward the bowls.

Finding a sense of shared amusement in the situation, you followed suit and dipped your own finger into the bowl containing the melted dark chocolate. Bringing it to your lips, you sampled the richness of the chocolate, the bittersweet taste momentarily distracting you from the earlier disappointment. 

Satoru's eyes, a vivid shade of blue that often held a sense of calm and composure, suddenly lit up with a spark of excitement—He had been granted permission to indulge in a long-awaited craving. Without hesitation, he dipped his fingers into the velvety pool of melted dark chocolate, his movements deliberate yet filled with a childlike enthusiasm.

As he brought his chocolate-coated fingers to his lips, his tongue skillfully sweeping away the decadent layer, the rosy hue of his lips contrasted beautifully with the rich darkness of the chocolate. 

He froze.

His sapphire eyes widened, locking onto the sight of you licking your own finger clean of the dark chocolate. A curious realisation washed over his expression, and a flicker of something deeper, something like a revelation, danced in his gaze.

Seizing the last remnants of the dark chocolate, you adeptly licked your finger clean, sampling the taste before moving on to the bowl of melted white chocolate. With a dip of your finger, you retrieved a dollop and raised it to your lips, tasting the creamy sweetness.

A hum escaped you, followed by a subtle wrinkling of your nose. "I'm not a big fan of white chocolate. Too sweet," you remarked, your taste buds delivering their verdict.

Satoru, still fixated on observing this simple act, the way you interacted with the chocolate, nodded in acknowledgement at your assessment. His face carried an intense curiosity, as if a peculiar notion was taking shape within his mind. However, he chose to keep it unspoken, opting to silently study you.

You shifted your position, perching on the kitchen island near the array of chocolate-filled bowls, anticipating that this impromptu chocolate-tasting session might extend for a while.

"D'you like white chocolate?" you inquired.

Satoru paused his indulgence for a moment, his lips still adorned with a delicate coat of chocolate. He nodded in response to your question, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, though his unwavering gaze remained locked onto you. With a casual ease, he delved into the white chocolate, his eyes staying fixed on you as he licked his finger clean.

"Y'know, since I moved in, I've noticed that you have a bit of a sweet tooth," you remarked, beginning to ramble. "I'm not surprised you like white chocolate. I mean, it has so little cocoa in it... Can it even be called chocolate, d'you think?"

Satoru's attention remained steadfastly fixed on you, his expression pensive as if pondering your words. His gentle smile conveyed an understanding, and his fingers absentmindedly weaved through his fluffy white hair while he took in your observations.

In a moment of quiet contemplation, he finally broke the silence, his voice soft but purposeful in its delivery. "Do you... Do that a lot?"

You looked at him, the question catching you slightly off guard. "Do what?" you inquired, a hint of amusement in your tone, as you dipped your finger into the inviting bowl of melted milk chocolate this time.

"Licking your fingers," he clarified, his voice carrying a subtle playfulness accompanied by a knowing smile. "Licking your fingers clean."

Your laughter danced through the air. "Sure, when there's melted chocolate involved... You'd be crazy not to, y'know?" 

Satoru continued to gaze at you with a gentle, almost dreamy smile, as if captivated by the act of you enjoying the chocolate. His demeanour carried a sense of reverence, akin to admiring a work of art. However, suddenly snapping out of this trance-like reverie, a subtle blush adorned his cheeks as he averted his gaze.

He cleared his throat and hummed, the sound breaking the quietness that had settled between you two. "Is that a habit of yours?"

You tilted your head to the side, considering his question as you had the remnants of chocolate, culminating in a soft 'pop' as you removed your finger from your mouth.

"If I had enough melted chocolate, then I could make it one," you mused.

Satoru's interest visibly piqued, and with a deliberate movement, he drew closer, inching towards you. His gaze remained fixed on you, observing with a gentle intensity as you continued to enjoy the chocolate. As he reached your side, he leaned with self-conscious nonchalance against the kitchen island.

Caught in the allure of the moment, Satoru's gaze remained fixed on your lips, captivated by the simple act of you licking your finger. The gentle rise of heat within him went unnoticed, overshadowed by his complete and unwavering focus on you, and the delicate sound of that 'pop’.

With a deep breath, drawn slow and deliberate, he collected his thoughts, grappling with a desire to express something that lay just beyond the surface. His voice, almost a whisper, emerged from within, barely audible but charged with unspoken sentiment. "Your tongue."

"Hm?"

Satoru nodded towards your lips, his words carrying a delicate weight, almost as if he were posing a question. 

"Your tongue," he whispered again, this time as if gently seeking understanding, his hand tentatively lifting toward your face, but hesitated mid-motion.

Your bemused expression remained intact as you pushed the bowl of white chocolate towards Satoru, ignoring the subtle undercurrents of the moment. "Yeah, I have one. Eat up, I can't finish all this by myself.”

Satoru's gaze shifted from the yearning in his eyes to one of unadulterated delight, like a child left unattended in a sweet shop. 

"Thanks," he said. With the same childlike enthusiasm, he dipped his finger into the white chocolate and licked it clean, relishing the creamy sweetness.

With a subtle shift, he moved the bowl closer to your side. His finger then dipped into the dark chocolate bowl, and he held it out to you, looking up with a gentle, inviting expression. Your smile remained genuine as you dipped your finger into the dark chocolate, indulging in its rich taste. As you licked your finger clean, indulging in the chocolatey delight, you noticed Satoru's presence, his gaze focused on the act with a kind of intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His deep hum of pleasure only added to the charged atmosphere, making you acutely aware of his fixation on your lips, your tongue, the movement of every gesture.

For Satoru, this innocent act held a captivating allure, his eyes ensnared by the graceful motion of your tongue, the way your finger was slowly inserted into your mouth, coated by a mix of saliva and chocolate. The heat within him surged, the internal struggle to maintain composure becoming more challenging with each passing moment. 

You dipped the corner of your thumb into the white chocolate bowl and confirmed your earlier assessment with a wrinkled nose.

"Nope. Still far too sweet," you murmured in good-natured complaint, aiming an accusatory glare at the offending bowl.

Satoru's focus remained intense, the proximity between the two of you forgotten. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady the rising tide of emotions that threatened to betray his composure. In a soft, barely audible whisper, he let out his unspoken admiration, a phrase that held a tenderness akin to an awe-filled sigh. 

"So pretty," he breathed, his lips forming a gentle, almost childlike smile.

"Did you say something?" you asked, momentarily distracted by your thoughts.

Satoru tore his gaze away from you and mumbled an apologetic, "Nothing."

He sought solace in the act of dipping his finger into the milk chocolate. The taste of chocolate melted on his taste buds, prompting a soft sigh of satisfaction as he closed his eyes. After a brief hesitation, he whispered, "Can I have more?"

His attention still captured by the subtle movements of your lips, he wrestled with the longing to taste your smile. The internal flames of desire roared, the struggle to maintain restraint growing more intense, and it was a miracle he hadn’t melted into a puddle of lust-sick goo.

"Sure, go ahead. I've got too much, and I don't wanna waste it," you replied casually, "I was gonna make some chocolates for Halloween, but I messed up tempering the chocolate, so they wouldn't come out right."

Satoru's attention was entranced, his senses consumed by the choreography of your speech. The movement of your lips, the delicate dance of your tongue against your teeth, the mesmerising gestures of your fingers—every nuance held a captivating allure for him. His gaze lingered on your lips, caught in the magnetic pull of your eyes and the subtle curves of your mouth as you spoke. Each syllable seemed to ripple through the air, carrying a delicate beauty that intoxicated him. Oh, how he yearned to draw closer and drink you in, to taste you and to feel you.

You dipped two fingers into the bowl of dark chocolate, the rich, velvety substance clinging to your digits as you simultaneously lifted them to your lips and expertly licked them clean with the graceful sweep of your tongue.

You broke the silence that had enveloped the kitchen. "Are you more of a sweets person or a chocolate person?"

As Satoru reflected on your question, his mind wandered back to a distant memory, a recollection of a fateful evening many years ago. It was the night his parents had finally allowed him to venture outside the Gojo family estate to experience the joy of Trick-or-Treating for the first time. That night had left an indelible mark on him, igniting a lifelong love for sweets of all kinds, and the memory of that sugar rush had stayed with him throughout the years. Satoru had always been known for his adoration of sweets; The answer was sweets.

"Chocolate," he said softly, his gaze remaining fixated on your lips.

"Yeah, same here. Nothing beats chocolate, y'know?" 

Satoru's attention remained captivated by the mesmerising movements of your tongue and lips. He observed the way your lips puckered subtly as you cleaned some milk chocolate from your thumb, the simple act imbued with an unintentional allure. So engrossed was he in this subtle spectacle that he leaned closer to you, drawn in by the magnetic pull of you.

As Satoru leaned closer, your laughter, soft and delightful, broke through the air, the sound music to his ears.

"You have a little somethin'," you pointed out, your grin warm and inviting as you nodded towards him.

He felt a pleasant warmth surge through him as he absorbed your cute smile, the contours of it, and the way it seemed to brighten the room. Realising what you meant, he couldn't help but form a small line with his lips, a faint blush gracing his cheeks. Stepping back slightly, a hint of bashfulness crept into his demeanour, though his fascination with you lingered.

"Aren't you gonna clean it off, or is it a new look for you?" you teased with a chuckle, pointing to the corner of his mouth where a smudge of milk chocolate remained.

Satoru's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement as he quickly wiped the corner of his mouth clean.

"New look," he mumbled, trying to maintain a playful demeanour despite the warmth that had crept into his face.

Suppressing a laugh, you couldn't help but add: "You missed a spot."

His embarrassment grew as he hurriedly wiped his mouth again, and his response carried a slightly sharp tone. "There. Happy now?"

As his gaze met yours again, it travelled down your neck, fixating on the curve of your shoulder with an undeniable longing. 

A gasp of surprise escaped Satoru as you took matters into your own hands, or rather, your thumb. Feeling the soft pad of your thumb brushing against the corner of his lips, he momentarily lost himself in the sensation, the brief touch sending a shiver through his body. A soft, quiet moan that escaped him.

You efficiently cleaned the melted chocolate, and then with a playful flair, brought your thumb to your mouth, licking it clean. "There. Now you're all good."

Satoru was left slightly breathless, the warmth of the interaction lingering on his lips.

The air in the kitchen crackled with a newfound energy as you dipped your finger into the white chocolate, purposefully smearing a bit onto your lips, a playful innuendo that hung in the air. 

Satoru chuckled, his eyes fixated on the white chocolate smeared across your lips, the sight igniting a fiery heat within him. His gaze was intense, captivated by the way you licked your lips clean, a soft hum of awe escaping him.

He raised his own finger, dipping it into the white chocolate. Instead of smearing, he chose a different path, bringing his finger to his lips and licking the chocolate clean with deliberate precision. His eyes remained locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze reflecting the overwhelming desire to be closer to you, to taste your sweetness, to let his tongue be a messenger of longing. 

Satoru's anticipation was palpable as he watched you dip your thumb into the dark chocolate bowl. A smile gracing his lips as you cupped his jaw in your hand, the connection between you growing more profound with each passing moment. He closed his eyes, surrendering.

As the tip of your chocolate-coated thumb brushed against his mouth, a deep, shaky breath escaped him, his body trembling. With eyes still closed, he opened his mouth, inviting the sweet temptation within. Your thumb slipped between his lips, and his tongue curled around it, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with an intensity that mirrored the rising desire within him. He sucked on your thumb, a soft, low moan escaping his parted lips as he savoured the taste of the dark chocolate. His mouth remained wrapped around your thumb, your fingers caressing the back of his head, adding to the intoxicating sensations that enveloped him. His body quivered with a fervour, his tongue darting out to lick away the chocolate, creating a soft, wet sensation that sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

Satoru tilted his head, his tongue wrapping around your thumb with a gentle intensity. The sensations that coursed through you were titillating, the intimacy of the moment leaving you both breathless. He continued to suck, using his tongue to expertly remove the melted dark chocolate, the soft, wet sucking noise adding a seductive cadence to the air. As your thumb emerged clean, a rush of satisfaction swept over him.

You delicately slid your thumb out of his mouth, and in a hushed murmur, you inquired, "How'd it taste?"

Satoru's eyes remained fixed on your thumb, still moist from the encounter. A slight smile of satisfaction graced his lips as he studied the string of saliva between his lips and your thumb. He inhaled the lingering aroma. Swallowing, his voice emerged as a quiet rasp, carrying a raw honesty. "Like you."

"Good, then?"

"Good," he murmured as he swallowed again.

As Satoru gently pressed your thumb against his lips, letting it rest there, a gentle sigh escaped him. The touch was a buzz, the taste of chocolate mingled with the essence of you.

Your thumb brushed against his lower lip. The desire within him surged, and the restraint he held onto began to slip. His swirling blue eyes, intense and craving, remained locked onto yours. Unable to resist the allure, Satoru softly sucked on your thumb, the pleasure of the act unmistakable. A soft moan escaped him, his body trembling.

With your free hand, you dipped your fingers into the melted dark chocolate, smearing the rich, velvety substance against Satoru's pale cheek. The contrast between the dark chocolate and his fair skin was a strinking sight—though, rather than marring him, it only made him look all the more mouth-watering. Leaning closer, your tongue pressed to his cheek, tracing a deliberate stripe across the soft skin. The taste of him mingled with the bitter chocolate—a sensual fusion. 

He felt an earnest heat surge through him as your tongue left a searing mark on his cheek, his eyes closing once more. With a growing hunger, he pulled your thumb deeper into his mouth, savouring the taste. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he drew closer, standing between your legs as you sat on the kitchen island. 

He released small sounds of pleasure as you pushed your thumb deeper into his mouth, the taste and sensation overwhelming. The tightness of his embrace around your waist conveyed the intensity of his hunger, his starvation.

A moan escaped him, the pleasure and desire spiralling, but it was swiftly followed by a quiet, choked sound as the sensations grew more potent. His breath quickened, and as his eyes fluttered open, he sought to communicate his need for a moment to breathe. Despite this, he eagerly accepted your thumb once more, craving the taste and the connection it offered.

Sensing his state, you displayed a playful smirk against his cheek, acknowledging the effect you had on him. The soft kiss against his cheek and the withdrawal of your thumb granted him the ability to breathe properly, a relief he welcomed.

With Satoru standing so close, you nuzzled his neck, your words murmured against his skin. "You taste amazing."

"You taste perfect," he responded, laden with longing. The soft, hungry moans escaped him.

As he leaned his head forward, exposing his neck, the invitation was clear, and you gladly accepted. Your tongue swirled and pressed against his neck, your teeth grazing his skin, each touch and sensation eliciting pretty moans and pants from him. The proximity, the taste of you, and the closeness between you had his body trembling.

His fingers clutched at your waist, a silent plea for more, for the delicious torment to continue. The line between flatmate and something else was blurred, replaced by a yearning that begged for fulfilment.

The intensity of the moment reached its peak as Satoru's body betrayed him, his knees beginning to buckle against the kitchen island. His heart raced, his breath quickened, and soft sighs of pleasure escaped him, each exhalation laden with desire. The sensations coursing through him were overwhelming, and he surrendered to the pleasure that enveloped him.

Your touch, cradling his head and pressing him closer to your body, ignited a fire within him that burned away his self-restraint. His breaths came in short, sharp gulps, his eyes tightly closed as he continued to moan, the sounds a testament to the exquisite torment he was experiencing. His fingers, which had initially clung to your waist, transformed into a desperate grip—a plea for more, more, more. He yearned for you to devour him in the sweetest way possible.

The sensation of your teeth sinking into his neck sent a jolt through Satoru's body, his eyes snapping open as his breath hitched in response. The vibrations of your satisfied hum resonated down his spine straight to his loins, to that more primal hunger. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

Cute whimpers escaped him as you continued to sink your teeth into his neck, the dark purplish bruises forming under the ravenous caress of your lips. The indulgent torment left him trembling with need and longing. As you soothed the bite marks with your tongue, sucking and kissing them, his body shivered with pleasure. 

"Are you trying to make me like a dessert...?" Satoru whispered in playful anticipation.

"I might eat you like one," you mused, laughter dancing through your words.

Satoru chuckled softly, his hand tenderly running along the back of your neck, the gentle strokes sending waves of pleasure through you.

"Please?" he hoarsely pleaded for a taste that would satiate more than just a physical hunger.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, revelling in the intoxicating closeness. Nuzzling against your neck, his face brushed against your skin with a gentle touch, a platter of kisses, licks, and nibbles that sent ripples of pleasure through you.

His fingers continued their tender exploration, stroking your hair and tracing a slow, deliberate path down your back. Each touch felt like a caress, mapping the curves and contours of your body, as if he were committing the sensation to memory, an artist tenderly tracing the lines of a masterpiece.

You played your part, dipping your fingers into the bowl of milk chocolate with a deliberate laziness, making a show of it, relishing in the decadent act. With a flourish, you sucked the melted chocolate off your fingers, the sound deliberate and loud, a performance that filled the air. Your moans of pleasure, meant for the chocolate but echoing sensually, added to the provocative display. All the while, Satoru was there, an edacious audience to the mesmerising act.

His soft whine of pleasure resonated with the sounds and sights before him. His eyes fluttered open, capturing the eniticing sight of you licking your lips, the taste and aroma of chocolate lingering in the air. His breath caught in his throat, and he let out soft, whining noises of his own, growing louder with each passing moment.

"Open," you whispered, and he obeyed without a moment's hesitation. His mouth slightly parted, pupils dilated with thirst, his gaze locked onto yours.

You leaned closer, the distance between your lips mere inches. The world seemed to hold its breath.

You allowed your milk chocolate-flavoured saliva to drip into his waiting mouth. It was a blend of your essence and the sweetness of chocolate, a taste that sent shivers down his spine. Satoru's grip on your skin tightened as he welcomed the sensation, his mouth opening wider to take in every precious drop. A loud, moan escaped him as he drank in your saliva, the taste of you leaving an indelible mark—trembling with the insatiable craving for you.

"Swallow," you commanded, and he obeyed, swallowing with a soft moan. The pleasure it elicited was evident, his grip on your neck tightening as he continued to make soft, whimpering noises, his gaze fixed on you with an unquenchable thirst.

You leaned in closer, "You like that, don't you?" you whispered, a smugness colouring your tone, gorging on the effect you had on him.

"I love it," Satoru murmured, his voice laced with desire and desperation. "I need more," he confessed, the yearning in his words palpable.

You laughed. "Hungry for more of me?"

"Starving.”

The intimate tension in the air was palpable, a force that left Satoru's features adorned with a flush of the most captivating shade of red. His blue eyes, half-lidded and filled with desire, were fixated on you, a thirst burning within them that yearned to devour you.

With a rapaciousness that knew no bounds, Satoru's hands grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. Soft, whimpering escaped him as your hips rolled against his, setting his senses ablaze. The press of your body against his was a sensation he craved, and his eyes pleaded with a famished longing, begging for more.

You smeared chocolate against his neck, the tactile sensation adding to the symphony of pleasure that enveloped the room. Satoru's body trembled as he ground against you, the sounds of his moans and whimpers filling the kitchen. He moaned louder as you bit down on his neck, the sensation shooting a wave of electrifying pleasure through him. His teeth ached in response, his mouth watering for you. 

"D'you wanna kiss me, sugar? You wanna taste me for real?" Your lips then found his earlobe, nibbling and licking, a promise of the sensations that could be.

Satoru, overcome with longing, nodded eagerly, a trickle of sweat tracing the line of his flushed face. His grip on your waist tightened, his body moving against yours with a growing urgency, fueled by an insatiable need to be closer, to taste the reality of this desire.

“Then beg,” you commanded.

Satoru's voice, hoarse and raw with desire, quivered as he responded, his moans merging with the symphony of the moment. He pressed his nose into your neck, your proximity overwhelming his senses. 

"Please… Please, I need to feel you. I need to taste you. I need you," he mumbled, his words a desperate plea for the intimacy he craved.

You didn't hold back, the smugness of your laughter giving way to a ravenous kiss. He trembled in your embrace, his mouth opening to welcome the invasion of your tongue. The taste of chocolate and the essence of you mingled, a heady combination that sent his senses into a whirlwind. His tongue writhed against yours, a desperate attempt to enjoy every bit of you. He was a man starved, and he groaned into the kiss.

"Please, I need more," he breathed into your mouth—a chant of desire.

His body quaked with the intensity of his yearning, grinding against you. Your fingernails dug into his neck, making him hiss through gritted teeth. He whimpered as he sucked on your tongue, every moan and every swallow consuming him, the taste of you imprinted on his senses, an imprint he never wanted to fade. He squirmed against your body, wanting more. 

As you pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips, you could feel the boiling energy in the room.

You wasted no time, plunging your hand into the bowl of melted white chocolate, your fingers finding their way into his greedy mouth. The accidental smear down his chin only added to the intensity, as his eyes closed in pure pleasure. His mouth welcomed your fingers, allowing them to slide in, savouring the taste of the chocolate that spilled down his throat. Each swallow was accompanied by a moan and a whine, the chocolate causing his body to shiver.

Satoru's own grip tightened, his fingers pressing against the back of your head as he sucked and licked, his tongue exploring for every last drop of the chocolate. The desire in his eyes was palpable, the hunger for both of you consuming every waking thought.

You pushed your fingers even deeper into his mouth, eliciting his gag reflex, and his eyes fluttered. "Aw, aren't you so cute?" you teased, your hips rolling in a tantalising rhythm that added to the mounting desire.

Satoru pressed his hips against yours with fervour, driven by the craving to taste every precious drop of the chocolate and your essence.

"I'll do anything to taste you," he whined.

You met his desire with a challenge, arching an eyebrow and pulling your fingers out of his mouth, the same hand covered in the glistening trail of spit that connected you moments ago. Gripping his jaw with determination, you presented him with the opportunity to fulfil his longing.

"Taste me, then."

Satoru's eyes widened with hunger as your spit hit his mouth, his anticipation palpable. Before he could react, you thrust your fingers into his mouth, pushing them down his throat. He gagged and moaned, the sensations both overwhelming and exhilarating. Your saliva mixed with the chocolate was a unique flavour, a taste he craved to savour. As he swallowed your saliva, he choked and whimpered loudly, the feeling of your fingers pressing deeper down his throat.

The wicked grin on your face mirrored the intensity of the moment, a dance of desire that showed no signs of slowing down. One of his own hands gripped your wrist, forcing your fingers to stay shoved down his throat. With determination, you pumped your fingers in and out of his mouth, pushing him to experience the full extent of his cravings.

"Taste all you can," you snickered.

Satoru responded with a loud, girlish whine of desire, his pretty eyes rolling back as he tried to gulp and swallow your spit. The mixture of pleasure, anticipation, and need had him in a trance, and he couldn't get enough. Drool spilt from his rosy lips down his chin, a visible testament to his craving for you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, his moans filling the kitchen as he devoured you. His body writhed against your fingers, the need to taste, to consume, to gorge, to ravage… He couldn’t think.

"Yeah, that's it. That's it, sweet thing. Good, keep going," you chuckled, urging him on.

He responded with a loud, lustful squeak of pleasure. His body pressed against yours with all his weight, the kitchen island providing support as he ground against you. Slick with a layer of your sweet saliva, his tongue was a tantalising instrument, pressing against your fingers with a desperate need. The sensation of his teeth and tongue exploring your fingers was trilling, and he gorged on every moment, wanting to taste all of you at once.

"Alright, that's enough," you said with a teasing click of your teeth.

As you tugged on his fluffy white hair and withdrew your fingers from his mouth, wiping them against his cheek, Satoru let out a loud whine of disappointment. He was left in a state of famine—wanting more, needing more, craving more—your very own Tantalus.

Moaning and looking at you with pleading eyes, saliva dripping down the corner of his mouth, his cheeks pink and lips parted, he whimpered your name softly. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to regain his composure.

“But I… I want... I want more,” he whined breathily, desire consuming him.

You leaned in, your lips finding his jaw, and whispered enticingly in his ear, "But I'm impressed, sugar... I think you deserve more of me." 

You softly bit his earlobe, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. Your hands moved with purpose, sliding down to his waist and undoing his belt. The sound of it hitting the floor filled the kitchen, the noise accentuating the anticipation that hung heavily in the air. Satoru shivered with excitement, his eyes rolling back into his head as his fingers dug into your back.

"Please, please, please…”

With trembling hands, his fingers working eagerly to remove the fabric that stood between him and you. He slid his fingers under the hem of your skirt, the touch against the smooth, soft fabric of your underwear making him whine with longing. The lace against his fingertips was a sensation that drove him wild, his fingers writhing in response to the intoxicating touch.

As you leaned in and bit his neck, the pleasure intensified, his breath catching in his throat as he moaned. Every touch, every instruction was a step further into the Third Circle.

"Go on, take them off for me," you whispered, the urgency in your voice coaxing him to act. 

Satoru's obedience was instant. His trembling hands slid your panties down your legs, the quiet rustling noise filling the charged air. As the fabric was removed, his eyes were fixated on you, the hunger in his gaze undeniable. Lifting your leg to rest against his hip, he was granted a provocative view of your body. Desire burned brightly in his eyes as he took in the sight, captivated by the allure before him. 

Your playful smirk spurred you to make a spectacle, a teasing display that left nothing to the imagination. You opened your legs, presenting yourself like a meal on a silver platter being served to a starving man. Satoru's eyes were fixated on you, drinking in the sight of your form, eyes latched onto how your cunt was slick and needy with the arousal that had gathered from him gagging on your fingers. 

With a teasing confidence, your hands moved to undo the strings of Satoru's grey sweatpants, where you could very clearly see the aching hard-on he sported. His heaving breaths filled the air, as your hand pressed against his leg and your skirt was hoisted up further, exposing more of your tempting form.

As your fingers explored his skin, tracing the contours of his thigh, his body quivered with longing. Your hands moved freely up and down the meat of his thighs, gripping and squeezing his flesh.

"Like what you see, sweet thing?" 

Every fibre of his being yearned to taste you, to devour you whole until you could offer no more. His whines grew louder, his desperation palpable as your fingers danced along his thigh, your touch inching to his throbbing cock that dripped with precum and was flushed a pretty red.

“Love what I see.”

Lust hung in the dense air, hung between Satoru’s legs, between your thighs. He leaned in, his intent clear, and his tongue traced a path along your thigh. As his skilled fingers explored every curve, every contour of your being, his lips kissed and suckled on your inner thighs, leaving trails of desire in their wake. You could sense his hunger, a ravenous appetite for the taste of you.

Your lips curled into a coy, lustful smile as you lifted his chin with your fingers, meeting the depth of his hungry gaze. His face was a portrait of desire, the scorching flames of longing reflected in his eyes. 

"Please. I'm starving," he breathed out, his plea shivering with yearning.

"Starving, huh? I guess I shouldn't let you go hungry," you drawled. You dipped your fingers into the bowl of melted milk chocolate and smeared some across your inner thigh. "Are you a messy eater, sugar?"

"I… I’m…" he stammered with a bright blush.

Your fingers laced into his hair as you pulled his head closer, and he was lost in the intoxicating embrace of your thighs. His tongue danced and swirled, relishing the sweet taste of the milk chocolate and the essence of you.

"Eat your heart out," you purred, your nails grazing his scalp—a delicious torment.

The sensations coursing through your body were electrifying, and Satoru's pious ministrations between your thighs left you gasping and trembling with pleasure. His strong hands gripped your hips, urging you to press harder against his face as he explored every inch of dripping your cunt.

His mouth moved with rhythmic precision, his lips slick with your wetness and his saliva as he lavished you. Each deliberate nudge of his nose against your clit sent waves of pleasure cascading through your body, making you arch your back and moan in ecstasy. 

Satoru's half-lidded eyes, dark with hunger and desire, bore into yours, and his whimpers of praise only made your desire consume you more. He yearned to taste and devour every drop of your essence, relishing the thought of making it run down your thighs so he could eagerly lap it up—or even better, make it squirt straight into his mouth for his desperate taste buds.

Your moans grew louder and more urgent, your fingers digging into his hair as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure building within you. 

Satoru's tongue delved deeper, and the sensations intensified as he explored your most sensitive depths. Your gasps and moans filled the air as he continued to pleasure you. He maintained a steady rhythm, his movements deliberate and measured, aiming to drive you to the peak of ecstasy. With each thrust of his tongue and gentle exploration of your inner walls, your breath quickened and your body quivered with anticipation. He watched you hungrily, his eyes locked on yours, seeking the signs of your pleasure. 

Satoru's mouth found its way back to your clit, and his skilled tongue traced precise circles around the tender bundle of nerves. The wet, warm sensation sent ripples through you, each flicker of contact causing your body to tremble with delight. The vibrations from his moans spurred on your own ravenous hunger.

Your body responded involuntarily, hips arching towards him in a silent plea for more. He picked up the pace, increasing the intensity of his movements, fully immersing himself in the art of pleasuring you. Every motion of his tongue, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips, only made him devour and drink you in more.

Just before you could cum on his tongue, and much to Satoru’s dismay, you wrenched his head away.

As your lips crashed together in a desperate, passionate kiss, your bodies moulded against each other in a frenzied dance of desire. Satoru's surprised yelp transformed into a moan of pleasure, the taste of you on his tongue heightening his longing. You felt him slide inside you, the sensation making your breath hitch and a loud moan escape your lips. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, seeking the intimate closeness that only heightened the pleasure you both craved. With each thrust, every movement, your bodies consumed each other as fully as you could.

His moans merged with yours, a harmonious blend of pleasure and satisfaction that echoed in the room. The sounds of your passionate union filled the air, a sweet melody of ecstasy that enveloped you both. The world faded away, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, consumed by the intense connection and unyielding desire that drove you closer to the edge.

Satoru's desire and urgency radiated through every touch, every thrust, driving you both closer to the brink. Each movement of his body brought a symphony of pleasure, filling the kitchen with the sounds of your shared desire. Your cries of delight mingled with his, deepening with every thrust, as he pressed against you with increasing urgency born of the overwhelming desire that ravished you both. As Satoru's cock delved deeper inside you, the sensation of your wet pussy contracting and fluttering around him sent ripples of pleasure through his body, amplifying the intensity of his movements. 

He just couldn’t help himself.

In that moment of release, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the intensity of pleasure and the shared ecstasy that enveloped you both. Your bodies moved as one, driven by an insatiable hunger and aching desire for each other. Satoru's cries of bliss mingled with your own, a symphony of pleasure as he spilled into you, a torrent of warmth that further heightened your climax. Satoru's fervent thrusts reached a crescendo, his voice echoing through the room as he spilled his essence into your waiting warmth.

His release triggered a cascade of sensations, the intensity of which was almost overwhelming. His cries of ecstasy and the way he clung to you, his body trembling with the power of his climax, were etched into your memory. Thick spurts of cum filled you as he continued to pound into you.

Your body quaked and convulsed, the sensation of his cum filling you only amplifying the intensity of your own orgasm. The pleasure rippled through you, coursing through every nerve and fibre, leaving you gasping and shivering in the aftermath. It was a moment of pure abandon, where all that mattered was the pleasure you both had ignited within each other.

As the waves of ecstasy subsided, you found yourselves entwined, chests heaving, and breaths mingling in the air. The kitchen was filled with a heady mix of desire and still, although faintly, of chocolate.

The two of you slumped against the kitchen island, completely exhausted. The silence between you is thick. Neither of you says anything to each other and you can hear your panting breathing. You can feel Satoru’s chest rapidly rising and falling as he stayed pressed to you, and he reluctantly pulled out.

Satoru breathed shakily, but was still unable to speak coherently. His face was flushed and still recovering. He looked at you and you could see the glazed-over look of afterglow in his eyes. He looks like a panting mess of exhaustion, forcing out the next few words.

“I need you,” he whispered.

Satoru's lips found yours in a soft, wet kiss before you could respond. A passionate kiss, his mouth searching and seeking, taking in every taste, every curve and caress of your lips. Soft, gentle. Hungry and relentless. His hands moved into your hair, his fingertips pressing against the bare skin of your neck, tracing every curve. His lips pressed and retreated, press… Retreat… Press… There was an undeniable hunger to it—a hunger you now understood, and now shared.

“I need you, too.”

a/n: peep the five stars. peep the Tantalus reference. peep the Dante's Inferno reference. Happy Kinktober! :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Forever At The Pumpkin Patch.

fictober masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - wow, my first fic from my 'halloween chronicals' and i cannot wait for you to read what i have written for you all!

word count - 4.4k

in which, your boyfriend knew that halloween was your favourite holiday of the year, you tended to go all out, you liked to dress up in extravagant costumes, you decorated your shared house more than you did at christmas and made little goody bags to give to the children that knocked on your door. after being together for a total of four years, your lover boy organises a candle lit picnic at your favourite spot, the pumpkin patch where he asks you a very important question.

trope: boyfriend!harry

Halloween is your favorite time of the year, and there's an undeniable magic that surrounds it. The anticipation starts building as soon as the leaves begin to change, and the air gets a chill. What you love most about this bewitching season is the opportunity it offers to express your creativity and indulge in some delightful traditions.

Each year, you eagerly await the chance to dive into your costume collection. Dressing up in different costumes is an absolute highlight of Halloween for you. It's like stepping into a new character's shoes, even if just for a night. From classic monsters to iconic movie characters, you relish the chance to transform yourself into someone or something entirely different. Whether it's crafting a homemade costume or scouring the stores for the perfect ensemble, the excitement of choosing a new identity adds a sense of adventure to the season.

Decorating for Halloween is another aspect that fills you with immense joy. In fact, you go all out, sometimes even more so than you do for Christmas. The house becomes a spooky spectacle, adorned with cobwebs, glowing pumpkins, eerie skeletons, and ghostly figures. It's the perfect opportunity to let your imagination run wild and turn your home into a haunted haven that sends shivers down the spines of all who pass by. The ambiance created by these decorations truly embodies the spirit of Halloween.

One of your cherished Halloween traditions is preparing little goody bags for the children who knock on your door. As darkness falls, the excitement in the air is palpable, and the sound of children's laughter and eager footsteps approaching your doorstep is enchanting. You carefully assemble these treat-filled bags with an assortment of candies, small toys, and spooky surprises, ensuring that each one is a delightful treasure trove for the young trick-or-treaters. Seeing their faces light up with joy as they receive these goody bags is incredibly rewarding and keeps the spirit of Halloween alive for you.

In the end, Halloween isn't just a holiday; it's a magical celebration of your imagination, creativity, and community. It's a time when you can let your inner child run free, embracing the thrill of dressing up, decorating with abandon, and sharing the joy with the little ghouls and goblins who come knocking at your door. Halloween is a special time when you feel truly connected to the spirit of the season, and you eagerly await its arrival year after year.

It was 31st October, at four in the afternoon, You find yourself standing in the kitchen, a warm and cosy atmosphere filling the room. The enticing aroma of toffee apples wafts through the air, and you can't help but feel a sense of joy as you prepare this Halloween treat. You're dressed in nothing but one of your boyfriend's oversized shorts and a pair of his boxers, topped off with fluffy socks that keep your feet snug against the cool kitchen floor.

As you stir the bubbling toffee mixture on the stovetop, the catchy tune of "Monster Mash" fills the kitchen, courtesy of a nearby speaker.

You can't resist the urge to sing along with Bobby Pickett's classic song. With a grin, you belt out the lyrics,

"He did the mash, he did the monster mash,"

Whilst swaying your hips playfully to the rhythm as you continue to stir.

The sugary concoction in the pot thickens, and you dip the apples one by one, coating them in the sticky, sweet toffee. The chorus of the song approaches, and you sing with even more enthusiasm,

"It was a graveyard smash!" Your voice fills the kitchen, blending with the upbeat melody, creating a spontaneous moment of pure Halloween delight.

After carefully setting the toffee-coated apples on a parchment-lined tray to cool, you take a moment to enjoy the whimsy of it all. Your makeshift Halloween outfit – those oversized shorts and boxers – reminds you that this holiday is all about having fun and letting loose. It's a time when dressing up doesn't have to be elaborate; it can be as relaxed and spontaneous as your current attire.

As you savour the toffee apples, you can't help but let your mind wander to memories of Halloween's past. Each year, you've embraced this holiday with creativity and enthusiasm, from crafting costumes to decorating your home with spooky delights. It's a time when you feel truly alive, and the joy of the season infuses every aspect of your day, from making toffee apples to singing along to "Monster Mash."

With a satisfied sigh, you turn off the music and take a moment to revel in the warm, cosy kitchen and the delicious treats you've created. Halloween, with all its traditions and whimsy, brings a special kind of magic to your life, and you can't wait to share these toffee apples with friends and loved ones, knowing that they'll appreciate the spooky fun just as much as you do.

As you're about to walk out of the kitchen, a sense of accomplishment washes over you. Your toffee apples are cooling, and you turn, ready to leave the cozy haven of the kitchen. However, when you glance toward the doorway, you're met with a surprising sight. Your boyfriend, Harry, is leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a mischievous smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. You didn't even hear him enter the house.

You can't help but let out a startled shriek, your heart racing from the sudden surprise.

"H, you scared me!" you exclaim, your voice a mix of astonishment and delight.

He chuckles, pushing himself away from the doorway.

"Come on, give me a hug, y’know v’missed m’favorite girl." he says, his tone playful as he extends his arms toward you.

But you, still caught off guard and determined to return the favor, shake your head with a sly, playful smirk. "No way! You scared me fair and square!"

Undeterred, Harry takes purposeful steps toward you, his eyes locked onto yours. Before you can react, he scoops you up effortlessly, making you involuntarily wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. It happens so quickly that you can't help but laugh, the tension from your initial scare melting away.

With a grin, Harry holds you close, his voice a warm, low murmur in your ear. "Well, now that V’got you, m’not letting y’go."

You playfully roll your eyes but tighten your hold around him, your heart filled with love and happiness.

Harry places you gently on the kitchen countertop, and he steps in between your legs, his hands finding their familiar path as he runs them up and down your arms. It's a comforting and affectionate gesture, one that never fails to make you feel cherished.

With a soft smile, he asks, "So, how was y’day, m’love?"

You lean in, enjoying the closeness, and reply, "Well, it was pretty fantastic until you startled me in the kitchen, Mr. Sneaky. But now it's absolutely perfect."

Harry chuckles, a warm and genuine sound. "I promise, I'll make it up to you."

And he always lived up to his promises when it came to you.

With your curiosity piqued, you ask, "And how was your day at the studio?"

His eyes light up as he starts talking about his day, "Was great, actually. We made some good progress on those new songs we've been working on. I think y’going t’love em’."

You smile, genuinely interested in his music and the passion he pours into it. "I can't wait to hear them. You always make the best music."

His fingers trail back up your arms, and he leans in closer, his voice low and intimate. "M’lucky t’have y’as my biggest fan."

You can't help but blush at his sweet words, and you wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him in for a tender kiss. It's a moment of pure affection and love, where words aren't necessary to convey the depth of your feelings for each other.

Harry, standing between your legs and continuing to run his hands up and down your arms, suddenly leans in and whispers, "V’got a surprise f’you tonight, m’love."

You tilt your head, intrigued. "A surprise? What's the occasion?"

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "No occasion, just a little something t’save us the hassle of cooking tonight."

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you inquire, "Oh, really? Where are we going?"

Harry grins and leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he says, "S’a surprise, babe."

You pout playfully, "Come on, give me a hint!"

He chuckles, "Nope, not a chance. You'll find out soon enough."

But then, as you enjoy the warmth of his embrace, a thought strikes you. "Wait a minute, H. What about the goody bags I made for the kids? I don't want them to go to waste."

Harry furrows his brow for a moment, then his face lights up with a solution. "Well, here's the plan. V’booked a table f’us at eight o'clock, before that, y’can still give out the goody bags t’the little trick-or-treaters. How does that sound?"

Your eyes twinkle with gratitude as you realise Harry's thoughtful gesture. "That sounds perfect, H. You're the best."

He smiles and places a gentle kiss on your lips. "Anything f’you, love. Now, let's enjoy our night out and make Halloween even more special."

You nudge your nose closer to Harry's, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and say with a sly grin, "So, we've got a bit of time then?"

Harry's eyes meet yours, and he responds in a low, husky tone, "Yes, we do."

With that, you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, and you whisper seductively, "I want to thank you for organising tonight, upstairs."

Harry's speech momentarily deserts him as he's taken aback by your unexpected boldness. He nods his head, unable to find any words to respond.

Not wanting to let the moment linger too long, you hop off the countertop and grab hold of his hand, tugging him gently. "Come on, then. Let's not waste any more time."

With a knowing smile, Harry allows you to lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The anticipation of what's to come adds an extra layer of excitement to this already memorable Halloween evening.

The soft, early evening light filters through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. You sit gracefully at your vanity, the polished surface reflecting your image back at you as you put the finishing touches on your ensemble.

Your dress, chosen with care, drapes elegantly around you, a warm shade of orange that shimmers in the gentle light. And gives off the impressions that it’s Halloween. The fabric feels cool against your skin, a contrast to the warmth of anticipation that courses through you. The neckline of the dress showcases your collarbone, adorned with a delicate necklace that glints with a solitary pendant.

Your fingers, adorned with delicate rings, move with practiced precision as you pick up a pair of exquisite earrings. The intricate design of these earrings catches the light, scattering it into a dazzling display of sparkle and shine. You slip them into your earlobes, and they hang there, framing your face like twinkling stars in the night sky.

A sweep of mascara enhances your lashes, framing your eyes, while a touch of eyeshadow brings out their mesmerizing color. You admire the reflection in the vanity mirror, a vision of elegance and beauty, all ready for the evening ahead.

The room is filled with a subtle fragrance, a floral perfume that envelops you in a delicate embrace. As you gaze at your reflection one last time, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. You're not just dressing up; you're preparing for a night of shared moments, laughter, and connection with someone special.

As you're putting the finishing touches on your ensemble, the doorbell rings, its cheerful chime resonating through the house. You glance out of the bedroom window overlooking the driveway and spot a group of excited little kids standing at your front door. Their eager faces are illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light, and you can't help but smile at the sight.

With a burst of energy, you race out of the room, past Harry who's meticulously fixing his hair in the hallway mirror. You hear him chuckling at your sudden sprint as you rush down the stairs, your heart filled with warmth and joy.

In a hurry, you grab the box of goody bags you prepared earlier, feeling the weight of anticipation as you make your way to the front door. You can't wait to see the smiles on the faces of these young trick-or-treaters.

As you swing open the door, you're met with a chorus of excited voices and colourful costumes. "Trick or treat!" they shout in unison, their eyes wide with anticipation.

You grin down at the little witches, ghosts, and superheroes on your doorstep.

"Well, don't you all look amazing! Happy Halloween!" you exclaim.

The children eagerly extend their candy bags, and you start handing out the goody bags you prepared with care.

"Here you go, sweetie," you say to each child, making sure they each receive a bag filled with treats and small toys.

One young pirate with a plastic eyepatch looks up at you with wide eyes and says, "Thank you so much! Your house is the best!"

You can't help but laugh at their enthusiasm. "You're very welcome! Have a fantastic Halloween night, everyone!"

As you close the front door behind you, a sense of contentment lingers from the cheerful encounter with the trick-or-treaters. The warmth of their smiles and the joy of sharing the Halloween spirit still linger in your heart.

However, just as you're about to turn around and join Harry, you feel a sudden pair of strong arms wrapping around your waist. A startled gasp escapes your lips as you're once again caught off guard.

Harry chuckles softly, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he asks, "Did I scare y’again?"

You turn to face him, a playful pout on your lips. "You certainly did, Harry, baby."

With a mischievous grin, he says, "Well, are y’ready t’get going soon?"

You nod, feeling a rush of excitement for the evening ahead. "Just let me put my shoes on, and I'll be all set."

Harry releases you from his embrace, and you quickly slip on your shoes. As you stand up and adjust your outfit one last time, you take Harry's hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grasp.

He’s wearing orange as well seeing as he instead that the two of you match. His suit jacket is a warm orange almost burned orange with a pair of beige, green and red stripped trousers, a white vest under neath the jacket with a pair of vans.

As you finish putting on your shoes, Harry approaches you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and his hands hidden behind his back. You tilt your head to the side, a playful smile curving your lips, and ask, "Baby, what are you up to now?"

With a grin, he reveals his hands, holding up an eye sleep mask. You burst into laughter, the unexpectedness of the item catching you off guard. "An eye mask? What's that for?"

Harry chuckles and shrugs, a mischievous sparkle still in his eyes. "Well, I didn't ‘ave a blindfold handy, so I thought this would ‘ave t’do."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "A blindfold? Why do I need a blindfold?"

He smirks and takes a step closer, the eye mask still in hand. "S’a surprise, m’sun."

You can't help but grin at his playful insistence.

As he gently ties the eye sleep mask around your eyes, you're plunged into darkness, your other senses heightened in anticipation. You hear his soft voice by your ear as he whispers, "Just a little longer, and you'll see."

As you ride along in the car, your senses are heightened by the darkness of the eye sleep mask Harry placed over your eyes. You can feel the subtle vibrations of the road beneath you, and the sound of the engine purring is your only connection to the outside world. The anticipation of where you're heading fills the car, and you can't help but wonder where this surprise will lead.

Your excitement bubbles over as you sit back in your seat, trying to piece together clues from the sounds and sensations around you. You feel the car slowing down, the engine settling into a quiet hum as it comes to a stop.

You can hear the car doors opening, and the cool night air flows in, carrying with it the scents and sounds of your mysterious destination.

As you carefully step out of the car, Harry quickly comes around to your side, extending a helping hand to ensure you exit safely. The night air is crisp and filled with a mix of earthy scents and distant laughter, further deepening the sense of mystery that surrounds your romantic adventure.

Harry takes your hand, leading you somewhere, though you have no idea where. You can feel twigs scratching at the bottoms of your legs and the occasional crunch beneath your feet, which you assume to be leaves scattered on the ground. Your sense of curiosity heightens as you try to navigate the path, relying solely on Harry's guidance.

Despite his careful assistance, you find yourself stumbling over the uneven terrain. In a playful tone, you tease, "Is this where you finally kill me?"

Harry, always quick with a witty response, leans closer and whispers in your ear with mock seriousness, "Y’just become too annoying."

But before you can react, he bursts into laughter, and you can't help but join in. His playful nature adds an element of lightness to the evening, reminding you of the deep connection and laughter you share together.

As you continue walking, following Harry's guidance and playfully tripping over the uneven ground, you suddenly come to a stop. You feel his hands gently settle on your waist, steadying you with a sense of purpose.

With a soft and affectionate tone, Harry informs you, "We've arrived, m’love."

Your heart flutters with anticipation as his hand comes up to your face, fingers finding the edge of the eye mask. He slowly, very slowly, starts to pull it off. As the fabric gradually peels away from your eyes, the world around you begins to reveal itself.

The sight that unfolds before you takes your breath away. The entire Pumpkin Patch, where you had your first date four years ago, has been transformed into a scene of enchantment. Fairy lights twinkle in the trees above, casting a warm, inviting glow over the area. A red carpet pathway leads the way, drawing your eyes to a charming picnic set up in the middle of the field.

The picnic area is adorned with soft blankets and plump cushions, a low table adorned with flickering candles, and a spread of delectable treats and your favourite dishes. It's a scene straight out of a fairy tale, bathed in the soft, romantic ambiance of the evening.

The fairy lights, the red carpet, the romantic picnic – it's all too much, and you can hardly believe your eyes. In a state of wonder, you turn to Harry and stammer, "How... How did you organize all of this?"

Harry chuckles, a glint of amusement in his eyes, and teases, "Well, m’love, being famous does have its perks, y’know."

You playfully roll your eyes at his modesty, knowing that it must have taken a great deal of planning and effort to arrange such a magical evening. With a heart full of love and gratitude, you give him a warm hug, feeling incredibly lucky to be sharing this unforgettable moment with him.

With Harry holding his hands out for you to hold onto, you walk together on the plush red carpet that leads to the charming picnic area. The soft glow of the fairy lights above creates a magical pathway, and each step feels like a journey through time and love.

As you arrive at the picnic spot, the two of you settle down on the soft blankets and plump cushions. It's then that you notice something truly heartwarming. Pictures of you and Harry throughout your relationship are delicately displayed on branches of the trees, held up by ribbons swaying gently in the breeze.

You can't help but lean into Harry's side, a contented smile on your face as you admire the photos above you. They capture moments of joy, laughter, and love from your journey together. Each image tells a story, and together, they form a beautiful tapestry of your shared history.

Harry's arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you both gaze up at the memories hanging in the air. It's a touching tribute to your relationship, a reminder of the love that has grown and deepened over the years.

With the pictures of your shared memories above, you turn to Harry, your heart warmed by the enchanting atmosphere he's created. You ask with curiosity, "So, what have you prepared for our picnic?"

He grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement, and begins to describe a mouthwatering array of dishes, all of your favorite foods. From savory snacks to delectable desserts, each item is carefully chosen to delight your taste buds and make this night truly unforgettable.

As he finishes detailing the menu, you can't help but lean in to kiss him, your lips meeting in a sweet and affectionate embrace. It's your way of expressing how touched you are by his thoughtfulness and attention to detail.

With a playful glint in his eye, Harry picks up a chocolate-covered strawberry and holds it out to you. His fingers delicately feed you the sweet treat, the rich chocolate and ripe strawberry creating a burst of flavor that dances on your tongue. It's a small, intimate moment, but it carries the weight of all the love and care he's poured into this evening.

With a touch of elegance, Harry reaches for a bottle of champagne, the soft pop of the cork resonating in the air as he expertly opens it. He carefully pours the effervescent liquid into two crystal-clear flutes, the bubbles rising like a toast to the evening's enchantment.

As he hands you a glass, the bubbly liquid dancing with anticipation, you clink your flutes together with a cheerful "Cheers!" The sound reverberates in the air, and you take a sip, savoring the crisp, celebratory taste.

With a smile, Harry raises his glass and says, "To the future."

You pause, a slight hint of confusion flickering across your features. But, not wanting to dwell on it, you quickly catch on and raise your glass again, chiming in with a warm smile, "To the future."

As the evening unfolds, and about half an hour has passed since you started your picnic in the enchanting Pumpkin Patch, you and Harry have talked about everything under the moonlight. The shared memories, dreams, and laughter have woven a tapestry of warmth around you, making the night feel like a timeless moment.

While you're enjoying a delicious ham and cucumber sandwich, Harry looks at you with a thoughtful expression. He asks, "Ave’ y’ever thought about the future?"

With a smile, you nod and take another bite of your sandwich before responding, "Oh, all the time. I can't wait to grow old with you, get married, have children – mini versions of you and me running around. The future is something I think about a lot."

With the night sky overhead and the soft glow of fairy lights creating a romantic ambiance, Harry looks deeply into your eyes and says, "I can't wait any longer."

Your brow furrows in confusion, and you ask, "Can't wait for what, baby? What are you talking about?"

His eyes shimmer with affection as he replies, "I can't wait any longer to do this."

Before you can react, Harry takes your hand and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box.

Your heart skips a beat as he opens it to reveal a glistening engagement ring. In that moment, you realise what he meant, and your eyes fill with tears of joy.

With your heart racing and tears of joy welling up in your eyes, Harry stands up, gently pulling you up with him. You're overwhelmed by a mix of emotions, covering your face with your hands as if to shield yourself from the magnitude of what's happening.

Amidst the soft glow of the fairy lights and the magical ambiance of The Pumpkin Patch, Harry crouches down on one knee, his expression filled with love and determination. He takes a deep breath and reaches out, gently grabbing ahold of your hand, the engagement ring glinting in the moonlight.

In that moment, time seems to stand still as you realize that the love of your life is about to ask the most important question you've ever heard. Your heart pounds with anticipation as you anxiously await his words, the future you've dreamed of suddenly taking shape before your eyes.

In the soft glow of the fairy lights, surrounded by the enchantment of The Pumpkin Patch, Harry looks deeply into your eyes, his voice filled with love and sincerity. He begins, "Y’know, from the moment we met, m’life changed in ways I could ‘ave never imagined. Every day with y’has been an adventure, a journey filled with laughter, love, and countless memories."

You can hardly believe what's happening, your hands still covering your face, but your eyes peeking through, glistening with tears of joy. Harry continues, his words carrying the weight of a promise, "V’dreamt about our future together, and I can't wait any longer t’make it a reality."

With that, he opens the small velvet box, revealing the dazzling engagement ring that seems to catch every glimmer of light around it. Your heart flutters in your chest as you gaze at the ring, a symbol of the love you share.

Harry takes a deep breath, his eyes locked onto yours as he speaks from the depths of his heart, "Will you marry me, (Y/N)? Will y’be m’partner in all the adventures that life has in store f’us? Will y’share y’laughter, y’love, and y’dreams with me f’the rest of our lives?"

Tears stream down your cheeks as you slowly lower your hands from your face, revealing a radiant smile that shines through your joyful tears. You manage to find your voice, your response filled with emotion, "Yes, Harry, a thousand times yes! I want to marry you, and I can't wait to share every moment of our future together."

As you say these words, Harry's face lights up with happiness. He slips the ring onto your finger, and the two of you share a passionate, tearful embrace. In this magical moment beneath the twinkling fairy lights, you know that your love story is forever bound by the promise of a future filled with endless love, laughter, and adventures yet to be written.

As you and Harry share a passionate, tearful embrace, he brings you close and presses his lips to yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. In that moment, words seem unnecessary as your love and connection speak volumes.

He murmurs softly against your lips, "Maybe the pumpkin patch can be our forever?"

Tears of joy continue to stream down your face as you pull him closer and kiss him again, sealing your love and the promise of a beautiful forever together beneath the twinkling fairy lights of The Pumpkin Patch. It's a moment you'll cherish for a lifetime, a symbol of the love and commitment that binds your hearts.

[lady-bluebird-luv]

Hello again - Santa here! I just can’t stay away. I hope you are enjoying Feysand week, spooky season, and that beautiful autumn weather surrounds you!

You did such a good job of playing the build a fic game, I think you might be sneaking ever closer to Santa’s nice list! However, now I have several ideas kicking around and I would love to hear a little more from you to lock into the best present possible.

1. What do you love about Feysand? What are some of your favorite moments?

2. Is there a certain stage of their relationship you can’t get enough of? UTM, early ACOMAF, Velaris, post mating bond? Or maybe you’re interested in what’s happening after ACOSF?

3. Do you have any favorite headcanons or things you think we missed out on in canon?

Enjoy the rest of fabulous Feysand week giftee!

Santa, all I want is to be on your nice list 🥹. Happy Feysand week!!! I could write 300+ pages on these questions, but I don't think Tumblr will let me write a post that long. I think (I hope?) these answers will still give you plenty to work with, though.

1) The short version is that I love Feysand's unconditional acceptance and support for each other. I saw something about how the appeal behind enemies-to-lovers is that it means your partner saw you at your worst before they saw you at your best, and they loved you anyways. That's very true for Feyre and Rhys. I know some people, especially post-ACOSF, talk about Feyre being naive about Rhys's asshole-ness or being brainwashed by the mate bond. IMO, she's always seen the darkness, and she simply does not give a fuck. Rhys likewise recognized a similar darkness in her before she saw it in herself. Rhys will be a monster to protect the people he loves, and Feyre loves him for it because she's the same.

They're the ultimate ride-or-dies for each other. In ACOTAR, Rhys was ready to damn the world to protect Feyre. When he tried to scare her into leaving Prythian, he wasn't just condemning himself to Amarantha, but potentially damning everyone else to an eternity UTM, too. No cursebreaker, no freedom, right? Similarly, when Rhys dies in ACOWAR, Feyre is ready to daemati the other courts into bringing him back - a diplomatic nightmare in the long run, but she doesn't care. There's something undeniably selfish about their devotion to each other, but for me... it just scratches an itch that no other ship does.

I also adore the mentor/mentee dynamic in their relationship. Maybe it's the daddy kink in me, IDK. Growing up, Feyre hasn't really had someone who will not only be on her side, but also provide for her - she got parentified at 11. Both with Tam and Rhys, we see that she wants a partner who will provide for her if she needs it - the reason Feylin doesn't work and Feysand does is because Tamlin imposes that provision, and Rhys doesn't. Feyre wants room to do her own thing, but she wants to know that, when she needs it, she has someone who she can lean on. I'm obsessed with Rhys both wanting to be that person and with him wanting her to (literally) grow her own wings. He never holds things she doesn't know against her, and I think their personalities are endearing together in part because of their age/experience difference.

One of the songs that reminds me the most of them is Hozier's NFWMB, if that helps. I actually have a whole Feysand playlist here (the order is kinda important but only a little).

2) As far as favorite stages go (and favorite moments, to carry that over from your first question), I'm obsessed with ACOMAF and early ACOWAR. I've talked a little here about how I think Feyre is angry at Rhys in ACOMAF partially because she doesn't know what to do with her attraction to him, and here about how ACOMAF is about Feyre accepting and loving herself, not just accepting and loving Rhys. Both of these threads are a big part of why I love Feysand. IRL, People are messy, flawed, complicated, and almost always still loveable. I think ACOMAF Feysand embodies that perfectly.

I love the moment at the beginning of ACOMAF when Feyre overhears Ianthe suggesting they assassinate Rhys and she's horrified, because it shows how in denial she is. I love the confrontation with Lucien in the mountains because Feyre realizes she's willing to do something that she would have once considered unthinkable (hurt Lucien) to protect Rhys, and she's not upset by it. I love when they pretend the mating bond broke, because their ability to play off of each other shows how they really are birds of a feather.

That's also why I adore Feyre at the beginning of ACOWAR - she's being so wicked, but it's all her. Rhys isn't giving her input on her strategy. Her deception in the Spring Court also shows how much she's learned from Rhys.

3) I really wish we saw more of Feyre being a politician. E.g. Feyre holding court alone in the Hewn City, putting Keir in his place like in the beginning of this fic I'm currently slobbering over from @rosanna-writer. In general, I'm obsessed CoN/dark!Feysand, and I wish SJM leaned into their dark sides more.

I also think we got robbed of a Helion/Rhys/Feyre threesome in canon. (I'm generally intrigued by Rhys and Helion's definitely-not-totally-platonic history, but this post is already pretty long, so that's for another time). Sometimes, I also wish that we saw Feyre and Tamlin sitting down to talk about everything that happened. I'm kinda of two minds about that, though - I don't think Feyre is the one who needs that conversation in order to find closure, and I don't want her to talk to Tam just because he needs her to.

I don't know if we'll ever see adult Nyx in canon, but I would love to eventually see teen/young adult Nyx, especially during his HL training. I want to know how he reconciles the tender, loving parents he has behind closed doors with their sometimes-brutal public personas. I want to know what he thinks of the mythos surrounding his family and how he navigates intercourt relations (especially relations with the Spring Court?) as he takes on more and more responsibility. I want to know what he thinks of Eris: they're both princes, but where Nyx would do anything to protect his parents, Eris is willing to take a blade to his father.

UMMMM I'm trying to think if there's anything else. I think there is, but that's all that comes to mind right now.

Santa, I'm so sorry for the late response! I hope you're as excited to catch up on all the Feysand week fics as I am :).

[flooferbutt]

Meet my system members!

here i will be introducing y'all to my headmates :3

now including emote signoffs!

Count: ~14 members

w lil blinkies i made with blinkies.cafe

All moodboards are made by me, please do not use them! :3

note: i also get shifts of my headmates cos they are nonhuman!

note #2: a "floof" is basically a cat with horns and sheep ears, and floofs is the unofficial name of my original species

"Come along now, run away from the humdrum

We'll go to a place that is safe from

Greed, anger and boredom"

Cosmo Sheldrake "Come Along"

Apple : (they/them, stem/juice) A long bouncy floof with cream-colored fur in different shades, countershaded - light on the underside, darker on their back - and white freckles on the darker shades. They wear a white and red plaid bandana, and they always have an apple to munch on. Apple is cheerful and clever, and they love climbing trees and baking in the kitchen.

🎃 Autumn : (spook/spooky/spooks/spookself) Orange, white & violet floof with lots of fluffy fur, feathered wings, and autumn leaves in spooks fur; Autumn is basically the embodiment of the season and is fallxenic (seasogender), spook is mute and can only really squeak. Spook is even tempered and a lil odd, and just kinda hangs out lol

we need a better blinkie for spook TwT

🌱 Basil : (they/them : spri/sprig/sprouts/sproutself) A lanky Canadian lynx with white and brown fur and dark stripes and spots, with little plants (like '🌱') growing from sprouts head and tail; spri is a daydreamer and prefers plants over people, is always in sprouts garden being a dork :3 bloomcore kind of boi

🥀 Bayun : (they/them) A black Manx cat with red eyes! they are sweet and curious most of the time but they bite! they're also Russian; possible demon kin?

🗡 Brazier : (he/him) Big orange and white and black floof; Brazier is scottish and grumpy and sturdy, a blacksmith, and he's got a twisted hind leg which needs a brace to be kept straight

☕ Cocoa : (they/them) A floofy chubby brown classic-tabby floof, with sleepy blue eyes and a cinnamon roll kind of look. They're the system mom figure and are very chonk, loves coffee (which has no effect on the sleepy factor), and they smell like chocolate and cinnamon

💜 Dusky : (he/him/star) A slender male floof with shades of dark blue and lavender and black for fur, with white toes, a white chin and a white spot on his chest. Dusky is quiet and reserved while kind and helpful, eager to please.

🌌 Firefly "Nexus" : (they/them) A dark blue floof with bioluminescent yellow dapples, they are a pet floof and wear a collar; they're mischievous and curious, always getting into stuff! They love food

🌙 Grayling : (they/he) A grayscale floof with layered marks, countershaded; they wear a hufflepuff scarf and they're shy and quiet, they prefer books rather than people and carry their trusty brown teddy bear. They fit most into the harry potter universe and have shown themself to be London British

🕸 Hemstitch : (they/them) A round black-gray floof with dark green buttons for eyes; they're from the coraline universe tbh, and they're timid and gentle with a fear of sharp things. They live in your attic /j

🍂 James : (he/him : spi/spice) A ginger and cream floof with darker overcoat markings, lots of layers in his pelt coloring, with brown freckles like pumpkin spice on a latte :3 He has bright sky blue eyes and wears big round wire rimmed glasses, nerd style; he's polite and clever and loves books, generally a college student and autumn boi. He likes to wear oversized sweaters, and fingerless mitts for his mitts; he's got the London kind of British thing going on

🔥 Flame "Lordie" : (he/him) A large-ish black floof with red and orange, jagged horns and fiery swirl eyes, he's been my oc for the longest time, and finally he joins me in my system :D He has some fire powers, is confident and decisive, tho he can be aggressive (not an "evil alter" guys, he just bites a lil)

🌊 Seaglass : (they/them) A smol round floof. Their fur is patterned like a Finnish mutation cat in shades of tan and seafoam green on mainly white fur. Seaglass is blind and their eyes are cloudy white; they hate water and rain, and they're very quiet and soft spoken.

🍄 Sweetie : (they/them) A brown/gray tabby cat with olive eyes, they're a cerebellar hypoplasia / wobbly cat! Like some of the others they were an oc before kin and headmate; they're just a cheerful boi and they jus kinda love their life :D they have a mushroomcore and forestcore aesthetic

that's everyone so far ❤

I'll be updating if anyone else shows up, thank you for reading!

Love from the floof collective!

🍃🐾

🐾🍃

[adarkrainbow]

Spooky season fairytales (6)

And we reach the penultimate post of this series! After looking at actual fairytale adaptations (well... roughly), for this post I want to love at fantasy movies that are not any adaptation of any specific tale or story... But which were made with the intentions of having a "fairytale feel" or a fairytale lore. Dark or creepy movies inspired by fairytales as a whole. Basically "dark fairytale fantasy".

And of course I have to begin with the most FAMOUS dark fairytale movie of our century... Guillermo del Toro's "Pan's Labyrinth", in the original Spanish, "El Laberinto del Fauno".

Do I need to present this movie? Probably not, since it was one of del Toro's masterpices, but to simply put it... This is a dark, haunting, poetic but tragic movie following a little girl's life in the Spain of Franco. Said little girl meets in the ruins of an old labyrinth, guided by fairies, a faun, who reveals to her she is the lost princess of a fairy realm... But to regain her place, she will have to undergo fairytale-trials. All while the little girl enjoys her "changeling fantasy", we follow the harsh and horrifying everyday life of World War II Spain that unfolds around her: the girl's step-father is a Falangist captain who hunts down with cruelty the resistance in the area, while her mother is having a very complicated pregnancy. And as the real-world piles on the horrors - famine, execution, torture - so does the fairy-world becomes darker and darker, filled with monsters, ogres and blood...

Of course, Guillermo del Toro did other dark "fairy pieces" - such as Hellboy II, which is a dark and gritty urban-fantasy homage to the fair folk - and recently returned to the fairytale world with his acclaimed Pinocchio.

1985's Legend, by Ridley Scott, is usually considered as one of the "great 80s fantasy movies", alongside pieces such as Ladyhawke, The Dark Crystal, Conan the Barbarian, Willow and more. However "Legend" is also, and this is less evoked, one of the prime examples of a movie belonging to the genre of "fairytale fantasy" - alongside stories such as Stardust or The Neverending Story.

After all, all the elements are there. The main hero is a brave young "wild man" of the woods, who must save a princess trapped by an evil monster, with the help of fairies and elves, and the whole quest goes through numerous folkloric motifs and characters - the unicorn, the water-hag, the fight of day and night, the endless winter... But speaking of "endless winter", the reason why this movie is featuring here is because of how dark it becomes. Truly. The main villain is even the literal embodiment of Darkness, an evil creature sporting the most iconic look of a devil in the history of cinema, and played by none other than Tim Curry himself. He sends hordes of goblins devour babies and kill unicorns throughout endless winter and ever-ending night... To reach him one must cross a monster-infected swamps leading to a dark palace of venomous charms, dancing statues and cannibal feasts... And even the elves and fairy sidekicks are truer to Brian Froud illustrations and the original "fair folk", being whimsical, capricious, easily angered and just as dangerous as the villains they're fighting...

Coraline. Another great piece of "fairytale fantasy".

Coraline (the movie or the book it is based on, the two have several differences but complement each other very well) is the story of a young girl living your typical "travel to another magical world" plot, as she discovers a secret door allowing her to escape her dreary, boring and unpleasant life to find an alternate, whimsical, fantastical and charming version of her own family and neighbors. But of course, this being a Neil Gaiman story, things quickly grow strange and eerie, as talking cats, fairy-ghosts, shapeshifting witches and buttons sewn in place of eyes come to turn the dream into a nightmare, and then into a battle of wits to survive against a dark and old magic...

Yet another VERY famous piece - there's a lot of famous pieces I am covering here, but hey, not my fault the good stuff is getting the recognition it deserves!

Over the Garden Wall, an animated mini-series that was created by the same man behind "Adventure Time", telling the story of two brothers as they try to find a way home while venturing into a bizarre and magical forest called "The Unknown". They are guided by a talking bird in hope of finding a good witch who will help them - all the while mysterious and dark figures such as the Woodsman or the Beast linger in the shadows and keep crossing path with them...

Over the Garden Wall is a perfect autumn watch, since it actually takes place during the autumn season, the first episodes exploring an Halloweenesque harvest festival, while the lasts take place in winter. More than just autumn imagery, the show relies heavily on the "vintage" and "old" imagery of early 20th, 19th and even 18th centuries America, building its wonders and magic with vintage Halloween cards, Colonial or Industrial-era fashions, Betty Boop or Silly Symphonies cartoons, the Dogville Comedies and the "Game of Frog Pond" board game... However, under its at first whimsical and fanciful appearance, the mini-series quickly reveal a haunting tale worthy of the darkest fairytales, exploring themes such as betrayal, despair, death and sacrifices.

In fact, "Over the Garden Wall" was inspired by numerous fairytales, hence its fairytale feel. Many, many people commented that, upon watching the series, they felt the exact same thing they experienced when, as a kid, they discovered new fairytales - I also felt it, and this proves the power of this series that truly captures the essence of what a fairytale is. On top of reusing fairytale tropes (two children exploring woods filled with girls turned into birds, good and bad witches, strange talking beasts...) and explicitely referencing some "fairytale-like" children novels (especially "The Wizad of Oz"), the very artstyle of the show was inspired by "fairytale art", ranging from Gustave Doré's illustrations of Perrault to Tenniel's Alice in Wonderland drawings, passing by old Andersen illustrations.

Ah, finally a more obscure piece! At last for non-French people... La Cité des Enfants Perdus, The City of Lost Children. A 1995 movie by Jean-Pierre Jeunet. Now, Jeunet is one of those French moviemakers distinctively recognizeable thanks to his very unique style of movie making. You will recognize this when you know that he is behind the movies "Delicatessen" (the one about a former clown in a post-war world behind hired in a building dominated by a cannibalistic butcher) and the "Amélie Poulain" movie (about a quirky Parisian waitress who decides to change whimsically the life of those around her). Jeunet enjoys the bizarre, the unusual, strange technologies, extravagant characters, dark humor, absurd comedy, and oniric or fairytale-like atmosphere... And this all blooms in the darkest and eeriest way in this movie.

To put the story simply (which is a challenge since it is a complex movie)... Off the shores of a shadowy, dirty, corrupt fishing town, in a manor in the middle of the sea (on top of an abandoned oil rig), an old mad scientist regularly captures children. For you see the scientist is unable to dream, and tries to steal away the dreams of children - which never works, since being captured by a creepy old man makes the children have nightmares rather than sweet dreams. One day, the little brother of a simple-minded circus strongman is captured - and the strongman teams up with a little girl, a street-savy member of a group of street urchins, to try to get him back. The story is further muddled by the presence of a cult of "cyclops" in town that do the dirty work of the mad scientit for him, the threat of greedy conjoined sisters that run the gang the little girl is part of, and the strange entourage of the mad scientist himself (six identical brothers acting like children, a dwarf-wife, and a sentient, talking brain in a jar).

This movie truly feels like a dream - like one of those dark, strange dreams that never fully go into a nightmare while still walking at the edge, and the story, no matter how feverish it can get, still keeps certain cohesive elements to maintain its flow of sinister wonders (such as the theme of family, heavily explored). The movie never goes into actual magic - we are more into a proto-steampunk world crossed with the mad science of Gothic literature and horror movies - but its oniric, bizarre and borderline surreal treatment of the subject did earn this movie the classification of "science-fantasy" and "dark fantasy", as mythological, folkloric and fantasy archetypes can be clearly seen throughout the science-fiction setting (the "cyclops" for example, or the very idea of "a creepy old man stealing children's dreams").

Heck - this movie was one of the prime inspirations behind "Little Nightmares"!

And finally, I cheat a little here, but I had to include it: Disney's Hocus Pocus. This is a classic of Halloween movies, a fun but dark horror-comedy for teens, (well rather like a full comedy but with elements that make it horrific here and there), campy in all the good ways, and with the greatest trio of witches ever depicted on stage since Shakespeare's Weird Sisters.

Now, the movie itself is not very much fairytale like. It is a Halloween comedy, an urban-fantasy story for teenagers, drawing upon the myth of the witch and the legends surrounding witchcraft. However, precisely because the movie explores the figure of the witch, there are several fairytale references here and there. While the Sanderson sisters were mostly build out of the Christian myth of the witch (using human-skin bound grimoires, having sold their souls to the devil, tied to black cats, summoning ghouls out of graves, hate salt...), there are also several parts of their characters tied to fairytale witches. Hansel and Gretel is the most obvious one - they are child-eating witches living into the woods who lure children to their home before "devouring" them (in souls if not body) - but Snow-White is also among the references (a very vain witch who is obsessed with staying the fairest/youngest and kills children to do so?). And of course, there's all the fairytale-witches tropes ranging from "turning people into animals" (here a cat rather than a frog) to the use of the number three.

Oh yes, and let's not forget the specific use of an oven...

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

I know it’s not spooky season (I believe you can celebrate all year) but we need more vampire Matt please

As a spooky bitch, yes! We can and should celebrate it all year 😌 And as vampire unhealthy lover more Vamp!Matt has me drooling 🤤

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @letsgivethisonemoreshot , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @tahiri-veyla

This was going to be the one job that would give you the attention you needed to boost your career even further. As a crime journalist, your career needed a solid base for you to be taken seriously in this predominantly male field.

In college they called you “the steamroller”, the nickname was primarily used as a way to repress you and prevent you from standing out in a mainly male class. But little did they know you were anything but a quitter nor did you back out from a challenge, so now - a few years later- the nickname that once had a pejorative tone to it, became a reason for pride and respect in the investigative journalism field.

Now, with the crime wave involving vampires that was currently taking place all over California, you did the one thing no one had the courage to do, and that is interviewing the man responsible for making California the biggest vampire state in America: Matt Jackson.

Your choice of clothes for this interview was well thought through, this was a man over two thousand years old! If there was a thing he sure had seen plenty in his life was a pair of tits - without mentioning what resides below the female waist - meaning provocative clothes would have no effect on him whatsoever. So you didn’t even bother to be the embodiment of the hot secretary fantasy with your pencil skirts and too many open blouse buttons. You settled for a white dress shirt opened just enough to expose your upper chest area, a pair of black tailored wide-leg pants, black stiletto heels, and a loose Brigitte Bardot style bun to break the too-crisp look.

You had finished rolling your long sleeves back to your elbows when the door opened. His scent floated to your nostrils before you caught a glimpse of him leaning against your office's door.

"I hope you didn't get bored while waiting for me" Matt smirked, sharp fangs gleaming underneath the moonlight that shone from the big windows.

"Good evening to you as well, Mr. Jackson" You offered your hand for a handshake "Thank you for agreeing to this"

He only chuckled back, silently refusing your hand as he stepped closer to you "I don't like handshakes, they're too formal, too impersonal" Matt's chocolate eyes had a sparkle of livid fire that somehow caused your confident self to momentarily lose any urge to resist to him.

"But I do accept a kiss though" His smirk grew wider until it transformed into a malicious grin.

You turned around and headed back to your seat before you gave in and agreed to anything this man proposed to you "I'm afraid that's not very professional, Mr. Jackson"

"I won't tell if you don't" He winked and leaned over your desk until he hovered above you again "How much thrusting do you think these office chairs can take before breaking?"

"I doubt you don't know the answer to that already"

Matt's laugh was low and predatory-like, his warm breath coated your lips as he leaned even closer "It's been a while since I tested that, perhaps they changed the technology and nowadays they last longer"

“Perhaps you should take a seat so we can start our interview, sir” You answered nonchalantly

“Hmmm…sir” Matt tested the word on his tongue and grinned “I like the sound of that word coming out of your mouth, dovey”

“Mr. Jackson-”

“Oh, that sounded even better! And you know what? My bedroom walls would bounce off your pleading voice resulting in a lovely echo. You should come with me and see it for yourself”

“I’m pretty sure your bed is already filled with too many women, sir”

“Jealous?” Matt chuckled, his lips wandering dangerously close to yours, warm breath slowly fanning over your neck as he continued “Very few humans can have such a marking scent, dovey. And even fewer humans can turn me on just by their scent alone. But there’s something about you that’s very palatable. Perhaps it’s your sharp tongue, or self-confidence, or even the fact that you’re incredibly turned on by me but you’re trying your best to not let it show”. Matt knelt on top of the desk, hands gripping your white dress shirt and ripping it apart causing the small buttons to fly across the room.

“Are you fucking insane?!” You covered yourself with your arms, in an attempt to keep his wandering eyes from traveling to your - now-exposed - breasts. The black see-through lace scraped against your forearms and was enough to hide your hardened nipples.

“One of the powers I developed when I was turned was to be able to capture scents in a very unique way. See, every scent is attached to either a memory or a wish, I can smell the ocean on someone’s skin and know if is it because they wish to be or live by the beach or if it’s because they grew up in the seashore” Matt grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks together and pulling you closer to him before smirking.

“When I got in here I could smell your arousal. It was as strong as a punch in the gut. Then, of course, I saw the image attached to it. You wanted me to fuck you on top of your desk the minute you saw me by the door, in fact, you imagined me fucking you on the desk, on the chair, on the floor, against the walls, and the most fun one: against the large windows. Everything was pictured in your mind in less than 5 seconds, and after you got wet enough to ruin your desk chair, you forced yourself to not think about it…just until you get home to your vibrator that is. But let me tell you something, little dove” Matt’s tongue traced the outline of your red lips “What that sweet, tight pussy is hungry for, a vibrator can’t ease it, only I can. Your need is for my cock, not your battery-operated friend. Because unlike him, I can go for days on end without the need for a charger” He pulled you forward until your body was glued against his, Matt let his hand fall from your cheeks to around your neck and he lightly applied pressure with a grin “And I doubt he can eat pussy like I can”

“You sure talk a big game, Mr. Jackson. But something tells me you can’t live up to your promises. Plus, if I wanted to be one of your unmemorable quick fucks, I would’ve gone to your little club. I called you here because I want an interview with the most well-known vampire in California to get his insight about vampire-related crimes, that’s all”

Matt bit his lower lip to restrain himself from fucking you right there and then. *That fucking smart mouth will haunt me like the worst nightmare. I won’t be able to take this little slut out of my head* He thought to himself and chuckled “Of course that’s the only reason why you called me here because you’re so professional, aren’t you, little dove? Do you want an interview? I’ll give you an interview” Matt pushed you back on your chair, your trembling legs did you the favor of making you fall not so gracefully on the black leather and you stared up at him as he turned on your laptop.

You watched his hands unbuckling his black belt and when the screen before you lit up with your name and space to enter your password, Matt growled:

“Let’s see how well you can type with a cock deep inside you”

[moonchild-in-blue]

Sleep Token x The Phantom of The Opera

Spooky season and ST brain rot gave me ideas - this has been on my drafts for quite a while now, and finally I've had the time to finish it. @polteergeistt here as promised! I hope I made it justice! Please accept my humble offering 🙏🖤

[brace yourselves folks, this is a LONG post]

So, for context. We know that Sleep is a deity that comes in dreams (and nightmares). We know that Vessel has been visited by that deity, and offered his worship in exchange for glory and such. I know there are plenty other theories of what is Sleep, but for this to make sense, let's go with this one (the og provided by the band). With this in mind, let's take a look at the POTO's title song lyrics, shall we?

[Christine to Erik aka The Phantom]

In sleep, he sang to me In dreams, he came That voice which calls to me And speaks my name

Hummmm. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Let's proceed.

[Erik to Christine]

Sing once again with me Our strange duet My power over you Grows stronger yet

Oh???? You see where I'm going with this right?

[Christine and Erik alternately]

Those who have seen your face Draw back in fear I am the mask you wear (It's me they hear)

Funny how Christine is the metaphorical mask, or vessel, for the Phantom's music and talents, and Vessel is a literal vessel for Sleep, donning the mask as to signify the connection with Sleep. Both Vessel and Christine bear their phantoms' faces and spirit on their voices - Vessel taking it further and giving up his own identity in lieu of them.

[Christine and Erik in unison]

Your/my spirit and my/your voice In one combined The phantom of the opera is there Inside my/your mind

There we go. It is hard to ignore the Sleep x Vessel parallels in this. Seeing Sleep as a deity that not only inspires, but instructs and maintains a mentoral (?) relationship with Vessel, carefully curating and polishing his talents, and slowly taking over him. Of course, in POTO, Erik doesn't actually comes in dreams - for he is not a phantom but a man -, but in Sleeps case it is very much fitting. Both of them have a deep connection to the dark, the night, the subconscious. In the last verse of the song above, they mention a labyrinth, as a dark place where the Phantom lies. "Thread the Needle" is a perfect companion to it (that whole ep and most of Sundowning in fact)

Thought the musical, both the Phantom and Christine refer to each other as "Angel of Music". For Christine, the role Vessel embodies, she sees the phantom as a supernatural entity directly connected to her voice, to her music, to her father. A real angel in all senses of the word. She also mentions that the Angel of Music is someone who looks after her, who teaches her; someone who protects her - a shelter. In his music, Vessel often alludes to Sleep and/or their relationship/love as a shelter, someone or something that protects him (or should at least - in "Higher" we see that's not quite the case).

Also important to notice, Christine is as much in awe by the Phantom as she is frightened - she knows something about him isn't quite right; he holds a tremendous amount of power over her, the only one who seems to be aware of his existence; he his as seductive as he is possessive. She later describes his eyes as "eyes that burn", eyes which there is no hiding from, for he sees all. All of these qualities can be applied to Sleep, even more if we consider the romantic and sexual aspect of their relationship with Vessel, and how much more entwined they are in each other. Just like the Phantom is "inside her mind", Sleep resides within Vessel, possibly taking over him at times; possibly having dominance over his mind

For the Phantom, however, he sees in her the pure, bright, untarnished qualities of an angel. She represents the life he always longed; the love he never received; the praise he deserved yet was never offered. "Heaven" in a sense - Erik spent his whole living in hiding, living in the shadows, taking cover in the dark, without any real opportunity to show his talents an his face. Much like Sleep - a being that lives in shadows, in obscurity. An untangible being who has no face, but manifests itself through their vessels. A being who's "eyes like fire" hide behind a literal mask.

Let's look at some of the lyrics from "Music of The Night" (the Phantom to Christine):

Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation Darkness stirs and wakes imagination Silently the senses abandon their defensens Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor

Like I previously wrote, we know how important and symbolic the night-time is to Sleep Token. The night is when God and Worshipper, Apparition and Human, can finally reunite and be with each like lovers. It is also when Sleep's influence and power seems to be heightned. The night represents divine bliss, the moment where, for a moment, Vessel and Sleep are somewhat equals (in the sense that they can at last look at each other face to face). The night is tender, vulnerable, safe. The night comes down like heaven.

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar And you'll live as you've never lived before Softly, deftly music shall caress you Hear it, feel it secretly possess you Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind In this darkness which you know you can not fight The darkness of the music of the night

If this doesn't scream "Fields of Elation" and "Calcutta" to you, I don't know what it does. I just really love the idea that Sleep is the one who sings their music to Vessel, that they are directly responsible for Vessel's success and "glory". If we take the supernatural aspect into account, we can see this as the moment Vessel truly surrenders to Sleep and becomes "one" with him - he becomes literally possessed by them, thus gaining his title as Vessel.

Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before Let your soul take you where you long to be Only then can you belong to me

Isn't this so seductive? So sensual? So manipulative? Hmm, mmh. Delicious. I love toxic vibes by sexy masked singers. The rest of the song is incredibly sensual, almost like Sleep's version of "Give", "Sugar" and "Hypnosis", or the conversation that led to them. There is however one verse that I want to highlight:

You alone can make my song take flight Help me make the music of the night

In the musical, this is Erik basically confessing how actually powerless he is. As much of an intelectual and musical genius that he is, his talents mean nothing if he cannot show himself and share his music with the world. He needs Christine perhaps even more than she needs him.

However, in the ST lore, I want to refer to all those instances Vessel mentions Sleep's place is, or was, in heaven. Songs like "TNDNBTG" "Levitate", "Blood Sport", "Euclid", etc etc. Could be interesting to think that Sleep had once belonged to a place like heaven (making them an actual angel), but for some reason has been cast away (from Eden? Ooh this is good). And Vessel's worship, love, and devotion somehow helps them get there again? Or maybe heaven is just a metaphorical place to the state of mind they're both in while in love. Not sure, but there's something there right?

So if your wings won't find you heaven I will bring it down like an ancient bygone

Just to cement this point, here's this verse from "Stranger Than You Dreamt It" (the song directly after this one, also from the Phantom to Christine):

This loathsome gargoyle [referring to himsef] Who burns in hell, but secretly yearns for heaven Secretly, secretly But Christine Fear can turn to love You'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster This repulsive carcass Who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty

You see what I mean? This powerful, scary deity, who is both seductive and frightening, is not quite so omnipotent as they sometimes look. They too have a weakness, they too want to find (or go back to) beauty and glory; true divinity. Maybe it's because of this flaw, of this desire, that Vessel and Sleep find some sort of comfort and understanding in each other. For Vessel it may mean to become free of his mortal pains, of his torments. Or to atone for whatever his "sins" are. For Sleep, could mean a chance to regain their long lost glory - or perhaps just a convenient opportunity for a power-hungry, sadistic being to feed and have fun. There's a lot of room for interpretation, and if I go there I will never finish this "sHOrT bLuRb" (lmao).

So let's do a time skip and jump to (my personal favourite) "Point Of No Return". At this time in the story, the Phantom is fully unhighed and murdery, and Christine and her boring, wet-rag of a fiancé Raoul (he's so boringgg; who wouldn't want to be with a wet-cat masked goth man who plays music and does magic tricks?? anyways-) are now trying to capture/face him. Not gonna explain the whole plot (because let's face it, if you've read this far, then surely you're as much as a POTO weirdo as me), but basically Christine is still somewhat conflicted and allured by Erik, even though she knows how Not Nice he is, and is terribly afraid of him and what he might do to Raoul.

(side note from one horny yearning op: this whole scene in the 2004 movie is soft-core porn to me: Emmy is SERVING, Gerard is looking Fine in that sluty suit; Raoul is on the verge of tears because he knows he could never be HIM; THAT EMBRACE??? Ai Dios mio, I totally did not just rewatch this scene over and over, no sir)

[Erik to Christine]

You have come here In pursuit of your deepest urge In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent (...) In your mind you've already succumbed to me Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me (...) Past the point of no return No backward glances Our games of make-believe are at an end Past all thought of if or when No use resisting Abandon thought and let the dream descend

This to me is pretty much Chokehold and The Summoning from Sleep's perspective. It's them luring Vessel once more, knowing how entwined in each other they are; knowing Vessel is too week to resist.

[Christine to Erik]

You have brought me To that moment where words run dry To that moment where speech disappears into silence (...) I have come here Hardly knowing the reason why In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent (...) Our passion play has now at last begun Past all thought of right or wrong One final question How long should we two wait before we're one? When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud bursts into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us? [Emmy EATS this line on the movie - she's a queen]

I couldn't help but put here most of her verse, because really, this is pretty much ST's whole discography. The man is constantly yearning, and aching, and feeling defeated. Tell me that this doesn't remind you of "The Offering" or "High Water". Tell me those last lines are literally just "Vore".

[Erik and Christine in unison]

Past the point of no return The final threshold The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn We've passed the point of no return

Nothing to add. Let's just apreciate how beautiful and raw these lines are. Seriously, if you haven't heard or seen the musical, or if you just know the title song, do yourself a favour and listen to "Point of No Return". The composers went HARD with this one.

[Erik to Christine]

Say you'll share with me One love, one lifetime Lead me, save me from my solitude Say you want me with you here, beside you Anywhere you go, let me go, too (...)

After this beautiful love confession (suck it Raoul), which ironically is much more fitting to Vessel towards Sleep then the reverse, Erik kidnaps Christine and takes her to his underground chambers. This is where POTO and ST differ the most. Christine is once again forcibly taken and deceived by the Phantom, and wonders if she is there to feed his "lust for the flesh". The Phantom, while someone who was terribly mistreated and misunderstood, is very much a villain (especially book! Erik, the musical does soften him quite a bit), while Christine remains the "pure, kind heroine" until the very end.

In ST however, there really is no "evil" one - Vessel and Sleep are both flawed, both corrupt, both toxic. They are consumed in and by each other, hurting each other and themselves in the process. He is never really forced to do anything - coerced perhaps, but it really depends on how you choose to interpret - all of the pain and suffering he endures seems to be by his own volition, often welcomed as a desperate attempt of connection. Of course it's much more nuanced than that, but in comparison to POTO, and to simplify things, he is not exactly a damzel in distress (he is, however, a babygirl).

While the Phantom recognises his shortcomings and ultimately lets Christine and Raoul go, we know that Vessel is the one who is trying to set himself free from Sleep's clutches. He doesn't seem to want to go (Rain and Euclid are very clear in this), and yet he knows how damaging it is, and that he must. Because Sleep is no guardian angel, no shelter, nor do they wish to give him up (The Apparition is the most obvious reference, but I'd argue that the whole of TMBTE is that final moment of taking action and leaving; of change).

The story ends with Erik feeling remorseful and sad about his actions, touched by her choice to show him kindness despite his horrible treatment, and the love and devotion Christine and Raoul have for each other - willing to die or live a life in the shadows for the other to escape.

In ST, as far as we can see, the only one who feels remorseful is Vessel. After all, why would a God ever show regret or remorse? For me, Sleep seems to be imensly arrogant and fickle, a true sadist who thrives and feeds off Vessel's pain (and he is not innocent either). Vessel is still very much a human, no matter how corrupted or entangled with Sleep he might be. Sleep, unlike the Phantom - a man of flesh, bone, and sadness - is no human. I'm very curious to see how ST's next album will fit into this narrative, seeing as the trilogy has a very final, or at the very least decisive, tone to it.

If you've actually read all of this, please know that I apologise for any incoherences and mistakes, and that I am eternally grateful for having someone out there who is as passionate about the Phantom Of The Opera as I am. I'm always elated to talk Phantom Matters™. 🖤🥀🎭

[teresabeadle5]

The Magic Transformation of Shadow, the Beautiful Black Cat by Skye McLeod Fairywren, Blogger Via Flickr: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Once upon a time, in a cozy little town, there lived a beautiful black cat named Shadow. Shadow was sleek and mysterious, with fur as dark as the midnight sky and eyes that glowed like amber jewels. He was adored by his owner, who loved him dearly and often marveled at his graceful movements and playful antics. As Halloween approached, the town began to transform. Pumpkins appeared on doorsteps, cobwebs adorned windows, and the air was filled with the scent of autumn leaves and sweet treats. Shadow’s owner decided to decorate their home with a spooky yet whimsical theme, complete with enchanted gardens and magical elements. One evening, as Shadow wandered through the house, he noticed a peculiar glow coming from the attic. Curious as ever, he padded up the stairs and found an old, dusty trunk. Inside, there were various Halloween decorations, including a witch’s hat, a broomstick, and a shimmering, enchanted collar. Shadow’s owner had always believed in the magic of Halloween, and this year, they had found a special collar that was said to bring out the true spirit of the season. Without hesitation, they gently placed the collar around Shadow’s neck. As soon as the clasp clicked shut, a soft, magical light enveloped him. Shadow felt a tingling sensation spread through his body. His fur seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow, and his eyes sparkled with a mischievous light. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw that he had transformed into a Halloween cat! His fur now had subtle, glowing patterns that resembled swirling autumn leaves, his head was now an orange Jack o' Lantern, and his eyes gleamed with a playful, magical energy. Embracing his new look, Shadow pranced around the house, delighting in his transformation. He became the star of the Halloween festivities, charming everyone with his enchanting appearance and playful spirit. Children and adults alike were captivated by the magical cat who seemed to embody the very essence of Halloween. As the night of Halloween arrived, Shadow’s owner dressed up as a pretty witch, complete with a cute orange & black outfit, and a hat adorned with stars. Together, they welcomed trick-or-treaters, sharing stories of magic and wonder. Shadow, with his new Halloween persona, brought joy and enchantment to everyone who visited. From that day on, Shadow was known as the Halloween Cat, a symbol of the magic and mystery that the season brought. And every year, as the leaves turned golden and the nights grew longer, Shadow would don his enchanted collar, reminding everyone that magic was real and that the spirit of Halloween lived on in the hearts of those who believed. And so, in the cozy town, Shadow the Halloween Cat and his owner continued to celebrate the magic of the season, creating memories that would last a lifetime. 🎃🐾✨ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Written using AI with my details ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bento Mesh Head: LAQ Ivy Bento Mesh Body: Maitreya LaraX Body: Velour Athletic Hair: Alvilde by Magika Ensemble: Grinda (incl. armbands, collar, dress, garters, hat, upper decoration, wings, panties in 4 pretty colors for Lara, LaraX, Legacy, & Reborn) now @ Planet 29 @ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Planet29/87/126/21 Nightmare Rings: (Yummy) Witch Boots: Wicca's Wardrobe Pumpkin Cat Animesh (Companion): [Rezz Room] Fall Iced coffee: :::ChicChica::: POSE: Criss-Cross Mirrored: {Caress} FALL HOME BACKDROP: irrISIStible

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

POM POM: KILLER OF MASCOT GAMES VOL.2 #6

Pom pom vs Power Officer Stone

"Home again-Home again-jiggedy-jig! Don't be so nervous. I was quite nervous myself for the past-what-seven weeks? It takes a toll on somebody to be in that constant state doesn't it? Especially when she knows she can't even enjoy the comfort of her home without being followed. But anxiety has its cures, I can assure you that. All you need to do is, relax, do something you like, unwind or… I donnow… Enjoy a simple boop on the nose! Hehahaha! Hehehaha- Heuuu….. …. … sigh

I didn't know how long I could do this. I didn't like that. Not until the end. I'm just so tired. I've been tired for a while now… I'm going to bed. Wake me up when next Friday comes…"

Previous Next

End of Volume 2!

Spooky Season is coming upppp!!!!

Also Happy Retirement to Stone! That's why you won't see him in future Pom Pom issues, he's *ahem*... retiring...

Not saying it's his last ever appearance from anything though.

Character descriptions:

Pom Pom is a virus/glitch formed by the scrapped side-scrolling arcade game from the early 90's “Pom-Pom Panic”. Pom Pom (the main character of Pom Pom Panic) for whatever reason gained sentience halfway during the game’s development. The game was cancelled halfway because the publishing company thought it was too bizarre of a concept and mascot character to gain interest. Pom Pom heard of the news and took it way too personally, as she literally cannot fathom why someone would think she’s ‘bizarre’-even to the point of getting ‘axed’. Prompted by the ‘poor judgement’ Pom Pom went rouge-breaking from her game to ‘axe’ any ‘approved’ game mascots/characters she thought could count as ‘bizarre’ like her.

Power Officer Stone:

Stone is the amalgamation of a couple things, exactly what people aren't sure of, but it's safely assumed that he's a mix between scrapped virtual PSA mascots, an antivirus/piracy program, and the anti drug campaigns they used to put in arcade games. Stone is the embodiment of anti piracy screens and uses all of his time to prevent virtual crimes and viruses. He also can duplicate himself and multitask. However, because of his frustrations against the fact that he can't really punish pirates in real life, he often bounces the punishment to the closest playable character. For that, he's infamous amongst most virtual realms.

[glenrocklibraryteens]

Tender Is the Flesh by Agustina Bazerrica

Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica Page count: 224 Genre: Dystopian/Sci-Fi/Psychological Horror Rating: 4/5 By: Miranda Garcia-Galvez

Tender is the Flesh surrounds a dystopian society in which a virus has contaminated all animal meat. Because of the lack of animal flesh, cannibalism becomes legal. The protagonist, Marcos, a human meat supplier, hates his job and is repulsed by the society in which he lives. Due to the new economy in place though, Marcos has no choice but to accept the conditions to survive in this grotesque world.

The first thing I will say about this novel is that for the slightly weak stomach-ed audience, I would definitely choose another book for the spooky season. Bazterrica certainly doesn’t shy away from gory details, immense dehumanization, and veiled darker themes such as human greed and corruption regarding capitalism. But for those with a stronger stomach, it’s this seedy underbelly of the novel that makes it such a profound and incredibly genius story. As a personal fan of dystopian fiction, Tender is the Flesh is a perfect example of an unsettling and intelligent story wrapped in a neat macabre bow.

Tender is the Flesh playlist:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/569dkbA24aoDXleNiXhdxa?si=hyqRNcVvSHy_TYB5BtW7gw&pi=u-TFfAktwCQ3uF

Body By Mother Mother :

The lyrics detail the grotesque actions of dismemberment perfectly embodying the legal crimes committed and that’re the premise for the novel.

Eat Your Young By Hozier:

Just as the title suggests, the song is about eating your young and more specifically ways to “spice it up”. Although the actual song is based on a poem about the ignorance of violence, I can imagine the song being written and performed by Marcos in the world of Tender is the flesh for its lyrics and feel.

Arsonists Lullaby By Hozier:

Although no one is necessarily an arsonist, the song’s lyrics even say “You soon find you have few choices, I learned soon the voices died with me”. This could be interpreted as how limited to zero choices Marcos had in terms of making a living and how he felt he was the only one aware of the atrocities.

Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads:

Through its unconventional sound, the talking heads depict a mood for the story that is very fitting. In addition, the song talks about a person who’s anxious and can’t be relaxed, then saying psycho killer. They may be referring to the same individual which could be Marcos.

The Man Who Sold The World by David Bowie and performed by Nirvana:

The song details a possibly apocalyptic setting where the man speaking has reached the highest peak that can he reach for man regarding wealth and position. In this case, not only does it refer to the underlying theme of capitalism in the novel, but it also represents Marcos’s self-awareness and triumph over others.

Eyes Without A Face by Billy Idol:

Simply the title: not only does it give the story a peculiar vibe to it, but it also demonstrates the idea of dehumanization with “Eyes Without a Face”. There are remnants of the person left but no identities.

[obfuscobble]

100.4

Wild that Kekkai Sensen took a turn for the Catholic at the end but i shouldn't be surprised seeing as Trigun was Catholic the whole time. Though by ep3 it was rather clear that my estimartion "durararara + loveccraft" was incorrect and kekkai sensen is properly elevator pitched as "Durararara + the anime film Hells." speaking of which ive let yall go by two halliweens without subjecting yall to hells and Adam progrenitor of mankind vbeing a himbo and wifeguy and Winslow leech is there but a hot babe and you will cry over frankenjesyus. the one and only unbegotten daugjter of God is a realone tm. Ok but bay right Kekkai Sensen fumn m i like very much. also also isn't being called "KIng of debauchery " just "wouldst thou like to live deliciously?" as a job? and how is living deliciously evil ; im no antimaterial dualist valentian so as long as living mas doesn't hurt others i think tis fine to embrace living life in a way that is actually fun and happy for if God created the heavens and the earth, shant we ddliht in it??? Yall gett

Ing gnostic out there and i can smell it like wearing mudni gh t blue to a black tie party yer shiiiiiiinin'.

Which os mot to say that im a accuwsing Nightow of propagating the doctrine of the aeons hidden by yaldabaoth,s false creation and salvation from physical ecistabce through the knowledge of aeon sophia as evidenced and realuised through abstemiousness and self torture. no one could accuse the creator of Nicholas Bigolas Dickolas Wolfwood of that. I dont even think his works are in dialogue with that since the duality of man as embodied and played out by twins integral to the theming in both trigun and kekkaisensen and it is in itself an ectremely mortal dilemmam, relying on mankind itself to provide both damnation and salvation even when the supernatural is present. thank you for coming to my femt talk.

Klaus is still my favourite character but his name doesn't slant-rhyme with ted so i had to do it for the joke. Shoutout to the betch who lives deliciously though:can't wait to watch season two tomorrow. i cant die when i wanna know what happens. And I cant die if there is a chance I'll see sweet little puffed shiitake obi nNrjej again.

addebndum correction there is no way i should call breing king of the live mas mentality a job. that bisaster does not have jobs. he has lufestyles and passions but god forbid employment.

Edit edit edit if you're so bored all the time why don't you try getting a job at a non-exploded burger joint anf find out how the proletariat lives. Lost skeleton of cadavra gif insert i sleep now spooky font

[idswolf]

Hehehe Hello! Tis your secrettttt skeletonnnn!

I noticed on your wishlist you wanted to yap out some details about your goobers! I would love to draw either 4 armed Eclipse, Sunny Bunny, or Hallow, though you can yap to your heart's content about as many of your OCs as ya want! I do wanna see if these extra details will sway me even more onto one of your OCs hehehe

Btw, I am completely fine with gore too, so if your duders got some extra gruesome backgrounds I am able to handle them o7

OH MY GOSH HEWWO!! Let me just *scrambles to find my notes* alright so going down the list I’ll start with Eclipse!

Eclipse✨: Here’s so basic info I already had written down

• This Eclipse is from my security breach au called Won’t Die, they end up being one of Gregory’s protectors in it.

• I said they’re fusion of Sun and Moon and I mean that literally, in this au Sun and Moon are two separate beings in their own body and they literally combine together to make Eclipse.

• They’re kinda like Opal from Steven Universe in the sense they have a very one track mind and tend to focus on one thing and end up forgetting about other things they were meant to do

• They’re move around in the same creepy manner that Moon does in the games

• They’re 9’1 ft tall (not including the rays)

• They technically have 3 tails, the two ribbons on their backside and the hood of their lil cloak can move around like tails and the ribbon ones are strong enough to pick up Gregory!

• They are very willing to fight and or destroy stuff in order to complete their main goal

• They’re very protective and very strong (examples vvvvv)

The White Rabbit 🐰:

• So his name isn’t Sunny bunny, I just call him that to differentiate from my other Suns, he’s from my wonderland au and in it he’s either called Sun or the rabbit

• Sun is really kind to children but HATES adults, in fact he’s murdered multiple before in very gruesome ways, never in front of kids tho

• I want to make sure you know he genuinely cares about kids and loves making them smile whether it’s by doing fun activities with them or doing something silly to amuse them

• Him, along with most of the others from wonderland, want to kidnap kids so they can entertain them for forever, he actually lured Cassie (the Alice of this au) into wonderland without her knowing it was a trap

• He’s very manipulative and persuasive, this is how he helped keep kids from leaving wonderland in the past and how he got Cassie to help him in freeing the residents of wonderland

• He genuinely doesn’t think murdering people and kidnapping kids is a bad thing

• He’s an animatronic but he’s also semi organic

• He has a magical ability that lets him shift into a smaller form that looks like a rabbit(I sadly haven’t drawn it before), tho it’s smaller then his normal size it’s actually just a bit bigger than Cassie (she’s 3’9 ft for reference)

• He’s like 6’5 ft?? I never really figured out his height but it’s around that

Hallow 🎃 : Here’s some info I had written already

• The au Hallow is in is my seasonal au, basically magical creatures are the living embodiment of each season and of the four elements, other creatures there are also the embodiment of different things too like Hallow being the embodiment of Halloween

• The farm they live on isn’t in the human realm at all but is instead in a realm where magic and such run wild, the farm is ran by Maple (my grim Foxy) whose the embodiment of fire and autumn

• Hallow can only go to the human realm on Halloween but normal animals and humans are able to cross freely tho the areas to do so are very hidden so humans very rarely encounter the magical realm

• The character Hallow is most similar to is Jack Skellington, they’re both the embodiment of Halloween, tall spooky looking guys, mischievous, kind, and protective of their friends

• They can open their mouth and they have a very long goopy black tongue, I sadly don’t have a drawing of this but I have a drawing of a different character who has a tongue that’s similar to Hallow’s just not goopy like theirs is

Highly recommend looking at this art of Hallow as an example of the flames “leaking” out :] https://artfight.net/attack/7869231.dare-gone-wrong