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devdozes · 3 months ago

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what if continuation of the Silly(𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂) Reader x Phainon and its just the reader finds out Flame Reaver's real Identity, Phainon. And reader just goes "of course my taste in men is NEVER wrong" while twirlling their hair😭 and "so i fell for the same(?) Guy TWICE🤭" or something(bonus point if Phainon is also there and gone through five stages of grief)

SILLY READER CONTINUATION :3

The battle waged on, but at this point, it was less of a high-stakes, life-or-death duel and more of an absolute disaster of a flirting session with occasional weapon swings.

Flame Reaver was still fighting, still a deadly force to be reckoned with, but you could tell—you had him. Not physically, not in battle, but mentally? Oh, you were absolutely living rent-free in his head, and you had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

“You know,” you mused, effortlessly dodging another slash, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were holding back.”

Flame Reaver’s grip on his sword tightened. “You truly do not know when to be silent, do you?”

“Oh, I do,” you shot back with a wink. “I just choose not to. Especially when I see a hot, brooding warrior who—”

“For the love of all the Titans, STOP.” Phainon groaned from the sidelines, looking as if he had aged several decades in the past five minutes. “This is a battlefield, not a tavern! Quit trying to seduce the deadly assassin!”

“But Phaiii,” you whined, twirling out of the way of another attack with infuriating ease. “What if he’s my destiny?”

Flame Reaver’s sword halted mid-strike, his entire form stiffening. If you could see beneath that mask, you just knew he was internally combusting.

You beamed. “See? He’s thinking about it.”

“I want to walk into the Black Tide.” Phainon clutched his head. “I need a reset. A full system reboot.”

However, the moment of chaotic banter was short-lived. Something shifted in the air—an unseen force pulsed around you, the battlefield trembling under an unseen pressure. It was faint at first, a sensation curling at the edges of your consciousness, but then—

You felt it.

Something familiar. Something eerily familiar.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you studied Flame Reaver. The way he moved, the way he carried himself, the way he hesitated—not out of uncertainty, but out of something else. Recognition? Familiarity?

It clicked all at once.

“No way.” Your weapon lowered ever so slightly, a grin spreading across your face. “Oh, this is rich.”

Flame Reaver, who had clearly not been expecting this reaction, straightened slightly. “What?”

“No, no, I’m just—” You actually had to take a second to process the sheer absurdity of this revelation before you burst into laughter. “Of course. Of COURSE my taste in men is never wrong.”

Phainon, who had been one inconvenience away from a mental breakdown this entire time, blinked. “What. What does that mean. What did you just figure out.”

You took a dramatic step forward, eyes glinting with absolute amusement. “So, let me get this straight.” You gestured vaguely at Flame Reaver. “You—mysterious, brooding, dangerously attractive Flame Reaver—are Phainon.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Phainon’s brain audibly short-circuited. “I’m—WHAT.”

Flame Reaver visibly flinched. “That is—” He hesitated, voice tight. “Not entirely incorrect.”

You gasped, clasping your hands together in pure, unfiltered delight. “So I fell for the same guy TWICE?” You twirled a strand of your hair between your fingers, biting your lip playfully. “Damn. Maybe I have a type.”

Phainon, meanwhile, looked like he was going through all five stages of grief at once. “You—he—ME? HIM? FLAME REAVER IS ME?” He pointed aggressively between himself and Flame Reaver. “FROM ANOTHER TIMELINE?”

Flame Reaver, who was absolutely not equipped to deal with this level of sheer chaos, cleared his throat. “A different version of you, yes.”

Phainon made a strangled noise. “I hate this. I hate this so much.”

“Oh, come on, Phai,” you teased, nudging him. “This just means I have EXCELLENT taste. I mean, think about it. Twice. Twice, my heart went ‘yep, that’s the one.’”

Flame Reaver, the terrifying executioner feared across realms, looked incredibly unsure of how to handle the fact that he was being actively flirted with by the same person in two different lifetimes.

“I—” he started, but then immediately stopped, seemingly at war with himself.

You leaned in slightly. “Oh? Speechless? Flustered, even?”

“I am NOT flustered.”

“You hesitated. You totally hesitated.” You smirked, leaning on your weapon. “C’mon, just admit it. I’ve got you all hot and bothered, don’t I?”

Phainon groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I AM GOING TO COMBUST.”

Flame Reaver exhaled sharply, visibly collecting himself. “Enough. This changes nothing.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Oh, I think it changes everything.” You shot him a wink. “After all, now I know my type is literally across timelines.”

Flame Reaver, for all his legendary composure, looked moments away from combusting himself.

Phainon simply stared up at the sky like he was begging the Titans to strike him down.

You ignored him, still beaming. “Anyway, that settles it. I have two boyfriends now.”

Silence.

The battlefield, the remnants of shattered structures, the very air seemed to collectively pause at your words.

Both Phainons blinked at you, as if waiting for some sort of clarification that you were joking.

You were not.

“I beg your pardon?” Flame Reaver finally asked, his usual composed demeanor absolutely crumbling under the sheer audacity of your statement.

Phainon actually looked offended. “Excuse me, what?”

“You heard me.” You shrugged. “I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? You’re technically the same person, but like, from different timelines. So if I like one of you, I obviously like the other, too.”

Flame Reaver looked way too flustered for someone who was supposed to be an emotionless killer. “That is not how this works.”

“Why not?” You crossed your arms, pouting slightly. “It’s efficient.”

Phainon gestured wildly at you. “Efficient?”

“Yeah! One boyfriend for soft, wholesome moments and another for broody, dramatic tension. It’s a perfect balance.”

Flame Reaver’s eye twitched. “I am not your boyfriend.”

“You literally let me flirt with you for an entire battle and barely fought back,” you pointed out. “That’s boyfriend behavior.”

Phainon turned to Flame Reaver with a look of absolute betrayal. “You what?”

Flame Reaver stiffened, his posture straightening as if trying to regain some level of dignity. “It was strategic hesitation.”

“It was flustered hesitation,” you corrected.

Phainon groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “I can’t believe this. I literally lost to myself. I hate this timeline.”

Flame Reaver was still recovering, his mind clearly short-circuiting. “…Two boyfriends?”

“You’re getting stuck on that?” Phainon snapped at him.

You just clasped your hands together, looking at them expectantly. “So. Where are we going for our first date?”

Phainon screamed internally. Flame Reaver still looked like he hadn’t fully processed reality yet.

what the fuck is happening

I LOVE THEM AUGHRJNFM,REKJ IM GONNA MAKE A LONGER VERSION OF THIS BUT ITS 4 AM, IM ON 7 CANS ON LEMONADE AND 4 CUPS OF INSTANT NOODLES

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joelsrose · 26 days ago

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Harry Castillo was not a romantic man.

That kind of sentiment—tenderness, devotion, flowers in a vase and hands held in the dark—belonged to other people. Slower people. People with time to waste and hearts they hadn’t yet learned to bury. He didn’t believe in that sort of thing. Didn’t need it, didn’t want it.

Between back-to-back calls with global investors, restructuring a crumbling real estate portfolio in Madrid, and casually acquiring a hospitality group in Tokyo, he barely had time to breathe—let alone fall in love.

Romance, in Harry’s world, was a liability dressed in silk.

So when Simone—his brand manager-slash-strategic advisor-slash-occasional babysitter—slid into the leather booth across from him at Cipriani, her sleek iPad in hand and a pinched look between her brows, he already knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. She didn’t even bother with small talk. Just sighed and said, “Harry, they’re not buying it.”

He didn’t look up from his drink.

“They?”

“The Milan board. The family fund. The press. Take your pick.”

Harry finally raised his eyes, sharp and unreadable. “What aren’t they buying?”

Simone tapped the screen in front of her, flipping to a slide that showed his name in bold serif font, followed by the kind of clinical press buzzwords he hated—aggressive strategist, relentless closer, emotionally distant, unrelatable.

“Your image,” she said flatly. “They want values. Integrity. A personal narrative that feels... grounded.”

He snorted. “It’s private equity, Simone. I’m not auditioning for a Hallmark Christmas special.”

She didn’t laugh.

“This isn’t about Christmas. It’s about optics. You’re not just closing billion-euro deals anymore—you’re entering legacy circles. Old money. Philanthropists. They don’t want a stone-faced bachelor with a rotating door of models and no ties to anything but his profit margins.”

“So what,” Harry said, voice dry and razor-sharp, “I’m supposed to find God? Adopt a dog? Get a fiancée?”

Simone didn’t blink.

“Actually... yes. Something like that.”

He let the silence stretch between them like piano wire. Then, softly, like the thought bored him:

“You want me to find someone.”

“I want you to appear human,” she corrected. “Just for a little while. Just long enough to close Milan, ease the press cycle, and make people believe you’re not emotionally bankrupt.”

Harry swirled the amber in his glass, watching the light catch against the crystal like it might offer him an answer.

“And if I don’t?”

She shrugged one perfect shoulder. “Then you lose Milan. And probably Paris. And your seat on the Legacy Sustainability Board.”

He sighed, jaw clenching. The drink went untouched.

“Find someone,” he muttered. “Right. I’ll get right on that.”

୨♡୧

Simone sat across from him in his office, framed by the soft glow of the skyline bleeding in through glass walls that cost more than most people made in a year.

The space around them was sleek, minimal, intimidating—black marble floors polished to a mirror finish, matte leather furnishings that looked untouched, and shelves lined not with books, but with art pieces that whispered taste and capital in equal measure.

The air smelled faintly of oud and espresso, and outside the windows, Manhattan glittered like it belonged to him.

She was halfway through her third slide.

The woman on the screen was some up-and-coming socialite-slash-entrepreneur, smile manicured, hair glossy, bio packed with the kind of buzzwords you’d expect from someone who was born in the right zip code and never had to beg for relevance.

“Simone,” Harry said, glancing at the screen with the kind of disinterest usually reserved for corporate tax reports.

He checked his watch—Vacheron Constantin, silver, discreet, and brutally expensive. “This is ridiculous. I have a restructuring call with Zurich in fifteen, and I’m supposed to be in Tribeca for a closing by one. I don’t have time to audition fake girlfriends like it’s a casting call for a CW reboot.”

Simone didn’t flinch. She never did. She just raised an eyebrow and flicked to the next slide.

Harry sighed, leaned forward, elbows resting against the smoked-glass table, his voice dropping into something drier. “You said Milan wants legacy. Values. Family-oriented investment partnerships. These girls all look twenty years old and built for poolside brand deals. You think any of them screams stable, long-term commitment? They look like they still call their dads when they get parking tickets.”

Simone sighed, her perfectly lined eyes still fixed on the glowing tablet in her lap. “You’re right,” she said finally, flipping the screen closed with a dramatic little snap, her tone dry as gin.

“Fine. I’ll find uglier girls.” She stood with practiced grace, smoothing down her blazer, already mentally re-sorting her list of “acceptable human women to stand next to Harry Castillo and not look like paid PR.”

Harry chuckled, low and amused, the sound curling at the edges of his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, the faintest smirk playing at his lips. It wasn’t a laugh so much as an exhale laced with private amusement—the kind of sound that made people either fall in love with him or want to throw a drink in his face. Sometimes both.

As Simone turned to leave, she paused just before the door, fingers already tapping a reminder into her phone. “Oh—and don’t forget, you’ve got that charity art thing tonight.”

“What charity art thing?” he muttered, brow furrowing.

“The showcase. Big names. Private collectors. Bougie rich-people art and overpriced wine. You’re on the guest list and three donors specifically asked if you’d be attending.”

Harry groaned, pressing his fingers to his temple. “Fuck. Do I have to go to that?”

“Yes,” Simone said without turning around. “Because unfortunately, your reputation still depends on pretending you have taste and a soul.”

He sighed like it physically hurt him to care.

Harry Castillo was the kind of man who made Forbes lists before forty and never answered calls he didn’t initiate.

He wore bespoke suits like they were second skin and had a revolving door of romantic rumors without ever confirming a single one.

He was charm where it counted, cold when it didn’t, and entirely too busy turning collapsing portfolios into gold to bother with anything as trivial as attending art galas. But still—there was something about his presence that people craved, something that made rooms tilt just slightly when he walked into them.

He would go. He always did. He’d shake hands, sip something expensive, and pretend not to notice the cameras.

୨♡୧

You weren’t really meant to be here. Not in this world of glass flutes and gallery lighting, not among the crowd of socialites and billionaires pretending to care about postmodern sculpture just to have an excuse to sip overpriced champagne and discuss offshore accounts in hushed, knowing tones.

But your best friend Maddie ran the gallery—well, technically she managed it under some art foundation umbrella with a name that sounded more like a hedge fund than anything creative—and one of the servers had called in sick at the last minute.

So she called you, voice breathless and desperate, promising that you wouldn’t even have to smile, just walk around and hand out hors d’oeuvres and avoid eye contact with the guests unless absolutely necessary.

You were twenty-seven, broke, and running dangerously low on both rent and pride. You had exactly $114 in your checking account, your credit card had been declined at a bodega two nights ago, and the black flats you were wearing had a barely-there hole in the toe that you were praying no one noticed. Your dress wasn’t technically yours—it was a loan from Maddie’s closet, too tight at the bust and too loose at the hips, but it looked sleek enough under the gallery lights to pass.

The space was already buzzing by the time you arrived—wine glasses clinking, conversations murmured in that slow, affected tone of the elite, the kind where everyone sounded bored but somehow still competitive. The art on the walls looked like the kind of thing that could’ve been made with a blindfold and trauma, but people stared at it like it held the meaning of life.

You moved through the crowd with a silver tray balanced on one palm, offering truffle canapés and duck tartlets to people whose fake teeth probably cost more than your first car. A man in a velvet blazer took two and didn’t even look at you. A woman with a surgically perfect jawline asked if they were gluten-free and then scoffed before you could answer.

You didn’t belong here, not really—but you were good at pretending.

୨♡୧

After nearly an hour of weaving between white walls and sharper elbows, balancing a silver tray of wine and overpriced cheese, your feet ached in that dull, pulsing way that made you question every life decision that had led to this moment.

The gallery was crowded now, humming with the low, indulgent buzz of wealth disguised as sophistication—people discussing brushstrokes like they understood suffering, sipping champagne that probably cost more than your monthly rent, laughing politely at things that weren’t funny.

You turned on your heel, tray steady in your hand, and collided with someone—hard.

Nothing fell, thankfully, but the jolt sent a sharp sting through your wrist. You looked up quickly, already ready to mutter an apology, only to find that the man who’d bumped you hadn’t even paused. He was tall—taller than you expected—with broad shoulders framed by a suit so precisely tailored it had to be custom.

His jaw was sharp, his beard perfectly groomed, and set in a way that suggested he rarely, if ever, apologized for anything. Hair dark and curled at the nape, neatly swept back with just the right amount of effort, and his expression—flat, unreadable—didn’t shift as his eyes landed on you.

He didn’t say a word.

You blinked at him. “You could say excuse me, rich boy.”

He turned back to you, brows lifting slightly like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. “Excuse me?”

“There we go,” you said, giving him a tight, sarcastic smile as you adjusted the tray on your hand. “Wasn’t too hard, was it?”

For a moment, he just stared at you. Like you were some abstract painting he couldn’t quite make sense of. His gaze flicked down—not in the sleazy way you were used to from finance types at events like this, but in that calculating, assessing way that said he was categorizing you, fitting you into some quiet box in his mind.

He tilted his head. “Do you speak to all the guests that way?”

“Only the ones who think they’re too important to say sorry,” you replied, already stepping past him, voice airy. “Enjoy the cheese. It’s the only thing here worth what it costs.”

You didn’t look back. But if you had, you might’ve caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. Not yet.

Harry Castillo didn’t usually get spoken to like that.

And suddenly, he wanted to know exactly who the hell you were.

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lucycore · 8 months ago

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Unexpected - Jason voorhees x reader

(2009 reboot version of Jason)

It's time for Kinktoberrr babes

⚠️ smut one shot ⚠️

Since you saved the life of Jasons mom when she got injured pretty badly, Jason and Pamela were very fond of you. You were a young nurse when that happened so Pamela wanted Jason to always protect you no matter what.

One night a group of young adults came camping near the crystal lake, you knew this was immediate death for those people but you couldn't stop Jason either so you just let it happen.

While Jason was out there slashing his victims you went swimming in the lake. You loved the dark night and the full moon being the only lightning. Pamela always used to joke around that you might turn into a mermaid if you continue swimming at full moon. You smiled at that memory while relaxing in the water.

After Jason was done which was surprisingly an easy kill or kills, he heard some splashing in the lake, thinking someone might escaped and hid there. When he went to check he saw you swimming naked. Your clothes were chilling on the ground. He hid behind trees and watched you being naked for the first time. He couldn't take his eyes off of your beautiful breasts. You looked so smooth and petite while the moon light was shining at your wet tits.

He never felt aroused like this. His grip around the tree tightened and so did his jeans. You opened your eyes ready to come out of the water, not expecting that you were being watched, you got out showing off your whole beautiful body which hypnotized Jason so much, he couldn't even hear his moms voice.

You turned around as you heard some movements but you didn't think much of it and quickly returned to your little shack where you lived. There's something peaceful about staying alone in the woods next to a lake. You liked it way more than staying at an apartment in the middle of a busy street with the pipes dripping.

You went into your bedroom to change into your night dress, not knowing that Jason was stalking you from your window as you forgot to close the curtains. He would never expect to feel lust which was such a strange feeling. To him it felt like an instinct that would eventually make him attack you which was absolutely forbidden and he never wanted to anyway.

You changed and before you could get into bed and shut the lights off, you heard your doors opening. You turned around and saw Jason standing there. He couldn't hold his impulse in any longer. He had to fuck you now.

"Jason? What are you doing here?..Is everything okay?" You asked concerned cuz he never visited you in the middle of the night.

He didn't answer, he never talked to you but with time you learned to read his body language. Tho he seemed fine, he looked very tense. Something wasn't right.

He stepped further inside and with every step closer to you. You didn't move cuz you trusted him but you couldn't deny the fact that you felt a little anxious.

He looked down at your body, thinking back of how he saw you completely naked.

"Jason?" You woke him up and his head immediately went up.

He took one more step and with a violent grip threw you on the bed with your face facing the pillows while he went on top of you.

"Wtf Jason!" You yelled and tried to get free wiggling your legs which didn't help at all cuz you were just so much smaller and more petite than him. His body overpowered you with ease.

He had 0 experience. He didn't know how sex worked or what he had to do. The only knowledge he had was from watching people that came camping and fucked.

He suddenly stood up turned you around and dragged you by your feet closer to the middle of the bed. He quickly ripped your night dress revealing your breasts and your pussy. He had you completely naked laying under him. It was like a dream come true to him while you were confused and scared.

"What got into him?" You thought. "I thought he hated seeing people fucking and wnated to kill them."

He moved his head closer to your hair and like an animal sniffed you down to your neck and tits. To him you smelled amazing. He loved how you smelled, it really got him going. He then grabbed your tits with both of his hands and started squishing them violently.

You squirmed a little but didn't really try to stop him. You noticed that he got horny but didn't know how to treat a womans body that way.

You spread your legs a little, giving him a small hint on where to touch you. He looked down and spread your legs a little more with his hands to give him better access. He brushed with his fingers over your clit to your butthole. You moaned softly at his touch and when he noticed it's like a button that will give him a noise when he presses it, he did it again with more pressure and looked immediately at your face to see the reaction. He made a slightly louder noise which he loved. After all he's also a human being with needs and we were made to reproduce so those instincts came naturally. Also you haven't had a guy in a long time and being touched by one, especially so tall and strong and manly really got you wet.

You took his hand and placed it on your clit to signal him that that's the place he should touch. He immediately started rubbing it. Your head fell back while rolling your eyes in pleasure. The faster he rubbed the louder you got. His hands went on to search around your pussy a bit more and he found your entrance. It was wet, warm and delicate. He never felt something better in his entire life. He stuck one finger inside and started moving in and out making you moan louder and enjoying every inch of his long finger. He added another one and used the other hand to rub your clit. Your moans became higher and louder. Your pussy tightened are his fingers and as he fingered you faster and rubbed your clit harder, you came squirting for the first time as his fingers hit your sweet spot.

You looked so fucking sexy cumming. He fell in love with that vision and wanted more of it as he was proud of him archiving more than some experienced guys that need ages to find the clit.

He quickly just opened his pants and got his dick out not having time to completely strip. He wanted to feel you now. Right now.

You moved up a little and your mouth fell open as you saw his big veiny cock. You swallowed at his size. You never experienced something this big in a guy.

He violently turned you around so you were on all 4 and smashed his whole body against yours to feel every inch of you. He wrapped one arm around your neck with his hand grabbing onto your shoulder. He chocked you a little with his arm but it felt perfect.

With his other hand he placed his dick at your entrance and after moving his hand to hold your hip he started fucking you. You gasped at his length inside you cuz you weren't used to this much.

Jason loved that feeling so much he started thrusting faster and faster, stretching your walls making you feel it in your stomach and guts. You were moaning so loudly like never before. It was a lot to handle but you loved the pain that came with it.

His long dick hit your sweet spot even better than his fingers did what made you moan like a complete slut. His dick almost pocketed out your underbelly. You could really see his dick thrusting in and out of you. Good thing you couldn't see your stomach cuz it looked quite scary how far his dick reached.

You were moaning and screaming in pleasure. He needed to feel your pussy with his fingers again so he placed two on your clit and rubbed you violently, raping your clit with his fingers.

His arm around your neck moved you closer to him and your eyes rolled back and your head fell back feeling his breathes on your neck.

"Ugh Jason" You moaned his name which made him go like mad. He thrusted so fucking fast into your cunt, it looked like rape but you enjoyed every bit of it. You loved getting your cunt ruined by his cock not being worried that you wouldn't be able to walk for a few days. You enjoyed here and now without worrying about anything.

You were close. Your pussy tightened again but this time around his cock which made him breath out so loudly, it made him tilt his head back.

"Fuck Jason I'm fucking close!"

You continued moaning like crazy and starting to scream as you came on his dick. Squirting on it as your hands grabbed the white bed sheets. This had to the best orgasm you've ever had.

Jason was far from close and didn't even think of stopping so he just continued and thursted harder and harder into your already sore and red cunt.

Your moans were filled with pain as his breathing became faster with every thrust. You could feel his dick vibrating and twitching inside you before he finally released his huge load. Breeding you and probably impregnating you. I mean look at him..One baby won't hurt and I bet his babies would be such cuties.

After he released deep inside you he fell on your back pushing you down on the bed. He was heavy, he almost crushed your lungs so you wiggled under him signing him to move away from you. He rolled over the bed and tried catching his breath like an animal after haunting down it's prey.

You were also out of you but you calmed down faster, already feeling slight stinging in your pussy. You knew these coming few days would be hell walking so you already prepared yourself for as little movement as possible.

You looked over at Jason who was still breathing heavily but slowly seemed to calm down. He was shocked how such an activity would tire him out this much. I mean he kills groups of people and even then he isn't out of breath like he's now.

But he loved it. He will definitely do it again.

—

I don't think this imagine came out like I wanted it to but I just let my brain lead me haha

#jason voorhees #jason x reader #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees x you #friday the 13th #jason voorhees smut #jason voorhees imagine #slasher #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x oc #slasher x reader #slashers fanfiction #slasher smut #slashers smut #slashers fandom #halloween

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skulldetergent · 10 months ago

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ghost scar headcanons (CW for his backstory)

no tattoo/no text version & explanation under the cut

CW⚠️ discussion of child abuse, torture, self harm & sa

since i headcanon ghost to have quite a few scars, i decided to make a "character sheet" or "scar map" to keep my art more consistent.

in the drawing, the scars are already labeled and i think pretty self-explanatory, but i will go into some more detail and elaborate on my headcanons. again, please read the content warning. i did my best at trying to discuss the following in a sensitive way, but it may be upsetting to read nonetheless.

let's begin with the ones that say "mission". i imagined they are just random scars he sustained during his service over the years, like gunshot scars or knife slashes from close combat.

but others like "roba's hook", the autopsy scar, tally marks, the whip scars and his glasgow smile are from during the time where he was captured and tortured. i headcanon reboot ghost to have pretty much the same backstory as OG ghost, with some slight differences and additions of my own.

things like the glasgow smile or tally marks are made up by me, and others like the being hanged from his ribs actually happened (comics). ghost was also canonically sexually assaulted multiple times, which gave me the idea of said tally marks to emphasise how cruel his captors were.

correct me if i'm wrong, but in the comics ghost doesn't have any scars after being tortured, any cuts shown on his body just cease to exist a few panels later. but considering what he was put through, i do think that there would be permanent scarring.

now, it's also canon that ghost was abused by his father in ways like him bringing large animals such as snakes in his room to scare him, or having him watch a woman die from OD, which made me consider what the full extent of his terrible father's "parenting" must've looked like.

ghost has a small, almost faded scar under his eye, he was too young to remember how he got it, only finding out when his mother told him. his father was being neglectful when he was supposed to watch him, and simon injured himself while wandering around.

now, it is unclear in the comics if mr. riley's abuse was purely psychological, or if it extended to physical as well (again, correct me if i'm wrong). but i didn't find it unrealistic to have the latter be the case, which is why simon has cigarette burn scars on his neck and legs. his father found it amusing under the guise of "making him a man" and seeing how long little simon could take it before he would start crying. nowadays the burns are barely visible.

and lastly, the self harm scars covered up by the tattoo sleeve on his left arm. considering what simon had to go through at an early age, it is not unlikely that he might have resorted to SH as a teenager OR as a young adult after his family's death & roba's torture. i image that later, he got the tattoo as a reminder to himself that those days are his past and not his present.

i really read the comics and said:

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philon-awards · 24 days ago

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Philon Awards 2025: Nominations Phase opens on 1 June

KiScon is honoured to once again host the Philon Awards. Originally established by Jenna Sinclair and Shelley Butler in 1997, this annual event's purpose is to honour outstanding authors and artists in K/S fandom.

Important Philon dates: Nominations: 1 June – 31 July, 2025. Voting: 10 August – 10 October, 2025. Eligibility (works created & published): 1 September 2024 – 31 July 2025.

There are 11 categories: Ficlet (word count under 1K) Short fic (word count 1K–5K) Medium-length fic (word count 5K–10K) Long fic (word count 10K–20K) Novella (word count 20K–50K) Novel (word count over 50K) Podfic Traditional Art Digital Art Poetry Zines For each category the voters will determine a Gold (first place) and a Silver (second place) winner.

Rules: Nominating and Voting:

Nominations are open from 1 June to 31 July, 2025. Each fan can nominate up to 3 works per category, but you cannot nominate the same work twice.

For a work to make it onto the voting ballot, it needs at least 3 nominations. Before we add it to the ballot, we will get in touch with the creator to ask whether they are fine with this!

Voting is open from 10 August to 10 October, 2025.

The winners will be announced during KiScon 2025. Each winner will receive a certificate and a small prize.

It bears repeating: One person —> one submission of the nominations form. Same for voting: one person —> one submission of the voting ballot. Please do not attempt to game the system by using multiple accounts; we see this and it makes us question the future of the Philon Awards.

Nominating and voting both take place via Google Forms, and you need to be logged in and enter either your AO3 or your Discord name on the form in order to submit the nominations; this ensures that people do not nominate or vote multiple times for the same work. If we suspect sockpuppet activity, we will get in touch for clarification. We keep the nomination and voting process completely confidential! Only the KiScon concom will see the submitted forms.

While *we* won't talk about who nominated what, *you* can still discuss your faves and promote them, if you feel comfortable doing so. Making fellow fans aware of great works and sharing why you love and want to nominate them, is encouraged.

You can submit the nominations form only once, but you can edit your response if you need to add or change something (just follow the link in the email you receive after submitting the form). Please make sure to include every fanwork you want to see on the shortlist. You cannot edit your responses after nominations have closed (31 July 2025, end of day, timezone: Anywhere on Earth, i.e. UTC -12).

To answer a question we receive frequently: yes, you *can* nominate (and vote for) your own work(s). We won't judge you. ;-)

Fanworks:

The work must focus on the pairing Kirk/Spock or Kirk & Spock. Slash (romantic and/or sexual relationship) and gen (friendship) are equally eligible. If a fic includes Kirk and/or Spock in relationships with other characters, be they canonical or original, this does not disqualify the work for the Philon Awards, as long as the focus is clearly on Kirk and Spock's relationship.

Art must feature Kirk or Spock or both of them; additional characters in the artwork are allowed, but no depiction of Kirk/Other or Spock/Other.

All universes are welcome: TOS (series and movies), TAS, and reboot, Discovery and Strange New Worlds. AUs and mirror universe are equally allowed. Crossovers between different Trek franchises or between Trek and other media are permitted, as long as Kirk and Spock are the work's main characters.

RPF works (e.g. Shatnoy) are not eligible.

All ratings and genres are allowed. If a work among your nominations includes strong elements that would merit a warning on the AO3 (e.g. rape, major character death etc.), we'd appreciate a heads-up on the nominations form, so that we can make sure to include the warning on the shortlist.

The work must be complete. It can be part of a series, but the work itself must not be a WIP (missing chapters or a draft/unfinished sketch).

Eligibility: The work must have been created and published (print or online) after last year's nomination period. So, everything from 1 September 2024 onwards until the end of the current nomination phase (31 July 2025) is eligible. Reprints or uploads of earlier works (e.g. a fic you wrote and published a few years ago and uploaded to the AO3 only recently) cannot take part in this contest. If a multi-chapter fic was started earlier, but the date of completion falls within the eligible range, then it can also be nominated.

For podfic the creation/publication date of the actual podfic counts, not of the written fic that inspired it.

AI-generated works are NOT allowed.

Traditional art means that it was hand-drawn or hand-painted; scanning or photographing the finished work in order to publish it online is allowed, of course.

With digital art, we mean art that was created by a fan artist directly on a tablet or computer, or art that started out as hand-drawn and underwent significant digital alterations in the next steps. We do NOT allow AI-generated art! Manips based on still images or photos of the actors are not eligible in this contest.

Zines: Both e-zines and print zines published between 1 September 2024 and 31 July 2025 are eligible.

Last but not least: these awards are meant to be fun and a celebration of the K/S fandom. The shortlist will double as lovely rec list! We get to talk about our faves and let the creators know that we love their works. You can fill in the nominations form embedded on the KiScon website, or directly access it at this link.

#kiscon 2025 #philon awards #kiscon philion awards #spirk #kirk/spock #k/s

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tainbocuailnge · 9 months ago

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[soapboxing to people who already agree with me] ongoing vs completed media works isn't a matter of one being inherently higher quality than the other because you better believe there's some truly dogshit self contained works out there it's the fact that an ongoing slash live service work by design will forever keep introducing new plot threads and coming up with ways to escalate the stakes in a way that is increasingly difficult to sustain as time goes on, while simultaneously the later parts of the story are beholden to the earlier parts to a degree they never are in things that release as one complete story, because the ongoing story can't go back and make the early stuff line up with the later stuff nearly as easily. that's why long running shows often end up reaching for some kind of world reset or a multiverse as an easy way to create infinite new plot points and get rid of some of that old stuff that wasn't working anymore.

a one-and-done story isn't dependent on indefinite audience retention so it can make riskier choices in its writing, it isn't incentivised to keep going forever to keep getting more money out of its audience so it can actually work towards a meaningful conclusion. there's benefits to being ongoing at least for a while, like i didn't watch gravity falls but from my outside perspective that show made really strong use of being ongoing to create a lot of community hype around solving the mysteries as info gets released each episode which made it way more popular than if it'd just released in one go, but I also know that showrunner had to actively fight the tv execs to actually let his show end when he'd intended it to because he knew it would become bad and sucks if it never got to actually end. in the gacha-game-o-sphere where I'm more active it's a whole fucking thing that the story can never actually end because they gotta keep introducing more characters to sell whose plot threads never get picked back up because there's more new characters to sell instead. actually, the original post was about a friend playing fate/extra and being blown away with how difficult and complicated of a person (positive) nero was before she got bastardised for gacha sales.

the promise of "more of this thing you like is coming in the future" is very strong at creating and maintaining an audience which is why execs LOVE making live service shit and throwing out sequels and new seasons and reboots of proven formulas, but that's exactly why you gotta read/watch/play something that's self contained and done every now and then, just to remind yourself of what it's like when something's actually fucking finished.

#anyway i love cuchulainn

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