#he disguised himself as Ran more than 1 time

[lovenaiu]

A list of all the women I could find that Kaito disguised himself as

“It's just so much more cute this way”

Mizuki Seto / Princess Anne

(537 and 538) / Chapter 2 (Magic Kaito) Episode 3 (Especial Kaito Kid)

(Original) / (Simply Kaito wearing two pigtails but still being mistaken for a girl without makeup)

Chapter 9 (Magic Kaito) / Chapter 7 (Magic Kaito)

Masumi Sera / Aoko Nakamori

Episode 724-725 / Episode 9 and 10 (Magic Kaito 1412)

Ran Mouri / Ai Haibara

Detective Conan Episode 76 / Episode 704

Sonoko Suzuki / Kazuha Toyama

Episode 746-747 / Episode 983-984

(Rachel)

Movie 23

Extra (Sonoko and the pianist are apparently from a especial volume of the manga I don't know which ones)

[fortheloveofkonig]

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request Ghost x Male reader: reader is having trouble sleeping due to maybe PTSD so he starts over working around base and working more but forgetting to take care of themself. Reader pass out from exhaustion?

Summary: Your nightmares have been plaguing you again recently and in an attempt to make them stop, you busy yourself with other work rather than rest. Ghost seems to take a notice to this.

Note: I honestly had to stare at this a few times because I know I can do this because...well, relatable but it's scary to write for the first time in a new fandom. Thanks for requesting though! I hope you enjoy it ^^

Content: Mentions of nightmares, implied PTSD, not proofread, this is so short? I'm so sorry! Fluff!?

Word Count: 836

Ghost x Sleepless M!Reader

Nightmares are not unheard of for you. They've happened for a long time at this point and each time they show up again, they never get easier to deal with. How were you supposed to deal with them? It's not like with any of the mechanisms you use to rid of them ever help you, as shown by tonight's restless night of moving around because of an overwhelming background fear of the moment you close your eyes for too long.

After a while of your tossing and turning, you sat up with a huff and ran your hand over your face. Another sleepless night, so you figured you may as well just get up and do something. You made your way to the armory to clean up some of the weapons.

It started as small errands like that until you decided to take on extra paperwork as well as looking over training. It took a few days for anyone to notice that your duties seemed to have multiplied as well as the bags under your eyes.

Ghost was the first to notice. He's dealt with many of sleepless nights himself so recognizing someone else who seemed to be avoiding every possibility at a chance to catch some shut-eye was not very hard to do. He didn't know if he should say something, it wasn't really his place to speak up about your sleeping habits but he also had a deep care for you.

It wasn't until you were the one that approached him that he was pushed to say something.

"Hey LT.!" Your voice was upbeat, too upbeat, as if you were trying to feign that you were well rested and energized.

Ghost lifts his head up from the papers he was reading, only responding with a soft hum as acknowledgement. He figured he knew where you were about to take this.

"I know that you are usually looking over the training and I was wondering-"

"No." He cuts you off.

"What?" You stood back in shock and cross your arms, "What do you mean 'No.'? You didn't even hear what I was going to say."

He lets out a sigh, "I know what you were going to say and I said no. You need to stop taking on everyone's work load."

A huff comes from your mouth as you start to retort but Ghost puts up his hand, which halts any words from coming out of your mouth.

"Rest is what you need to do."

You let out another annoyed huff and turn to leave the room, "but why would he ever listen to me" is the last thing you heard him say as you left for the gym.

You actually spent a good bit of time doing your routine. Stretching, jumping jacks, weights, sit-ups, pull-ups, all of that jazz. Now it was time for the beloved push-ups.

1...

2...

3...

It took an hour for someone to find you but Ghost was the one who walked into the gym to find you snoozing on the floor in his usual spot, to which he just lets out an annoyed sigh but had a disguised smug smirk underneath his mask.

"I told ya, should've went and slept." He says while making his way over towards you.

He assesses the situation figuring that it would probably just be best to pick you up and take you to your bed, rather than waking you up with the chance of you fighting rest again. He bends to pick you up and once you are in his arms, you mumble something indeterminable and grab what you can of his shirt into your hand to which he lets out a soft silent chuckle, but his chest moves silent so that's what sleep deprived you believed it was.

It took only a moment for Ghost to arrive at your bed and he started to softly put you on the bed. Much to his dismay, you didn't let go of him. In fact, your grip just got tighter.

When he reached his arm up to remove your hand, now basically fully bent over the bed just so he doesn't wake you by ripping your hand away, you opened your mouth to quietly mutter, "Stay.."

It took a moment for him to process what you just said but when he realized that your grip was not getting looser anytime soon, he let in and pushed you over some.

"Fine, but only until you are asleep and you can't let anyone know I gave in this easily." He mumbled under his breath and stiffly got onto the bed next to you.

You hummed in acknowledgment before scooting closer to him and laying your head on his chest. After a little while he seemed to lose the tense feeling in his body and relaxed as he watched you fall asleep on him. He didn't see himself being able to move anytime before you woke up from this slumber so he just got himself comfortable.

"Goodnight sleepyhead."

[heartofthedragons]

Secrets Untold Pt. 1

Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: For the first time, Aegon knows what it is for someone to love him for who he is. Except, it’s not him who is loved.

Chapter Summary: Aegon has run away from the red keep to avoid his duties, if just for a night. But fate has him run into a kind stranger.

Warning(s): Mild Cursing, Mentions of Sex Work, Sexual Situations, Sexual Innuendos.

Word Count: 1824 words

Usually, when Aegon frequented the streets of King’s Landing, he didn’t keep his identity much of a secret. A simple cloak to disguise his figure as he made his escape was enough.

He quite enjoyed the attention his royal attributes brought. Women on the streets of silk throwing themselves at him for a chance at bedding the Prince, or at least his coin purse.

The shining silver Targaryen hair was the perfect cover. No one dared deny him and no one dared harm him. It was a perfect shield and perfect sign of his superiority. So he proudly displayed it. But not this time.

His mother had decided that his marriage to Helaena should occur soon. “A sign of true Targaryen lineage and legitimacy,” she had told him. The thought sickened him. Doomed to a marriage to his sister. Caged in by yet another duty, a duty he couldn’t bare to consider.

He wanted his freedom. A chance to bed any pretty woman he saw without being admonished for disrespecting his wife and the sanctity of his marriage vows. And thus, he ran. Though this time he took measures to disguise himself better in order to avoid being caught.

Aegon roamed the streets dressed in peasants clothing he had acquired in years past, a cloak to shield him from prying eyes, and now a fabric cap to cover his hair.

It felt odd to be at a tavern and not be noticed or recognized. He sat quietly as he drank away his sorrows. His mother would send guards to search for him soon, and he had no idea what he would do. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t know what his plan was even now, fully disguised. Perhaps he just wanted a night away from his life and his duties and expectations. A chance to not be Prince Aegon II Targaryen.

He downed cup after cup of wine and mead, trying desperately to get rid of the pit in his stomach. And before long he was completely drunk, head heavy as he began to finally relax and lose his sense of reality.

That’s when he saw them outside of the door. Guards from the castle, no doubt searching for the missing prince. They walked past the tavern heading in the direction of one of Aegon’s preferred pleasure houses.

His anxiety spiked though his wits were no longer about him. He dropped the coin on the table before throwing his hood over his head and bolting out the door in the opposite direction of the guards.

He ran as fast as his feet could carry him. Stumbling and losing his balance all the while. He didn’t want to be caught. Not yet. Not now. Just a few more hours to be free, please.

He soon realizes that the search party is much larger than he had first thought as he runs to the other end of the street and finds a second group of guards. His drunken and cloaked figure is noticed and in an instant he knows that he’s caught, so he turns and runs down a side street. Hoping to the gods that they’ll have mercy on him. Send him a lifeline so he won’t be caught.

His prayers must be answered because he runs into you. You’re knocked down to the ground by his force and groan out in pain as you cast him a dirty look.

“Watch where you’re going, drunk,” you mutter as you lift yourself off the ground. Even in his drunken stupor, he can tell you’re a beautiful young woman. He’s unsure why you would be out on the streets this late, but he doesn’t care to find out as he sees the guards round the corner.

He grabs your shoulders shaking you firmly. He looks at you with pleading eyes and begs, “Please don’t let them take me. Please.”

Your eyes are wide as you see the armed guards approaching and the terrified look in his eyes that are prickling with tears. You are struck with pity. Perhaps your heart is soft, but as you gaze upon the terrified (and quite handsome) man before you, you resolve to try to help him. You nod, and he breathes out a sigh of relief before hiding behind you as a child would.

As the guards approach you, your breathing becomes heavy. The intimidating men block your way as you look upon them in fear before steeling yourself.

“Pardon us, miss,” the guard says kindly much to your shock, “if you would please move aside. We’d like to see if the man behind you matches whom we are looking for.”

You look behind yourself, and point to the stranger. “Him?” you say with a laugh. “This,” you continue as you grab Aegon by the arm roughly, “is my drunken, whoring husband Harald.”

The guard looks at you incredulously as you go on turning to the young man beside you. “What have I told you about your late nights drinking?” you exclaim in bitter resentment, “You leave me alone to tend for our child whilst you spend away all of our coin on mead and whores. You disgrace of a man.” You turn back to face the guards and point at them, “Perhaps I should let the guards take you. Teach you a lesson of respect and how to be a proper man. Yes, by all means men. Take him. I am at my wits end with him.”

Aegon is shocked by the scene you make, as are the guards who are uncomfortable by your ranting outbursts of your cheating “husband”.

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am. We assumed he was someone else.” There’s a soft breath of relief from Aegon who still hides behind you. “Why did he run though?” another guard pipes up. They all gaze upon him intently Aegon is too drunk to think of something smart gaping at them like a fish as he’s sure you’ve both been found as liars.

“He’s indebted to certain people. His excessive spending on his…hobbies have put a price on his head to some. I’m sure he thought you were there to collect him,” you say confidently, and Aegon nods fervently. Gods when will this be over he thinks to himself.

“Now if that is all you require, please allow me to collect my husband and leave. We have a young daughter at home waiting for her father to return.” The guards nod at you as they turn to leave.

You grab Aegon quickly by the arm and pull him away from the guards before they can second guess their decision to let you both go. He’s stumbling as he follows behind you. Alcohol still clouding his mind and movements.

He takes a moment to look upon you. Face illuminated by the moonlight and the torches on some of the walls. You’re rather beautiful to him. The alcohol in his system makes him think you may be the prettiest woman he’s laid eyes on.

“You’re pretty,” he says drunkenly as he stumbles closer to you leaning his weight on you. You falter as you try to support him and continue guiding him down the streets. “Thank you,” you say curtly.

“Where are you taking me? I have no coin to pay you if you wish to bed me,” he says with a drunk smile and slurred speech. You look at him with offense as you push him off you, “I’m not a whore. I’m taking you to my home. You’re far too drunk to be left on the streets by yourself or to avoid being arrested.” Aegon pouts and for a moment you find the drunken stranger before you to be endearing though perhaps quite foolish.

You lead him through a few more winding streets before arriving at your door. You open it in a huff as you guide the young man into your home. He looks around confusedly. “Where’s the babe?” He asks. You can’t help yourself from laughing, and Aegon thinks it sounds lovely coming from you, the pretty stranger girl who saved him. “There’s no babe. I lied. It’s just me here,” you say.

You lead him to the bed so he can sit while you prepare him something small to eat and drink. Aegon sways as he sits, observing you quietly. In the soft candlelight of your small room you look quite heavenly. You approach him with a small smile as you hand him a piece of bread and a cup of water. “For the aches tomorrow,” you nod.

He watches you in confusion as you kneel before him. He’s seen many ladies like this, but you said you weren’t a whore? But then he watches as you lift his foot and begin to take off his leather boot. You’re so careful with him and treating him kindly though you’re not obligated to. You’re not a servant, and you don’t know he’s the prince. Why treat him so kindly?

You move to remove the other boot when he breaks the silence, “What’s your name?” You smile as you take the boot off completely, “Y/N.”He repeats it. Liking how it sounds.

“And what’s your name?” You ask, as you stand to put the boots away. “You said my name is Harald,” he says with a big smile.

“Is it?”

“No”

“Then what is it,” you laugh.

He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks, and you wonder what he could have drunk to not even remember his own name. “Jacke,” he finally says, “My name…is Jacke.”

You smile at him as you approach him, “Well Jacke. It’s rather late so perhaps we should get you undressed so you can sleep away your drunken state.”

He nods as you go to remove his cloak before hanging it. Then you go to reach for his hat, the one thing keeping his real identity secret. “No!” He exclaims, “Don’t touch my hat!” He raises his arms to shield you from reaching it and you look at him in total confusion before sighing.

“Alright. We won’t touch your hat.” You move to the top of the bed and open the thin blanket for him to get under. He happily settles on the bed his exhaustion already getting the best of him. You move the blanket to cover him gently, and once again Aegon is struck with how gentle and tender you are to him for no reason at all.

You move to turn away from him and leave him to sleep but he grabs your wrist gently. “Thank you,” he says softly. He can’t remember the last time someone treated him so kindly and genuinely. “You’re welcome,” you say with a smile as you move away, “Goodnight, Jacke.”

He rolls to his stomach as he settles to fall asleep. “Goodnight,” he murmurs. And for a brief moment before he slips off, he thinks to himself, If only I really were just Jacke.

[lightsoutletsgo]

P L A Y L I S T (cl16 x singer!reader series) vol.1 - melbourne

warnings: none word count: 1k and we're off! I really hope you enjoy this first proper chapter of the series! please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist or if you have any feedback. happy reading! mimi series masterlist

Melbourne 

The weeks leading up to preparing for the group's world tour had passed in a blur of costume fittings, dance rehearsals, vocal sessions, grabbing sleep where possible and deciding on lighting and vcr decisions. Before they knew it, their plane was touching down in Australia ready for the first stop of the tour in Melbourne. As she lay in your hotel room dozing, a voice nudged her from her sleepy state, “We have some free time tonight, don’t we?” She turned to look at Nina from the far-too comfortable-and-far-too-big hotel bed and lazily blinked one eye open to look at her, nodding sleepily, “I think I’m going to go for a walk, maybe get some coffee?” Nina yawned widely and got comfy in her own bed, “I’m staying right here” Y/N giggled before stretching, moaning at the satisfying pop you felt in your back. Moving to where her suitcase already led opened with its contents strewn everywhere. She quickly grabbed a comfortable outfit that would also allow her to remain relatively disguised. Quickly changing and grabbing her headphones she headed to the door,

“I won’t be out long!” Nina’s response was no more than a half asleep grunt and slight wave of her hand. Giggling as she left the room, she made sure to close the door quietly before popping your headphones on and heading for the elevator. 

Y/N pulled the hood of her hoodie up and over her head as she slid her sunglasses down to rest over her eyes. As much as she loved meeting fans, she also wanted some time to herself too. 

The streets of Melbourne were busy as she ambled along, occasionally looking in shop windows at sweet pastries or cute outfits. Spotting a sign for a small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, Y/N pushed open the door, inhaling the scent of freshly ground coffee, cinnamon and a hint of sugar. Gazing around at the display cases with dainty cake slices and chunky cookies, it wasn’t difficult to work out where the delicious smells were coming from. With jet lag tugging at her mind once more, coffee filled her thoughts. Turning to the counter to order, she nodded to herself, surely that would help keep the tiredness at bay for just a little longer. 

With fresh coffee in hand, she stepped out the door and back into the bright sunshine. Nodding along to the band's new song playing through her headphones, she weren’t completely aware of her surroundings, too focused on running through the choreography in her head and counting the beats. Her thoughts were interrupted and she gasped loudly as she felt your hoodie suddenly turn damp and her shoulder turn sore from bumping into something- make that someone... Eyes shooting up from her phone, she gasped as you made eye contact with a guy, a cute guy. “I’m so sorry!” She was jolted back to reality suddenly as she realised her coffee had not only spilt down her hoodie but his shirt too. “It’s okay.” His annoyed tone contradicted his statement as he muttered to himself but she was caught off guard by his accent to notice too much. Was he speaking French? And where did those damn sunglasses go? Fortunately the hood was still covering most of her face and- oh my god his shirt. Y/N's thoughts ran a million miles an hour as she rushed forward and attempted to wipe the coffee from his shirt, the curse he let out confirming her thoughts that he was indeed fluent in French, “Ah! Mon dieu! Please don’t touch me.” She squeaked in horror as she realised she’d been feeling this man’s (very attractive and well built) body in the middle of the street, “Oh my god no!! I’m so sorry, I just thought that-” He scoffed, “You figured you’d follow me and bump into me for my attention?” “What? No? I-” “You followed me into the coffee shop and now you’ve followed me out here… What are you? A crazy fan?” Her mouth gaped like a goldfish and she let out her own sarcastic huff of laughter, the irony of this situation was all too funny. And who was this guy? Why was he worried about crazy fans? If anyone needed to be worried it was her... Right? “Oh please! Why would I follow you? It was a genuine accident, I didn't realise you were the only person allowed in that coffee shop." She glared at him before realising that this confrontation with the man was drawing a few onlookers. This was risky. Too risky. Quickly pulling out some crumpled Australian bills she had in her pocket, she pushed them into his hand, bending down to grab her sunglasses before putting them on once more, "Here, buy a new shirt or pay for it to be dry-cleaned... I'm really sorry." She winced at how cold she sounded, knowing this made her look like an ass in that moment, before turning and walking back in the direction of the hotel. Y/N didn't want to stay out any longer, too worried about paparazzi rather than making a good impression on a guy she'd never see again. She heard him behind her still muttering in French. If he wasn't so angry, she might have stared at him a little more... he was just her type.

------------------------- Charles stared after the unknown person with a confused expression, what had just happened? A call of his name from behind him drew his attention and he turned round to see his teammate staring at him, an eyebrow raised as if he was waiting for an explanation. “What happened to you?” Carlos’ head nodded towards the giant coffee stain on the front of Charles white t-shirt. “Just a crazy fan who wanted attention a little too much…” “Huh?! Are you okay?” Carlos crossed his arms as he took in the young Monegasque who seemed slightly shaken in front of him, “Wanna talk about it?” Charles shook his head, a non-verbal way of telling his teammate not to ask before he shoved the crumpled bills into his pocket, beginning to follow Carlos back to the team’s hotel and making a mental note to tell the team he wanted to up his security when he left the hotel.

---------

taglist: @ferraribabe @reidsworld @zendayabelova @mishaandthebrits let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of cheating

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 13

Matt joined me two weeks later. Little was said on the night of his return. We exchanged forced smiles. Luckily, there were a lot of familiar faces around and this helped disguise the awkwardness of the moment.

After everyone left, Matt and I finally had to face each other. He walked up to me, took my face in his hands, looked into my eyes, and said, “It’s over, y/nn. I swear to you. It’s over.”

I didn’t speak. I just listened carefully as he continued. “I guess I got caught up in a situation that was out of hand from the beginning. She and I come from two different worlds. I don’t like being exploited. I can’t live like that. Don’t get me wrong. She’s a nice girl, but not for me.”

I didn’t want to hear any more. I looked up at him, half-listening to what he was saying and at the same time asking myself how I could go on, knowing that the future would bring only more temptations for him. Love was much more complicated than I had ever imagined.

The silence between the two of us continued until Matt had had enough and said, “Let’s forget it. Forgive me, please.” Then, with that little-boy look that always seemed to capture my heart, he said, using Flip Wilson’s favorite Geraldine line, “I guess the devil made me do it!”

I agreed.

I would be a little more skeptical now.

And there was still one more matter to take care of. I walked into his bathroom, went through his makeup kit, and pulled out a telegram I knew he’d received earlier. It simply read, i just don’t understand—scoobie. It was from Julia Ernst. I knew it. Scoobie was a name she had given herself, he confessed later. That line was also the title of the first hit record she’d recorded in the early sixties. Obviously, Matt had totally disassociated himself from her, cutting off their ties.

“It bothers me knowing it’s there,” I said. I simply tore it to shreds and with total gratification flushed it down the toilet.

“Not too much goes by you, does it, Little One? For such a little girl, you’re a typical woman.” He was laughing. “I guess I’ve got to keep on my toes.”

I returned his smile but thought: No, I’m the one who has to keep on her toes. After the ordeal with Julia Ernst, I still suspected that there were other women.

Occasionally I’d read or hear about Matt romancing his latest leading lady. I’d see press-released pictures of them riding down Sunset Boulevard on his new motorcycle or hear about a new car he’d bought for a young starlet just before they’d started shooting a picture. There was always room for doubt. It was difficult to differentiate between gossip and fact, and I’d get crazed with worry.

Before I started traveling with Matt on a permanent basis, I discovered notes and cards tucked away on a shelf in his closet, notes that read, “I had a wonderful time, Honey, thanks for the evening.” Or, “When are we going to get together again? It’s been two days, and I miss you.” When I voiced my suspicions, he denied everything and accused me of “imagining things.” He told me I was ridiculous for believing the gossip columnists. Yet I couldn’t help remembering that he’d told me the same thing when I’d asked him about Julia Ernst.

If I really challenged him, I always ran the risk of his threatening to send me home to my parents. He knew this tactic always worked. The first time it happened, he was filming Spinout and we were talking about his costar, Shelley Fabares. I suggested going to the set and meeting her.

“It’d be a good idea if you didn’t,” he said.

“Why not? I’m not doing anything. I could come and have lunch with you.”

I’d obviously said the wrong thing. He shot me a menacing look and said quietly, “That’s it, woman! I don’t want to hear another word.”

It was foolish of me, but I didn’t ignored his warning. “Well,” I persisted, “is there something you’re hiding that you don’t want me to see?” He flew into a rage.

“I don’t have a goddamn thing to hide. You’re getting a little too aggressive and demanding. It might be a good idea if you visited your parents for a while.”

Shocked, I yelled, “Well I’m not going!”

“I think you should. In fact, I’ll help you.” He walked over to my closet and proceeded to throw every piece of clothing I had on the floor, hangers included, along with my suitcase on top of the clothes.

“All right, woman. Start packing!”

I couldn’t believe this overreaction. It was one of four things: He was innocent, or I had made him feel guilty, or he was guilty, and I’d made him feel even more so, or it was simply his ongoing disgust with the inane plot of the film and he’d chosen me as a target for his anger.

Sobbing, I started to pack as he turned and strode out of the room. Moments later I heard him yelling for Nate to make a reservation. “Get her on the next flight out. She’s going back to her parents.” There was a finality in his voice that I had never heard before. Hysterical, I began folding my clothes as he continued yelling in the other room. I packed slowly, stunned by the blowup.

When he came back into the room, I felt humiliated. I continued folding clothes, sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re too goddamn demanding,” he said, staring at me in silence. “Hurry up. It’s time to go.”

I got up slowly and started toward the door. Just as I reached it, I felt his hand on my shoulder, turning me around, and then, miraculously, I was in his arms, and he was holding me tight.

“Now do you understand?” As he spoke, I was sobbing against his shoulder. “Do you see that you need this? You need someone to take you right to this point and put you in your place.”

I was relieved and happy to be back in his arms. Anything he’d have said would’ve made sense to me in that moment. What I didn’t realize until later was that this was Matt’s technique of keeping me under control.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sorry for the short chapter i just needed to get one out!! ill double post tonight🎀

[hahasuchagarbage]

Do you have any liquiroot HCs you would like to share? 👀👉👈

OH BOY DO I

headcanon №1: Movie nights.

Image that Bushroot has huge collection of cassettes with all sorts of classic films that he likes to watch with Spike and other plants on his free time (which he doesn't get that often with the whole criming stuff and constant responsibility for taking care of his plant companions). Since most of the greenhouse inhabitants spend all their lifes inside their cultivated habitation and aren't able to see the world beyond its walls, Bushroot tries to compensate it by showing them all sorts of movies, series, documentaries etc. He even has a little area with TV, video player and cabinets with shelves full of the said cassettes to keep them all entertainment.

A special love of such ways of time spending remained with him from the time of his “former life.” When he felt especially lonely, he loved to watch various films, be it comedies, dramas or romantic films (last ones still having a special place in his heart), didn't matter as long as it helped him take his mind off things.

Ussually this whole thing is like a "family movie night", but Bushroot sometimes makes exepcions and let's them watch anything they want when he has "guests" (like members of fearsome five), cause the plant life of greenhouse can get TOO exited when outsiders visit, which can lead to them distracting everybody with their "curiosity". And so it's a deal of free TV time and at least an hour of behaving.

One time however when Bud was around to discuss their next heist, the plants started to argue about what they shall watch and it led to a stir. It got a bit too loud and Bushroot had to deal with it himself. That's when Liquidator got curious and snuck in to see what the whole fuss was about.

Long story short, Liquidator got interested in a couple of films that he had noticed, and overall surprised that Bushroot was interested in something other than gardening and unsuccessful attempts to improve his love life, so he asked him abour it and the dialog just began by itself. It was quite awkward at first, since those two weren't close at all at the time and almost never talked about anything other that crime planning. But they quickly warmed up to the new "unusual" atmosphere of it all and from then on more and more often raised other topics of conversations/discussions: films, music, business, even fashion. This was something offbeat, but quite pleasant, a change in their “working relationship”, which soon turned into a friendly, closer one. In a world where you don't have many people you can trust, having someone like each other was a breath of fresh air for both of them, no wonder they became close quickly.

During one of their heart-to-heart conversation, Liquidator noticed that Reggie was "spending too much time in the greenhouse recently" and was definitely in the need of some fresh air. They went for a walk late at night in their disguises, but were still recognized by a couple of police officers. They ran into the first building they came across, which turned out to be movie theater, where they decided to wait until the policemen left, but quickly got distracted by watching a random film that was showen on screen at the time they got inside and began to comment it while watching (mostly about how awful it was (was movie actually bad or it was just a lack of context understanding, since they started watching it from the middle? Doesn't matter, they had FUN shittalking it!)).

It definitely left a pleasant impression, that led to a new “tradition” between them randomly going into movie theaters on their free time (mostly late at night to reduce the chances of being recognized), (they sometimes invite other fearsome five members with them, but it's mostly just the two of them enjoying their best life and having hella fun together).

headcanon №2: The first one of them who made a major impact in their newly established relationship and Bud himself was Bushroot.

In one of their many conversations Bud briefly mentioned the company of other salesman who greatly annoyed our water villain, as he represented serious competition in the market. But Liquidator did not have a worthy plan in mind at that time to eliminate him, which would not draw attention to him as the most obvious suspect who would benefit from such an outcome. That's why Bushroot took it upon himself to create a solution, since it was getting closer to the date of Bud's b day and would make quiet a nice gift.

So, a few experiments + some successful mutation achievements + supply shipment manipulations and boom! By the time it's Liquidator's big day the news are loudly announcing the collapse of that said salesman company, whose bottles of water began to bloom with mutated eichhornia crassipes right on store shelves, attacking customers and creating CHAOS throughout the city.

Would be a lie to say Liquidator wasn't pretty damn impressed and happy. That day they spent together, gloating, celebrating and overall just having fun while people's careers collapsed.

Bushroot showed many signs of responsible and reverent attitude towards the desires and interests of his partner when it came to presents or gifts before (wasn't easy, but he worked hard on himself in order to correct the mistakes of his past “romances”), but that day was the day Bud's vision of their relationship "changed".

Mostly because before Reginald Bud obviously had other romantic relationshis, but the dynamic he had with his exes is something completely different from the one he has now, in a way he actually wants to do something for his man genuinely.

When he did something for others he did it "automatically", thanks to his observation skills and intelligence he was always able to understand what people around him wanted to see/hear/receive, what they needed and what actions he should make to win them over and make the desired impression on them. No real feelings stood behind it in the time.

But now? When it comes to Bushroot, who showed him so much attention, understanding, love and support; when Liquidator sees that Reggie does all this just to make Bud happy?

Now he has more sincere motives and doesn't want any of his previous dispassionate attitude towards partners affect the one he really cares about.

The whole thing is too different in a good way, too dear to him to lose and so he tries his very best to put as much love and affection to any aspect of it as possible.

headcanon №3: Bushroot is aware of all Bud's hideouts, so if you want to find Liquidator it'll be easier and faster to find his bf first (quit small one compare to the previous two lol);

headcanon №4: 90's Bushroot loves being carried by his Luquidator because of tactility, reboot Bushroot loves being carried by his Luquidator because of touch-starvation.

90's one doesn't have that problem, since he is always surrounded by his plant-buddies, spike and members of fearsome four (even Dr. Fossil I'm sure won't be agains a hug or two from bis bestie). But reboot Reginald looked so lonely in "Let's Get Dangerous" episode, they didn't gave him any plant minions or Spike, not to mention the whole mood of the ff team that was a bit awkward (?), there was no real feeling that these idiots had been working together for years. They barely interacted with one another! (I mean, come one, Megavolt and Quackerjack are the killer duo of the original series and yet didn't get ANY interaction, they say nothing to each other and that alone shows much T -T).

So yeah, with such "formal" relationship with his team mates and the lack of friends in general (+ his appearance that definitely scares most people away) I imagine he feels kinda f-cked up.

If he and Liquidator start dating at some point he would crave even the smallest physical intimacy he can get. Is it good? Is it bad? Can't tell, who knows what plans my brain has for reboot Liquiroot.

(speaking of appearance and "loves being carried", reboot Bushroot does have a not so healthy look + the way he now needs a "support" tail like vines structure to hold his lower body, I think it's fair to assume it's hard for him to move around in general. So our man will need someone to carry him around after the exhausting fights, bride style, no real effort needed - be real, dude looks thinner than a toothpick).

[ratsetflummi]

Okay, now the FUNNIEST Legend of Drizzt moments. *gets popcorn*

uhhh, how much time do you have?

i need to put this under a read more, because i ended up finding one scene per book on average

told you that this series is actually a comedy

1) that time when drizzt thought that three lighting bolts aimed directly at his face were just a friendly sparring session, and then immediately got distracted and forgot all about that attempted assassination because he saw a cat

2) drizzt and zaknafein both going "oh no, he is lost to the evil ways of our people, i would do the world a service by killing him" at each other, but not doing anything about it

3) the first thing we ever learn about jarlaxle being that he has special gay pride merch that is enchanted so you can still see that it's supposed to be a rainbow even in complete darkness

4) that one human wizard drizzt ran into in the middle of the underdark. just. that wizard's entire existence. why does he have a german accent. why does he keep shooting lightning bolts out of his tower when they keep being reflected back at him. rip brister fendlestick, you were only in that one scene, but i miss you every day

5) the mindflayers going "fwoop!" when they shoot a blast of brain melting energy at you

6) drizzt: who are you? you are not my father! zombie!zaknafein: no, i am your… mother!

7) drizzt learning what a skunk is

8) that one wizard that entreri was travelling with in streams of silver messing up her knock spell and dropping entreri's belt instead, and entreri going against what you would expect from his archetype in that kind of story (which would be getting angry and possibly violent) and just sarcastically going "oh wow, great job" and calmly picking his belt up again

9) drizzt casually revealing that he can juggle, suggesting that either he juggles as a hobby (unlikely) or implying some interesting things about drow weapon training

10) entreri choosing to put sewer water in his mouth just to gain little tactical advantage (and then still losing the fight anyway)

11) entreri showing up disguised as regis, dropping his own name in conversations weirdly often under the assumption that the companions are way more worried about him than they actually are, and the companions being completely oblivious about regis acting way differently than normal

12) entreri's insistence that he and drizzt are great rivals, while drizzt can barely be bothered to remember that entreri exists

13) drizzt training a seal to retrieve guenhwyvar's figurine from the bottom of the ocean

14) the heart-shaped drizzt-seeking locket. the fact that that exists, as well as the fact that entreri had that back in the peak rivalry days

15) entreri casually introducing himself as mister do'urden for absolutely no good reason (i genuinely still don't know why he did that)

16) jarlaxle: kimmuriel, you are the leader of the bregan d'aerthe now, i'm going on a road trip with entreri kimmuriel: i'm what?! entreri: you're doing what?!

17) entreri going to the effort of painting jarlaxle's silhouette on the wall to throw knives at the crotch

18)

19)

20) jarlaxle being peak peacock in promise of the witch-king

21) jarlaxle throwing pies at a random couple in a bakery because he mistook them for assassins

22) the reveal that jarlaxle and kimmuriel were just casually watching entreri fuck his girlfriend

23) the several scenes in pirate king where salvatore seemingly forgot that regis is a halfling, because drizzt keeps putting his arm around regis' shoulders and walking away like that, when really regis' shoulders should be down somewhere around drizzt's knees

24) a manifestation of mielikki coming to carry catti-brie to the afterlife, catti-brie responding that she needs to go sleep with her husband first, and mielikki allowing this and just coming back for her in the morning

25) entreri and dahlia behaving in a way that i can only describe as two teenage girls fighting over their mutual crush

26) the entire scene when they threw charon's claw into the primordial pit and entreri failed to die

27) drizzt: come on an adventure with me! entreri: drizzt, it's two in the fucking morning, what the fuck

28) drizzt making puppy eyes at entreri so he will please go on an adventure with him and entreri just closing the door in his face

29) the entire soap opera that was drizzt and dahlia's relationship

30) kimmuriel walking in on jarlaxle sleeping with at least two drow of undisclosed gender and just standing there and staring until jarlaxle finally puts on his trousers

31) jarlaxle's constant innuendos and seeming inability to shut up about his sex life

32) jarlaxle looking completely calm and composed from the outside at all times, but any scene from his pov revealing that he has no idea what he is doing and is lowkey panicking half the time

33) catti-brie: drizzt is my husband, i have been brought back to life to help him and not for anything else bruenor: yeah, same! uh, except that he isn't my husband

34) the dragons flirting with drizzt and drizzt kinda panicking about how to reject them without being eaten as revenge

35) jarlaxle finding drizzt down in a tunnel fighting demons, and just pulling an entire fine dining set out of his hat and having fancy dinner while his bird is ripping more demons apart just around the corner

36) the reveal that jarlaxle is bald because of repeated fireballs to the face

37) this instance of everyone rolling nat1s on their geography check

38) jarlaxle threatening people with knowledge of his kinks

39) random citizen: she's so pretty jarlaxle: yes, thank you, finally someone who recognizes my beauty

[im-stuck-in-traffic]

(A girl put on her red riding hood and packed up a basket of food for her grandmother. She ventured into the forest, where she encountered a wolf. By the time the girl reached her grandmother’s home, the wolf had swallowed the grandmother whole and disguised himself in her clothes. He ate the girl as well, but a woodsman came by and sliced the wolf in two with his axe, and the girl and her grandmother emerged alive.)

~

In another life, it was the woodsman who ventured into the forest and encountered the wolf. They became fast friends.

(There was no girl, no grandmother, no basket of food. The woodsman did not slice the wolf in two with his axe. He had no reason to.)

(Yet.)

In another life, the wolf ordered the woodsman to kill him.

(He did not do so. He had no reason to.)

(There was no girl, no grandmother - )

(It was torturous, watching his friend being sliced in two, watching his own hands wield the axe, watching the blade glinting in the moonlight.)

(The better to behead you with, my dear.)

The thing that emerged from the dead body of the wolf was a creature cloaked in red, far more terrible than the wolf had been.

~

In another life, the woodsman and the wolf became fast friends.

(Even though they knew they weren’t really supposed to.)

(In another life, the wolf ventured into the forest to gather food for himself. He was mercilessly sliced in two shot by hunters in red.)

The woodsman and the wolf ventured out of the forest, where they encountered a girl. By the time they reached her home, she had rigged it to explode with both of them inside, and disguised it as a secret safehouse.

(The woodsman emerged alive, somehow.)

(The girl put on her red riding hood and stalked him like a wolf through the moonlit forest. In the deafening silence of his hiding place, the woodsman did not sense her until it was too late.)

~

In another life, the girl did not have a grandmother, but a partner - an estranged friend, a not-lover, a man whose bitterness burned like frost, like a curse.

(He was no woodsman, but had also slain a wolf in the forest, once. He had shot arrow after arrow into the beast. Not as quick and clean as an axe, but less likely to get blood on his clothes. Red really wasn’t his color.)

The girl put on her red riding hood and packed up a bucket of cold, cold snow. She ventured into the forest, where she encountered a wolf. He gave her a friend. She gave him her curse. By the time she left the wolf’s home, he was already doomed.

(There is something wicked within you.)

(something wicked)

The wolf and the woodsman recruit the girl (they weren’t supposed to) into their alliance for protection. They try, anyway. She is no dog to be called to heel, no demon to be summoned and bound.

(something wicked this way)

In another life, the girl ran through the woods with her army, children of the wolf’s gift, wind in her hair and a laugh on her lips and red, red blood on her axe.

(something wicked this way comes)

Something wicked this way comes!

(The girl’s partner wearily gathered explosives. Just another beast to kill.)

By the time she found it in herself to forgive him, so they can both emerge alive, he had already sliced their bond in two. (Still bound, of course, in every way but the one that mattered - who is the victor and who is not.)

~

(10)

In another life, a man did not venture out into the forest in search of a wolf that wasn’t there.

(9)

There was no reason to.

(8)

He took to the sea instead and learned its cruelty, and how to wield a sword instead of an axe.

(7)

In another life, a girl did not put on her red riding hood.

(6)

She built herself a fortress instead, rigged with traps.

(5)

(The better to watch you from, my dear.)

(4)

By the time(no time)

(3)

(2)

(1)

(The only thing that matters is who is the victor and who is not.)

[loveronlineee]

Being a Freak 101 Part 2 (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist   All Parts

Eddie Munson x Cheerleader! Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: swearing

Synopsis: Y/N gets her first class on metalheads as Eddie introduces her to his music and style

Y/N notes: thinner/smaller than Eddie, hair long enough to be put in a ponytail

Y’all remember part 1 of this??? Cuz I totally forgot about it. Hehe oh well part 2 is finally hereeeeeee

Also I changed the title, it used to be Pranks on the Preps

Sorry if you were waiting for more Three. chapters! I didn’t want to force myself to finish the next part and not take the time to plan out where the story is going. Gonna work on it more tomorrow:)

Hope you enjoy this for tonight!

Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!

Wanna request something? Look here!

Eddie waited outside the school, leaning up against the wall, a cigarette in his mouth.

Suddenly the doors burst open and the cheerleaders spilled out, walking to their cars. Y/N came out with the same two girls she sat with at lunch. As soon as they saw Eddie, they started giggling to each other.

“Eddie! You waited.” Y/N said with a smile. The metalhead could tell this was her fake peppy act for this prank. Still, she was adorable.

“Of course. You asked me to.” He played along, showing the other girls that he was already wrapped around Y/N’s finger. In reality, he really was but he’d keep that a secret from Y/N for at least a little longer.

“I’ll see you guys on Monday!” Y/N waved as the rest of the cheerleaders drove out, leaving her and Eddie in the dark empty parking lot.

They began waking towards Eddie’s van. “How was Hellfire club?”

“Do you really care?” Eddie asked with a chuckle. Y/N smiled back.

“No, but tell me anyways.”

“Good. How was cheer practice?”

“Do you really care?” Yes.

“No, but tell me anyways.”

“Good.” The two got into the van and Eddie started it up.

“So what’s the plan L/N?”

“You gotta teach me about being a metalhead. Style, attitude, music. Everything.”

“So you want me to be your metalhead teacher huh?”

“Sure do Munson.”

“Yeah I think I can manage that.” Eddie grinned.

“So we going to your place?” Y/N asked. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Eddie didn’t know much about Y/N’s living arrangements but he knew his trailer wasn’t going to be up to standards.

He found himself unable to speak. It didn’t help that Y/N decided to let her hair down out of her ponytail at that exact moment. She shook her head and ran her fingers quickly through it before turning back to Eddie with a smile.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah sure.” He started driving, nerves building along the way.

How bad did I leave the trailer today? What’s on the couch? Did I leave food out??

A flood of questions filled his head, trying to find any way to prepare for Y/N walking through his front door.

He turned into Forest Hills Trailer Park and began to sink in his seat. He looked over at Y/N expecting her to have her nose turned up at the sight of where he lived.

But instead she was swaying a little in her seat, looking out the window quizzically. As Eddie parked the van, he tried to memorise the state of the inside of the trailer.

“Uh you’ll have to excuse the mess. The maid won’t be round til tomorrow.” He joked to ease the tension. Y/N chuckled as they reached the front door. The pair went inside.

Eddie could feel his anxiety building more and more. He watched as Y/N closed the door behind herself and began to look around. He waited for a disgusted look at the mess, a crinkle of her nose at the smell, a negative comment disguised as a compliment.

But no. Nothing. Y/N just smiled at him.

“You probably don’t know this about me, well most people don’t…” Y/N began. “But I used to live in a trailer park.” Eddie blinked.

“You did?” She nodded.

“Yeah, when I was little. My parents didn’t have enough for a kid but suddenly I was there and they just had to do their best.” Y/N shrugged. “My Dad got lucky, a few things went our way and now we live on Maple street with all the rich kids.”

“I had no idea.”

“Yeah so, I wanted you to know so you know I’m not judging you. To be honest, your place feels weirdly nostalgic. Kinda comforting.” Y/N smiled again. Eddie smiled back, feeling calmer.

“Eddie.” The pair turned to see his Uncle.

“Wayne! I thought you’d be at the bar.” Eddie said, which sounded a lot more suspicious when there was a pretty girl standing in their living room. “U-Uh this is Y/N she’s uh-“

“A friend from school.” Y/N saved. “It’s nice to meet you Mr Munson.” Wayne gave her a nod of approval and walked out the trailer.

“I’m going to the bar. You two have fun, but not too much fun.”

The pair made their way to Eddie’s bedroom. Eddie scrambled to grab anything lying around and shoved it in his closet. Y/N took a seat at the end of his bed as he went over to his collection of cassette tapes.

“Okaaaaay L/N. Metalhead lesson number one. Our superior taste in music.”

“Superior?” Y/N repeated comically, cocking her head to the side. A song began to play as Eddie turned to her.

“Yeah I know what I said.” Y/N giggled as she began bobbing her head to the beat. Eddie played an air guitar before dropping down next to her. “Now this my dear, is Black Sabbath.”

He walked over to his closet and opened it, having immediately forgotten that he had shoved a bunch of crap in there moments ago. It fell to the floor which Eddie ignored in favour of going through his clothes. “Okay whilst we’re filling your preppy brain with Paranoid, let’s think about your outfits…”

Y/N watched as Eddie sifted through his belongings, picking out some things. “Now the lady metalheads dress a little differently to the guys usually, but this can be a start.” He turned around and held out a pair of blue ripped jeans and a black AC/DC shirt.

Y/N took them and went over to the bathroom. Eddie looked through his music, picking the next song as he waited.

“Eddie!” Y/N called out.

“Yeah?” Eddie looked up to see Y/N in his jeans, holding the waist on one side so they wouldn’t fall down.

“You got a belt?” She chuckled. Eddie tore his eyes away from the top of Y/N’s underwear and scrambled to get her his black belt.

“Y-Yeah yeah here.”

“Thanks. Won’t be too long!” She disappeared back into the bathroom. Eddie breathed out. He could feel the heat creeping up on his cheeks. It hadn’t occurred to him that seeing Y/N in his clothes might be a little too hot for him to handle. “Holy shit!” Eddie rushed to the bathroom door.

“What? What is it? You okay?”

“Your belt buckle is hand cuffs!!!” Y/N said excitedly. “That’s so fucking cool!” Eddie grinned so wide at that. Y/N emerged from the bathroom and gave Eddie a twirl.

The jeans and the shirt were way too big for her but weirdly, she pulled it off really well. Yeah, Eddie was right. This was way too hot.

“Lookin good L/N.” He grinned. The two went back to Eddie’s room so she could use the full length mirror.

“Oh my god. I look so different.” Y/N giggled to herself as Eddie stood next to her. “Well we definitely look like we’re going to the same concert.” She said, making Eddie chuckle. “So you said that girl metalheads dress a little differently?”

“Yeah you’ll probably want to get a women’s leather jacket, some type of black boots, my rings won’t fit you so you’ll want some of them…”

“Well then, sounds like we’re going to the mall tomorrow Munson.”

Tag List: @spiderrrling @tototini @rivuh-stone @authorlovers @dontcallmesavvy @bookswillfindyouaway @fentyreligion @boomhauer @begginyouformendes @teaberry68 @ghoulsgraveyard @kendallpaige @tomatojuicer2 @ches-86 @levylovegood @emeraldborealis @eddiemunsonsgirl86 @adrienette715 @cailaif @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @marauderssimpcuzwhytfnot @tubble-wubble @ijustfndamilldllrsthatsmnefgt @white-marvel-grey @justmethingsstuff @eddiemunsonsfuturewife @jmj-1312 @wandamaximoffs-deadchild @crissicat13 @zupajespren @andreead @lili-pond @cherrypieyourface @roguemetalmaster13 @eddiemunsonswifee24 @salembridger @jessicainhell @ceejay-95 @toomanyfandoms87 @ilovereadinghehe @nwmo @lilyraeken-theosbabygirl @tinyameline @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker @moatsnow @mckenna4 @scenesofobx @ladygrey03 @dpaccione @littlebebebunny @mangledumbass @cunbersome-robes @dixontardis @siriuslystfu @iloveslasher @givemethesleep @calumspupils @eddiemunsonstuff @agent-teacup @efvyqrs @laracrof7s @linkpk88 @actual-mom-steve-harrington @nancewheelersworld @sxnl @hotchie360 @mayyvh @prettyboyenthusiast @olrjmarvete @zmunson @rainyval @urevilshadowhasacupoftea @peter-parkers-gf @prisma-the-pretend-avenger @wrendermeuseless @lunalily19 @peqchyharts @pop-rocks-and-skittles @birdie-girl @twihard08 @daddylanqdonwrites2 @whatskillingthekids @strxbrymilkkuu @hawkins-hs @mrs-maximoff-kenner @222brooke @padfootswife @loki-loveer @aidanstan @chaotic-fae-queen @ruinedbythehobbit @slasherbuck @daydreamin-lol @lacunaanonymoused @wayfaring——stranger @belovedbastardremus @kimmietea @mayempress @oliveoilthoughts @levelofkincern @reneecinematicuniverse @foffaaa @janeswhore @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @charliiexx @youcantstandit @supernovasblogstuff @miiikkeey @struig @elven-princessofsp @luvbug8 @eddiemunsonzrings @wtfstxr @beep-beep-sherlock @howdidigotinhere @ack3rlevi @simping-simmer @celestialsxturn @7minutes-tomidnight @angelsarecallin @chocolatepizzatyrant @snapped-chopstick @a-villain-vying-for-attention @iamgayfortheegg @vase-of-lilies @megudragon @emotionaldreamer @eddiemusnon @edmunsonluver @holamishamigosj2gotmegood @sparkletash @elxctro @3ternalreal1ty @sadbitchfangirl @cherriesrae @hereforsmutbcicantgetenough @clean-and-claire @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @tunatoge @miscellaneous-fan @oo0lady-mad0oo @salty-thembo @marvelmadness22 @geminidilfluver @buckyswhxre @dangerousluv1 @bieberhoodforever @moonlighteevee @doingurmom69 @you1gnorant5lut @bean-bunnn @stolenxkissess @karacaroldanvers @heishalfofmysoul @holyheadharpies99 @alexawhatstheweathertoday @boredusertbh @literally-a-ferret @esoltis280 @queeneybee928 @nativity-in-black @soundsprettyhumantome @slutforblueeyes @loverofthings2425 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @parkershoco @thepjofanqueen @aiyanirosexox @celestair @littletownloser @iloveeddiemunsonsmithurts @whorefire-club @ilikechocolatemilkh @kaqua @dearelliewrites @inkedaztec @touchdeprivedwh0re @comfortcharactercraze @robinbuckleyswifee @buzzing-honeybee @buckysbarne @coffee-styles @murdockssbitch @baby-becca @shinji-lover @a-hopeless-fan @follmoont @red-hydra @harrystylesandthegoobs @bittersweetreject @myunfairmaiden @shamidreamer @elleeeee21 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @ast3rl1ngs @zzokks @waverzzzzzzzz @baileydjart @eddiemunson4ever @trashboat-the-raccoon @ella-janehaven @kaitieskidmore1 @unicorntrooper @breadglasses @mxnsoneddie @scoobiessnacks @rindousworld @ihrtchickpeas @borisbq @aziraphales-demon @maydayfigment @luveves-world @a-lil-bit-nuts @imsouyya @taylarose @plaindonutsworld 

[kisses-from-crows]

Crossed Wires - Campbell Bain - Ch 2.

Pairing: Radio Host!Campbell Bain/Popstar!femReader

Summary: After disappearing inexplicably for over a year, Y/N calls Campbell Bain, her well-documented professional nemesis. Will Campbell take the career opportunity of a lifetime?

Genre: enemies to lovers, modern au, reader insert, forced proximity, misunderstandings

Word Count: 1,285

CW: Mentions of Grief, Mentions of Mental Illness

Chapter 2

Prev | Next

-TMZ: This just in, recently single starlet F/N L/N seen cussing out paparazzi and “throwing a tantrum” in the middle of Central Park. Has fame finally gone to Y/N’s head? Click here for the full video!

Posted: 1 year ago -

“Has anyone ever told ye that referring to yerself in the third person is wee bit batty?” Campbell Bain said to the rather ominous voice over the phone. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned a bit with the effort to sit up.

“Do you want the exclusive or not Bain?” Y/N said over the phone sounding more than a little irritated.

“Sorry sensitive subject, eh?” Campbell teased. Right about now that wrinkle would be forming just between her otherwise impeccably groomed eyebrows. He knew that wrinkle well.

"…" Y/N doesn’t respond. The silence over the phone was disconcerting. This was not like her. She was never without a response. That was the one predictable thing about her, she always had a comeback. Mind you some were better than others, but she always got the last word, no matter what.

Campbell found himself sitting up straighter and listening for sounds of distress. Maybe this was a cry for help? Maybe someone had broken in and this was her convert way of contacting the police? Campbell’s brain speed ran a list of everything that could possibly or impossibly go wrong in this moment.

“I don’t have the energy for this, Campbell” Y/N said finally, her voice sounding defeated. He let out the breathe he’d been holding, before sucking it right back in. She used his first name. She never used his first name. It was always ‘Bain’ or ‘Bastard’ or ‘Bain, you bastard’. Something was up. Something was wrong. The world was tilting off its axis and Campbell Bain was going to get to the bottom of it.

“Why are ye giving me the story?” Campbell said suspiciously, waiting for the other shoe to drop from the sky and knock him on his ass. This story could make his career, the exclusive tell-all of a pop-star at the height of her fame disappearing without a trace overnight. Only to pop up out of the blue after no one had seen or heard from her in over a year. A story like this would something of a crowning achievement, and she despised him. So why on god’s green earth would she choose him to tell this story.

“Why not.” Y/N said. As if was as simple as that. As if they hadn’t spent half of the last decade trading schoolyard taunts in a professional setting. Much to the delight of their bosses and the chagrin of anyone who had to bear witness to it in person. “We’ve done plenty of interviews together.”

“Nae, we’ve had plenty of sparring matches disguised as interviews” Campbell said “and ye had to be dragged kicking and screaming into every last one.” Each interview over the years flashed through his mind, one for each album she’d dropped. There had been a total six so far. A frankly ridiculous amount of music to release in such a short period of time. Nearly one album a year. Except for last year, when Y/N had fallen off the face of the earth and not a soul knew why.

If his memory serves him well, which it often didn’t, that last interview had been a particularly nasty one. No matter how many times they did this same old tired routine, bickering back and forth over a difference of opinions and deep seeded resentment, the public ate it up everytime.

“This one’s different” Y/N said quietly. Campbell could barely hear her over the broken speakers of his phone, water damaged from taking it in the shower to listen to music and escape the never silent cacophony in his mind. But her small voice crept through and sunk the tiniest little hook in his heart.

“Different how?” Campbell said slowly, like he was feeling out the words in his mouth. Was she going skewer him like shish kabob this time? Or maybe drop kick him into the sun and use a picture of his glorious death as an album cover. He had so many questions and so little answers.

“It’s just different,” Y/N sighed “I don’t want to talk about this over the phone. Meet me at Maison Marcelle at 9 o’clock tomorrow. I’ll send a driver to pick you up, I don’t want you followed.” With that line went dead.

“Gosh, that was cryptic.” Campbell rubbed a tired hand over his face. The guitar string callouses on his fingers caught on the tiny amount of stubble he managed to accumulate. He would need to shave for his audience with Her Majesty the Queen of Hell tomorrow.

The conversation left Campbell feeling deeply unsettled. Much too restless to go bed, the lanky brunette wandered to the kitchen. He hunted down his two favorite mugs and the good cocoa from his cupboard. If cocoa couldn’t knock him out, nothing would. It was a habit he’d picked up at St. Jude’s. He’d learned to cope better as he got older. Not all the time, but he could take care of himself at least 4 days out of the week, so that was a win. Grief made things difficult but at least some traditions never die.

Campbell boiled milk in a kettle on the stove and pulled out three packets of cocoa mix. With a dutifully practiced hand, he poured milk into each of the mugs. Then emptied a package and a half into each, he’d always liked his cocoa a little sweeter. He stirred the powder in and let it dissolve. Cursing himself for forgetting to buy more mini marshmallows while he was at the store last.

In the peaceful silence of the kitchen, Campbell pushed the other mug of cocoa to the empty chair across from him and let it grow cold. Thoughtlessly sipping from his drink too quickly, he burnt his tongue. He pictured Fergus in the seat across from him, laughing at his impatience and let the bittersweet feeling sit in his chest. What would he think of him now?

Campbell shook his shaggy brown hair like he could shake off the intrusive thought like a wet dog. No such luck. It was a thought he’d had often. Would Fergus be proud of Campbell for finally accomplishing the thing he set out do? What would he think of this abrasive persona he’d adopted to keep viewers interested? What would he think of this long standing beef between him and a woman he hardly knows? A woman who inexplicably wanted to hand him the rights to an interview that could make him millions. None of it made sense.

Lost in his own thoughts, Campbell ended up sipping out of an empty cup, long since drained. He sighed and stood up to put his mug in the sink. He could wash it in morning. Along with the other miscellaneous items he kept intending to “wash in the morning”. It always slipped his mind, there were much more interesting things to focus his energy on.

Campbell turned to look at the quickly cooling mug of cocoa on the table and decided to leave it out for ghost Fergus to enjoy a little bit longer. That’s just how grief was sometimes. Always leaving space for someone who wasn’t coming back. Just in case.

Campbell shuffled down the hall to his room, just about to throw himself into his bed without brushing his teeth. Until he heard Eddie’s voice ringing through his mind saying something about his teeth rotting and falling out his head. So in honor of his old mentor, he gave his teeth a quick scrub and before throwing his tired body haphazardly into bed.

Tomorrow he’d stare down the devil herself and get some answers. But for tonight, he would just hope he didn’t dream.

_________________________________________________

Next Chapter

A/N: i am very proud this chapter and writing this series is the most fun i’ve had in a minute so i’m just gonna writing it.

[siswritesyanderes]

Hi! I am so happy to find someone with as many fandoms as me, so I have a selection: (I honestly don't mind whichever one you want to do) Yandere Romantic Mettaton, or Leo Valdez, or Druig, or Camilo from Encanto (if you take requests for him), or Yandere Platonic Sprite, Yelena or Luisa from Encanto, or Undyne, all with a fem or gn reader please! My prompt is how they'd react to a smart reader (maybe a child of Athena for PJO) that tries to escape, or cut ties with them (platonic)! Thanks!

(Okay, I had to go with Leo, just because the idea of Leo kidnapping someone is great, to me.)

You edged toward the bend in the corridor, taking up as little space as you could without daring to touch the wall. The next stretch of hallway looked nondescript– the worst kind. You sized up all that you could see of the floor, ceiling, and walls. Most children of Hephaestus were good at disguising pressure plates and trapdoors, and your captor was the best of the best.

But he seemed to move through this place quickly, when he was here; when he left to bring you food, it never took him long. Which meant either that he had a passageway of his own, without the traps, that was hidden from you, or that there was a quick way to pass through.

And since his traps were all nonfatal, you decided to gamble on the latter.

You could easily imagine Leo getting a kick out of easily, routinely navigating through his own maze of tricks and snares several times a day.

You lowered yourself to ground-level to examine the floor again. Yes, they were slight but noticeable: indentations. Little dips in the floorboards, from having been trodden in a particular way over and over and over again. He did run through every time, and he knew the safe way to do so.

You ran through. With great precision, you regulated each step so that your foot always landed in one of the indentations he'd left behind.

You had almost reached the end of the hallway when a giant net scooped you up, and then you were dangling, helpless, from the ceiling. Your foot had landed correctly, but there had still been a trap waiting for you. You strained against the net for a few seconds before deeming it a waste of your energy.

Not long after, Leo showed up, his eyes bright with intrigue. "Wow, you got far!" he observed. "You cleared Section 1 and got halfway through Section 2; that's huge!"

"One of the indentations in the floor was a fake one?" you gathered.

"I'll never tell," he said with a wink. His eyes kept darting over you, taking in the precarious way you dangled, as if the sight was very appealing to him. "You really did make it far. You don't have to keep impressing me, you know; I'm starting to feel spoiled."

"Let me down, Leo."

"Aye aye, captain; back to your room you go."

You sighed but allowed him to steer you back to your room. "This is overkill," you said, though you knew it was pointless. Most demigods had hangups in the realm of separation and attachment; being a demigod meant seeing your loved ones endangered and possibly lost. And Leo was no exception. Far from it; once one got past his wall of lighthearted emotional avoidance (even accidentally), he became more averse to the thought of losing someone he loved than perhaps anyone you'd ever met.

He masked it with jokes and an impish smile, but he hadn't sequestered you behind a network of elaborate traps and protections just for fun. He was terrified of you leaving, he was terrified of something hurting you, and judging by the hoses rigged around your living quarters that would automatically blast him with fire retardant chemicals if he even lit a fire on his pinkie, he was terrified of hurting you himself.

As he opened the door to your room and you went to sit at your reading desk, you continued, "This isn't sustainable. My siblings are some of the smartest people at camp; eventually, they'll figure out you're the one who took me. People are going to come looking for me."

"I'll make sure they don't make it to this bunker," he said. "For their sake. I don't want to have to hurt anybody."

"If you fill the surrounding area with traps and obfuscations, you'll just confirm any suspicion they have of where I am."

"Give me some credit. I haven't made it easy to find you, no matter who their godly parent is. And the longer they haven't found you, the more likely they'll start to think some monster just ate you and give up on looking," he said cheerfully.

You exhaled sharply, annoyed that he wasn't wrong. Really, given how long you'd been here, you would have suspected they'd burned your shroud already, were it not for the fact that Leo would have definitely mentioned it if they had. But it wouldn't be long now.

Maybe he would give himself away when they did. Maybe he would look a little too cheerful, once the camp decided you were dead, and someone would catch onto him. You weren't sure how good his acting was, when he was there; he was so openly unhinged when he was with you, and there was no way he was the same around anyone else, or he'd have been caught your first day here.

"I made you something, while I was out," he said. He didn't wait for you to acknowledge it; just pulled out a little mechanical hummingbird that flew around the room when he wound it up and landed gently on your lap when it needed to be wound again.

Back before he'd trapped you here, you'd used to be thrilled by every little trinket he made for you. They were all so cute, so thoughtful. Even now, you couldn't help your demeanor softening as you turned the little metal bird over in your hands.

Still, in lieu of thanking him, you just quietly said, "I'm hungry."

"Dinner's coming right up," he assured you. He started to leave, then paused in the door frame, still mostly turned away. "Let's not think about the other demigods trying to rescue you anymore, okay?" He paused. "I'd hate to barbecue any of our cousins, you know?" He scratched his head, more restless than before, and then left.

Your shoulders were tense. Did he mean it? You brought up the topic of being saved to get his reaction, and still you weren't sure you believed his words. Leo was a nice guy, present situation excepted. He wasn't above using hyperbole to make a point. You didn't believe he would really kill them. But you also didn't believe there was no truth to what he was saying. Because the point wasn't what he would do to them- not exactly. The point was that he wouldn't give up. Faced with their opposition, he did not plan to back down.

The door to your room closed.

You wound up the hummingbird and watched it fly around.

[deathfavor]

@ashrifts said: "3, 2, 1..." for hanma i GUESS 🙄

Send "3,2,1..." for a new years kiss from my muse

Hanma makes no effort to disguise the fact that he's mainly here for the booze and food over anything else. Which, by all signs that he's seen, seems to be acceptable enough. The fact Hanma has bothered to show up at ALL is more surprising than anything else ; he's a man who ultimately obeys himself before anyone else. Even Tetta Kisaki cannot wrangle him into obedience. Hanma just happens to find his plots fun most of the time. His obedience is contractual to his interest. This event just happens to hold the promise that something funny might happen. Alcohol plus guys who like to right tends to make for an interesting combination.

Although, for how tall he is and the presence he carries, no one can seem to quite pin down the moment the reaper had appeared at the new years eve party decked out in leather and paired with a wolfish grin. Few really care anyways.

So he enjoys the drinks and food, and flashes a particularly sly grin and mocking wink when he catches Ran's scowl across the room at one point in the night just because he knows it'll rile up the older Haitani. It's quickly forgotten though and perhaps it's one last blessing from the old year that Hanma doesn't decide to cross the room to directly antagonize Ran as a source of entertainment. He lets him be and minds his own business.

Or maybe it's one last elaborate trap of the year.

Time stretches and melts together, and before Hanma knows it, the final seconds of the year are approaching. He has no particularly interest in participating in the silly traditions. He'd one it before, but there's little interest. At least, not until he sees who exactly has ended up right next to him. And then his mouth parts into a hyena grin. Well now, this was too good of an opportunity to waste.

Punishment reaches out, draping across Ran's shoulder as he turns his attention solely onto Ran. " Well fancy that ~ Christmas time and New Years? That's seeming like a bit more than chance, Ran. " Hanma draws out, leaning down a bit more to be closer to the other man's level by his ear. " What was that you said? Using holidays as excuses? If you wanted a kiss, you could just say so. "

The countdown strikes 10, but Hanma withdraws is arm, fingertips ghosting cross Ran's spine as he lets his hand fall away. It's rather deceptive, because it seems like Hanma is going to let Ran escape from the moment. It's nothing more than cruel offering, like a cat lifting its paw to let the mouse see freedom but not quite letting go. Because moments later, the same hand comes by to cup under Ran's jaw, fingers holding him captive.

The countdown hits one and Hanma bends to crush their lips together. Yet for as carefree as he makes it seem, there's nothing careless about, nothing clumsy or awkward or off the mark about it. He grins against Ran's softer lips, careless to the cheers that erupt around them as the new year is rung in. The final and first moments belong to the reaper, and that cannot be changed. It might not matter in the grand scheme of everything. Neither he nor Ran view such acts with childish, romanticized sentimentality as far as he's aware. But that doesn't crush the smug streak of satisfaction.

There is the temptation to turn this into a fight in its own right - of lips and teeth and blood that colors their lips. But he withholds ( this time ) from that particular path , though that by no means is to say that its soft or sweet. It isn't. Hanma kisses with command, Sin sneaking to rest a hand against his waist. His tongue slides along Ran's lip, swiping away any traces of alcohol and pressing his lips open. ( It's almost disappoint he doesn't need to pull those handy braids to make it easier. )

Could Ran bite his tongue? Yeah. And he wouldn't put it past him either. But such risks have never dissuaded Hanma and they should both know it won't dissuade Hanma. If anything, the violence will only have him more active. Ran got to have his fun, now it's Hanma's turn as he deepens the kiss further, till his head feels fuzzy and he pulls away with a grin.

" Happy New Years, Ran ~ "

But that isn't quite where Hanma leaves it. Because he knows damn well Ran likes to have the last say or spit out a barbed comment. He expects it, and when Ran goes to say something, Hanma utilizes his height and forcefully pulls Ran forward against him to seal their lips together a second time that night. This one is a little rougher, a tease of teeth and demand before he pulls back. For a moment he holds Ran still in his hand, licking his own lips before he lets go of Ran with a Cheshire cat smile.

" There you go Ran ~ " Hanma coos, voice rich with satisfaction. "Now you're the only one hiding kisses behind holidays. "

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Day 8: Sensory Deprivation

(Disclaimer: neither of the characters in this story belong to me. Both Phantom and Bones are the property of Nathan Sharp/Give Heart Productions.)

(Trigger Warnings: implications of illegal business, implied chronic pain, mentions of death/dying, descriptions of water/floating, skin-flaying, exposed bones, blood, similarities to an out-of-body experience, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 9 Day 10 Day 11 Day 12 Day 13

Out of habit, Bones cracked his knuckles as he wandered down the hall. 

He had no idea why he’d developed aforementioned habit; it wasn’t exactly uncommon for his joints to crack with enough volume that you’d expect them to start glowing in the dark. Then again, he’d had more than enough time to learn how to tune out those noises. Even when he found himself in areas that managed to be eerily quiet.

Like this one, for instance. 

A decent amount of time had passed since coworkers and customers alike had vacated the club. All the lights had been turned off. Now, had Bones still been fully alive, that would’ve caused problems (mainly him getting an excuse to fuck up someone else’s night due to tripping over the decor a few too many times). However, Bones was not fully alive. Death was strange—yes, it took a lot of things away, but for whatever reason, it also ended up having a few things to give. 

Not like that made it any better, mind you. 

Having supernaturally heightened senses didn’t make up for having fragmented memories, for having to operate under a nasty mixture of exhaustion and restlessness, for having to know that you’re part of the proof that something is fundamentally wrong with the world—

“Boooones,” a familiar voice called from elsewhere in the building. “While I always appreciate lurking for dramatic effect, I don’t have all night.” 

“. . .Yeah, because you’ve never taken your sweet damn time on things,” Bones snapped back, knowing that his terse tone wouldn’t hide how he’d flinched. 

“Touch’e, but that’s only when I know I can get away with it,” Phantom replied, sounding much closer than he actually was. “C’mon, you’re gonna want to see this.” 

Bones rolled his eyes, but still turned on his heel and started traipsing in the direction of the sound. “Sure I am.”

  Despite there still being a few good employers out there, any relationship between worker and boss would always be just a tad strange. Especially if the boss in question was an outer monstrosity in disguise.

While Bones didn’t exactly fear Phantom—as a revenant, Bones was typically one to be feared—he still knew better than to just let his guard down around him. He wasn’t about to try calling himself a saint, but seeing some of the things Phantom had done to “take care of business” made him a bit relieved that he couldn’t sleep anymore. Other times, Phantom’s eccentricities just got on his nerves.

Bones knew things could’ve been much, much worse. Yeah, it was a complete and total bitch to have hollow pain thriving inside him like a colony of parasites, but part of him still understood that he was making the best of his circumstances. 

Eventually, Bones found himself behind the bar counter, facing the huge cabinet that had been built into the entire fourth wall of this room. He paused, having to dig through the duffel bag of stuff he’d been instructed to bring tonight. It only took a few muttered profanities to convince said bag to let him fish out a silver key: its bow was adorned by a picture of a flower with an eyeball in the center of its petals.

Bones ran his fingers along the bottom of the center shelf, quickly finding a well-hidden hole that the key’s biting cuts fit perfectly into. A loud CLACK rang through the empty room as he turned the key to one side, prompting the cabinet to perform an amateur recreation of The Red Sea. The organized collection of bottles rattled on their shelves, but not a single one went shattering to the floor. 

Bones hovered in the familiar, freshly-revealed hollow doorway. It wasn’t imposing to him; he’d done this at least a hundred times by now. This hidden staircase was just so fucking steep. He knew for an absolute certainty that it would be impossible to run up or down it without tripping on one step and bashing your head against another. 

Dull pain flared around his ankles and raced up to his kneecaps. Bones ground his jaw, putting a deathgrip on the railway as he began descending. The halves of the cabinet reconnected behind him, but that didn’t leave him in total darkness. Colorful light flickered at the bottom of the stairs, casting shadows that danced similarly to those of a fire. They seemed to be trying to reach up along the steps. . .

Though he didn’t stop walking, Bones felt his hackles raise. They didn’t lower when he realized that soft music was slithering into the air. 

The club’s basement was in a state of functional chaos. Chests and crates that came in a plethora of sizes almost outlined the room, stacked on top of one another and pushed up against the walls. It always felt like there was a different amount each time Bones had to venture down here. (It also wasn’t one of Bones’ responsibilities to keep track of them all. He’d already learned the hard way that you couldn’t just open them.) 

He immediately discovered Phantom in the center of the room, his trademark claw-handled cane softly thudding against the floor as he paced around. . .something.

The unfamiliar object seemed to be eight feet long and four feet wide. It was coated in a silver finish, shaped similarly to a snake’s egg. The top half of it hung in the air, supported by simple hinges on either side. It glowed from the inside with that same color-shifting light. It was the source of the music, too. Bones’ instincts told him that those gentle notes were being produced by whatever was in there. Like a monster’s voice echoing from the bottom of a well. 

“What the hell is that supposed to be?” Bones called, feeling his brow furrow as he loomed by the foot of the stairs. 

Phantom came to a halt on one side of the glowing object, turning his head to offer a cryptic smile. “I sent a message about having something in store for you earlier this week, didn’t I?”

“The novel-text you sent me was just rambling about how I needed to keep your clients in line because you’d be busy rearranging the reality in this part of the building,” Bones replied pointedly. 

Phantom clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “This is a sensory deprivation tank. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about them by now.”

“I have,” Bones argued, “but unless you’ve cooked up some weird plan to turn this place into a spa, I’m not sure why we suddenly need one.”

Phantom beckoned Bones to come closer. “I mean, what we calculated as your deathday is coming up.” His grin slightly widened to showcase how his teeth were slowly but surely becoming sharper. “And I’d be a real jackass if I didn’t get you a present, right?”

Bones scoffed as he wandered over, hoping his aggravation would mask his reluctance. He made sure to keep some distance from Phantom, standing by the opposite side of the tank. “Not like that would stop you from being a jackass every other day.”

“Meh, fair point,” Phantom confessed. “But don’t worry, I won’t say I told you so after you see how great this thing is.” He reached up to pat the tank’s lid as though it was the hood of some snazzy car. This helped Bones finally realize that the tank’s exterior wasn’t smooth. Rather, it was covered in symbols that looked like animalistic mouths and eyes. He couldn’t tell whether they’d been carved into or sculpted onto the original material.

Before he could stop himself, Bones peered at the tank’s interior.

His stomach immediately sank. 

The color wasn’t beaming from a light further inside. No, the tank’s liquid itself glimmered. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve assumed that a bunch of bathbombs had just dissolved in there (and that the combination of all their colors miraculously wasn’t reduced to some ugly shade of brown). 

The liquid also looked fresh,  clean. And while that wouldn’t be something to complain about. . .it meant that Bones could see the bottom of the tank. The longer he stared, the more the tank just seemed to keep going down, down, down into a gaping black pit. Even with how far away it appeared, it still looked so much larger than the tank itself. 

“Pretty sure these things are only supposed to hold ten inches of water,” he muttered, unable to take his eyes away from the hole. 

“First of all, the stuff in there isn’t water,” Phantom casually mentioned. “Second of all, that capacity is only the standard for the tanks that humans use.”

Bones’ neck gave a sickening cRiIiCk as he turned his head to stare at Phantom. “. . .If that stuff isn’t water, then what the fuck is it?”

Phantom shrugged. “Not important.”

“I’m inCLINED TO DISAGREE.” 

“There’s no hydrochloric acid in the elixir,” Phantom tried. At the way Bones snarled, he continued, “And even if there was, you know it wouldn’t kill you.” 

“That doesn’t mean it couldn’t hurt me in a way that might make my limbo even worse!”

“I never said anything about hurting.” Phantom sighed. “Look, as much as I’d love to infodump, I literally can’t tell you how I managed to whip it up. It’s just one of those types of knowledge that only certain species can process.”

“Oh, so you think calling me an idiot in a roundabout way is just gonna reassure me?!”

“Hey.” Phantom growled, a newly-forked tongue flicking out of his mouth. His voice seemed to grow, as the air now shook when he spoke. “It’s not my fault that so much shit doesn’t make sense. I didn’t write the rules for these kinds of things. I could’ve used the past few days and nights to get plenty of other shit done, but instead, I focused on building this because I wanted to try and help you out.” He took a single step forward, thin columns of smoke beginning to drift out of his eyes. “So don’t put any fucking words in my mouth, alright?”

Bones’ mouth opened and closed with nothing coming out. While the eye-vapor didn’t actually float near him, the smell still had quite a bite to it. Not to mention how it made his throat feel like sandpaper. He subconsciously straightened his back, though he was still stubborn enough to keep grimacing. He dipped his head for just a second or two to get the point across: Fine, I get it, you can stop emitting surreal dread now. 

Phantom responded with a short, low hum. The smoke stopped pouring as he blinked. “Anyway,” he pronounced. “There’s a reason sensory deprivation therapy is such a hot topic. Several reasons, in fact: at first, it was thought to just help with psychological problems. Now, it’s been proven to have plenty of physical benefits, too.” 

“Thanks for the reminder that I have a lot of problems in general,” Bones snorted. “But like you just said: that stuff applies to tanks made for humans. So what does that mean for this tank?”

“It means,” Phantom replied, exasperation seeping into his mischievous calm, “that this tank will work even better than the ones made for humans. Because I’ve designed it to give its user an experience that human bodies can’t handle.”

“It’s kinda impossible to list all the things humans can’t handle.” Bones glanced back down into the tank. The dark cavity at the bottom seemed to be stirring the liquid all around it. The odd, subtle movement almost resembled breathing. 

And yet. . .a voice in his rotten mind started begging him to touch the elixir, to dive into the tank headfirst. Another voice popped up, snidely quoting, This is my hole! It was made for me! (It made more sense than the vibes the tank was giving off, since manga was one of the few things that actually didn’t frustrate Bones these days.)

“What makes this experience so special?” Bones inquired before any vague euphemisms could barge their way into the strange compulsion.

“That’s something you’ll have to find out yourself,” Phantom answered. “I’ve already given it a test run, but I’m pretty sure it can’t have the exact same effect on whoever else uses it.” 

“Wow. That’s not concerning at all. This sounds so damn promising,” Bones deadpanned. 

“Oh, c’mon! It’s functioning safely!” Phantom contended, slightly throwing up his arms. “Think, Bones: you’re my right-hand. Why would I want to hurt one of the most capable people on my payroll?” 

“Why are you obsessed with harvesting the souls of your contractors?” Bones retorted. “You pretty much never have a reason to do something, but that doesn’t exactly stop you.” 

“You’re just complimenting my work ethic, y’know,” Phantom smirked. 

Bones huffed an agitated sigh, feeling the bags under his eyes actively grow wider and darker. A splintery sensation stabbed into his brain (a tiny part of his skull had probably tried to cave in).  

Phantom tilted his head, taking a few steps closer. “Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Don’t you remember the voodoo dolls we started selling last year?”

“How could I forget?” Bones murmured, holding back a shudder at the images of Phantom’s body contorting in time with that first test doll. 

“Well, those have proven to be pretty good painkillers for you, right?”

“. . .Right,” Bones relented. 

Phantom nodded. “That’s what this tank is meant to be. Another type of painkiller for you.” By now, his demeanor had returned to its usual levels of smug and shit-eating. But Bones was quick to spot something else in Phantom’s eyes. He didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t seem malevolent. “I’ve adjusted the tank’s settings; your session will only be fifteen minutes long. Plenty of time for you to see how you like it without feeling trapped. Just try it out, okay?”

Bones felt his lip start to bleed before he’d even began chewing it. He paced around the tank, inspecting every part of it that was in eyeshot. There was no lock on the top half, no hidden compartments anywhere. The only parts of it that didn’t look normal were its depth and that chasm. . .

Then again, Phantom was a chaos deity. Bones was the living dead. Normal wasn’t really an option for anything that involved either of them.

“Fine,” Bones eventually proclaimed. “But if this does end up doing something I don’t like—”

“There’s only so much you can do to me, and even that won’t stick,”  Phantom interjected, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

As he spun his cane in his hands, his skin started burning from the inside. . .Well, it quickly ended up burning on the outside, too, since flames erupted from his eyes and mouth. The fire enveloped Phantom, then spent the next few seconds coiling around in the air. At least twenty eyes stared at Bones. Bones stared right back, folding his arms across his chest. Leave it to Phantom to go apeshit with dramatic exits. 

The monstrous display surged up through the ceiling, leaving an assortment of blisters to spread along the paint. Even after it completely vanished, that still didn’t stop Phantom from calling, “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”  

And with that, Bones was suddenly alone in the club’s basement. His ears rang as he paced a few more laps around the tank, still searching for any threats. Or, his ears tried to ring, at least. That soft music crawled through the tank’s liquid and up into the air. He still had no idea what could be producing it, but he couldn’t deny how...grounding it felt. 

Having cameras down here would’ve just been a complete idiot-move on Phantom’s part. Still, Bones retreated to the darkest corner of the basement, dragging his duffel bag along. A couple minutes passed before he trudged back over, letting the tank’s glow stretch over him and the bleach-dye trunks he was now wearing. 

Bones stood before the tank, pursing his lips, giving it one more tense stare. When the tank failed to reveal itself to be a mimic or spontaneously combust, he carefully lowered himself to sit on the lower rim. He instinctively grit his teeth, bracing himself as his feet dropped into the elixir with a soft splash. 

He didn’t touch the bottom of the tank, obviously. The elixir seemed to softly churn around his legs. It felt. . .just like water. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t hot, either. Bones gave a few experimental kicks. Ripples were sent shivering throughout the tank, but that was pretty much it. It didn’t start boiling. No swarms of piranhas manifested. 

After a few more seconds, Bones finally barked a resounding, “Fuck it.” He reached up to grab hold of the tank’s top half, pulling it closed over him as he pushed himself off the rim. 

Due to no longer needing air in his lungs, Bones didn’t automatically float like a human would. Despite all the things he’d forgotten about his former life, the basic necessity of swimming clung to his mind like a stubborn leech. He stared down at the chasm so far beneath him. The chasm stared right back, not really contributing unless you counted whatever creature could potentially be lurking in its darkness.

The music got a bit louder, now that it was more contained, but it somehow didn’t bounce along the tank’s ceiling. 

Curiosity wormed its way into Bones’ paranoia. He swam a few laps around the tank’s perimeter, still testing, still waiting. The thought of circling like a shark made him feel a bit more secure, a bit more in control. 

Even so, he eventually got bored of it. 

If he wanted to see what this tank could actually do for him, then he’d have to stay relatively still.

So, Bones paddled into the center of the elixir. 

He maneuvered himself onto his back, letting his arms unfurl and reach toward nothing. 

He let his head roll back. And as he felt the elixir filter into his hair and creep around the corners of his face. . .he realized how the music felt solid. Tangible. 

As though it and the elixir’s ever-changing color were part of a living mass. 

Bones swallowed a lump in his throat. He’d sink if he stayed like this, but he wouldn’t drown. He could always just swim back up to the surface. 

His dry, sore eyes drifted shut as the elixir washed over his skin. He just barely felt the cool air disappear. 

But his vision didn’t turn black. He could still see the colors of the elixir.

As a matter of fact, he saw a blurry shape somewhere in the tank. 

Bones immediately wanted to panic, to start thrashing his way up to the surface. He wanted to, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. All he could do was listen to the music and watch the shape as it got closer and clearer. . .

Bones’ mind didn’t turn blank when he realized that the shape was himself, that he was somehow looking down on his own body as it kept capsizing. At first, his anger and fear threatened to make his head explode (mainly to spite Phantom, since having to clean bits of brain and skull out of the tank would not be very fun). It felt like at least an hour had passed before confusion finally attempted to take center-stage. Though he saw his eyes refuse to open, he also saw himself grind his jaw, saw himself carefully wave his arms. 

Bones was still in control. He was just. . .having to watch. 

He expected his spine to take the drifting as an excuse to contort. He expected his lungs to shake with a chorus of awful snaps and pops. He expected his abdomen to start bloating like that of an actual drowning victim. 

Nothing like that happened.

The music wasn’t letting any of those things happen. 

The music didn’t give him a chance to start questioning what this meant.

The 

Music 

Was

The

Only

Thing

He

Could

Feel 

There was no pain or panic as the music actively crept into Bones’ head. It was lapping at his skull, oozing down his spine, spreading along his ribcage. 

The numbness was, miraculously enough, a good kind of numbness. 

Bones wanted to swim, to move along in time with the music’s notes. But the music told him that he needed to stay still right now, that things would be easier if he did. So, he obeyed.

The elixir must have wanted to obey the music, too. Because, right as Bones’ body got within five feet of the chasm. . .he stopped sinking. 

The thought of opening his eyes barely even occurred to him. He could still see himself. And even if he couldn’t, he was still listening to the music. As long as the music kept playing, nothing bad would happen. He was sure of that. 

The elixir began to churn, but Bones remained perfectly still. 

Thin lacerations began opening up on his skin. They started at his fingers, then proceeded to grow longer and longer. They stretched over his hands, up his arms, around his neck, over his face and chest. (This wasn’t really anything new, but for the very first time, there was no stinging sensation for Bones to wince or hiss at.)

The spreading cuts grew deeper and deeper, prompting Bones’ blood to begin seeping out and leaving misty trails in the elixir. It almost looked black against all the colors. It didn’t drift up to the surface. Instead, the blood glided around Bones like a school of tiny fish. 

Once the gashes managed to carve themselves over every square-inch of his body, now resembling a network of tree roots, Bones’ skin began to twitch. Almost like a hangnail, a corner of skin lifted away from the tip of Bones’ index finger. That particular strand became longer and wider as it continued peeling itself off in a spiral. This set off a chain reaction: more and more sections of flesh shivered as they detached. Blood was now spilling out in clouds that nearly hid the entire scene. 

But Bones could still see everything. 

Threads of skin started slithering off of his face. Even as his eyes were forced open due to their lids peeling away, his perspective didn’t change. 

The music was still keeping him company, so he didn’t start thrashing or screaming.

It took a little over five minutes for his skeleton and organs to be rendered bare. His blood continued circling around him in a lazy whirlpool, but his skin apparently had other ideas. One by one, the fleshy strands moved downward, wavering like eels as they vanished into the darkness of the chasm. 

Bones almost felt like he was asleep. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept.

Had his heart just twitched? Were his intestines shuffling? 

He couldn’t be sure, because as he kept staring, the gore slowly grew blurrier, fading in and out of eyeshot. . .

Far too quickly, the music came to a halt. The new silence only lasted for a second or two. Then, a low, buzzing alarm droned into Bones’ ears.  

A loud gasp tore its way from Bones’ throat as he sat up, kicking his legs and thrashing his arms. He blinked, watching as the tank’s lid drifted open above him with a soft, electronic hummmm.

Air collided against his skin, feeling cool considering how he was soaked in the elixir. 

Bones froze, immediately reaching up to touch his face and neck, craning his neck to look at his torso. All of his skin had returned to its rightful place. One top of that. . .he couldn’t see any bruises or scabs or leaking cuts. 

The pleasant numbness was gone. He scowled; a headache was just starting to blossom beneath the bridge of his nose. 

But it wasn’t on-par with a migraine. 

In fact, it was nearly overshadowed by how. . .clean Bones was now realizing he felt. 

He didn’t feel healthy (he was dead, after all), but the feeling of a hot shower and a deep-tissue massage combined. . .it was enveloping him.

Inside and out. 

Bones’ expression shifted so quickly he almost got whiplash. 

He stayed floating for another moment.

Then, he clambered onto the tank’s rim, heading for the basement stairs, not caring one bit how he was dripping and leaving wet footprints everywhere. 

He needed Phantom to show him how to adjust the tank’s settings. 

He needed to spend some more time in there. He needed to have another session—he needed to have at least one hour-long session per day. . .

@that-bat @sammys-magical-au @ineedallofthehugs @th3w00ds @captainrose35 @nwtbobsessedemo

[spotaus]

Had a bunch of Doppletale ideas during my shower so I'm putting then under the Cut!

1) Kale stays underground for a really long time (<- That one's already established. It's like, 6-7 years I believe?) But I think that it's drawn out so long because, not only is K terrified (rightfully so) but Sans is also *extremely* hesitant to tell K about the rest of the underground. Like, he explains if she outright asks him, he wouldn't lie, but even then he cautions her with the most grave explanation when she asks about going past Waterfall for the first time. The further away from Snowdin she ventures, the less he can ensure she's safe. He's honestly terrified for the day she goes to see Asgore. He knows he'll have to Judge her, and that he'll have to accompany her to Asgore, and the last time he escorted someone to the barrier he snapped and killed them just before reaching the king. No matter how many years she's been around and how much better he gets with physical contact, he's so afraid he'll lose himself in that Judgement Hall again.

2) The barrier is fundamentally misunderstood by the monsters of the underground. They believe that to pass the barrier, Monsters must eat Humans and become 'human-like' to escape. This came about after Chara fell and the royal family adopted them. Chara was only a human child, and back then no one was starving. The royal family had recently had Asriel, so when Chara came to them, they thought the best way to teach their son to transform was to have a real human to mimic. Chara was off-limits for meals, and they grew up alongside Asriel as his sibling. Then one day Chara fell ill (ran out of human-food) and Asriel insisted that they go to the surface to get Chara more food. No one saw the whole story. How Chara was coughing blood as they exited the barrier, abd how they were holding Asriel's hand as he slipped through right behind them, disguised as a human child. The monsters had assumed that Asriel ate Chara and escaped the barrier. When Asriel returned to the underground, it was months later, and he only came back because he'd been spotted as a "changeling" by the villagers and had been attacked, separated from Chara and the family he'd been staying with. He "died" inside the barrier, unable to explain how he'd escaped in the first place. (He takes the form of Chara often when he's Flowey if only because it's one of the few faces he remembers.) So, the monsters assumed they had to be perfectly human by consuming more humans to escape. They're wrong. (It actually takes a human putting trust into a monster to give them the chance to cross, and the monster has to view the human as something other than food. As an equal. So, for the barrier to break, the entire underground has to recognize, on some level, that a human is more than food.)

3) Ghost Monsters don't eat Humans, and therefore are the most sane monsters underground by far. All four ghost-monsters were haunting objects that were held onto by humans that had been killed by the monsters, and ended up trapped underground by accident. The only time Ghost Monsters pose a threat is when they try to possess a human. The Ruins Ghost inhabits a dummy (one that's unsettlingly human-shaped that looks like it's been gnawed on by the ruins monsters quite a bit) and it has no intention of harming humans, though it will occasionally appear behind humans or in corners without warning. Napstablook is actually harmless, but wails and cries like a tortured soul. The only thing that calms him is his music. Mad Dummy ends up being the most dangerous Ghost to humans, but much like ruins dummy he inhabits a strange human-anatomy dummy in the waste-dump. He desperately wants a human to possess so he can pass the barrier and escape his wrongful imprisonment. Lastly MTT is obviously still in his robot-body, but as a monster who stays sane while Alphys goes insane, as Sans leaves, as everyone around him starves, he stays adamant that he has to look out for those who aren't able to care for themselves. (In this AU he's never Box shaped.)

3.5) MTT hosts the radio underground. After Alphys damaged him with a trap, he decided that he couldn't bring himself to be on-screen. Instead he uses Alphys' camera system to broadcast a sort of news-station to all the radios in the underground. He's the Star of the underground, and a lot of monsters would claim that MTT was the only reason they didn't lose sanity already. His daily broadcasts always had something new, even after countless years, as his voice was calming and friendly, something monsters didn't have enough of. His very last broadcast is one where he announces it's his last broadcast, because the Barrier is broken. (I also think he'd eventually offer to endorse K to the underground citizens, which has a lot more sway than anyone expects in making Monsters not want to immediately devour K.) (Maybe he's even on the radio when/before K has to speak with Asgore, to take calls from the underground asking opinions on "the Kindness Soul" roaming the underground, and it's a shocking amount of Positivity that they get in response???)

3.6) On the surface, MTT would genuinely become some sort of influencer online. He'd probably love to do Storytimes or Vlogs, and have like a d.i.y. channel. He uses this popularity he gains to slowly but surely change the public opinion on monsters (at least some of them) and help advocate for them to not be ostracized. With advancements in tech, he wouldn't be immediately grouped with the monsters when appearing, so as someone from "outside" either side of the drama and such a positive force he could gather some support. (However, Papyrus and Blooky remain his #1 fans no matter how many new ones he gains.)

And finally, @oodlesndoodles because I promised I'd @ them, and Ood is the designer of Kale/K, the human mentioned for Doppletale's True Pacifist route!

[karatekels]

Disorderly Conduct - Chapter 2

Sorry this is late, everyone (though technically, me being aaaaall the way on the West Coast means this is still posted on Day 4!) - I've got some unfortunate family stuff that's possibly going to impede my ability to write. But we will soldier on!

Previous Parts:

Part 1

TW: (This chapter) Police corruption, violence

---

Chapter 2 - Reconnaissance:

---

You grimace as you experiment with your movements; you hated the feeling of wearing a wire taped to your skin. Fortunately, you’ve elected to wear baggy clothes, different from the prim, proper, more form-fitting clothing that people were used to seeing you in, so at least you weren’t restricted by your movements and could (hopefully) adjust the hidden camera and microphone as needed. The platinum blonde wig may be overkill, but you aren’t willing to risk being recognized prematurely.

You were going to figure out what that arrogant, dismissive son-of-a-bitch was up to, before the bastard got himself killed.

You pull up your hood, completing your disguise, and get into your rental car. It was the first of your scheduled days off, and after they ran out you had booked off a week’s vacation, just to be safe. You know that Cash is jumpy and paranoid these days, and you don’t know how long it’ll take for you to find out what he’s up to; you have to move slowly, and you can’t risk spooking him.

You aren’t taking any chances.

You’ve been feeling this strange sense of guilt-ridden giddiness since you started plotting how to do this, going behind the Chief’s back – behind anyone in a position of authority’s back, you think – for the first time in your life.

Ideally, you’d just catch Cash in the act or planning on doing something stupid and then nagging him until he agreed to get his shit together. The recording devices strapped to your body, peeking out from a couple of the button-holes in your shirt, they were just a contingency plan. You weren’t past snitching if it kept the jack-ass alive.

The first several days are simple reconnaissance.

In other words, you sat in the rental car with its tinted windows, your binoculars, and a stash of food, waiting for Cash’s silver pick-up to drive by, leaving the busier part of the city for the backroads. You’d follow him with your binoculars until you couldn’t see the truck anymore, then relocate to that area, slowly inching your way closer to… wherever it was that he was spending all of his time.

On the fourth day, you watch the truck turn down an isolated driveway, waiting awhile until it seemed safe to slowly drive past, looking at the dilapidated building over your shoulder. You make note of the address on the faded mailbox, heading home the long way, doubling back to make sure you weren’t followed.

You take the rental car to the strip mall across the street from the precinct, waiting until you see Cash show up for his night shift. Once he does, you call a cab, getting it to drop you off just down the road from where Cash had been holed up – you couldn’t very well leave a car nearby.

Creeping along the treeline, you don’t see or hear any sign of life in the old house and decide to cautiously approach. Doing a quick perimeter check, you predictably don’t find any points of entry that are accessible.

You’ll have to break in. Fortunately, you were prepared for this sort of thing. Sliding a spare bobby pin out from under your wig, you pick the lock to the front door quickly, slipping inside and re-locking the door behind you.

You’re limiting yourself to using a flashlight rather than risking switching any of the lights on; you didn’t know if Cash had anyone watching the premises, and even though the windows were almost completely boarded up, you didn’t want to risk any light seeping through and alerting somebody to your presence on the property.

The place is a wreck, somehow managing to be both destitute and slovenly. Still, you do your best to case the joint, looking for any sign of what he might be up to, but the place yields no information whatsoever. It’s a simple, one storey rancher, comprised of a kitchen, a small sitting room, a bathroom, a bedroom and a storage room.

What the hell could Cash possibly be doing, spending all his free time in this dump? It certainly wasn’t renovations.

As if on cue, you hear tires on gravel outside, the glow of headlights casting shadows through the wooden planks covering the windows. Peeking out, you recognize Cash’s truck.

Oh, fuck.

Trying not to panic, you dive through the French doors into the storage room, figuring it was the one he was least likely to use, trying to blend in with the random furniture and other assorted crap tossed in here. The doors had been closed when you’d arrived, and you shut them now, grateful for the barrier between you.

The front door opens, and a hazy light comes on in the kitchen. You hear the clinking of bottles being put in the fridge, but Cash is otherwise quiet. He had always moved quietly, despite being such a large person.

Keeping one eye looking through the boarded up doors, you quickly check the time on your flip phone. It wasn’t even two in the morning; his shift shouldn’t have ended until four. What the hell was he doing here?

His own cell goes off, and he answers it before the second ring ends. You press the buttons on your microphone and camera to start recording, just in case; you hope the former doesn’t pick up the thudding of your heart.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I just got to the house. Thanks for the cover. Good thing there are so many B&Es these days – plenty of opportunities to disappear for a few hours for investigation.”

Cash chuckles at something the caller says, and his long shadow comes into view before he himself does. The sight of his handsome profile, even partly obscured by the wooden planks, sets your heart off. You know that he will be very, very angry if he finds you here, and you didn’t even know what he was up to yet.

“I’m telling you, the place is deserted; not another house for at least a mile in either direction. When I came by earlier today there was one car that drove past. In three hours! It’s the perfect place for the drop.”

You’re fairly certain that it had been your car that he’d seen, and that piece of news makes you feel justified in all of your over-the-top decisions. The rental car, the disguise… you have no doubt Cash would have recognized your car had it driven past, and you’re relieved you took the precautions you had.

“The guy said he’d drop it off in the next 48 hours; I’ll get a call when he’s got a time nailed down. I’ve got the stuff here to weigh and repackage, and then Ray’ll take it to his connection to get it distributed. Once we cut the guy in, we should be making out with 20 grand each, easy. And no one will know about the swap; it’s not like anyone’s testing the drugs once they make it into evidence.”

Well, that sounded an awful lot like he was dealing drugs, however indirectly. And it sounded like more than one other officer was in on it.

“Well, let me know if you hear anything while you’re on duty. Bye.”

There’s a bitter taste of disappointment and anger in your mouth. Cash, a dirty cop? Before his suspension, you would have found the idea completely unfathomable. Now he was stealing drugs from evidence to sell on the street?

You’re almost upset that you’re here, recording this. You’d have to turn him in now – it was your job.

You had been way off in your suspicions about what Cash had been up to; he hadn’t been planning to redeem himself for whatever the hell he’d done last year, but was instead doubling down.

Had he been lying to you the whole time you’d known him? Had you ever actually known him? Or was this just a result of the suspension? Had it messed him up so badly that all sense of duty had abandoned him?

You’re not sure you want the answer.

What you do want is to get the hell out of here, pronto. You’d thought that Cash would be mad if he caught you when you thought he was up to something self-sacrificing, and shudder to think of what he might do if he found you here now.

The idea makes you shudder so hard, in fact, that you jostle one of the knick-knacks off of the shelf you’re crouched against, and it shatters when it hits the floor.

You fight the urge to close your eyes and go to your “happy place”.

There’s a prolonged silence, and then Cash comes around the corner again, this time wearing a ski mask that conceals his face. Well, except for his eyes. His eyes are darting about as he takes in the darkness, a hand on the holster at his hip.

You don’t have your firearm with you; you hadn’t imagined it would be necessary for your well-intentioned intervention.

Before the suspension, Cash had never scared you, despite his size and his ability to go from goofy to intimidating at the drop of a hat. It had come in handy in interrogations, but you’d never had it directed at you.

Since returning from his suspension, his goofy demeanour had disappeared, and you mostly saw him silently brooding around the precinct, but even then you’d still felt confident that he was on your side.

Looking at him now though, as he approaches the doors that you’re hiding behind, you are seeing him for what he is: a terrifying, unpredictable giant of a man, armed (and very capable with a weapon, you knew), and with quite a skewed moral compass, if his prior conversation had been anything to go by.

He opens the doors suddenly, as if to catch you by surprise, and you don’t move.

You don’t even blink.

You watch as his piercing blue eyes scan the room, thankfully leaving the light off – that meant you had a sliver of hope that you wouldn’t be spotted.

But you have no doubt that he’ll be thorough in the search, and you know you’ll have to take any chance you can, the moment you see an opening.

He bends to examine the broken teacup on the ground, and you make your move.

Adrenaline surging through you, you run towards him, bringing your knee up to his nose. Having taken him by surprise, you make contact, and he drops to his knees to clutch at his face with a pained scream, giving you the opportunity to hurtle past him and make for the door.

You only have to get down the hall, to the kitchen. You don’t know what you’ll do once you make it outside, but you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it.

Unfortunately, you never do.

A large hand closes around your ankle as you move to run away, pulling you back in one sharp motion that has you falling down flat, twinging your wrists as you hit the ground hard. You try to kick back with your free leg with a yell, but he’s suddenly on top of you, using his weight to pin you down. The air is knocked right out of you, and you can’t speak.

“Cash,” you choke out, trying to push out any remaining breath in you to help you say his name, but nothing comes out. “Cash!” you huff out desperately, but he doesn’t hear you.

“You picked the wrong house to break into, sweetheart,” he growls, a hand shoving your head down onto the hardwood roughly. He grips your hood, and the hair beneath it, intent on pulling your head back and slamming it back down again, but as he tugs something feels off to him, and he freezes.

The gentle way that he pulls your hood down off your head stands in stark contrast to the rest of the situation, and as he tangles his hand in the cheap strands of fake blonde hair, pulling the wig off of your head, he lets out a sharp intake of breath.

Were the situation completely different, you might find yourself flattered by how quickly he recognizes you just from the back of your head alone. As it stands, you’re just hoping that maybe, by some miracle, he decides that the fact that it’s you means something to him.

Lifting his weight off of you slightly, he rolls you over as you gasp, your body’s sole focus on getting its much-needed oxygen. You stare deeply into his eyes, the only part of him not concealed by the mask, and you lose track of how many emotions you see flit across his face through those icy blue orbs as he stares down at you: anger, guilt, confusion, regret, sadness… He seems to settle on anger, glaring at your teary, red face like it offended him somehow.

“Fuck.”

That’s the only thing he says, the word coming out as a hiss, before you feel a gloved hand come up to your neck, finding the pressure point there just as you’d both been trained to do, and you quickly feel yourself start to lose consciousness.

‘Fuck’ is right, you think to yourself as your world fades to black.

---

Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

[krahka]

kicking my feet in the air with an enormous owo 23 24 29 one of those d20s rolled like shit on all three rolls anyway tell me about gnathe

What are your Character's thoughts on the dream visitor?

Bad! Don’t trust! There are only two beings of sufficient psionic power to grant visions over the multiverse that Gnathe trusts, and that’s neither Zerthimon nor Menyar-Ag, and no matter how much this gith mystic in the Astral Sea seems to be trying to play on that trust, she’s definitely not them. They would never ask anyone to betray themselves by drawing on the power of the illithids. If they would, Gnathe would renounce them in an instant.

She said that they needed that power to save Toril. Well, in that case, let this plane burn. Whatever fate she's trying to get them to avoid, it's a kinder one than the fate they'd grant these people as a ghaik.

Was your illithid tadpole empowered by anything in Act 1? If so, how does your Character feel about that?

I guess the part where every time they try and get it out, it worms further in might count as making it more powerful, or at least, get it stuck in there further, and Gnathe took literally every opportunity offered to get it out. At least every opportunity, except with Priestess Gut. She was talking about how the parasites are a gift from her goddess, who speaks to her through them, but yeah, sure, drink this potion! It’s definitely not poison, and this is definitely not an illithid cult!

Even past trying everything they can to get rid of the parasite, Gnathe has also been destroying every single tadpole they come across. Fuck you, Dream Visitor!

It’s also a lesser, unintentional fuck you to Astorian, who is not impressed by their hypocrisy. They've made it clear that every path of power is acceptable when it comes to fighting the mind flayers, who haven’t held any power over the gith for generations, but when it comes to fighting Cazador, who has very directly been personally enslaving him for centuries, now there’s a line? Fuck you.

Did you adopt an owlbear? Do you have a name for your child?

Yes! Gnathe rescued him from the goblins who were chasing him around with the usual method they handled problems in the goblin camp, namely, by pretending to be in charge. The cub ran away, and they were content to let him go, but he came back to their camp because he had nowhere else to go, and their disguise self spell didn’t hide their smell. (Given that I’ve had multiple companions mention how their smell turns them on, I can only imagine what it is.) They fed him, over Lae’zel’s objections, and now he’s allowed to stay with them for as long as he likes.

They haven’t given him a name. He can choose one for himself, if he likes.