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#The Lair in the Woods
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The Lair in the Woods
A/N: I meant to post this yesterday but my day got hijacked by a migraine😭 (I’m fine now but oof my weekend got away from me! I still have to finish making my Christmas tree topper…) (I did however schedule my Insta and FB posts for the week though so there’s that😎)
Warnings: Some anxiety and feelings of fear, reference to stalker, self-image issues, reference to (past) threats, confessions (of sorts)
My Masterlist | Taglist Info or Taglist Request Form | The Lair in the Woods masterlist
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Civilian furrowed their brow. “What are you insinuating?”
The more Supervillain asked them, the more overwhelmed and helpless Caretaker’s heart became. They’d asked questions about their childhood, about their job, about the grocery store clerk that usually rang them up, and everything in between. Most of their questions Civilian couldn’t even answer, because how should they know if someone was watching them while they’d walked the dogs at the shelter they volunteered at or if they kept running into the same person at the pharmacy and then again at the mall when they went shopping?
“Maybe we should take a break,” Supervillain smiled warily, as if they should be the one to feel exasperated by their line of questioning.
“Was any of that actually helpful to you, or are we still nowhere near figuring out who my stalker is?” Civilian asked, their voice full of dejection.
Supervillain’s lips pressed into a thin line. They nodded slowly. “I think if we can piece some things together, like the timing of the letters and what…‘event’ we’ll call them, they correlated with, and try to discern a pattern and draw a list of suspects from that, we’ll find your stalker. They will not torment you forever, Civilian. I promise you that.”
Their savior’s words didn’t fill Civilian with any warmth. Their stomach churned with doubt.
Supervillain had asked them a lot of questions. They hadn’t been able to offer their companion many answers.
“It all just seems so random,” Civilian mumbled, leaning back into the couch cushions and resting their head against the top. “Nothing about it makes any sense to me. I’m…I’m really not that noticeable…or…well, you know. Pretty.”
Supervillain scoffed. “People are drawn to different art forms for a reason, so whether or not you’re attractive matters only to your stalker.”
“Thank you?” Civilian turned to look at them, not entirely sure if their words offered any actual comfort or if Supervillain had only offered them out of duty. But Supervillain’s eyes gleamed seriously. The lines of their face had softened with an honest expression. Swallowing, Civilian quickly added, “But I’m not a painting.”
“Who said you had to be painting? You could be a sculpture instead,” Supervillain teased.
Civilian smiled, glancing away. “All right fine. I guess my stalker likes what they see. That’s not very comforting though, given…Their letters were…I wish I could’ve burned them.”
“But it’s a good thing you didn’t. They’re still evidence, and we could use them. Writing is like another thumbprint. Everyone has their own style, so there’s going to be something there to help prove that the person we bring to justice is your stalker. That, and I’m sure we’ll find other evidence to help convict them.”
“They’re typed though. We can’t exactly compare how they cross their t’s.”
“No, but sentence structure, word choice, and spelling can all help us.”
Civilian picked at an invisible thread on their pant leg. They hadn’t thought of that.
“We’ll find them,” Supervillain repeated. “And I think I know exactly how we’re going to draw them out.” Civilian’s breath hitched, fearing what their savior was about to propose. They’d hinted at a plan forming in their mind, and if the excited gleam in their eye was anything to go by, it seemed Supervillain was ready to share it. Pausing at their panic, Supervillain offered them an assuring smile, “You’ll be completely safe, don’t worry. In fact, you’re going to stay right here, completely protected by my team of highly trained professionals and Medic. But…Well, it’s not necessarily a bad thing I suppose,” Supervillain paused, turning away from them and leaning back in their chair. “I have a confession to make before I can tell you my plan.”
“O-okay?” Civilian gripped the arm of the couch. Their muscles coiled, ready to vault them off the couch and out the door. “What is it?”
Supervillain sucked in a breath. “It’s…easier if I show you, but some people find it rather…unsettling.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to show me,” Civilian stuttered, “I’ll believe you.”
Supervillain raised a brow. “If you say so. Either way, I know you’re not going to like what I have to say because most sensible people don’t.” Civilian watched as Supervillain slowly stood from their chair and stepped away from the cozy seating area.
Encouraged by the distance they’d put between them, Civilian nodded uncertainly. “What is it?”
“I have superpowers,” Supervillain said slowly. “And not just any superpowers, I can shapeshift. So I can do this.”
Civilian watched, mystified as Supervillain’s features morphed and rearranged themselves before their very eyes. They weren’t sure if the rock in their throat was from their initial terror or because some part of them was repulsed by the grotesque display of skin and muscle rearranging themselves as Supervillain’s stature shrank, their hair grew out and changed color, and their entire appearance changed. The clothes became baggy and hung from Supervillain’s changed figure, a figure that Civilian had seen everyday of their life, every time they looked in the mirror.
Supervillain had become them.
Civilian gulped.
“You could be anybody,” they said, their mouth dry. “Even my stalker.”
“You’re right,” Supervillain said calmly, “I could be anybody, but right now I’m you.”
Civilian nodded. “So this is how you’re going to do it. You’re going to pretend to be me?”
“Yes…” Supervillain trailed off.
Civilian’s head hurt. They tried to focus, they really did. But all their mind could fixate on was the fact that a perfect copy of themselves stood in front of them, that that’s what their voice sounded like to other people, and that Supervillain had shapeshifted into them of all people.
“Close your eyes.”
They didn’t even think twice, doing as Supervillain said without question. It didn’t stop their temples from throbbing though.
“Okay.” Supervillain’s voice had returned to normal, and as Civilian opened their eyes, they were met with the sight of the figure of their savior as they’d been introduced to. Well-fitted clothes and all. “So yes, as I was going to explain, I—” Supervillain let out a heavy sigh and plopped back down in their chair. “Go ahead. Ask me anything you want.”
Civilian nearly burst, “Why that form? Is that what you really look like? Does it…” They glanced down at their lap, trying to calm themselves before they asked something insensitive.
“I like this height. It’s tall enough to reach the top shelf, but not so tall as to be noticeable and draw attention from people,” Supervillain said, amusement clear in their voice. “I plead the fifth on your second question, namely because telling you either way would risk my entire business, and no. It doesn’t hurt me. It looks worse than it feels. It’s more like…Well I guess it’s that I’m used to it. When I shrink it’s not so bad, but it can feel like stretching sometimes when I shift taller, but other times it’s like I’m pulling a muscle. The, uh, ‘joint pain’ I’ll call it because it’s sort of like that, as my bones shift isn’t fun, but like I said, I’m used to it.” Supervillain shrugged dismissively.
Supervillain avoided their gaze. From where they sat, Civilian could see how their hands clenched the arms of their chair. Civilian stared at them for a second, letting it all sink in and tried to wrap their head around everything.
“So…you can shapeshift and you run a private security firm that has a base of operations in an old ski lodge.”
Supervillain nodded slowly. They still hadn’t glanced their way. “That’s right.”
“I feel like you’re not telling me something,” Civilian said quietly. Supervillain tensed under their gaze, their eyes finally snapping to them. Civilian couldn’t hold their gaze, fearing the answer to what they wanted to ask—what they were going to ask. “Are you…I mean, I know you can’t answer this but…” They hesitated, debating with themselves if they should even ask. “Are you a hero or something?”
The Lair in the Woods Taglist: @just-a-space-rabbit @classicplesiosaur @pigeonwhumps @heninthegarden @kaiwewi @korejon @rivalriotrenegade @alpacamelons @averyconfusedhuman @amerementdoux @istealpants @sweetpeaflower01 @theimportantbreadtraveler @spideyholland @alltimelowing Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed (no reason necessary😊)! You can also fill out this handy dandy form if you’d like to be added too!
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my least favorite project in the World is hanging doors. but guess what i gotta do today
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odysseus888 · 5 months
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@kiwiwisdeathday and @astrologiaa cameo
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randomthunk · 1 year
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Picked up a piece I sketched back in November and really enjoyed getting it over the finish line. They’re Team Nature for a reason.
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dndsettingsinfo · 1 year
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The Cabin in the Woods
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whats-in-a-sentence · 7 months
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King Miraz's scouts soon found their new lair, and he and his army arrived on the edge of the woods.
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"The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian" - C. S. Lewis
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sleepytroll · 1 year
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☽ ✧ In the Woods Somewhere ✧ ☾
| Commission Info
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twistedtummies2 · 2 years
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When watching the news Episode of The Villains Lair, I got some "Your Fault!" From Into the Woods vibes. Because they were basically pinning the blame on one another!
So did I! I'd be surprised if the team at Pattycake Productions wasn't inspired by that song. Not only is the basic idea of the song the same, but so is the meter and the sort of pattering way the pair banter and jab at each other. A couple sections almost felt like they followed the same rhythm, especially... Queen: "...Now unable to collect her debts from us to pay!" Maleficent: "You mean YOUR debt." Queen: "MY debt?" Maleficent: "Yes!" Queen: "It was OUR debt!" Maleficent: "Wrong again, my pet." Needless to say, it WOULD be kind of cool to see Mother Gothel break into a round of "The Last Midnight" at some point. Especially since Donna Murphy was in a production of "Into the Woods"...but I digress.
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stellatenuem · 1 year
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❝ Altering the world... the lives of humanity as you see fit... ❞ His lip curls in disdain.
❝ I know I'm a disgrace... But some of you are beyond me. ❞
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domaintern · 2 years
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casually threw into a fic that amelda has a hunting/all-purpose knife that was a present from rafael and now that’s not only my constant headcanon, i desperately want fic of stressed teenage newly minted team dad rafael dragging his two new coworkers (also stressed, somewhat younger teenagers, the two of them barely speaking enough shared english to comprehend each other and still somehow getting into fights) on a wilderness camping trip to teach them survival skills. officially because depending on how the apocalypse shakes out we could all use some wilderness survival skills, secretly because rafael still has the conviction that maybe if everyone communed with nature a little more they’d calm down and oh god do these kids need to calm down
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The Lair in the Woods: Part 8
A/N: No editing, we die like men😅
Warnings: threats (mostly in jest), reference to stalking/being stalked, anxiety, medical scenario, reference to past injury, reference to past near-death experience, fear, fear of being stalked
My Masterlist | Taglist Info or Taglist Request Form | The Lair in the Woods masterlist
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“…ould we wake them?” A low voice slowly drew Supervillain from their slumber. Buoying between sleep and wakefulness, Supervillain managed to gather their wits before they moved, realizing the weight pressing against their one side as a person slumped against them.
Their eyes slid toward the sound the voice had come from, their ears pricking at the whispered reply of uncertainty.
“I would advise against that if you value your lives,” Supervillain hissed under their breath, finally finding Medic and Right Hand in the darkened living room. As the pair gaped at them, Supervillain turned their attention to slowly disengaging themselves from Civilian’s sleeping form, praying they wouldn’t wake as they managed to maneuver away from them and set a pillow under them in their place.
Stepping away from the makeshift bed, Supervillain’s gaze lingered a moment longer than they should’ve allowed just to be sure that Civilian hadn’t woken. Satisfied they’d managed to escape without waking them, Supervillain turned to motion for their associates to follow them.
Right Hand’s eyes held a teasing glimmer that made their blood boil. They met their gaze with a hard glare. Clenching their jaw, Supervillain ignored them and strode past them both toward the hallway.
Once they were all safely out in the frigid hallway and the door to their private quarters shut firmly to ensure Civilian didn’t hear them, Supervillain grumbled, “Not a word to anyone, or I’ll kill you both.”
“Hey, say no more,” Right Hand said, an amused lilt to their voice, “but before I let this go, I just have to ask, you couldn’t get away before?”
Supervillain sighed. Exasperation eased the tension from their shoulders. “I couldn’t. Civilian is like a cat, I couldn’t just push them off.”
Medic hummed. “Tell that to your heart rate.”
“Did you two come here just to gamble with your lives, or do you actually have something of importance needing my attention?” Supervillain crossed their arms over their chest and morphed their appearance in what many considered to be their true face: a pinched face that wasn’t altogether unpleasing to look at but also not conventionally handsome. It seemed to unsettle people, and that’s what Supervillain liked about it. It put people on edge until they decided whether or not he was too seedy to be around or somehow beautiful enough to fall for their rouse.
But in reality, they knew Right Hand hated watching them shapeshift. Medic didn’t seemed too fazed by it anymore, but even they got the message.
Barely meeting their gaze, Right Hand offered them a thin file folder. “This is a short-list of any supers who might could use their abilities to stalk someone, as well as some suspected stalkers in Civilian’s area the police couldn’t never quite prove without a doubt were guilty, barely finding circumstantial evidence against them.”
Supervillain accepted the file, slightly disheartened at how thin it was. But then again, maybe that was a blessing in and of itself. Now they only had handful of suspects instead of a whole pool. If they could prove a link between any of these supers and Civilian, they’d have found their stalker and could take care of it.
They flipped through the file, scanning the pages of the profiles Right Hand had pulled containing information like the supers’ civilian name, their hero or villain name if they had one, their powers, and any other information they’d gathered on them. As they did, they stopped on a page and gave it a hard look, their eyebrow arching.
“Why is Mirth included on here?” Annoyance flared in their bloodstream.
Medic snickered, “Probably cause Right Hand fancies her.”
“Uh-huh, but that still doesn’t answer my question, now does it?”
“It sort of does,” Medic mumbled at the same time as Right Hand stuttered, “Well, she does have powers that would aid in—”
Supervillain cut them off with a shake of their head. They snapped the file closed and pinched the bridge of their nose with their free hand. “That might be true but do you honestly believe that Mirth of all heroes capable of stalking someone and sending threatening messages?”
Medic and Right Hand shared a glance.
“When you put it like that,” Right Hand said slowly, “no, but I figured after what she did to Other Supervillain, maybe she was worth considering.”
“She operated halfway across the country.”
Medic raised their hands like they were surrendering. “I tried to tell them but they wouldn’t listen.”
“Right,” Supervillain drawled, opening the file once more and plucking Mirth’s profile and handing it back to Right Hand. “In any case, this is a good start. Have you found out anything about Civilian’s connections and if their stalker is someone they do know?”
“I’m still looking into it and cross-referencing what I’ve found with our data and anything I can hack into, but so far nothing. Civilian’s associates all check out.”
Supervillain sagged with relief. Catching themselves, they straightened and cleared their throat. “Report to me immediately if you find anything. I’ll get this to my contact in the city.”
“Oh? And who might that be?” Right Hand’s brows raised.
“None of your concern. I made a bargain and that’s all you need to know at the moment.”
Medic kicked Right Hand in the shin before they could say anything more. “All right then. I’ll be back in the morning to check on Civilian. In the meantime, I’ll keep Right Hand out of trouble.”
“And you’re doing a great job of it,” Supervillain said dryly, not bothering to keep their voice down. How these two had become their closest confidants they’ll never wholly understand. Shaking their head, Supervillain took a step toward their chamber door, glad for the second alone. Their body flushed with heat. Their skin crawled, stretching and pulling and shrinking back into place as they shifted back into the image Civilian knew them as. Already their mind was thinking of a plan to catch their stalker, regardless of what their intelligence gathering could grant them. But first, they needed a shower and some breakfast, some time to clear their head before Civilian inevitably woke up and needed to be looked after.
***
Civilian stretched, not bothering to open their eyes. Wood smoke tickled their nose. A fire crackled somewhere close to them. By all means, between the atmosphere beyond their closed eyes and the warmth surrounding them, it was the most at peace they’d felt in days even accounting for the ache that blanketed their whole body.
Slowly, they willed their eyes to peel open and stay open. Civilian frowned. Their addled mind couldn’t place the wood paneled wall or the floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. Neither could they remember ever owning a fur blanket—or so many blankets—and they certainly didn’t think they’d sleep anywhere but their bed.
Sitting up, Civilian glanced around, their eyes lingering on each little detail as they tried to wipe the cobwebs from their mind.
A spark shuddered through them. Supervillain. The storm. The old ski lodge.
Groaning, Civilian sank back into the bed of blankets and furs, pulling a blanket over their head and curling up. They just wanted a moment. Or better yet, a complete break from reality. Just for a little while, they silently pleaded with whatever universal powers would listen and take pity on them.
Soft footsteps reached their ears, as did the slight creak of the floorboards. Willing themselves to peel the blanket away from their face and peek out at the world to see who was coming, Civilian was immediately met with the curious gaze of Supervillain.
“Good morning?” they said, their lips quirked in a bemused smile.
Despite themselves, Civilian groaned and brought the blanket back up over their head, praying that Supervillain would just leave them alone.
“Ah, so it’s that kind of day. Well, I was just about to make breakfast and I expect Medic will be around shortly to check in on you. You’re welcome to pretend you don’t exist if that’s what you want. I, on the other hand, will be making waffles.”
Civilian bit their lip, tempted by the promise of food but not entirely willing to leave their cocoon. Hesitantly, they asked, “Do I have to get up?”
Supervillain’s chuckle was like thunder to their ears. “Not if you don’t want to. I’ll bring you a plate when they’re ready.”
“Thank you.” Civilian turned their face into the soft bedroll beneath them as though it could swallow them whole and actually hide them from the world, but alas, it left them alone and feeling utterly exposed.
Supervillain hummed in acknowledgement but remained silent. The only other indication of their presence was the soft footsteps that faded away toward where Civilian had gathered the kitchen was.
A burst of static turned Civilian’s heart beat into a frenzy. And then it was gone and the room was silent again except for the frantic beating of Civilian’s heart between their ears.
“Damn,” they heard Supervillain mutter. A little louder they said, “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I’d left the radio on so loud, or that the storm had knocked out the weather station. The blizzard’s stopped though, so as soon as Medic says you’re fit to travel, we could probably take the snow mobiles back to your retreat here on the mountain. That is if you want to.”
Civilian took a long breath in through their nose. Realizing there was no sense in outrunning the day, they sat up and let the blanket fall to their lap. “And what about my stalker? Are…Does your offer to help still stand?”
“My team and I already compiled a list of supers who possess powers that could definitely lend themselves to being a difficult stalker to catch. I haven’t heard from my…associate in the city yet. I imagine they have their hands full with the blizzard now.”
Civilian nodded. Drawing their legs up to their chest, they threaded their fingers through their hair and meant to let their head rest in the hand. They quickly pulled their hand away from their hair in disgust. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d washed their hair, but they definitely needed to today.
A distant knock and the subsequent pause in Supervillain’s preparation of the waffles broke them from their pining after a shower and a fresh set of clothes.
“And that’s probably Medic now,” Supervillain sighed.
Sure enough, a moment later Civilian was greeted by the person who’d woke them from their fitful slumber last night or yesterday.
“Hello again,” they said, offering them a soft smile. “I’m Medic, though you probably already know that. Sorry about yesterday, I didn’t mean to startle you. Is it okay if I come a little closer?”
Civilian nodded, watching their slow movements as Medic set their medical bag on the edge of the bed beside them and came to stand before them.
“So, how are you feeling?” they asked.
“Okay…” Civilian said, still watching them warily.
Medic nodded. Civilian expected some form of condescension to mar their features or crinkle their eyes, but Medic remained completely calm and open. “Any aches or pain anywhere?”
“Yeah. My entire body aches.”
“Do you still feel cold?”
“Uh,” Civilian paused, considering the question for a second before they answer. “No, not anymore.”
“That’s great,” Medic beamed. “All right then the only left to do is check your vitals and then I’ll be out of your hair. Is that okay with you.”
Civilian nodded, a little more at ease than they were previously. Maybe they shouldn’t have been but Medic didn’t seem to have a threatening bone in their body—and the aroma of waffles wafting through the room was starting to make Civilian’s mouth water.
Medic walked them through everything they did before bringing out their instruments, something Civilian was grateful for and suspected Medic did on purpose so they wouldn’t startle them. After listening to their lungs and checking their eyes, Medic placed the blood pressure cuff on them and inflated it.
After a moment, they removed it and packed everything away.
“So your blood pressure is a little elevated, though nothing to be concerned about given the circumstances.” They tilted their head, frowning. “You don’t have a history of high blood pressure, do you?”
Civilian shook their head.
Medic nodded slowly. “Then it’s definitely just a result of recent stress factors. Do you have any questions for me?”
“No…wait,” Civilian started, “can I take a shower?”
Medic shrugged. “If you’re up for it, I don’t see why not. Try not to make it too hot though. Your body temperature is stable, but I wouldn’t want you to shock your system again so soon after your prolonged exposure to the cold.”
“Okay.”
With a word of goodbye, Medic left and Supervillain soon took their place, a plate of waffles in their hand.
“There’s more in the kitchen if you want some,” they offered.
“Thanks,” Civilian said, eagerly accepting the warm plate.
“When you’re done, I’ll show you to the bathroom. It’s adjoined to my bedroom so…” Supervillain trailed off. Their gaze dropped to their feet. “We’re still working on getting the power restored to the main parts of the building, so unless you want to brave the frigid hallways, the en suite’s the closest one to us.”
Civilian bobbed their head. “That’s fine. I mean, I don’t want to impose, or impose anymore than I already have, I just want to—”
“It’s fine, and you’re really not imposing,” Supervillain assured them softly. “I’ll try and find some fresh clothes that’ll fit you in the meantime.”
Civilian nodded, watching them as they walked off down the hallway that would inevitably lead to their bedroom. More and more, they didn’t know what to think of their savior or what their motivations might be. But at least there was one thing they were certain of: they were really good at making waffles and pancakes, so even if they were their stalker, at least Civilian had gotten something good out of the whole situation.
Not all they had to do was figure out how to leave this place, and just who they could trust if not Supervillain and their team.
Their waffles provided them no insight other than the comfort of a happy appetite. By the time they’d finished, Supervillain was back and informed them that they’d left a change of clothes in the bathroom for them for when they wanted them. With no time like the present, Civilian begrudgingly stood from the bed on weak legs. Carefully wrapping a blanket around themselves like it could shield them, Civilian trailed after Supervillain as they led the way to most luxurious bathroom they’d ever seen. Civilian greedily eyed the free standing soaker tub, realizing that maybe a good soak would do them a world of good that a shower just couldn’t possibly do.
Supervillain left, and for the first time in days, Civilian felt as though they were truly alone.
The feeling didn’t stop them for searching as much of the bathroom as they could reach for any signs of cameras though. They doubted the paranoia of being stalked would ever leave them, but for one fleeting moment as they lowered themselves into the warm water of the tub, they thought maybe in time, they’d overcome it.
The Lair in the Woods Taglist: @just-a-space-rabbit @classicplesiosaur @pigeonwhumps @heninthegarden @kaiwewi @korejon @rivalriotrenegade @alpacamelons @averyconfusedhuman @amerementdoux Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed (no reason necessary😊)! You can also fill out this handy dandy form if you’d like to be added too!
Part 9
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pequene-ninho · 5 months
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I mostly enjoy the apparel of notn but aesthetically its iust watered down trickmurk and its just not 4 me :/
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odysseus888 · 5 months
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giggles kicks feet
Lyrics from The Main Character by Will Wood
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thelairofrymoire · 1 year
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jonathantaylor · 1 year
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B Review: The Wicked Woods Chronicles, V2 (script) by JonathanTaylor19
I should post these right after the video comes out, not slag them off as I do
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evilminji · 2 months
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You know what idea has always ENCHANTED ME?
Ever since I saw it on a sci-fi show?
The Deadly Magical House That Loves You™. See, it's a house that has become something MORE. Gained sentience. And? Instead of acting out some cheap horror movie jump scares? It digs deep to its foundations, thinks long n hard, and decides on what it WANTS.
And it WANTS?
To be a HOME™.
To TAKE CARE OF somebody. Have LIFE in its halls. Meals at its tables. Joy and laughter bouncing across its walls. So? It lays a trap. Lures people in.
Come live in me~
I am a good home.
I am Free! I am "Safe". I will give you whatever your heart desires.
I care not for morality or laws. Boundaries or taboos. Do you desire? Come, come, be HAPPY~! Live in me! Relax here! Forget about the world beyond these walls. Anything I can not give you, I can bring TOO you! This is a Happy Home.
But, of course, such sentience and pushiness terrifies. People run and flee in horror. The house getting more aggressive. Trying to hold tighter. After all! If they would just STAY for a while, they would SEE! It's so LOVELY here! The would LOVE to live inside them!
But... instead?
They are hurt.
Doors smashed open. Windows broken to escape. Furniture thrown. Their avatar, Jeeves, bashed with heavy things. Why... WHY?! They are only trying to HELP! To LOVE them! Be a good HOME! They grow more and more run down. Starved. Wrathful.
It is, of course, their Obsession. To be a home. They are so very hungry.
When? Who should come along?
But the depressed AF Ghost King! He's been... not TECHNICALLY kicked out. But "things are tense" kicked out. He's tired. His college courses are remote. He can't really AFFORD rent. And everything is just...
He's TIRED.
He wants to cry.
Why... why can't he have ONE good thing? ONE sign everything's gonna be alright?
"Free House!"
Well... I mean... that IS a literal sign. Huh. He flies down. The house notices him. Tries to look as enticing as it can. And? Gasp! I... It's WORKING? This one seems INTERESTED? Quick! Flowerbeds! Look at my flowerbeds! Ooooh, lovely floooowers! A.. and there's probably really nice wood flooring! C'mon. C'moooon!
Danny? Sees a free Lair. Not too far from both Gotham AND Metropolis. Good location. Needs a little fixing up. But I mean... you can't beat free, right?
Is he really gonna do this?
......fuck it. Yeah, let's do this. First house time. He's just glad he carries a sharpie on him most of the time. Scribbles "Sold!" Over the sign then calls Jazz. He's... kinda not sure WHAT he's supposed to pack?
Finds out, post move in, whoop. Sentient Lair. Clingy, clingy, highly desperate sentient Lair. Oof. Guess fixing up the place can be therapy for both of us. Jazz helps.
The house heals. He falls into a routine. Schoolwork, hang out in the garden or the observatory, meals FaceTiming friends or watching videos, naps whenever he wants them. It's... it's so peaceful. Quiet and soothing to his agitated and worn down soul. Like a balm.
House gets him whatever he needs. They're kinda awesome like that. Always seems to have room to fit this or that. He doesn't question it. His brain figuring it works on Zone logic.
He probably SHOULD have.
Because? Things have been going missing. At a slow, steady, pace. Food, technology, entertainment. A building that shouldn't BE there, has been spotted in a wealthy county just outside of Superman and Batman's two cities.
No one can get near it.
It's been getting BIGGER.
Growing, like a tumor, room by room. Floor by floor. The gardens creeping like kudzu, to swallow everything in their path. Yet delivery drivers drop things off. Things they don't remember. On trips they don't recall. People are scared.
Amateur detectives have managed to discover some sort of starlit fae that lives there, along with a human boy.
Justice League Dark has been called in. Are currently standing just outside the slowly creeping property line. A garden statue just hissed at them. The trees are trying to throw acorns. A hushed argument has already broken out. How do they contain the house?
@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @hypewinter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @lolottes
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