#tim burton i am in your walls

[vicktoon]

wednesday is bi on the aroace spectrum meanwhile enid is a lesbian in THEE deepest trenches of comphet imaginable together they are an ATROCIOUSLY confused bundle of baby gay angst

[tastethesetears]

There's only one thing that a Hyde understands. Pain.

[writella]

Fuckin’ Favorite

Synopsis: Whose the fairest of them all? It’s you. It’s always been you. Negan’s prepared to let each one of his wives know just that tonight.

— or: Oh Lord, does Negan love his fuckin’ favorite wife!

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, smut— fingering, thigh riding, and penetration without protection; reader at the Sanctuary, “wife”!reader, guilty!reader because when am I not feeling guilty for wanting Negan, Negan being rude in one small part, I’m pretty sure I changed the layout of the wives quarters from the show, and a fuck load of ‘fucks’ from Negan. Mostly proofread. wc: 2.2k.

A/N: I mostly get right to it, so buckle up! And if you like this one, check out this daydream I wrote because I think it’s really cute.

—with love from writella ♡

He comes in without a knock.

The door, though brittle as it is, slams shut. The metal and leather of his jacket clink and slap as his back pounds against it. He has no care that he could break the door, or for the noise and late hour of his arrival.

This was his house. His rules.

“Good evenin’, sweetheart.”

If it wasn’t for that slight twang in his accent, or that wiley look that punctuates the end of his sentences, making everything he says just as comical as unsettling, it would have sounded more like a, Hello, Clarice— nonetheless, you still hold your breath.

“It’s half past ten,” you decide to say, looking down, making sure you don’t sound too sarcastic or displeased with his appearance. It’s just that you hated it when he came to your room, especially when all the other girls were right outside in the common room or in their bedrooms that neighbored yours. You much rather go to his room if you have to. It’s quiet and separate from the rest of the habitants of the Sanctuary. He could be as loud as he wanted— even though he always was anyway— but that would mostly be for you— so you didn’t have to feel so ashamed.

“Well would you prefer a Hey, sexy. Strip down. Ass up. then? Just get right to it?” You say nothing. “Cause I could.” Negan tilts his head sideways with a slight grin, his forehead protruding forward as he tries to find your eyes. All he sees is cheeks starting to flush, an embarrassed shake of your head, and eyes that stay stuck on your black ballerina flats.

You were sitting on the rear of your bed, only looking up sometimes. Recently, you were trying to get better with eye contact. You wanted to show that you’re not afraid of him anymore. It was supposed to be a silent statement that he wasn’t fooling you and that you weren’t softening up to him. That you know what this is, who he is; you’re cognizant of what he does to you, to the others girls, to people outside these walls. But, this didn’t work. No matter if you were looking down or up, you could never seem to get rid of that deer in the headlights look— The Roadkill Stare or The Corpse’s Bride as Negan called it— wide and bewildered, like he was going to run you over. Sometimes it made him feel sad. That there were moments where he could see you trying to resist your natural instinct to flinch when he comes near. But other times, it made him feel powerful. Not the fact that he scared you, but that he could see what was underneath it— that you were scared of yourself. He knows you like him. He knows from the way your face slightly twists as you suppress your snickers and smiles at his jokes when you two are alone, or when he makes fun of Simon for yet another one of his bad attempts at acting like him; when you think you’re doing well at maintaining that timid Tim Burton eyed version of a poker face. He knows you’re not completely scared of him, at least not anymore. Little by little, he’s learning to clock the nuances of your expressions: he sees how your eyes trail his body when he undresses in front of you, or the way you follow him as he walks to talk to this person or that, how you’re acutely aware of when and how he moves, your eyes flickering towards his hands before he gestures with them. It’s like you know too. As if you see his underneath the way he can for you. You’re becoming as familiar as he is.

He’s aware.

You can’t fool him any longer.

“Get up for me.” It’s a soft command said in his darkened voice. On instinct, you oblige. This is how it is. He walks closer, his fingertips lightly brushing slowly down your shoulder until he reaches your waist. He grabs you quick and close on both sides, pulling you straight against him. You gasp, arms swinging back slightly, back arching against him as he presses you on his lower abdomen and groin. You can feel his breath, and the heat of his intense gaze. “Kiss me.”

Your mouth is agape. Your breath shudders. You’re frozen.

You do nothing.

There you go again, his little fawn bride. If eyes could be any more rounder, symmetrical spheres, they’re yours. He could laugh but he doesn’t. He only repeats himself. Quietly, sternly, “You kiss me first this time.”

You had never done that before.

“Do I gotta say it a third?”

You shake your head. No.

Hesitantly, you reach up, touching his face with ghostlike fingertips, feeling the bristles of his beard as you bring yourself closer. Your lips are light and tentative as you finally press yours on his. For him, it was like being kissed by an angel. It makes him soften up for a moment, tilt your head up higher for you to give you more leverage. He kisses you just as sweetly. His thumb strokes your jaw.

After a few more kisses, you pull back to look at him. You hold his shoulders and he holds you by your waist. Your faces are so close, his eyes could almost be as wide as yours, and for a moment, it all feels so soft and dream-like. But quickly, the iridescence fades: before you realize it, he puts his tongue in your mouth forcefully, making your head roll back. The unexpected shift makes you gasp into his mouth.

He turns you around, slams you again your door. Your tall bureau near it bangs against the wall with you. Some of your folded clothes you had yet to put away and jewelry falls off the top as your head bounces.

Negan’s left hand runs down your body, sliding two fingers down under your dress and over your panties, pressing in at your slit. He finds wetness forming. His fingers make it more pronounced as he creates a wet spot.

“Tell me you want me,” he says as he starts to rub your clit.

You take a shaky breath inwards, covering a small moan.

Negan’s fingers slide inside your underwear and down right into your hole. He pumps slowly three times, never losing eye contact with you and then he takes them out. “Cause I want you,” and he proves it by putting the two fingers in his mouth and licking them clean, wiping his lips afterwards with his tongue. “Tell me you do too.”

Your breath remains heavy. Finally, you whisper, “I want you.”

He spins you around again. His back against the door once more, producing another slam you know all the girls will hear. He raises one of his legs and slots his thigh in between yours. His hands rest on your hips, rocking you against him. It feels good. Your thin cotton panties and bare thighs brushing and rocking against his that are rough and denim clad. You try to resist the urge to make any sounds because of how much you like it. “Tell me you need me.”

This makes you whine. “Can we—” you start to ask— and you can’t believe you’re even going to say it— “Can we just go to your room? Please?” Oh God, what would everyone at Alexandria think? They’d be so disappointed. They’d hate you. The wives have never been mean, they accepted you, understood your condition more than anyone else, but where you only had very educated guesses of what everyone at home would think of you, you had a stone hard fact of how the other girls were starting to see you. Their eyes could not lie as much as yours: you felt women’s growing glares of silent resentment whenever you were seen with Negan. He was more forgiving with you; never got too nasty about your habit of not speaking when you’re spoke to; he was gentle with his touch when others were watching; never made you hang out with any of the other men if you didn’t want to; and he talked to you, communicated more. They saw it. They knew it. They figured you were more in the know about things outside the Sancutary than they were. You tried to use it to keep them informed as well, as a way to preserve what little favor you had left, but now look at you, ruining it all as they’re forced to listen. Not only submitting to whatever he may do to you, but asking to change the location before it begins.

“No. You get me here or not at all.” You knew he wasn’t lying. His voice was stern. He looked you in the eye even if you weren’t looking back, you felt it. It told you that he wouldn’t budge, not even a little. “And you can sleep in those panties if that’s the case.”

You stay silent for a moment. Eyes peering into his wishing just your look could say it all. “Negan…” you whisper.

“Yes, baby?”

“I- I need you.”

In an instant, Negan pushes you off of him. His hands go to the ends of your dress and pull it off of you with your arms and hair flying.

“Take it off,” he demands after he throws you down on your bed.

You feet kick off your flats and you raise your hips to discard your panties, never losing sight of him as he rips off his jacket, unbuckles his belt, and crosses his arms to get rid of his shirt. You loved the look of his years-faded tattoos against his tan skin and the curves of his light muscles when he raises his arms.

You’re in a trance, not seeing that he sees that you’re doing it again. Bambi eyes trailing him down. It’s every time you guys do this. And fuck, you must think he’s sexy. He loves it. Because he knows he’s fucking sexy. He knows that pretty girls like you will always come around. You just can’t help it. His grin is as wide as your eyes because of it.

Negan is hard and he wastes no time. He’s been thinking about claiming you all day. He hooks his hands under your knees as you lay with your back flat on the bed.

Negan lines himself against you and immediately starts to piston himself inside of you, never completely pulling out. Your breast shake as his thrusts keep pushing you back. You felt like you were vibrating.

He is obsessed with this angle. Getting to see your face scrunch and twist and contort. Getting to hear your heavy pants and sighs. Getting to feel the squeeze of your pussy and he continues to push inside you fast, fast, fast.

And he’s mesmerized by your breast. The continuous bounce of your perky tits that were now his. He wants his mouth on them, he wants his dick between them, but for now he’ll just watch them jump and spring— it’s just as sexy to him. He might even have to cancel all of tomorrow's plans just to watch them fly all day like this.

Your head turns to your left side and you catch yourself in your full length mirror— the view is from head to the top of your waist. You see your left tit bouncing along with your head and stomach as Negan keeps pushing into it with no relent. Instantly you moan at the sight. Your hand swings to your face right after, your eyes closing shut.

Negan rips your fingers from off your mouth. “No,” he warns. “I know you like it—” you whine when he says that— “Stop hiding it. Look at yourself or I’ll stop.”

You don’t open them.

He stops.

“You gonna fuckin’ listen?”

Slowly, you ynclose your scrunched eyes, seeing yourself and your parted lips again.

“Good girl.” And then, Negan starts splitting you open again, making you shake. The sudden movement makes you moan, “oh- uh.”

“Tell me you want it.”

You don’t resist anymore. You continue to look at yourself in the mirror as you say, “I want it.”

“Tell me you need it.”

Your head turns to watch where your body connects with his. “Ohmygod, I need it.”

He growls as he follows your gaze, voice strained and rough like he’s going to punch something as he repeats, thrusting faster, “Tell me you fucking need it.”

“I need it.” Then you moan, “Negan, please!” You chant, “Please. Please, Negan, I need it!”

“You need it, baby?” He jeers. “You want me to give it to ya?”

You nod as you whine, tears almost coming out. Your breasts still bounce for him and you love it as much as you hate it. “Yes, Negan.”

“You know what I came in here to do, baby?”

You’re still whining, you're practically incoherent. His little fuck doll. All you can say is his name.

“Look at me when I tell you.”

Your eyes go up to his. Watching him as he continues to pump into you. You see how his body vigorously shakes in unison with yours. His skin and his pushing up and down, in and out, as he makes your body jump.

“I came in here,” he starts, losing his breath and trying not to falter from his thrusts as his face places itself above yours, “To show every single bitch in the goddamn house that you’re mine. And that you’re the only fuckin’ one.” You respond with only sex-filled sounds. You’re close to exploding. Your body still jumps along with his. Your bouncing breasts rubbing against his pex as he commands, “Tell me you want me to do it. You want me to make you come.”

As always, though this time it was because you were on the verge of losing all control, you give no answer.

His words bite at your parted lips as he repeats, “Tell me!” And he slaps the side of your ass.

The pang forces you to speak: “I want you to do it Negan please!”

Negan rises. His mouth circles as he moans. He holds your hips now, raising them off the bed as he pumps into your harder. “Say it again.”

“Do it, Negan, please. Please make me come.” With each word ending in moaning pants as you repeats, “Please- Please- Please- Please- Please-”

“Oh fuck,” his gutteral voice rasps and roars for all to hear. Your absolute submission brings him closer to the edge. He smiles widely knowing he’s about to come so hard in that tiny pussy of yours. “OH FUCKIN BOY,” he laughs, knowing he has the whole floor’s attention, not caring a single bit how any of it sounds. “GOD DAMN. THAT’S FUCKIN RIGHT. IM GONNA MAKE MY PRETTY LITTLE FUCKIN WIFE FUCKIN COME BECAUSE SHE’S- MY FUCKIN’- FAVORITE.”

[mabelstone]

Why would you be loved?

hozier x f!reader

part two of lullabies <3 | part one | masterlist

cw: teeeeeny bit of violence at very beginning ... also 18+ ok if u are unfamiliar with me... this is my thing. this character is FICTIONAL before u attack me for sexualising THE hozier

word count: 3.2k

*i've decided i'd like this to be a slow burn... but don't worry! i will add things to keep u interested (or attempt to)

The sticky slap of their skin echoed through the room, my heart thudding loud enough in my ears to deafen the noise.

I lurched forward, grabbing the leggy blonde from the bar by her hair, yanking her off of Joe and slamming her naked body into the wall. She gasped loudly, falling onto the ground where she watched on in horror. I grabbed the nearest object I could reach - his bedside lamp - smashing the ceramic over his head, screaming in his face about how he's fucked this up for good.

Except that's not what happened.

I opened the door to the same scenario, except I didn't lose my temper and tear the two of them to shreds. My heart still pounded harder than ever, but I simply backed out into the hall without a sound. My eyes must've been something of a Tim Burton character as I walked back outside, leaving the front door wide open. I didn't even grab anything as my handbag was still over my shoulder. I dug around for my phone, finding nothing but an old gum packet, some lipgloss, and some loose change.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, running my hands through my hair. I had my phone in the bar. Did I leave it in Andrew's car? Fuck, did I leave it at the bar? I began to panic, frantically walking down the street. As if I could walk all the way back! It was at least 15 kilometres from my place. I didn't care though, continuing to pace in the cold in clothing more suited to warmer weather. I kept replaying what I saw over and over in my head. I'd usually call my mum, but...

The way his hands were digging into her skin, the way she kept repeating how good he was making her feel. I felt sick to my stomach, and the alcohol wasn't helping. I'm not sure they even saw me, but once he finished (judging by the sounds he was making, wouldn't be too long) he'd see the doors open and connect the dots.

I turned my head as I heard someone whistle from across the street, inexplicably grateful to see Andy's car. "What're you doin'?"

"Do you have my phone?" My voice sounded foreign to me, robotic and desperate at the same time. I crossed the street, heading straight for the passenger side.

"Your lifeline is right here, hence why I am," he laughed, holding my phone out to me. I just stood at the door expressionless, and he probably thought my drinks had been spiked or I'd gone mad. "You... alright?"

"Joe is cheating on me," robotically sounding again. Though saying the words out loud made it suddenly real. Joe is cheating on me.

"What?" His eyebrows shot up, dipping his head to see my face better. "What? When?"

"Like, literally right now," I laughed. I began to laugh hysterically, having to rest my hands on the top of his car to steady myself. I laughed so hard, tears began to stream down my face and my stomach hurt.

The next thing I knew, that familiar warm hand was on my back, followed by a soft, "c'mere". I turned to face Andrew, immediately bursting into tears. Real tears this time. He pulled me in close to his chest, one arm easily wrapped around my shoulders, the other cradling the back of my head. I sobbed into his shirt, likely accidentally digging my nails into his back as I clung to him. If I did, he didn't comment on it. He held me tight, rubbing soft circles into my spine with his palm. I don't know how long we stood there for, but when I pulled away, his shirt was soaked and covered in mascara.

"I'm so sorry," I gave a half hearted laugh, gesturing to the stained cotton. "I will wash it for you, I'm good at getting stains out."

"Don't be ridiculous," he smiled that poor you smile he always did, but this time it felt like a comfort as he shook his head. "You can come back to mine and shower. Then we can figure this out."

"No, no, I don't want to put you out." I protested, wiping under my eyes, undoubtedly smudging the black into my hairline. I sniffled, wiping my snotty nose onto the sleeve of my cardigan. If Joe was right about Andy being infatuated with me, I definitely just destroyed that in one simple, snotty gesture.

"I insist," he smiled, leaning against the side of the car. I was exhausted, and a nice shower in a house that didn't reek of infidelity sounded too good to reject. I nodded and climbed into the passenger seat for the second time tonight, switching on my phone to see no new messages. Maybe he didn't see me after all.

I slipped into an oversized hoodie of Andrew’s after my shower, steam on the mirror and condensation on every surface from the amount of time I was in there. I felt guilty using his water, but time slipped away from me by the time I realised. He had real shampoo and conditioner, not that pathetic 3 in 1 bullshit Joe used. I stole a hair tie and hid my messy curls in a bun. I honestly looked like a mess, but it was definitely an improvement from before. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Most of the alcohol had fleeted my system, so now I was just exhausted and forced to bask in the reality of the situation.

I walked into his living room where he was sat, one arm slung over the back of the couch while the other flicked through Netflix. It was strange to see him in his space, so comfortable and… domestic. No, we’re not doing this. Yet.

I looked down and saw a black border collie mix strewn across his lap. “Oh my goodness!” I swooned as I headed straight for the dog. Andy mustn’t have heard me, jumping slightly and cursing under his breath. “How rude of me. Who’s this little angel?”

“The breaking of my heart,” he began, hand over his chest as he stared lovingly down at his dog. “Elwood.”

“Elwood? Really?” I quirked an eyebrow, looking up to Elwood’s owner.

“It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful boy, I don’t understand the issue?”

I rolled my eyes, going back to snuggling the dog, kissing his face all over. “He is beautiful. Yes you are!” Elwood wagged his tail excitedly, slobbering happily all over my hands.

Andrew chuckled down at us, averting his eyes back to the TV, a soft smile lingering on his lips.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower, Andy,” I smiled, sitting beside him on the lounge, feeling like the human embodiment of the calm after a storm.

“Oh, that’s no problem at all," he grinned earnestly, playing the pilot of Breaking Bad softly in the background. He lulled his head to the side, eyes glistening in the soft golden lighting of the lamp in the corner of the room. "Want a tea?"

"Please," I nodded, Elwood now snuggled into my lap. The moment he left the room, I was left with the crushing reality of what'd just happened. The horrible sound that plagued my phonic memory, as if it were played through headphones at a deafening volume. I tried to focus on the TV, Breaking Bad had always been my favourite. It was no use, the gut wrenching ache within me only multiplied by the minute, tears welling in my eyes, daring to fall.

"I wasn't sure how you take it so I bought everything with me," he placed two tea cups onto his coffee table, along with a carton of milk and a canister of sugar.

"So adorable, you remind me of my gran," I teased, desperately trying to blink away any trace of sadness before he had a chance to see. I didn't need to burden him with any more tears.

"You know, I've been called far worse," he shrugged, taking his tea black, sitting beside me on the couch. "So I'll take it."

I hummed in response, mixing in my milk and sugar.

"So... maybe a redundant question, but, how're you feeling?"

"Well," I chuckled bitterly, sipping from my tea. "Probably feeling as you'd expect. Actually, that's a lie. I don't know how I feel honestly."

His eyes studied my features, and I deliberately avoided his gaze. His dog snored away in my lap, the TV just loud enough that any amount of silence couldn't be awkward.

"Has... anything like this happened to you?" I asked, despite the voice in my head telling me not to.

"Ehm, yeah. Not too long ago, actually," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his chocolate curls flicking up at the ends, framing his face beautifully in the light. "We were together for three years. She was sleeping around with a friend of mine. She broke it off with me when she decided she'd rather be with him."

"Her loss," I mirrored that same pitiful look he always gave me, the slight drop in his expression making me feel guilty for even asking. "You make a mean cup of tea."

"If only she could appreciate the art of English Breakfast," he sighed, a sad smile lingering on his lips despite the sarcasm in his tone.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Andy," I sighed, tempted to reach out for him but deciding against it in fear of breaching some unspoken boundary. "I'll get out of your hair soon."

"You can stay- only if you'd like," he offered awkwardly, eyes flickering to mine as he fiddled with the handle of his cup. "There's a spare bedroom."

"No, no. You've been so kind tonight, I don't want to push it," I shook my head, misjudging the height of the coffee table, my cup hitting it with a sharp clank. Elwood startled, throwing his head back to look at me. "Sorry, buddy."

"You're not pushing anything," he laughed, shaking his head now. "It's late. The decision's all yours. But I must say, that bed might be nicer than my own."

"Quite persuasive, aren't you?" I grinned, throwing my head back against the couch, weighing up my options. Well, I can't go home. "Okay. I'll stay... if you're sure that's okay?"

"Well, because you're twisting my arm..." He joked, that bright, happy smile making its glorious return. "I'll get you a spare toothbrush and a bottle of water. You've had a big night."

"Yeah," I breathed, rubbing at my burning, no doubt bloodshot, eyes. "I am exhausted."

"Come, I'll show you to your room," he got up from the couch, extending his hand to me. I took it in mine, warm and calloused; so large, his fingers reached my wrist as he helped me from the couch. I followed behind him, the soft padding of our feet up the stairs slowly becoming the only sound audible. Elwood trailing close behind, of course.

He showed me to the guest room, nothing special, but somehow a massive comfort. A navy blue, fluffy duvet with a bedside table, a simple lamp and a copy of Inferno by Dante Alighieri atop it.

"Oh, I'll grab that toothbrush," he waved his hand as if he were finally able to dismiss the thought. I chuckled at the way he hurried out of the room, the exhaustion rippling through my body as I sat on the edge of the bed. He was right. This might be the comfiest bed I've ever had the pleasure of sitting on. I zoned out, staring at the carpet as I finally sobered up. These past few weeks had been fucked, and I knew they'd only get worse. My phone started buzzing rapidly as Andy came back into the room, a bottle of water, a toothbrush still in the packaging, and a sheet of panadol in his hands. He silently placed them onto the bedside table, both of us just watching my phone ring. It was Joe.

Against my better judgement, I picked up on the last ring, raising the phone to my ear.

"Where are you?" His voice was hoarse, unsuspecting. Idiot.

"Doesn't matter," I sighed, nauseated at the sound of his voice.

"Well, it does. I've been worried sick about you, you're meant to be home now. How would I know you hadn't been kidnapped or gone home with some creep?"

"That is ironic," I laughed, though there was no humour in my tone.

"The fuck are you on about? Get home right now." He was getting angrier by the second. Andrew could hear every word, his brows knitted together in disgust as he listened on.

"I did come home. You were a bit busy," I swallowed harshly, my voice failing me, beginning to shake.

There was silence on his end for a good thirty seconds, all air in Andrew's small guest bedroom thinning at once. "...Babe. We will get through this."

"I don't think so."

"Don't say shit like that. I love you, Y/N. We'll get through this stronger than ever. Just come home, baby. I'll make it up to you," he was speaking fast, panicked almost.

"I need some space," I replied weakly, eyes filling with tears again.

"No. I love you. Come home. Please, babe, pl-"

I hung up on him before he got the chance to manipulate me straight back into his arms, Andy watching me with a frown. Suddenly, it was all too real, and I was breaking down in front of him for the second time tonight.

He didn't say anything. I felt the bed dip beside me, his warm arm wrapping around my shoulder, pulling me in close. We stayed like that for a while - my head leaned against his shoulder as I cried, his head atop mine - until I felt like there was no water left in my body. I heaved a massive sigh, sitting up straight again.

"Oh, Andy, I'm so s-"

"You've nothing to be sorry for," he hushed me, sincerity written all over his face, kind emerald eyes revealing that he wasn't doing anything for secondary gain; he was just a beautiful soul. "Get some rest."

"Okay," I agreed, pulling back the covers with his help. I wanted him to stay, I didn't want to be alone. I wished he could've just laid with me, no meaning attached, but just to have the warmth of another to occupy the cold, empty bed. Instead I thanked him again, pulling the covers up to my chin.

"You know where my room is. I'll be there if you need anything," he smiled earnestly, flicking off the light before walking out.

Goodnight, Andy, I almost said, but sleep washed over me quicker than I could form the words.

I woke early, bathed in velvety caramel coloured sunlight, slowly beginning to register where I was. I made my way down to corridor to Andy's room, his bedroom door barely ajar. I put my ear to the door, not wanting to wake him if he were still sleeping. I heard soft pants escaping his lips, letting my curiosity get the best of me.

I gently pushed the door open, revealing the glow of his milky skin in the same light. His beautiful halo of curls sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead, his face contorted in pleasure and concentration as he worked himself beneath the covers. I couldn't suppress the noise of surprise that escaped my lips as he whimpered my name.

"Fuck-" He gasped, pulling his hand from under the cover. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Keep going," I encouraged, slowly making my way to him. Confusion plastered all over his face, he obliged, slipping his hand back under the cover. I sat before him, our eyes locked on one another as he picked up the pace. "Gooood, that's it."

His brows furrowed as he continued to worked himself, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with each swallow. I slipped into bed beside him, my hand replacing his. His breathing pattern grew irregular, every vowel of my name dripping off his tongue, igniting a fire deep in my core. I began placing wet kisses along jawline, making my way down to his neck, then his chest, then-

And then I actually woke up, heart beating at a million miles an hour. What. The. Fuck. Shame immediately coursed through my veins, burying my face into my pillow as I replayed the dream over and over until it was committed to memory. Am I an awful person?

I could vaguely hear Andrew singing along to Let's Fall In Love by Ella Fitzgerald in the kitchen, cautiously making my way down the stairs. I was disgusted in myself for even thinking of him in that way, let alone loving every shame filled second of it.

"Mornin'," I made myself known, sliding onto one of the stools at his breakfast bar.

"Good morning," he chirped, sliding a cup of coffee toward me. He had his glasses on this morning, his hair pulled back into a bun. "How're you feelin'?"

"Good," I lied through my teeth, concealing it with an enthusiastic nod. "Better, yeah." I just gave you a handjob in my dream and now I want you to pin me to the couch and make love to me all day. Oh, and I'm supposed to be grieving a near 6 year relationship, but now I'm just really fucking confused. "How are you?"

"Hungry. And I hope you are too," he grinned, revealing a big stack of pancakes he'd just cooked for us, as well as a bowl of chopped strawberries.

"I am, that looks lovely," another lie. I had no appetite. But I also couldn't say no to a man so sickly sweet. He sat beside me, soft jazz serenading us from his record player.

"What've you got on today?" He queried, plopping a pancake onto each of our plates.

"Might visit my ma, update her on... everything, I guess. Then I've gotta get my car. Maybe some clothes. Fuck, I don't even know what to do," I laughed awkwardly, taking a sip of my coffee. "You performing tonight?"

"Hoping to," he nodded, taking a bite of a strawberry. "You know you're more than welcome to spend the night here again."

"I couldn't possibly burden you for another night," I deflected, mirroring his actions and popping a strawberry into my mouth.

"You actually don't have to fight me each time, you cay just say no," he chuckled, shaking his head at me.

"I love spending time with you," I confessed, resting my hand on his arm, then retracting it just as fast. "I just don't want you to think I'm using you."

"Nonsense," he waved me off, scoffing. "It's nice to have some company. Plus, Elwood has taken a strong liking to you."

"The feeling is mutual," I laughed, breaking off a piece of my pancake for the dog happily wagging his tail by my feet. "I'm sure you have lady friends come and visit."

"Only ones who ruin their tea with milk and barely touch their pancakes," he remarked with a wide grin. I felt my cheeks turn hot at his stupid comment, finally digging in to my breakfast.

Maybe things weren't going to be so bad after all.

i don't love this... but this desperately needed an update. feel free to send requests of some stuff you'd like in the next chapter xx

[charliedawn]

slashers(Jason,Michael and Brahms only) with beautiful undead yet friendly bride Reader who is like Emily(from Corpse Bride) and She refers them as Her "Victor" (btw,are you fan of Tim Burton? if not then that's okay)

(Here you go ! Thank you for the request and indeed, I am a big fan of Tim Burton. Hope you’ll like it 👍)

Jason Voorhees:

Jason was scared half-to-death (see what I did there ? 😂) when he saw that rotten bride just sprang out from the very earth he usually buries the bodies of his victims in. Not gonna lie, he kinda ran back to his cabin when he saw you—‘cause if his mama taught him anything ? It was that dead people don’t come back to life for no good reason. The poor boy locked himself up twice. But, it wasn’t enough to stop you. You eventually came in and started haunting him. He tried to shoo you away at first because Jason likes his loneliness, his space. Actually, he doesn’t like people in general—dead or alive. So, Jason tried everything to get rid of you. He swung his axe at you and tried to catch you or trap you, but all his efforts were fruitless. He finally gave up and let you haunt him. But, he didn’t regret it. As you are a ghost, you could guard his home and warn him of any danger nearby. It was nice having someone watching over his back for once.

…But then, you saw it.

The machete that killed you.

On his wall.

You looked back at Jason and your undead heart squeezed in your chest. Had he…? Was he the one who had killed you ? On your wedding day nonetheless ? Wasn’t he your Victor ? And if not. Who was he ?

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms likes to play pretend. He dreamt of having that special someone he could one day propose to and have his happy ever after moment. He was thinking about it and had one of those gummy rings he had saved from his snack time. He was in the forest and had decided to have himself a little repetition for the unforeseeable future and that’s when he saw one peculiar branch that looked like a finger. He didn’t think more about it and did his little game of pretending…and when he put the ring on the finger. Well…He certainly didn’t expect some half-rotten bride to spurt out of the earth and shout:

"I DO."

But it did. That happened. And then, you wouldn’t leave him—not that he minded. Far from it. He was happy to have a wife (even though the kisses and hugs were a lil’ cold) He wondered about telling people about his…well…new ‘bride’. But, he thought better of it when he realised how lonely and sad you were. It didn’t matter that you called him Victor. Or Marvin. Or Hector. Or Derek for that matters…He would take any name if it meant you would stay and love him. And you had said ‘I do’. No takebacksies now.

Michael Myers:

Michael was confused when he first saw you sprang up from the earth. Weird. His victims usually stayed dead. He tried to stab you but…Oops. Already dead. He quickly realised that you must be like Jack Torrance—a ghost. He also understood that stabbing you would be a waste of time. He tried to ignore you, but you would then appear at random times and tell him that you were married and that he was your Victor. As Michael doesn’t speak, he couldn’t rectify you.

Hence, he became ‘Victor’ to you.

At the end, he learnt to tolerate your presence. Especially at night when he would normally sleep alone with his regrets, he would feel your hand stroking his head and your voice singing him lullabies…Maybe having a dead bride wouldn’t be that bad…?

One day, you showed him an old picture of you. He looked at it and you could see that something was bothering him. You asked him about it, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell you he remembered you. He didn’t tell you he remembered your wide frightened eyes when he plunged his knife deep into your heart the day you were supposed to marry…or the way he mercilessly beheaded your betrothed.

That was a story he would rather never share with you.

[did-someone-say-aliens]

(new!) pinned post bbgs!!

i am unable to donate to any Gaza/genocide campaigns because i’m a minor, but i’m more than willing to reblog and platform campaigns!!

CURRENTLY WORKING ON A VISUAL NOVEL CALLED COIN SLOT PASSION!! :D

Dni List: Homophobes, Racists, 18+ content or blogs, Sexists, Fujoshis, MAPs, ableists, proshippers, nsfw agere, Transphobes, TERFS AND RADFEMS >:/

Accounts: @kinnie-central (i only post on there once in a blue moon) I post kinnie bingos on there. And @gir-parodyaccount where it’s basically just a Gir from invader zim parody account

Fandoms I rp: I love roleplaying and my dms are always always always open! Absolutely NO nsfw. NONE. The fandoms I rp are right here! ^^

FANDOMS: (oh boy here we go. I have no life can you tell?)

Splatoon, Vocaloid/Project Sekai, Dayshift at Freddy's, FNAF, Danganronpa, Ghost and Pals, Tangled the Series/Varian and The Sevent Kingdoms, Undertaele/Deltarune, Undertale AUs/Underverse, The sun and moon show, MLP, Yuppie Psycho, Fundamental Paper Education, Cookie Run, Hello Charlotte, Pressure, Doors, Regretevator, It's Not Me It's My Basement, Crowscare, Cemetary Mary, Bungo Stray Dogs, Bigtop Burger, Omori, DDLC, The Future Diary, Twelve Forever, Parappa the Rapper, Inside Job, Gorillaz, Kirby, Over The Garden Wall, OK KO, The Thief and the Cobbler, Night in the Woods, Secret Alliance, LPS, Animal Jam, Star Trek, John Doe, Max and Ruby, Aggretsuko, Ensemble Stars. Bandori, Inanimate Insanity, BURNER, BFDI, hfjone, Powerpuff Girls, Dungeons & Dragons, The Walten Files, The Mandela Catalogue, The Magnus Archives, Welcome to The Night Vale, Camp Here and There, The Lego Movie, Ninjago, Lego Monkie Kid, Lego Batman, Nimona, Watamote, Bendy and the Ink Machine, Tattletail, Critterspace, Pepper's Playhouse, The Muppets, Sesame Street, Toilet Bound Hanako Kun, Unikitty, Happy Tree Friends, Popee The Performer, Yandere Simulator, Dogman, Captain Underpants, Trolls, Animal Crossing, Wander over Yonder, Your Turn to Die, Ena, Good Omens, Stardew Valley, The Stanley Parable, Strawberry Shortcake, Bluey, Case Study of Vanitas, Genshin Impact, Raggedy Ann, Minecraft, The Legend of Zelda, Sailor Moon, Death Note, Pretty Cure, Hooky, Marionetta, Ghost Eyes, Ace Attorney, Octonauts, Homestuck, Twisted Wonderland, LOTR/The Hobbit, The Owl House, She-Ra (remake and original!), Pokemon, MHA, Avatar the Last Airbender, Spooky Month, Ouran High School Host Club, Dialtown, Blue's Clues, Angel Hare, TMNT/ROTTMNT, Portal (1 & 2), Alice in Wonderland (original, tim burton, and return to madness), Invader Zim, Sanrio, The Amazing World of Gumball, Lalaloopsy, Spiderverse, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Welcome Home, Studio Ghibli, Demon Slayer, Saiki K, Monster High, Sonic, Amphibia, Yo Gabba Gabba, Skullgirls, Gravity Falls, DHMIS, Steve Universe, Ever After High, Wordgirl, Sally Face, Adventure Time, Smile for Me, Shopkins, Lucky Star, K-On!, Angel Beats, Needy Streamer Overload, Lain, Nana, Rumbling Hearts, Resident Evil, Transformers, Moon Phase, Hello Puppets

KIND OF fandoms that I'm in kind of/have been in/am no longer in/know of: TADC, Hazbin/Helluva Boss, Musicals, Arcane league of legends, Encanto, Barbie, SCP, Naruto, Scooby Doo, Animaniacs, Cuphead, Care Bears, Mario, Jujutsu Kaisen, Dragon Ball Z, Dead by daylight, Red dead redemption, Peach Girl

Other info: Nene Kusanagi and Michael Shelley fictionkin. cat otherkin and dollkin :]

my MAIN pronouns are they/it/he/xyr

extended pronoun list: Bug/clown/alien/cat/paw/kit/aer/elau/delau/cupcake/glitter/snail/rain/plant/dino/worm/dragon/draer/draerself/rocks/xe/xyr/scene/:3/gloo/kandi/honk

emoji pronouns: 👽/👾/🐝/🪱/🐛/🐌/🦕/🪼/🐟/🐳/🍄/🥀/🍮/🎲/♟️/🎥/📼/🎞️/📺/📻🕰️/🗝️/♠️/🍓

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Monster Like Me (Tyler x Addams!reader)

Monster Like Me (Tyler Galpin x Addams!reader) Word Count: 3888 Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Warnings: mentions of prison treatment, bad mental health, self-hate, a gun, medical procedures, bloody crime scenes, and (obviously) SPOILERS for Tim Burton's Wednesday tv show on Netflix

Tyler Galpin doesn't regret what he did. Or so he liked everyone to believe, even himself. But a visit from a certain empath Addams girl to his prison has him reconsidering his true feelings five years on. Is he truly alone? Or is she a monster like him?

I was never planning on posting anything I write on this account but the show Wednesday inspired me to write a bit of flash fiction (so don't expect a sequel) that I thought you guys would appreciate. Just a silly idea but fun nonetheless to write.

The overhanging light in the interrogation room flickers, casting shadows of ghosts long gone on the two faces presently staring at one another. 

The boy sits in his chair rigidly, restricted. Despite his smirk - the kind that oozed charisma, carelessness, and smug satisfaction of being right where he wants to be - he looks uncomfortable. But that’s to be expected when one is bound in a straight jacket and chained to the ground. A catheter tube is strapped into the back of his neck, hooked up to a machine pressed against the back wall. 

A caged, raging animal. That is what he is. All he has been since the day he was brought in.

The girl still stands by the door, unwilling just yet to join the chained boy at the worn table that separated them.

Curious eyes scan the boy’s figure. His usually dishevelled curls are even more unruly than before he was taken away. Colour is drained from every inch of him - even his chestnut eyes hold no spark of fireplace warmth like they used to. His cheekbones protrude grossly from under his taught, moon-sick skin. The gashes from his fight with the wolf have long since healed, but as their eyes lock, she senses that the mental scars still remain. Still fresh in his young but twisted mind.

‘You look good,’ she says, breaking the suffocating silence.

The boy raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider, more lethal. ‘I’m so glad you noticed. It’s this new treatment I’m using called enslavement. Maybe you should try it some time. It might just bring some colour to your dead life.’

Oh yeah. Very fresh, still.

‘You mistake me for my sister,’ she says taking a step towards the table finally. ‘Unlike her, I won’t break out in hives at the mere sight of another colour other than black.’

His eyes darken at that, and the smirk twists into a sneer. A wave of fury hits the girl as they stare at each other again. He no doubt still hates Wednesday for ruining his life. And despite the fact that he is a psychotic, shapeshifting murderer, she can’t help but feel a little sorry for him at the thought.

‘I’m not here to talk about her,' she continues. 'I came here to talk about you.’

‘You mean you were sent here to talk to me. Not by choice.’

She nods. ‘Indeed, I didn’t have much say in the matter, but…’ She pulls the seat out and finally sits down, her eyes meeting his equal level with equal confidence. ‘I am here, nevertheless. And we will talk.’

The boy scoffs and leans back from the table, shaking his head. Her heart twinges slightly at how his curls droop low over his eyes as he does it, bringing flashbacks of the times they would sit like this and chat. Except the flashbacks included sitting opposite sides of a coffee table, and his curls bounced and drooped because he laughed.

Venomous, hateful eyes peer up through his sandy blond curls. ‘What’s there to be said?’

‘You can start by telling me how you’ve been since we all last saw you.’

‘Do I really have to spell that out for you?’

‘I can make an assumption, but I’m not one to assume without concrete evidence. You should know that.’

‘Should I, though? Because you and Wednesday made it pretty hard to get to even know what your favourite colours were.’

‘Now, do I have to spell that out for you?' The girl crosses her arms, attempting a bored posture. 'Wednesday is a black and white person. Literally. She never hides anything except her subjectivity because it is grey… and she hates grey, ironically enough.’

The silence that ensues is only made more ominous by the haunting shadows of the flickering over-head light. They act as masks as they pass over the twos’ faces, hiding, revealing, and changing their true emotions in flashes. 

‘Do you regret any of it?’ the girl asks softly, hesitantly.

The boy chuckles darkly. ’So we are going to talk about this, then.’

‘Eventually,’ she quips, ‘I just wanted to see if you would deflect or accept the bait.’

‘Did I pass your test, then?’ 

‘That is yet to be determined.’

She pulls up onto the table a briefcase - one of them olden day ones with buckles and latches but made of good quality black leather. Unlatching the main lock, she opens it and reaches in to pull out a manilla folder. With a carefree flick of her wrist, it lands just on the table’s edge in front of the boy.

‘Go on,’ she urges impatiently.

He looks at her incredulously, the snark and the anger from before now replaced by confusion. ‘Really?’

After a moment, she laughs, clinking the side of her head lightly with her palm. ‘Oh my, how silly of me! Forgot that being a psycho means you lose hand privileges,’ she says, her over-enthusiasm cracking a smile on her dark lips.

Before he can have a dig at her, she pulls out a key from her sweater’s sleeve, and he gives her a curious look.

‘How did you get that in here?’ he asks.

‘Wednesday might be the more daring and riskier of us two,’ she says, standing up to walk around to stand behind him, ‘but I have a more subtle way of being rebellious.’

She bends to start unchaining him, then moves to unbuckle the numerous straps holding his arms and legs restricted in his straight jacket. Once she is done, she walks back and sits in her chair, folds her arms, and waits for him to move.

He slowly moves his arms and legs, giving them a stretch he no doubt hasn’t been allowed to have in a long while. 

‘Better?’ she asks, her tone impatient.

He chuckles, dead eyes watching her wearily. ‘You must have a death wish, or something.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Oh please. If you were going to kill me, you would’ve ripped out that gene-repressant medicine and changed into the Hyde by now.’ Her patience is wearing thin now as she leans forward, sparking her to push the manilla folder closer to the boy. ‘But you haven’t, which means I have your curiosity. And I intend to keep that. Now - look.’

His smirk returns, sharp as a knife. ‘You have my curiosity, I’ll give you that. But not my respect.’

The girl mutters something irritable under breath as she opens the briefcase to show something else hidden among the documents stashed inside. Something dark and shiny. Metallic. ‘Make one wrong move and I will-’

‘You’ll what?’ His following chuckle is mirthless, humourless, empty even of despair. ‘You’ll blow my brains out? I’ve heard that threat before.’

‘I was going to say I would blow my brains out,’ she corrects, patting the hidden gun lightly before withdrawing her hand. 'If only so you don’t get the satisfaction of ripping me apart yourself. And isn’t part of the fun hearing the screams of your victims... Tyler?’

That brings a small smile to his face, even if it does edge on manic. 'As much as I would love to chat about what fun it was killing all those people… I see what you’re trying to do, Addams.’

Wednesday was a much more memorable name than (y/n). To everyone back then, she was just her less-psychotic older sister that stood to the side quietly and pulled Wednesday out of trouble when needed. Still weird, but not weird enough, she supposed. But despite her seniority, she was never considered cool like Wednesday, who wasn't afraid to be who she was on a large scale. (Y/n) was happy to be herself too, but in the sanctity of the library, her bedroom, behind her camera. It's why she was subjected to being merely Addams. For the only cool and outcast-y thing about her was her lineage.

But Tyler never used that. Not once. It was always (y/n) when they hung as friends. And despite her objections to her nickname, hearing her real name always brought a little light into her dark and twisted life.

We're not friends anymore, though.

‘I’m not trying anything,’ she replies, batting her eyes innocently at him.

‘Oh yeah, then what’s with this folder? Why risk freeing me just so you don’t have to dirty your own hands?’

‘Why don’t you open the folder and find out.’

They’re dancing a dangerous dance, stopping each other at exactly the right moment when one wants to turn away. By the irritated look in his eyes, she knows it bothers him. 

He contemplates the folder for a moment, and she worries that he will try to escape. But he opens the folder, his boney hands shaking as he does.

Surprise softens his features for the first time since she’s entered the room, and he looks like he did the day her and her sister first met him in the Weathervane coffee shop in Jericho. Actually, his face was screwed up in annoyance the first day they met, having to deal with a broken coffee machine. But when Wednesday fixed it, his features softened, and the girl couldn’t recall a moment where someone had looked so… appreciative of their presence.

He flicks through pictures that were previously enclosed in the folder, slowly, shakily. Like he wants to make sure what he is seeing is true and not just ghosts. After all, for those of them on the outside of the prison, pictured in the photos, the boy was just a ghost to them now, five years on. 

The pictures are of the town, of the new and old structures that made it up, of the festivals that have come and gone since he last saw it. The pictures are of people, too. She watches him carefully as he holds onto those ones in particular. There is pain as he glides his fingers softly over the aging faces of his friends, she can sense it. His gaunt face tightens even more when he spies a particular pigtailed, dark-lipped girl, the photo capturing her in the middle of showing one of her infamous rare smiles. 

‘That was our graduation day,’ the girl says, her voice gentle and quiet. Anything louder seemed inappropriate. But she did not lose her edge. ‘Enid thought it would be a great idea to try and jump off the top of the fountain in the quad on our final day. She ended up breaking four bones and howling like a baby wolf. Wednesday found the whole thing… well, you remember how she was. Rest assured, she is pretty much the same.’

The boy traces the photo, his eyes wide with a wonder and tenderness that the girl is surprised to see. A flicker of the past lights up in his chestnut eyes, and a spark of hope ignites in her chest.

But that flicker dies out, his lips drawing up in a sneer as he suddenly rips the photo in half, then again, and again, until the photo is nothing but scraps on the table. ‘What the fuck is the point of all this?’ he asks, his voice of a mixture of both anger and hurt. ‘What does any of this have to do with me?’

‘It has everything to do with you,’ she replies. ‘Considering your reaction, I don’t believe you’ve fully let go of the past. That maybe after all this time… you still care.’

‘What? Are you a psychiatrist or something now?’

She shrugs. 'I’m an Empath, it’s unavoidable for me to not extrapolate and decipher people’s thoughts and emotions. Especially strong ones like yours.’

‘Well, you’re wrong,’ he snaps back, shoving the photos away. ‘I don’t care about the past. I don’t care about the future. I played my part and it pleased my master. That’s all that matters!’

‘I don’t believe that for a second. And neither do you.’

‘What do you know?’

‘A lot more than you think. As usual, you underestimate me.’

‘Well, try this.’ He slams his hands on the table so hard it makes a thunderous clap that is almost deafening. ‘The only thing that I care about is getting out of here and destroying Wednesday Addams. The only regret I have about the past is that I didn’t kill all of you when I had the chance.’

The words sting, undoubtedly, like a thousand bees stabbing her heart. But the girl holds still, willing herself to keep her composure. She’d heard from the Sheriff himself that his visits usually ended here, when the boy threw insults at his own father and drove him away.

Let’s see what happens when I keep pushing.

‘You speak with such hateful words,’ she says calmly, daring to look him straight in the eye. ‘And yet they hold no meaning.’

‘What?’ he hisses, spittle flaying from his furious sneer. 

'Sorry, do I need to speak in laymen’s terms? You. Don’t. Mean. That.’

A feral snarl erupts from him as his hand reaches over the table to grab at her throat. But her hand is in range of the gun, and she is quick to draw it from the bag, unlock the safety and push it hard against his forehead. He immediately stops, his fury dissipating slightly as he reassessed his new situation.

‘I said I’d blow my head off, but I never said anything about not shooting you first,’ she says, each word clipped with deathly promise.

They are so close she can feel his breath caressing her placid face. Surprisingly, it is fresh, like the gently falling snow starting to build up outside as winter settles in. The warmth it brings contrasts the cold of the room, and she stops herself from leaning closer just to feel the sensation once more.

A war wages in their eyes as they stare each other down, but she presses the gun more forcefully against his forehead, and he seems to take the hint. He takes deep breaths as he slowly backs away, his hands raised in mock surrender as he finally sits down.

‘Wise choice.’ The girl places the gun back in the briefcase, safety back on, and folds her hands on the table once more. As if they were just having a civil conversation.

‘You know, pushing people away isn’t the solution,’ she continues. ‘But it does tell me one thing.’

‘And what’s that, Doc?’ he asks, his smirk no longer as sure or as wide. He looks exhausted, the dark circles under his lifeless eyes indicative of the sleepless nights, the mistreatment to his body, the baggage he still carries but does not wish to anymore.

‘That you don’t want people to see you like this,’ she answers. ‘Especially those who love you, and who you love in return.’

‘They don’t love me,’ he spits, venom in every word. She senses that he truly believes it. ‘If they loved me, they would understand. If they loved me, they wouldn’t question why I did what I did. If they truly loved me, none of this would’ve even happened!’

His eyes redden with salty tears, and it is the enormity of his pain and hurt and sadness that has the girl resisting the urge to cry, too. 

He wipes at the tears that trail down his face, but still more fall. A beat passes, then another, and another until he calms down once more. His red eyes look over the photos again, brushing aside the picture he tore to inspect the rest. When he is done, he leans back and looks up at the girl.

‘Why?’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Why what?’

‘Why are you not in any of these?’

‘This isn’t about me.’

‘How do you expect me to open up to you Addams after five years of not seeing you, and expect me not to ask you some personal questions?’

The girl shrugs. ‘Fair point.’ She gathers the photos and turns them to face her. She flicks through them herself, a gentle tilt of her lips the only indication of the joy the memories brought.

‘I’m a professional photographer now,’ she says after a moment. ‘I have a blog where I post the pictures and write about the things I photograph. I'm also commissioned for photoshoots, occasionally. Sometimes it’s places I visit, or people I get to meet. Sometimes they’re wonderful, but other times not so much.’ She takes a breath to compose herself, flashes of torn body parts and frozen bodies coming to the forefront of her mind. Crime scenes, no matter how many she visited, were always the worst jobs.

She wills the memories away before she continues. 

‘This is a collection of photos from my perspective. How beautiful the world is through my eyes.’

‘You don’t think you belong in that kind of world.’ 

It isn’t a question. The girl looks up, expecting the hateful eyes she’s come to know from him. Instead, she is met with curiosity and wonder. He stares at her openly, and she reciprocates.

‘Yes,’ she breathes, nothing lighter than a whisper. 

‘Why?’

She pauses to contemplate her answer. She is meant to be interrogating him, not the other way around. But his words come back to haunt her, and the truth ringing in them spurs her to speak. 

‘Because… I can’t see myself. It’s like I am ghost in my own body. I am surrounded by people who stand out, who have their own minds and hearts and stories to tell. From a young age I have felt other people’s wants and needs, desires and emotions that I have no business feeling. I feel them so intrinsically that I imagine those emotions and desires were my own. And if I think hard enough, I might just be able to… shut it off.’

‘Shut what off?’ he asks, though the caution on his face tells her he already knows.

‘Their humanity,’ she replies as quick as flicking a light switch on. ‘The very thing that makes them human. I can just turn it off at the snap of my fingers.’

‘I’m sure Wednesday would love that.’

‘It is not something I wish to impart on anyone.’ Her words silence his amusement, turning the room colder with the icy bite they come with. ‘Because once I switch it off, turning back on... has proven to be a challenge. And you may think Wednesday is a soulless, unfeeling creature, but her emotions are just locked away, carefully concealed and only to be revealed when the right person warrants it.’

She gives him a pointed glare, and he has the right mind to look ashamed. If only for a second. 

‘However slim it is, her humanity remains her sole reason to do what she does. Otherwise, I would’ve been sister-less a long time ago.’

‘That still doesn’t answer my question, Addams,’ he interjects. At this, he leans forward on the table, curls bouncing as he stares directly in her eyes. She remembers those eyes, how they smiled at her sister so many times. How they proclaimed their love for her sister so many times. How they bulged and raged and went insane as he transformed into the Hyde all those years ago. But now - now they seek answers, and something else.

‘Why do you think you’re a monster like me?’

A cynical smile stretches her lips as she leans back and gestures to the photos spread across the table. Of Xavier painting; of Enid and Ajax snuggled up the first time they went camping as a group; of Bianca and some other Fangs dressed up for the final Raven they all attended. All of them smiling, having fun, being human.

‘Because there’s a small part of me that would enjoy crushing their happiness,' she replies, the strength in her delivery reflecting the truth of her words. 'And good people don't think like that.’

The same cynical smile appears on his face, and for a moment it’s just them. Two monsters revealing their darkest desires.

‘I know the feeling,’ he says, and a flicker of guilt flashes in his eyes.

Hope sparks once more inside of her, and she does her best to sound genuine. ‘You’re a good person. Before Laurel got to you, and even now. I can see it. I can sense it.’

He shakes his head, his mirthless laugh echoing throughout the room. ‘Don’t try to brainwash me into thinking I can be saved. Because I can’t, and even if I could, I wouldn’t fall for it. Like I said, I don’t regret what I did. I took pleasure in it.’

‘I’m sure you did, but you’re wrong. I’m not here to brainwash you.’

He cocked a skeptical eyebrow at her, curiosity winning over his resolve. ‘Then what are you here for?’

‘This is the longest conversation you’ve had with someone since you were first sent here,’ she said, packing the pictures up in the folder and placing it in her briefcase. ‘The people who brought me in may want me to help you open up and try to get you on a path of redemption. But I feel as if that is a decision you should make on your own. Obviously, I am biased to their aim, but I believe in freedom of speech, of choice, and of action when it comes to a person’s life.’

She stands from her seat and looks at him, the shadows from the flickering light no longer as scary as she first perceived. 

‘You’re a good person, Tyler,’ she repeats, her lips pulling up in her first genuine smile in ages. 'But, arguably, so am I. Everyone is capable of being good or evil. It then just comes down to what we want out of life, and how we utilise our flaws to attain that life.’

When the boy says nothing, she turns and walks to the door. She gently knocks on it, and a few seconds later it is opening and guards are flooding in and straight to the boy.

He struggles a little as they strap him back down, but stops when he realises the girl is leaving. ‘Wait! When are you coming back?’

She pauses at the door and turns, a chagrin smile on her dark lips. ‘Aw, are you going to miss me? Don’t worry, I’ll be back.’

‘But when, (y/n)?’

The fear in his eyes paired with the use of her name, her real name, almost causes her to falter, to stay just a bit longer. She senses the impending loneliness that he fears, that he has known these five years of incarceration, and the heaviness it brings causes her heart to ache with longing and hope. She must leave, but...

I can spare him one last goodbye, though.

She walks back over to where the guards hold him, their eyes locked the entire time. Once she’s close enough, she uses her pointer finger to tilt his head up to meet hers. 

‘Whenever I need to talk to another monster like me.’

With a flick of her finger his head drops and she is walking out of the interrogation room, already anticipating the next time she can see him again. And as she leaves, she catches one last emotion from the boy.

Mutual anticipation.

[moss-sprout]

Trails Of Roses

I wanted to make something for prinxiety week and really felt inspired by todays prompt: Roses!

Tags: @prinxietyweek

Summary: Roman goes to the imagination a lot to go on his creative and adventurous journeys. Sometimes he’s only gone for a while, a few hours or days. But other times he could take weeks to return, the longest being 2 months without returning. Virgil develops hanahaki while Roman is away, and in order to preserve his own life, goes after Roman.

Word Count: 3,864

TW: Hanakahi Disease, Slight blood, Swear words, Description of animal death

_ _ _

Tim Burton has always been Virgil’s pick of movies, so it was no surprise that the other sides surprised him with Corpse Bride and some pizza for his birthday. What was a surprise, was that Roman conducted the whole thing, being the most insistent on performing grand gestures. It shouldn’t’ve been unexpected really, but Virgil was still not fully used to their blooming friendship after they used to be so hostile towards each other for months, only to finally find common ground and slowly build their acquaintanceship to form a strong friendship. Corpse Bride wasn’t his favorite movie by Tim Burton, but it made sense that Roman picked it -- being the most romantic of the sides. Currently the sides were all sitting together on the couch, Logan leaning against the arm of the left side of the couch with a mug of coffee, making occasional critiques on the movie's inaccuracies and logical solutions that could’ve been made. Patton was sitting on the couch next to Roman and Virgil -- Roman being the closest to Virgil, their shoulders almost touching despite there being plenty of room on the couch for more space. But Virgil didn’t mind for some reason, Roman was a good movie companion to murmur songs and snicker about inaccuracies with. Roman was currently tapping along to the Piano Duet on Virgil’s wrist, which made the movie slightly more difficult to pay attention to. 

The movie eventually ended and they all talked about as normal for a while before Roman squeezed his wrist gently and let go to stand, walking to the center of the room. The conversation fell quiet as they all stared expectantly at Roman.

“My friends! I am sorry but I must announce my departure! The Imagination calls to me once again. There is no telling when I will return, but I leave tonight.” This wasn’t unusual. Every so often Roman would announce he’s leaving for another adventure in the Imagination.

“Oh! Good luck, Roman!” Patton squeaked hopefully.

“I never understand why you depart yourself to these frivolous adventures-”

“Lo, be nice! This is important to him!” Patton cut in and Logan sighed before attempting to pull his face into something that looked something like a face of agreement.

“Not that I’m offended,” Roman said in a very offended tone, “but I do it because I have citizens to save, witch dragons to slay, nothing that your math equation filled brain could comprehend anyways.”

“It’s an imaginary state of mind there are no real peop-”

“Anyways,” Roman cut him off, earning an unsatisfied grunt from the other, “I have an important project to tend to in the imagination and I won’t be here.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose, “weren’t you just there last week?”

“Well.. yes…”

“And imaginary citizens can’t wait for their prince to slay their imaginary dragon?”

He sighed, “I understand it’s your birthday Virgil, but I assure you this is of the utmost importance. I’ll make it up to you when I’m back.” he said with a wink. A flustered expression flashed across Virgil’s face before he turned away, attempting to hide it with his bangs.

“Wh-whatever.” he murmured.

_ _ _

A few hours later, Virgil was in his room when he heard chatter in the hallway. Looking at the clock on his wall he realized it must be time for Roman to go – making it dramatic as he always does by formally saying goodbye to everyone beforehand. He figured he should go say goodbye and sunk down to join the others in the corridor. 

Rising up, Roman stopped mid-conversation upon seeing Virgil, his face lighting up “Virge! You never come to see me before I leave.”

“Yeah well, someone’s gotta tell you not to get eaten by some demon bunny when you step into the unknown.”

Roman gasped, a dramatic hand flying to his chest, “you have so little faith in me?”

“Not since you almost died trying to approach a hallucinatory cow.” he smirked smugly.

Logan turned to him, confused, “how do you know it was hallucinatory?”

“He was in a boat. In the ocean.”

Roman sputtered, his face turning red, “T-that only happened once! And you try being stranded on a boat for two days! Things happen.”

“Well you better start to mooove it before you’re late for your journey, Roman.” Patton grinned, and behind him he heard Logan heave a deep sigh.

“Thank you, Patton. I bid you all farewell until our next fateful moment!” he called, beginning to step back toward his room. They all said a final goodbye before the door shut. Logan said something about having to check on something in the oven, and Patton followed closely behind him. Virgil lingered in the hallway for a moment, just staring at Roman’s door before sighing, shaking his head and turning to walk away. But just as he did his eye caught sight of something shiny. He immediately halted and turned to look again, making sure his eyes weren’t just playing tricks on him. On the floor by Roman’s door was something small reflecting in the moonlight from the window. He bent down and picked it up, revealing a small jar of.. Something.

His eyes widened with the realization that this was probably important and fell out of his pocket when he was leaving. He quickly burst into Roman’s room, only to find it empty.

He was already gone, and probably wouldn’t be back for a while. Time in the imagination worked differently than in the mindscape, he wasn’t sure if even Roman knew how it worked; so he’d be gone for a while. Virgil just hoped that the bottle was nothing important. He clutched it into his palm, staring quietly at the door that led to the imagination. 

Virgil vaguely wondered for a moment what Roman would be doing on his journey, and what was so important that he needed to do it tonight. Normally, he would be preparing weeks in advance but he just suddenly mentioned it tonight. 

He suddenly became very aware that he was inside of Roman’s room. He hasn’t been in Roman’s room very much, and never for very long. The room was casted by moonlight by the large windows, the red curtains and bed set glowing amongst all the white and brown in the room. The room also smelled heavily of Roman, with his rose water perfume and lingering scent of fresh paper. It caused him to relax a bit, the familiarity creating a safety net over him from his anxiety. His friend had now provided more comfort for him, feeling strangely safe and content whenever he was nearby. 

He coughed, shaking his head before heading to Roman's door. It would be awkward to explain why he was just standing in Roman’s pristine room if he was caught here. Roman’s room was beautiful but he felt so odd in there, his black and purple clashing with the soft whites and reds. Elegancy against ruggedness. 

He reached the door before doubling over into another coughing fit. He quickly went straight to the bathroom to grab some cough medicine from the bathroom before Patton could notice and force Virgil to take another “sick day”. He shuddered upon remembering what happened last time Virgil showed the slightest sign of sickness. He opened the cabinet grabbing the cough medicine and shut the cabinet. He glanced at himself for a moment but looked back when something caught his eye. He squinted at himself in the mirror when he spotted a splash of red on his hoodie. Slowly, he brought his hand to it and gingerly touched it. He grabbed it in his fingers and pulled it off, examining it. 

He stared at it for a moment, confused. It was… a petal? Or something like that. It was red and soft and when he hesitantly smelled it, it smelled like a flower – probably a rose or something like that. Virgil figured that Roman had a draft in his room and he probably had a flower vase in there that caught the wind and blew a petal onto his shoulder. He brushed it off, pushing the odd petal to the side of the sink and resumed with the medicine. 

He downed the cough medicine, cringing at the strong taste of artificial cherry flavor that Patton got before coughing more. He groaned, not wanting to deal with being sick. He hung his head but froze when he saw the sink. Slowly, he lifted his head, not taking his eyes off the sink as he stared. There… There were more rose petals, about 6 of them in the sink bowl. Virgil rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things but they remained. He stuck his hand down and grabbed one, making sure it was real. It looked almost identical to the one he pulled off of himself earlier. He felt something on his tongue and pulled one out of his mouth. He stared at the bowl as he began to comprehend what this all meant. 

The word “hanahaki” flashed across his mind and he blinked, remembering the infamous fanfiction trope. He’d vaguely wondered if this applied to him, but shook his head dismissively. He didn’t fully understand what was happening but it was late and he was sure to be fine tomorrow. He scooped up the petals and threw them in the trash before brushing his teeth and going to bed.

Everything will be fine tomorrow.

_ _ _

Everything was not fine. 

The day after coughing up the first petals – his throat felt a bit clogged and throughout the day he would cough into his palm to see more of the obnoxious red flower petals. 

He did some searching on the internet, and after a brief Google search he found he obtained the symptoms of Hanahaki Disease… somehow. The petals were red and of Roman’s favorite flower, so he put two and two together and realized his affections must lie in Roman.

Only problem was Roman wasn’t back yet, and there was no telling when he would be back. According to a fanfiction site, if they didn’t get something done about the flowers soon, then whoever had it would die of suffocating on the flowers. But Virgil was still shy and didn’t know what to do, so he waited, figuring Roman would probably be back soon enough so he could confess and rid his lungs of them.

Unfortunately, waiting didn’t work. He waited three days and checked Roman’s door frequently to see if he’d returned. His hanahaki hadn’t gotten any better, and his petals became harder to hide and more frequent.

During breakfast on the third day, they were all eating the pancakes Patton made when Virgil fell into a coughing fit, the red petals falling from his mouth in front of his other two roommates. When they asked about it, he gave up on hiding it, explaining the story to them.

And that led to where Virgil is right now, at Roman’s door to the imagination. After a flustering conversation with Patton and Logan, they agreed that waiting would be risky, and it would be a good idea to look for him in the imagination. They weren’t too happy about it, seeing as Virgil has never been inside the imagination, and would have no idea where to find Roman. But it was either that or waiting, which proved itself to be unsuccessful so far. They had packed a bag together, one with a first aid kit – including some medicine that Logan thought could slow the hanahaki. It also had food and water for his journey. He stared unmoving at the door, fingers fidgeting with his sleeve before he took a deep breath and opened the door.

The other side was bright. A soft white glow illuminating from the door, sparks of colors floating out of it. He took a step in, and suddenly he was falling.

Virgil woke up on a soft patch of grass. He groaned, sitting up and scanning the realm.

“So this is the imagination..” he muttered softly to himself as he surveyed the area. It was pretty, with valleys under a cloudless sky and a large body of water off to the right side of him. He stood and walked forward toward the edge of the hill, revealing a small town below. He couldn’t tell if there were people there – even if fake, the thought of being surrounded by strangers made him shudder in fear. 

“Well,” he said to no one, “I better start going if I’m going to find Roman.” He chose a direction on where he guessed Roman would be and began walking.

It quickly occurred to him that he had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t know where anything was and there wasn’t a definitive path he could’ve taken. He even got the courage to walk to town and see if there was any information he could get from the villagers, but they weren’t programmed to answer Virgil’s specific questions – so they either broke or went back to their repetitive task.

The first day went by fast, and Virgil set up a spot to rest near the forest, planning to travel through the forest the next day.

Virgil woke to the sound of something being dragged. He blinked at the harsh sunlight in the sky and turned over, only for the dragging sound to stop for a moment before continuing. He blinked, sitting up, wondering what that noise was. All sleep left him as he faced a small dragon dragging his bag.

“Hey! Stop that! That’s mine!” he shouted, spooking the dragon. It hissed at him and grabbed his bag, flying away before Virgil could catch it.

“Seriously?! That was literally all I had.” he sighed, wondering how Roman put up with this place. “Well, better go through the forest before it gets late..” he sighed, turning to face the forest and head in.

It didn’t take more than a day and a half for Virgil to realize that the forest was either really big, or he was just walking in circles, because it seemed endless. His illness wasn’t doing great either – he’d read about the full flowers and hoped he wouldn’t get any, but he wasn’t so lucky. Every so often, if it wasn’t petals he’d be coughing up, it would be a full flower that he’d choke on, confirming it was in fact a rose.

Multiple days went on like this. After he’d escaped the forest he’d went on to more valleys and mountains. The imagination was much bigger than he anticipated, his hope draining fast. He was beginning to think it would’ve probably been better if he just stayed in the mindscape. 

He was hungry, not being able to find much food since that dragon went away with his bag. He was leaning against a wall in one of the towns he tried passing through. It was always the same answer he got whenever he asked: “did Roman come through here?” and the villagers would shower the prince with praise but wouldn’t confirm when they last saw him. That's what he gets for trying to make sense of fake people. 

Right when he was about to give up for the day, he spotted a bunny hopping not too far from him – having a snack on the grassy pasture. He licked his lips, it wasn’t much, but it might work. He crept towards it, freezing whenever it looked his way. He was so close when he felt his throat close up again. He mentally begged his lungs not to, but before he could stop it he was coughing again, startling the bunny. It snared its row – no, maybe two rows of sharp unnatural teeth at him. 

“Demon bunny?!” He cried out as it made its way towards him angrily. If he wasn’t so stricken with confusion and fear this situation might’ve been funny. 

But before it caught up to him something flashed in front of him, pinning the rabbit to the ground. It was the dragon! “Wait, you stole my stuff!” he shouted at it, but it ignored him, and began ripping the rabbit apart with its teeth as Virgil gaped, trying to process what just happened.

After a few bites it looked back at Virgil and made a weird gesture for him to follow. Virgil hesitantly started following it, not knowing what it was doing. Every few moments, he coughed again, a spew of flowers and petals trailing the ground, along with the untasty savor of copper thanks to the thorns that would rise in his throat. The dragon didn’t seem at all fazed by Virgil’s sickness however, and would keep coaxing him in a certain direction that Virgil felt compelled to follow.

After walking for what felt like hours, Virgil and the dragon reached a tower. It looked old but not terribly run down. It made a chittering noise and flew inside through one of the windows. Virgil slumped against the wall, feeling weak. Of course he follows a stupid dragon out to some tower where it probably just wanted to be fed or something. His dramatic sigh got interrupted by a series of more painful coughs. Virgil could still hear the dragon. Its chittering got louder and it was standing on the edge of the roof on the tower, making some calling sound.

Before Virgil could puzzle out what it was doing, he heard a louder, deeper version of the cry in the distance. Before long, there was a bigger dragon flying towards them. He choked on something between a gasp and a cry as he scrambled for his sore and tired legs to work so he didn’t get burned to a crisp by the dragon for being close to its baby. 

He couldn’t though. No matter what he screamed at his brain, he still sat there on the grass against the tower wall staring at the big dragon becoming bigger as it came closer, becoming more visible. It felt like his heart was in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the moment the flames hit his skin as the flapping of its wings approached. This was it, he was never going to say goodbye to the others, or tell Roman how he felt, or ever watch Thomas grow up or-

“Virgil?!” his eyes snapped open at the familiar voice. There, on the back of the big dragon, was Roman, sitting on a saddle as he gazed baffled at the sight, obviously not expecting Virgil to be there.

“R-Roman!” he started, trying to get up, but his jelly legs sent him straight to the ground again with an oof.

“Wait, don't move, I’ll help you.” he heard Roman say as Roman unsaddled himself and approached him. “Virgil, what on earth are you doing here? The imagination is dangerous for someone as inexperienced as you.”

“Roman, I-” he was cut off once again but hacking coughs, feeling his throat close up with something rising through. 

“Virgil, breathe.. By the Gods of the Sun, how long have you been out here?” he heard him scold as he examined him. Virgil wanted to bite back but couldn’t even speak with the rose forcing its way out of his throat. After several painful moments it broke free and dropped to the ground along with some loose petals and Roman’s talking stopped as they both stared at the blood soaked flower in front of them. 

“Is… is that-”

“A rose. Yup, been getting them all week.” he replied, his voice still raw and raspy.

It was silent for a moment and Virgil heard Roman was about to say something but a chitter broke the sound instead, the small dragon came between them, saying something in some sort of dragon language to Roman.

“That’s where you went off to?! Y'know your mother and I have been looking all over for you this past week.” he scolded, but there wasn’t any anger in his voice.

The dragon chiddered some more before Roman rolled his eyes playfully and shook his head, “yes I can get it for you give me a moment.” he dug through his bag but seemed to realize whatever he was looking for wasn’t there and began to panic slightly. Virgil remembered the glass bottle a few days prior and reached in his pocket, relieved to find it still there.

“Are you uh, looking for this?”

Roman glanced up, “oh thank you, Virgil! I feared I had lost it. It’s her medicine I prepared for her so she would get over her sickness. Unfortunately, she’d snuck off and her mother was worried. We went looking for her, but it seems you found her first-” he rambled, but cut himself off, his eyes glazing over an emotion Virgil couldn’t read.

“Oh. Right. Virgil, what are you doing here?” he said in a soft tone, simply curious but not annoyed.

Virgil shifted, and if on cue, began coughing again, sprouting up more rose petals – thankfully not a flower this time.

“Um, well, you see – I have hanahaki.”

Roman blinked, “the fictional disease based on unrequited love?” 

Virgil shyly nodded. He waited for a reaction, maybe Roman would reject him politely, or would swoop him into a dramatic kiss, or perhaps would play koy. But he didn’t expect Roman to laugh.

Virgil watched as Roman laughed, stunned at the unexpected reaction. But before he could figure out what that meant Roman lit up, “who ever said it was unrequited?”

“I..”

“I thought I was quite obvious really.” he said before his expression dimmed to a softer one as he locked eyes with Virgil. The emo side shifted in awkwardness, for he didn’t know how to handle the soft affection.

“I actually came out here for you. I planned to be back sooner but the imagination never rests.” Roman said as he began digging through his bag. After a few moments he pulled out a small box and placed it in his hand, their fingers touching briefly as Roman pulled back his own hand. 

“Technically, I could’ve made that in my room, but it was easier and faster to create it here. It’s kinda why I come here a lot.” he shrugged, soundly oddly timid.

Virgil’s fingers smoothed over the wooden box before lifting up the lid. Immediately a soft familiar tune began playing from it.

“Is this..” he breathed, barely loud enough for anyone to hear as the music box continued to play.

“It’s a small collection of Tim Burton songs! It was a little challenging to make because I had to really focus on the tunes in order to get them perfect but-” he stopped when Virgil looked up at him, small pools forming in his eyes.

“Oh goodness, do- do you not like it? Sorry I-” he was cut off by Virgil wrapping his arms around Roman’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“Of course I love it, dumbass.” he chuckled. “It’s sappy and thoughtful and… totally you.” he smirked and Roman returned with a beaming smile.

For the first time in days, Virgil thinks he can breathe again.

[squeakyfir]

The Love from a Skeleton [Jack Skeleton X Reader]

Plot: Halloween... The time of year you absolutely hate. Not because of the ghouls and monsters, you enjoyed that kind of thing, it's because of trick or treaters. They get free candy and whine and complain to their parents if they didn't get what they expected, which is the whole bowl of candy. Anyways, since you don't celebrate that holiday, you decide to go for a late stroll through the woods on the hiking trail. While walking, your whole life changes. And I mean that literally... Everything started to change drastically until you find trees with holiday symbols on it. One of them being a Jack-o-lantern. Being curious, you enter through the door and discover a world that would represent a children's book written by Stephen King. But the leader of this place was a king. Not just any king... A pumpkin king. His name is Jack Skellington. He's a very tall and slender skeleton with a pinstripe suit, a black cat bow tie and ghost dog named Zero. He discovers you and welcomes you to Halloween town until he can figure out how to send you home. But this place is perfect! No taxes to pay No drama And no more loneliness Jack believes that your hideous. But don't worry, hideous in the Halloween town definition means... Beautiful. Enjoy! *I do not own the Nightmare before Christmas. All rights belong to Tim Burton and Disney™*

Chapter 2

Previous ~ Next

Jack, the skeleton, went through the gates. You went over the wall and silently followed after him. He seemed to be thinking deeply as he walked down the dirt path. There was a large tombstone that you could hide behind, so you ran over to it and crouched down behind it.

You peeked out from the side and saw that he stopped at a small grave. From where you were, it looked like a dog house. Jack, the skeleton, bent down a bit and pat his leg twice and continued to walk. You wondered why he did that but then a ghost came out of the ground. It was a small ghost with a head of a dog and the rest of it's body was like a cloth.

Jack then walked to a grave and rested his elbow on it and started to sing. It was a nice tune with a calming tone.

There are few who deny at what I do,

I am the best.

For my talents are renowned, far and wide.

When it comes to surprises in the moonlit night,

I excel without ever even trying.

Jack then jumped on top of two tombstones and made hand jesters to go along with his lyrics

With the slightest little effort of my ghost like charm,

I have seen grown men give out a shriek.

Jack jumped down from the tombstones and stood beside two big ones and seemed to be gloating about himself with the next lyrics he sang.

With a wave of my hand and a well placed moan,

I have swept the very bravest off their feet!

But just like that, his tone changed from sincere to depressing.

Yet, year after year,

It's the same routine

And I grow so weary of the sounds of screams

And I, Jack, the Pumpkin King,

Have grown so tired

Of the same old thing

You were still peeking behind the tombstone and saw Jack walking towards the spiral hill that was underneath the very large full moon while the ghost dog followed Jack.

Oh somewhere, deep inside these bones,

An emptiness, began to grow.

There's something out their far from my home.

A longing that,

I've never known.

Jacks tone changed from depressed to back to sincere and he seemed to be gloating about himself again. This time, he was explaining more about himself.

I'm the master of fright

And a demon of light

And I'll scare you right out of your pants.

You were still a bit far back so you carefully ran to different tombstones until you were close enough to see him better but his ghost dog almost saw you so you had to stop moving and sit still to keep watching Jack.

To a guy in Kentucky

I'm mister unlucky

And I'm known throughout England and France

Jack then did something a little cringy to look at. He took his skull right off his head and held it out in front of him like the way Shakespeare's play 'Hamlet' was depicted.

And since I am dead,

I can take off my head,

To recite Shakespearean quotations.

He put his skull back and continued to sing about himself like he was gloating.

No animal or man

Can scream like I can,

With the fury of my recitations

And once again, his tone changed from sincere to depressing.

But, who here, would ever understand,

That the Pumpkin King,

With a skeleton grin,

Would tire of his crown,

If they only understood,

He'd give it all up if he only could.

Jack then suddenly looked your way and you quickly ducked down just in time before he saw you. You took a very small peek and saw he was now walking dowm the spiral hill that unfolded down into a slope.

Oh there's an empty place inside of my bones,

That calls out for something unknown.

The fame and praise, come year after year,

Does nothing for these empty tears.

You saw that Jack was walking away from the cemetery and started hugging himself for his own comfort. You darted out from behind the tombstone to follow after him. You had to keep your distance so he wouldn't see you or hear you. The ghost dog was still following Jack and it somehow didn't pick up your scent.

You decided to take a moment and notice your surroundings more. It was like it was animated and changed drastically, like when you first encounterd the pumpkin door. You then felt something hit your head and you looked down to see a small rib bone. You picked it up and then heard a cute dog bark.

You looked up and saw that the ghost dog was coming towards you. You gasped and dropped the bone to hide behind a tree. You peeked out and saw that this ghost dog had a bright red nose, like Rudolph the red nose reindeer. It was so cute.

You tried to get a better look but a twig snapped and the ghost dog darted his head towards you and looked at you. Your eyes grew wide and you hoped it wouldn't give your position away, but it started barking and barking to alert Jack. You tried shushing it but it was too late. "Zero, what's wrong"?

You gasped and tried to run away but heard someone say, "OH! Hello there"! You turned around and saw Jack walking towards you with a smile on his face that turned into shock. "Why, your a human"!

You kept backing away in fear but Jack kept coming towards you. "No no no, it's alright, I won't hurt you". You stood there admiring this skeletons posture and liked what you saw. Most men from your town could care less about manners and etiquette. "Who are you"?

"(Y/n)".

"Well, (y/n), my name is Jack, Jack Skellington and this is my dog Zero". Zero, the ghost dog, flew towards you and flew around your head a couple times. "Me and Zero gladly welcome you but I must ask. How did you come here"?

"I went on a walk in the woods and found some trees with symbols on them. One of them was a pumpkin with a face carving and it led me here". Jack wasn't sure what you were talking about but it sure got him thinking. "Well, me and Zero gladly welcome your company"!

"Thank you. But do you know how I can get back to my home"?

"No, I'm sorry (y/n), I don't. But, if you'd like, you are more than happy to stay with me until we figure out how to get you home" Jack said joyfully.

"Oh no! I'd hate to intrude..."

"Oh nonsense! I insist! Come with us"! Jack then held out his arm like a gentleman. You smiled at him and took his offer. You both then started talking to get to know each other better, but there were other pressing matters to think about.

How are you going home?

What were those doors?

Can Jack really be trusted?

Who knows? But right now, all you can do is follow Jack and see what happens.

[lizziefox]

About me <3

Hi, I’m BloomingSkeletons! You can call me Bloom for short or Lizzie, either is good with me. Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior. I’m an Ao3 fanfic author who mostly does crossover works.

🦋 🦋 🦋

My Interests:

(Or more commonly known as my massive amount of hyperfixations)

Green- things I am absolutely head over heels for

Blue- things I enjoy but not as much as the green category

Purple- things I adore but I don’t spend a lot of time on

A Series of Unfortunate Events, Anna and The Apocalypse, Gravity Falls, Laika Movies (Coraline, ParaNorman, The Boxtrolls, Kubo and The Two Strings, Missing Link & Wildwood), The Mitchells V.S. The Machines, Star V.S. The Forces of Evil, Invader Zim, Amphibia, The Owl House, Over The Garden Wall, Camp Camp, Bob’s Burgers, Demon Slayer, Hilda, She-Ra and The Princesses of Power, The Dragon Prince, Luca, Nimona, Wreck it Ralph, Monsters Inc, Megamind, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Stranger Things, It (2017/2019), Anne With An E, Tim Burton (Wednesday, Edward Scissorhands, Corpse Bride, Nightmare Before Christmas, etc.), Ghostbusters, Bridgerton, Locke and Key, Spooksville, Are You Afraid of The Dark, All Of Us Are Dead, Mad For Each Other, Little Shop of Horrors, Dash and Lily, Little Women, Lisa Frankenstein, Freaky (2020), Spider-Man (ITSV/ATSV & Raimi), Jane Austen (Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, & Emma), When Harry Met Sally, Scott Pilgrim, & The Umbrella Academy

🎵 🎶 🎵

My Music Taste:

I listen to a lot of instrumental, actually. Mainly soundtracks from the films/shows listed above but I enjoy them. But, some of my main favorite artists are;

David Bowie (obviously), Beabadoobee, Laufey, Sleeping At Last, Moto Boy, Billy Joel, AURORA, Cody Fry, The Arcadian Wild, Coconut Records, The Decemberists, Djo, Flower Face, The Happy Fits, Lana Del Rey, Mckenna Grace, P!nk, & Stevie Nicks.

-I’m always down to listen to music that’s new to me though, I like to expand my listening options :)

📚 🖼️ 🧸

My Hobbies:

Writing: Fanfiction (all the time) and poetry (sometimes)

Drawing: I’m always doodling something in my sketchbook, on receipt paper, or on my drinks (I am unstoppable)

Reading: I LOVE folksy horror books as well as retellings of popular fairy tales & romance

Collecting: Legos, Funko, Plants, Squishmallows, you name it! My current fixation is on finding a Bill Denbrough Pop to complete my Losers Club set :)

🫶 🫶 🫶

This is a safe space <3

I know all sorts of people from different walks of life. I don’t judge a single one for what they have gone through. I hope you’re having a good day or night (whenever you’re seeing this) and I hope many blessings are sent your way.

- Lizzie <3

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

Stay tuned!

[sebsxphia]

Sebbie m'dear, I'm really glad to hear you're doing well and I am sorry for your loss. If you need to talk I'm always around but there's no pressure to do so at all.

I really, really enjoyed that soft Preacher!Rhett drabble you wrote out (hit a little bit harder than usual but I absolutely love that side of him and can't resist it, lol). Might I offer you another in return??

I was thinking about it being fall and the weather growing colder. It's getting to be spooky season which means the church's annual Halloween party is right around the corner (like I said, man of God or not, Rhett loves Halloween and all the fun that comes with it) and that means the church craft market, the farmers' market and the Halloween fundraisers for the childrens' and veterans hospitals etc.

Rhett doesn't really have to shoulder too much duty in the fall seeing as he has you and the babies to look after. It's one of those crisp, autumn Sundays where you've just shooed the babies outside to go and play in the leaf piles that Rhett's raked up or blown with the leaf blower and they're all in their little flannel jackets and sweaters.

You're inside the house where it's nice and warm and cozy, the woodstove in the living room is going as is Tim Burton's "Corpse Bride". Baby Dallas, your youngest that you and Rhett adopted, is snoozing away in his little wicker bassinet in the living room, all snuggled under his crocheted blankets, sucking away on his little blue paci while the family cat is nested in beside him, purring away. You're slow cooking a chuck roast in the little red dutch oven full of carrots, celery, pearl onions, garlic, herbs, spices and a rather liberal helping of red wine (lol) and the house smells soooooooo good.

Rhett and the older children all come traipsing in from the chilly afternoon to the smell of dinner slow cooking in the oven. The babies all head down to the playroom that you and Rhett had made for them, waiting for the rest of your friends and family to come over for Sunday dinner including an elderly neighbor of Rhett's who's never missed a Sunday service since she was little. You and Rhett both share a little bit of a slow dance in the kitchen until Dallas starts waking up from his nap and wants his daddy.

You and Rhett both hang around in the kitchen for a little while, you to get the dinner prepped and him to have the baby close by in case he needs to feed (he definitely wasn't against you using a home remedy or something from the doc to stimulate the milk flow when you adopted Amy and she needed to feed and also knew you needed to do the same for Dallas when he came out of his incubator). Even still, you both look at the little stone claddagh ring wall plaque that says "Bless This House", you and Rhett know full well that you are and always will be.

ohhhhhhhhh my love my love my loveeeee! if this isn’t the dream! i’ve mentioned it before, but that season is my absolute faveeee and i felt so warm, cosy and comforted reading this, it was so lovely and really what i needed rn 🥺

to live a content and cosy life like that with rhett would just be the dream! i loved all the little descriptions of yours 🥹

thank you so much for this sweet and comforting thought, and for your well wishes. it means so much to me and you know i’m always here if you need me too 🥺 ilysm, mwah mwah mwah! 💗🫶🏼

[satellite-of-self-love]

Love What You Love, Including Yourself.

Under the Break:

My Sorting Tags

My Selfship Reblog Games

My F/Os

Misc

•Blog Sorting Tags•

#Mental Health = Posts for keeping mental health.

#Self Love = Posts about loving yourself and allowing yourself to be loved.

#past reblog games = F/O reblog games made by others that I've played.

#my reblog games = F/O reblog games of my own.

#FO Positive = Selfshipping Positivity Posts.

#F/O Imagines = F/O Imagines.

#F/O AU = relating to one of my alternate universes where a selfship lives.

#F/O Convos = Goofing around with the Tupperbox bot in Discord

•My Reblog Games•

The Wedding Cake Bakery

Reblog with up to 2 F/Os and I'll find wedding cakes based on their visual vibe!

Status: OPEN!

•My Various F/Os•

Most of these blogs are Misc/RP/Aesthetic/Fandom blogs.

You can send asks to any of these characters via my Anomalous Polyverse Blog, simply say who you want to talk to before your message!

🔮🌜Anomalous Polyverse🌛🔮

A mega-crossover purely-for-fun alternate universe involving my personal character living and interacting with all of my F/Os.

Polyverse Blog: @theanomalouspolyverse

(All tags lack spaces between the name and the emoji. I blame my OCD for that.)

Romantic F/Os

Audrey Two (Little Shop of Horrors 1986)

-> Tag: Audrey🌱 Blog: @mean-n-green

The Warden (Superjail!)

-> Tag: Warden🌈 Blog: @splenderific-skittles

The Spine (Steam Powered Giraffe)

-> Tag: Spine⚙ Blog: @starlightsoliton

Angeldust (Hazbin Hotel)

-> Tag: Angel🕸 Blog: @glamspiderfluff

Jack O'Lantern (Billy and Mandy)

-> Tag: Jack🎃 Blog: @its-the-great-pun-kin

Beetlejuice (a composite version)

-> Tag: BJ🪳 Blog: @trashygeistinlove

Joker (The Batman series, The Dark Knight, and Tim Burton's Batman)

-> Tag: Joker🃏 Blog: @the-jokester

Patches the Clown (An OC)

-> Tag: Patches🤡 Blog: @patches-the-clown

Enoch (Over The Garden Wall)

-> Tag: Enoch🎃 Blog: @autumn-belle

Captain Michael Quinn (Project Blue Book)

-> Tag: Quinn✈ Blog: @lets-touch-the-stars

Hexxus (Ferngully: The Last Rainforest)

-> Tag: Hexxus☣ Blog: @toxic-mud

Invader Zim (Invader Zim)

-> Tag: Zim👽 Blog: @i-am-zim-2001

Mr. TopHat/Marcus Cochran (Are You Afraid of The Dark: Carnival of Doom)

-> Tag: TopHat🦂 Blog: @circus-scorpion

Yeshua (Fennah/Satellite City)

-> Tag: AlleyCat🎰 Blog: @eldritch-casino-cat

Lord Black Hat (Villainous)

-> Tag: Lord&Master🎩 Blog: @oh-dark-lord

Oogie Boogie (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

-> Tag: Boogie🎲 Blog: @nightmaregamblinman

Mammon (Helluva Boss)

-> Tag: Mammon💰 Blog: @greedy-evergreen

Platonic F/Os

Vince Noir (The Mighty Boosh)

-> Tag: Vince👑 Blog: @sunshinesparkle-child

Hawkeye Pierce (M*A*S*H)

-> Tag: Hawk👁 Blog: @swampyflowers

Harry Vanderspiegle (Resident Alien)

-> Tag: Harry👽 Blog: @h-vanderspiegle

-- My Pet Regression Blog with Harry as my caretaker F/O: @an-aliens-pet

Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty)

-> Tag: Rick🧪 Blog: @rickin-and-a-rollin

Bill Cipher (Gravity Falls)

-> Tag: IsocelesMonster👁 Blog: Coming Soon!

Bezel (Chikn Nuggit)

-> Tag: BezelTime🕰 Blog: Coming Soon!

Nandor The Relentless (What We Do In The Shadows)

-> Tag: Relentless🦇 Blog: @thevampirefam

Collin Robinson (What We Do In The Shadows)

-> Tag: Collin🦇 Blog: @thevampirefam

Guillermo De La Cruz (What We Do In The Shadows)

-> Tag: Not Guillermo🦇 Blog: @thevampirefam

Baron Alfanas (What We Do In The Shadows)

-> Tag: Baron Alfanas🦇 Blog: @thevampirefam

Barnaby (Billie Bust-Up)

-> Tag: Owly🦉 Blog: @spooky-noodle-bird

Familial F/Os

Loki (Son of the Mask) (Father)

-> Tag: Loki🎭 Blog: @candy-coated-chaos

Fenrir (OC Version) (Brother)

-> Tag: Fenrir🐺 Blog: @fluffy-fenrir

Skoll and Hati (OC version) (Nephews)

-> Tags: Skoll☀️, Hati🌒 Blog: @puppypicnicofplanets

Hades (Hercules 1997) (Uncle)

-> Tag: Hades🏛 Blog: @plutos-blue-flames

Nadja (What We Do In The Shadows) (Big Sister)

-> Tag: Nadja🦇 Blog: @thevampirefam

Laszlo Cravensworth (What We Do In The Shadows) (Brother-In-Law)

-> Tag: Laszlo🦇 Blog: @thevampirefam

Crow T. Robot and Tom Servo (MST3K circa 1990s) (Adopted Sons)

-> Tags: Servo🎞 , Crow🎞 Blog: @robo-bros

Misc F/Os

The Hitcher (The Mighty Boosh) (Antagonist)

-> Tag: Hitcher🪱 Blog: Coming Soon!

Early Cuyler (Squidbillies) (On and Off Antagonist/Frenemy)

-> Tag: Early🐙 Blog: Coming Soon!

•••Miscellaneous•••

•●• Blog Owner Main Hub: @very-anomalous

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

[bansheemilk]

There is an idea that I don't understand. No wait. I do understand but I am hoping you will just for a second look at something differently. The idea is that we, as people, will always think we are right about our tastes because that's "just what we like". So the theory is you will automatically think your musical, culinary, cinematic or artistic tastes are the best. Not true in my case. I have shitty taste in food. I am a picky eater. There are lots of foods I don't like. But they are not bad foods. They are loved by millions and millions of people. How can I say that I am right when loads of people (who are not stupid) love broccoli, biscuits, kale, brussel sprouts, really just cooked vegatables in general. My taste is very much like an annoying 5 year old. Do I now like those foods? Nope. I'm standing by my bad taste. But I admit it. I have bad taste in food. (My musical taste more than makes up for it as I've never met anyone who likes as wide a variety as me).

But should I say definitively that I am right and billions are wrong? I saw an article saying that there is a debate about whether the Tim Burton version of Addams Family os good or not. Actually it is not a debate anymore than Spider-Man climbs walls is a debate. He interpreted it the way the creator wanted. You can prefer other versions but be an adult and accept you are wrong. I like Bloodsport but it is a shitty movie. I admit it. The Addams Family is supposed to be confusing. Gomez is supposed to be shorter and uglier than Morticia. That's what Charles Addams wanted. You're supposed to wonder how Gomez got Morticia. And you're supposed to feel uncomfortable about them as a family. Not simply charming "dark jokes" but a truly dark and somewhat wicked family. Not an opinion. A creator decides what their creation is. You can be mad that Spider-Man climbs walls but if you think he "isn't supposed to" you are wrong. Just as I am wrong about many foods. Why is it so hard for humans to compartmentalize their feelings? It's honestly a big reason why I must limit my social activities. I don't like how one sided and cocky people tend to be. You're right because you feel that way? Really? If I feel like I look like Chris Hemsworth do I really look like him? Of course not. If I think Annie Hall is a brilliant movie does that mean there's nothing frightening about Woody Allen? I like Stallone but he has made a lot of shitty movies (most of which I like....I know, I know. Sorry. He's just fun to me). I thought Amber Heard was gorgeous. Doesn't mean she isn't a terrible person and I wouldn't date her (I'm sure she is wondering). As a kid I was confused at the depth of some athletes cuz I thought they were all so stupid. While I still don't care about sports I was wrong. Clearly you can be a physically gifted person and smart at the same time. One has only to look at 2 minutes of a Muhammad Ali documentary to see that.

It's simple. 2 things can be true.

Oh well. I don't feel lime blathering on anymore.

[anemia-rp]

"Thats true, that's when it is important to do things that bring you joy or to help you relax." She agreed. "That's true. I know that I don't want to do anything new or different when I am like that. I would much rather find comfort in the things I know I already enjoy or help me feel better."

"Yay!" She smiled brightly and laughed, giving him the sweetest smile she possibly could. "I could totally have as much alcohol as you need or want! And I wholeheartedly promise not to laugh!" She held out her pinky to him for a promise. "At the most you will just see a big smile from having fun!" Reno would never laugh at someone that was genuinely giving their best at something, after all it did take a lot of confidence to do something you aren't comfortable with.

"I get that" she listened closely with a gentle smile. "I don't really write like that, but I do tend to put my heart into the songs that I write. It's good to have an outlet like that for your feelings, it can help from keeping things from getting to built up inside."

She looked up at him with a soft expression, she couldn't help but to feel a bit of pride that she could give him a sense of calm. "Well I am happy that I can bring you comfort like that."

"Though it sometimes helps to just leave the house if you're feeling like crap. Fresh air and seeing something else than your four walls makes a lot of things better", he claimed and smirked at his nails. "That's why I'm mostly on the road."

He made some resigned noises, but the amusement overweighted though. "Goddamn, somehow I couldn't deny you a wish", he admitted and put his hands down, looking still a little embarrassed with this wide smile and the flushed cheeks, but hooking his pinky with hers. "You're cute", he chuckled. "Maybe I'll sing any Tim Burton movie song even. At least my English is rather decent 'cause I grew up among lots of foreigners. Otherwise I'd be twice as flustered." He once again laughed. "Oh damn, that will become an evening…"

He nodded. "Yeah, huh? I mean, I produce songs as well, but they're definitely not fit to let out all kinds of emotions with. So I gotta write, although I never liked writing lots since I've got dyslexia. Do you write the lyrics yourself?"

Yes, he indeed felt calm, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, due to the peace their togetherness radiated. And the blood as well, of course. "I'm glad as well. Most people are just good for the excitement part, but these days I gotta need some peace to regulate my nervous system." His fingers fondled her head.

[divergentproject23hons]

What will I say during presentation of work (five minutes to discuss my work)

Within this project I have decided to explore the phenomenon of shadow figures by assembling a range of materials such as: tights, stuffing, sewing, sand, black cheese cloth, and thin black linen material. I have created uncanny facemasks to convey the idea of encountering distorted faces within the shadows of your room or when your eyes play tricks on you as you open and close your eyes. I have created these faces using modroc, plaster, and paint.

Throughout this project, I have researched and been inspired by artists Sarah Lucas, Louise Bourgeoise, Cornelia Parker, David Noonan, Mire Lee, and Ralph Eugene Meatyard, as well as some others. I also researched into the uncanny valley theory, Sigmund Freud's Theory on dreams, Tim Burton's movie imagery as well as the history of horror masks in cinema.

For my final I wanted to create an immersive experience for the viewer. I therefore, decided to construct an 8 foot by 6 foot wooden structure. This structure is almost a cube with no walls and has black sheets covering the it. By combining the black sheets with the structure it creates a dark and enclosed installation. I consulted with one of my other lecturers to help me prepare the wood and construct my installation as it required a lot of planning and ways of working that I am not comfortable doing on my own. When you enter this installation there is a projector that displays a video with sound allowing the viewer to utilise the headphones, creating an immersive experience. The video displayed is eerie and uncanny, almost resembling an old fashioned horror or thriller movie. Two of my uncanny shadow figures are suspended within this structure with one figure positioned in an unnatural way on the floor. Amongst these figures I have suspended uncanny masks that resemble faces. I aim for this piece to entice the viewer to feel as though they are encountering shadow figures or entities, overall creating a nightmarish atmosphere. I plan for my work to evoke uncertainty within the viewer due to the uncanny appearance of my work caused by their slumped form and lack of human features whilst still having an indication of limbs and a body.

A large part of my practice has been photography, my photography works have been displayed in the studio. This involved using the photography studio and equipment. This was a new and daunting yet successful experience for me.

Overall, this project has pushed me out of my comfort zone and I have worked in ways I never thought I would. Some of the materials used and ways of working have never been a part of my practice. The majority of the artists mentioned, theories and other research are all new to my practice and have highly influenced aspects of my work. Hanging solutions and the build of this installation is also a way of working that is entirely new to me. I have worked with eerie and unsettling concepts before, however I have never created work conveying the phenomenon of shadow figures. I enjoyed this project and it has strengthened my abilities as an artist and has given me confidence for future works and ideas. This project has posed many problems that I had to overcome and solve. I am happy with what I have achieved with this project as it has taken my practice to a level I did not think I could reach and has therefore given me so much confidence as a young artists.

It is important to mention that my work for the creative enquiry project is the same concept as my divergent project and has similar research and theories. However, my creative enquiry concept will be delivered and conveyed in a completely different way. The divergent project has fuelled ideas and given me more confidence for my creative enquiry project.

[nahaspicks]

Jack the giant killer budget

Oxford Guide to British and American Culture English vocabulary Jack the Giant Killer is also sprinkled with homages to other fantasy films such as Pendragons transformation into a winged dragon which references the climax of Walt Disneys Sleeping Beauty (1959), the one-armed torch holders mounted on Pendragons walls are a direct nod to Jean Cocteaus Beauty and the Beast (1946), and the solarized demons. JACK THE GIANT KILLER - ➡ Jack and the Beanstalk.Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English JACK THE GIANT-KILLER - Jack and the Bean ‧ stalk /ˌdʒæk ənd ðə ˈbiːnstɔːk/ BrE AmE ( also ˌJack the ˈGiant-ˌkiller ) a ↑ ….More meanings of this word and English-Russian, Russian-English translations for the word «JACK THE GIANT-KILLER» in dictionaries. Linguistic-cultural dictionary Great Britain.Jack the Giant Slayeris predicted to get a DVD and Blu-ray release in July 2013. Were you one of the people who saw Jack the Giant Slayer in theaters last month? Did it deserve better numbers than it got? Share your thoughts in the comments. The film has received middling-to-good reviews, with Screen Rant's Ben Kendrick describing it as " surprisingly entertaining," and the majority of our poll voters rating it between 4 and 5 stars. Jack the Giant Killer has been touted as 'an adult look at the Jack and the Beanstalk legend' about a princess being kidnapped and how that threatens a long-standing peace between men and giants. It's worth noting, however, that critic and audience responses were somewhat more positive than the box office intake. If the estimated numbers hold, Jack the Giant Slayer's overall losses will fall somewhere between those for 2012 disasters Battleship and John Carter, making it an early contender for 2013's "Flop of the Year" award. The film's plot was conflated from different sources, with the magic beans and beanstalk derived from the classic fairy tale "Jack and the Beanstalk", and the title and royal love interest (Eleanor Tomlinson) drawn from the Arthurian folk tales of "Jack the Giant Killer." It featured Nicholas Hoult in the lead role and was produced and directed by Bryan Singer, who will hopefully make a recovery with next year's release of X-Men: Days of Future Past. This will leave Legendary Pictures (who financed half of the film's total budget) with losses of between $125 and $140 million, and Warner Bros. Despite a worldwide marketing budget of over $100 million, on top of the production budget of $200 million, Yahoo reports that the film has so far only earned only around $157 million since its March 1st release date, with THR predicting that it will top out at just over $200 million. Legendary Pictures hasn't been so lucky with its big-budget, CGI-heavy fantasy adventure Jack the Giant Slayer. Personally, I blame Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, which was one of the few fairy tale success stories at the box office, earning a worldwide gross of over $1 billion. This weekend’s dismal performance of Bryan Singer’s much-anticipated Jack the Giant Slayer may have seemed familiar to those who recall the sad fate of Disney’s John Carter almost exactly a. It is a mockbuster of Jack the Giant Slayer. A modern take of the fairy tales Jack the Giant Killer and Jack and the Beanstalk, the film stars Ben Cross and Jane March. Jack the Giant Killer is a 2013 American fantasy film produced by The Asylum and directed by Mark Atkins. For whatever reason, live-action reinventions of classic fairy tales are incredibly in vogue right now. For the big budget film from the same year, see Jack the Giant Slayer. Next year we can expect to see Maleficent, a live-action origin story for Disney's Sleeping Beauty villain, and Guillermo Del Toro is planning another Beauty and the Beast adaptation with Emma Watson as the heroine. The fairy tale trend is not over yet, though. Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters and Snow White and the Huntsman both did well enough overseas to compensate for their lukewarm domestic gross, and it was more or less the same deal for Snow White and the Huntsman's rival, Mirror Mirror. "Beauty and the Beast in high school" romance flick Beastly was almost universally scorned by critics, though it managed to earn a modest profit off its relatively low production budget. Legendary Pictures hasnt been so lucky with its big-budget, CGI-heavy fantasy adventure Jack the Giant Slayer. It seems that Hollywood just can't get enough of reinventing fairy tales, though the audience and box office response to them has been mixed at best.