I'm watching the Cinemawins video for Nightmare Before Christmas got me thinking about Battle for The Pumpkin King again
Do you guys think Jack was just... living alone? In his house? Without anyone, save for a visitor like the Grim Reaper, keeping an eye on him?
Like, he was put in a house and then when someone came to pick him up, he was already asleep and had done MINOR changes to make the place his, namely by hanging up a leaf he liked on the wall
Maybe he was just found near the outskirts of Halloween Town and was COMPLETELY alone and not saying anything, not even to Edgar or any of the skeletons on the Hanging Tree, and Edgar had him placed in an old house until they could figure out what to do with him; he's clearly a skeleton, but not like the ones on the Hanging Tree
Idk, just something that's been on my head for a bit. Maybe there is another skeleton that had volunteered to look after Jack, not wanting him near the Hanging Tree("Our job is to *scare* people. What do you think people will do if they see a boy on one of your branches?"), and acted as a mentor figure, filling Jack's skull with knowledge and helping him become who we know him to be
Great, now I want to make a post about that. Just an "OC" of who could have mentored Jack
"What is the point?" Villain hisses, fingers tightening with a subtle threat at Hero's throat, leaving scattered bruises all over their neck in ugly shades of purple and brown.
"Of what?" Hero rasps weakly, playing the fool and gasping for air. They refuse to meet the villain's steel-hard gaze, trying their hardest to pry their fingers off of their neck.
The criminal aims a cruel kick to their ribs with their knee, force just shy away from causing a fracture. The crime-fighter lets out a wince, and the villain sharply tilts their chin up, forcing them to meet their eyes.
"You're going to kill yourself! Running back and forth between the agency and I, like some frenzied animal, trying to reach the unattainable," they snap, the muscles of their face contorting into an expression of pure, unbridled fury.
But behind the reinforced concrete wall of anger, their eyes still hold a look of hurt, a sign of something the villain had tried so hard to bury deep within their being, to obliterate and destroy, shattering it like a flimsy piece of glass.
Yet, the hero was willing to pick up the pieces, to prick their fingers on the thorns in Villain's rose garden, just to hold them close.
Wrenching their nemesis's hand off their throat, they push them away, still trying to be gentle. A damned fool, as always.
"It's not 'unattainable', Villain. I want to be a hero, to save people. And I still want to love you. You don't have the right to tell me how to live my life," they answer softly, gently resting a hand on their shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.
The villain pushes their hand off like it was burning them. "You don't get it, don't you?" they say, tone disbelieving, shaking their head and laughing humourlessly.
"No," the hero says pragmatically, "I don't."
Villain let out an almost animalistic snarl, letting their fist collide with the crime-fighter's nose, drawing blood. "The desire I experience for you, these flames that I cannot put out, licking my heart and burning it blackened is not the one from the sonnets and the romances, Hero. It is the one from tragedies, torn apart and yet so incredibly close together, like a tapestry woven with the twisted threads of a cruel, beautiful fate."
"Then maybe," the hero says sharply, all the softness from their gaze gone, "I would gladly handle the heat of the flames." They pull the criminal close, kissing their jaw, leaving them dazed and at a loss for words, face flushed scarlet.
"But, it's wearing you down," the criminal attests, still breathless.
"Sweetness," Hero says softly, "I need to you to trust that I can do this." They cup the villain's face with their hands lovingly.
With a tenderness they don't think they deserve. . .
But, they nod at the hero fervently, eyes as wide as saucers, not saying a word because it didn't seem like it would make any difference.
They want, more than anything, to believe Hero, to register the kind words, to lose themselves in the feeling of being loved. But the sugar-sweet moments would always have a bitter taste; the villain's past, their fear of desecrating the hero trailing them like their own shadow. But Hero had always told them that their story didn't have to be a tragedy because it was theirs to rewrite.
AU where Lena is questioned by Colonel Haley in regards to her relationship with Supergirl, with Haley certain that Lena is close enough to her by now to know her real name. Or at peast hold some clue that could lead Haley to answers.
Lena doesn't help herself any by deflecting any and all questions ("a clandestine government organization illegally detaining a private citizen without due process, not a good look for you" / "bold of you to assume a Luthor and Super share anything beyond a superficial working relationship"), which only serves to both frustrate Haley and embolden her to taunt Lena with her executive order *from the president* and the fact she has carte blanche to get answers.
Eventually, Haley breaks out the truth seeker. But to her consternation, Lena is able to resist its influence by dissociating and squirreling herself away in one of her famous boxes. It doesn't negate the physical effects of the truth seeker, but does prevent the spilling of any secrets. (Lena doesn't know Kara's secrets, but she knows a bigot when she sees one, and has enough loyalty and affection towards SG that she refuses to give ANYTHING.)
Which means hours later, after Haley withdraws to let Lena suffer alone with the truth seeker still on her arm, Alex hears a whisper of Lena's detainment at the DEO and storms into the interrogation room. She finds Lena sweat soaked and shuddering where she's cuffed to the table, barely conscious.
Haley calmly walks in when Alex demands that Lena be released and the truth seeker removed. The Colonel declines at first, until Alex leverages Lena's celebrity against them ("do you really think the president will stand behind you when people ask why Lena Luthor died in federal custody?").
In the end, Lena is released, and Alex takes her to Kara's to recover. Where Kara comes home (from searching the city for Lena, who missed a lunch date with Kara) and nearly explodes when she finds out what's happened. At this point, Alex has no memory of Kara being an alien, and she thinks Kara doesn't know that she's not an FBI agent. So she confesses everything right then and there, and Kara has to pretend she didn't know.
Kara diligently watches over Lena until Lena wakes briefly, confirming to them that she's on the mend. Only then does Kara leave, spinning into her supersuit and slamming into the DEO, radiating rage. With dozens of weapons pointed at her, she zeroes in on Haley with eyes aglow.
"Lena Luthor is off limits."
Haley scowls. "You're hardly in any position to make demands, Kryptonian."
Supergirl's head tilts, before she disappears in a blur of motion. In a blink, a pile of weapons are at her feet, and a squadron of stunned agents struggle to register how their guns left their hands.
"Think again." Supergirl's hands curl into fists at her sides. "Come near her again, or anyone else I love, and I will grind your entire organization into the ground."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a promise."
Taking a step backwards onto the balcony, Kara holds Haley's gaze for a pointed moment, before launching into the sky faster than the human eye could follow, cracking concrete in her wake.
(This was originally written back in 2018 for a Whumptober event, in answer to the prompt of “Bruised”. It got longer than I intended, and maybe isn’t quite as whumpy as I originally hoped, but there are bruises, and I think there’s some sweet hurt/comfort as well, so hopefully some of you will enjoy. It fits in right at the end of episode 6x08 “I’ll Be Your Mirror”, with some missing moments I truly wish we could have gotten.
[Also on AO3, if that’s your preference - As part of my more whumpy one shot collection: “Bits and Pieces (Why Does it Hurt so Good?)” ]
by : @snowbellewells
By the time Emma, Killian, and Henry returned home from Regina’s vault, more than a little shaken from time spent trapped in the Evil Queen’s mirror and a fraught faceoff with the villainess herself eventually leading to Henry’s moms’ return, they trooped through the entryway and toward the stairs ready to drop. It would seem that none of them even wanted to stop for a bite of supper or a little of Killian and Henry’s favored pastime of relaxing for a bit in front of the “magic box” with buttered popcorn and root beer when they could grab a chance. Instead, all any of them wanted to do was hug each other, thankful they had made it back home together in one piece, and collapse onto their beds to sleep the trippily twisted day’s events away.
Henry did just that as they reached the bottom of the steps up to their second floor, but not before thanking Hook for having his back and helping him get ready for the dance and for his advice on girls and dating - to which the pointed tips of Killian’s ears reddened and Emma arched a curious brow, mentally reminding herself to revisit that bit of information later - and squeezing his mom tightly around her waist, holding on for longer than usual and suffering her affectionate ruffling of his hair and kiss to the crown of his head without his usual complaints. He then plodded upward, telling them he needed to call Violet, she’d be worried about how things turned out, and then he was turning in.
Chuckling, Emma and Killian both agreed, adding that they were right behind him, before toeing off their own boots and glancing around the downstairs of their home, making sure all was in order for the night. With a flick of her wrist, Emma ensured that the doors were locked and turned off the lights, then the two of them started up the stairs together, following their son’s recent path.
It wasn’t until they entered their bedroom, and Emma turned to lean against Killian gently, pressing him into the closed door and herself into his arms, that she noticed something was off with him. Her hands trailed up his biceps to his shoulders, and he let out a tense breath of air that was nothing like the usual chuckle when one or the other of them got a bit handsy, and when her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging slightly to pull his face down to her lips, he couldn’t hide the wince of real pain that escaped, nor the way he flinched slightly at her playful touch.
Immediately on alert, Emma pulled back to study him more closely, brows furrowed and eyes serious as she took in the way Killian was now clearly holding himself gingerly, practically propped against the door, as if once they were home again in their safe space it simply hurt too much to hold himself straight anymore.
“What is it?” she asked, stepping closer so he couldn’t avoid her gaze, but not touching him. “You’re hurt,” she stated without allowing for argument. “Where is it? Let me help.”
Killian sidestepped her, heading for the adjoining bathroom and already trying to make light of whatever still had him moving with tight care, his shoulders held high and tense with whatever was plaguing him. “It’s nothing to worry about, Love. Merely pulled a muscle as I hurried to the vault to reach Henry - and you, thankfully - in time.”
Emma watched him slip through the door, not at all sure what to make of his evasiveness, but knowing well he didn’t like to cause a fuss or trouble others with his own ills. Shaking her head, she started after her pirate determinedly, having none of this suffering in silence routine when her True Love was injured and she could help.
When she stepped into the bathroom however, she was the one who gasped in pained surprise at the sight of her husband’s bare back before her as he leaned wearily against the sink. He had removed the dark shirt he’d been wearing, though the neat fiend that he usually was had not put it away in the hamper but dropped it on the floor haphazardly - that in itself telling Emma he was in pain. The sight of his skin mottled a startling canvas of black and blue was what stole her breath.
“Killian...what?” She crossed the room in seconds to come up behind him, ghosting her hands over his shoulders uncertainly, wishing desperately to offer comfort, but afraid that any contact might hurt him even more. The muscles of his back rippled beneath her fingertips when she finally brushed over the marks as lightly as she could.
His head bowed, even as he sucked in air sharply through his teeth at her ginger touch. As slowly and gently as possible, she ran water in the sink until it was warm enough for steam to rise and she slowly soothed it over the discolored skin, wincing along with him, but hoping the heat would relax the muscles what it could as well as clean anywhere his skin might have been broken.
Eventually, Killian’s tightened muscles seemed to release, and his voice murmured lowly, explaining how he had called and called her, knowing she would not have left town, but that something wasn’t right. He’d then been thrown against the rocks along the shore, lost consciousness, and woken up to find himself battered and bruised, and still lying right where he had landed. He’d found them then, and she knew the rest.
Looking sad and guilty, Emma turned him, though he was almost boneless in her arms with the exhaustion of the day and its fading adrenaline, and cupped his scruffy cheeks in her hands to hold his gaze. “I’m sorry, Killian. So sorry. I hate that you were hurt because of me.”
He shook his head gently, a weak smile quirking his lips. “I’m not, Lass. Not at all. I’d bear anything for you.”
She shook her head right back at him, but bit down on her immediate retort. She didn’t want him doing anything of the sort, but she also knew it was a battle she couldn’t win. Killian would do anything and pay any price for her; he had long ago convinced her of that truth. Taking his hand instead, she led him back over to their bed and helped him to lie down on his stomach before crawling up onto the mattress beside him, leaning over him to painstakingly rub a healing liniment into his tender muscles from neck and shoulders down to waist.
If eventually the massage dissolved into more pleasurable activities, a sigh of satisfaction leaving him as he rolled over to turn the tables and trap her beneath him, well...that was just a happy bonus.
The bruises took a few days to fade from Killian’s skin completely, but they were marks he bore proudly. And after that night together, knowing his pain had mostly faded, Emma couldn’t look at them without an echo of shivering pleasure and a secret smile.
His apartment had been compromised. He winced as Cedar finished bandaging his arm. A fight had broken out only days before when Cedar forced him back to his apartment. His attackers were already waiting for him.
He knew this would happen eventually. There was a reason he didn’t willingly go back, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered was that he was officially homeless. Thanks, Emilio, he sighed and checked his phone. Nothing. Cedar had tried to call Emilio from both his phones. Multiple times. Over the course of the last few weeks.
“He blocked you, CC.” Ash sat back against the cold bricks, pulling his knees close to his chest. “He blocked you a long time ago. God, its freezing.”
“Why do you keep checking your phone then? Don’t you think he blocked you too?” Cedar closed the medkit. All sidekicks were required to carry one around now.
“Its not like we’re unemployed now. And I just think he’s more likely to message me than you.” Cedar rolled his eyes and swatted at Ash’s coat.
“Ouch! That hurt.” Ash didn’t reply. Cedar decided to address the elephant in the alley room. “You know you can stay over at my place, right?” Ash groaned in exhaustion.
“Cedar, you can’t go home either. They know where we all live at this point, and I still don’t know how they found my apartment. I wasn’t even there.” He rested his forehead on his good arm, that sat on his knees. Cedar shrugged and stood up.
“Well, if those creeps really are after us, we’d better not sit in one place and wait for them to find us.” He paused. “Come on. Let’s go do something.” Ash shook his head and gestured to his arm. Cedar let out a guffaw. “You’re being outright lazy at this point. C’mon!” He pulled Ash up with his good arm.
“I need to heal, Cedar! I was stabbed!”
“Bullshit! You’ve never cared about healing! Lets, go, do, something!” He dragged Ash out of the alley and into the open street. “So!” He turned to Ash, who was staring at him in disbelief. “Where to?”
“I can’t believe you sometimes.”
“You’ve spent two weeks with that Emilio and another two in the hospital. I want my share of Ash time, and our official break ends in three days.” Ash’s cheeks flushed.
For the first sentence of a fanfic ask!! For HTTYD:
"It hadn't been the first time they came eye to eye with their fears. But this time, it might have been worse."
Or else:
"Along with the sun rose the strange feeling something was going to happen today, something important."
(I hope it's to your liking😙)
This one marks the lucky last of my sentence prompts 😊. It took me a while to think of something but I hope you like what I came up with, anon. Sorry it took so long.
"It hadn't been the first time they came eye to eye with their fears. But this time, it might have been worse."
It wasn’t necessarily a victory given their retreat, but they were alive, and that was the most important thing.
Viggo had known exactly how to counter their attempt to retrieve the Dragon Eye, by constantly targeting one to distract the other. Using their fears of losing the other as an effective weapon.
Ignoring his own pain, Hiccup turned towards Astrid to give her a quick once over, checking for any injuries. Apart from the odd scratch and a few bruises that were beginning to bloom on her pale skin, she appeared fine.
There was a sick feeling in her gut. A feeling that only increased when she entered the dark hut to see the unconscious form of Hiccup lying there.
Holding her breath, Astrid crept over to the small makeshift crib where he lay. She was relieved to see the rise and fall of his chest, a sign that he was definitely alive. Though, the bruises and cuts to his face and cheekbone suggested that this had not been a pleasant experience.
Anger simmered inside of her at the thought of him being treated that way and while she very much wanted to punish those responsible, she knew that getting him to safety was much more important.
Was this based off of this Lab Rats fanfiction that I can’t stop reading? Yes.
That’s it. That’s the only disclaimer you get. Read that fic it’s so fucking good.
—————
Whumpee sat curled up in the little isolated room.
A mission had gone wrong, leaving whumpee being exposed to a highly dangerous, airborne virus that left them quarantine in a tiny containment room.
The team’s medic had taken several swabs, blood tests, and samples from Whumpee (dressed in a large hazmat that honestly scared Whumpee when they suddenly showed up on the other side of the glass.).
“Don’t worry Whumpee,” leader said through the glass, giving them a hopeful smile, “[Medic] will figure it out. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”
Whumpee smiled back, but they were pretty sure it looked more like a grimace.
“Don’t look so sad Whumpee.” Caretaker grinned through the glass. “You have me to keep you company. We can play I-Spy. I-Spy something white.”
Whumpee looked around the fully white cell room they were stuck in, then back at Caretaker’a annoyingly pretty face. “Fuck off.”
Caretaker gave a dramatic gasp, sulking sadly. “Rude.”
Leader rolled their eyes, with very little heat behind it. “We’ll leave you alone Whumpee. You should try and relax. Come on Caretaker, let’s go see how [Medic] is doing.”
“Oh...” Caretaker frowned, looking at Whumpee before turning to leader and the other two members of their team. “Okay, uh, I guess we’ll see you later then.”
“Right...” they held eye-contact with Caretaker for a moment longer, before they both looked away.
Whumpee looked at the small metal cot hanging off the wall, and sighed.
————
A glance at the clock indicated that only three hours had passed. They were about to lose their fucking mind.
It’s not like they could’ve brought anything in. The team wasn’t sure how the virus worked with contact, and none of them wanted to risk it. Still Whumpee wished they had like a ball or something.
Back to pacing it was.
———
They found it harder to keep pacing. Or even stand, for that matter. The ground continued to sway with every step they took, and it only got worse the longer they were up.
Back on to the cot then.
———
It was hour seven, and Whumpee was *this* close to bashing their head into the wall. And throwing up. And passing out. Honestly, all of it sounded good.
Leader had been down twice to check on them, along with Caretaker, who basically had been dragged back upstairs (despite how much Whumpee wanted them to stay, they didn’t want to bug them, in both senses of the word.)
They found themself lowering and laying on the cool marble ground. When had it gotten so hot in the cell?
They weren’t sure how long they were down there before they heard the tell sign of footsteps getting louder and louder.
Whumpee let out a groan, sweaty skin feeling like it was stuck to the ground, before they mustered up the energy to look up at the person in the room.
Caretaker.
“You look like shit.” Whumpee loved the supporting words coming from their absolutely wonderful friend.
“Yeah, I’ve got a virus. What’s your excuse?” They slurred out, pushing themself to a sitting position. “Where’s [leader]?”
Caretaker gave a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of their neck. “See, I’m not really supposed to be down here, you know? Something about me being reckless and a bit immature, I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening.”
Whumpee sighed and rolled their eyes. This action was a mistake, as they briefly felt the world shift, and disorientation took over for a few seconds.
“Woah, you good?” Caretaker asked, voice laced with concern. 
Whumpee made a mental note to have Leader change the room lighting, because the stark white was not helping in the slightest.
They squeezed their eyes shut, trying to quell the rising nausea, when they heard the door creak open.
In came Caretaker, shuffling towards Whumpee in both a playful, and a guilty little dance-walk.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Whumpee growled, as Caretaker closed the door being themself.
“Keeping you company.”
“It’s a lethal virus.” Even talking made them feel sick.
Caretaker only got closer.
“I swear to god I’ll call [Leader].” By this point, Caretaker was hovering right above them, already crouching down.
“What’re they gonna do? I’m already in here.” Whumpee didn’t have the energy to argue with that, or with the fact that Caretaker was already pulling them into their lap, leaning against the wall to let Whumpee lean on their chest.
“I hate you. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“I’m not the person who looks like they’ve got one foot in a pine box, you know.”
Whumpee shifted their head to look at the bottom of Caretaker’s. “I’m serious. You shouldn’t have done that. What if it can’t be reversed?”
“Then what kind of friend would I be if I let you die alone? Especially a miserable death like this.” Caretaker craned their neck slightly to look into Whumpee’s eyes. “Besides, [Medic] is pretty damn close to getting the cure, it’ll be fine.”
Whumpee raised a clammy hand to cup Caretaker’s face. It was warm, but different then the aggravating heat that their body couldn’t stop producing. “It was still stupid.”
“I’ll live.” They grimaced at the choice of words. “We’ll both live.”
“And if I wasn’t?”
Caretaker frowned. “You are.”
“Pretend, for a moment, that I wasn’t going to survive this. What would you do?” Whumpee noted as they looked away, clearly not wanting to think about it.
They pressed their lips together in a thin line. “I... I don’t know. It’s not a reality I can imagine being in? A world without you is not a world I want to live in.
Whumpee chapped lips upturned slightly, but before they could respond, Caretaker went on.
“Though, if this was like, your last hour alive, I would probably kiss you senseless right now.”
...
Oh.
Oh.
Caretaker scratched their neck, face turning alarmingly flushed. “Sorry that was random, I know, I just- like, if I was being honest that’s probably what I’d-“
They stopped at Whumpee’s hand traveling to their neck, pulling them to look at them again. “Shut up and kiss me then.”
It was clear that whatever reaction Caretaker was expecting, it definetly wasn’t that. “What?”
“If that’s what you’d do, then kiss me.”
“You aren’t dying-“
“We’re still falling under the pretense that I am.”
“Are you sure this isn’t the virus talking.?”
“I’m pretty fucking sure.”
“Wait okay, do you like, like me?”
“There would be no other reason I would ever initiate any sort of mouth-to-mouth contact with you Caretaker.”
“Are you sure, cause-“ Whumpee used their last litte bit of stored strength to pull them into a kiss, letting Caretaker hold them up.
They pulled apart after a brief moment, Caretaker grinning slightly. If they didn’t have the virus then, they sure did now.
Whumpee felt like throwing up. Partially for the virus, but also with the mental backflips they were doing because, well.
They kissed Caretaker.
And they did it again.
“We leave you alone for 15 minutes Caretaker,” they both jumped apart (well, Caretaker did, Whumpee just tensed up, as they weren’t strong enough to do much else.) at the sound of Leader’s voice through the glass.
“Hey [Leader],” Caretaker grinned, “how are you? Uh... get the cure?”
“Dumbass,” Whumpee whispered, loud enough for only Caretaker to hear.
“So, wanna explain what you’re doing in there Caretaker?” Leader asked, voice dripping with what could be absolute amusement, or the complete opposite.
Caretaker shrugged. “I was uh... keeping Whumpee company. You know, making sure they didn’t like, get too bored and all.”
“Oh you’re definetly keeping sicky company alright,” Teammate one snarked.
“Watch it [Teammate], I could still kick your ass,” Whumpee slurred, laying their head against Caretaker’s chest.
“I think we need to review over quarantine expectations once again Caretaker,” Leader sighed.
Caretaker groaned. “Not the PowerPoint.”
“Yep, your favourite.”
Just then, Medic came down, holding a small capsule and needle in hand. “Alright Whumpee, ready to-“ They stopped, looking at two of them curled up together in the small room. Medic threw down their arms exasperatedly. “I guess I’ll go get another syringe.”
