#chapter: heart of darkness

[danwidth]

I’ll be there with you.

If you mess up, I’ll mess up more than you,

so we both look stupid to nobody,

okay?

absolutely smitten with this mettatenna fic, i am now a believer

[kasieli]

DamiRae week 2025 | Day three: Love Confessions

Kind of a reach here, but hey, confessing your love on the altar is still confessing your love, right? (Even if you’ve done it a thousand times before?????)

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter Three - Smoke and Whiskey

<< First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco, cannabis), plus-sized reader, female reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me.

~3.2k

When you go back inside, you wind up wedged between John and Ghost on the bigger couch. Johnny’s stretched out on the smaller one, and Gaz claimed the chair that you’d been sitting in earlier, leaving you with no other option. Neither of them makes any effort to give you more space, even though they could. Ghost’s leg is pressed against yours from thigh to ankle, and John’s pinky finger keeps finding your thigh when he rests his tumbler against his knee. You want to curl up properly, tuck your feet up underneath yourself, but you can't without pressing even closer to at least one of them. At least Ghost isn’t quite as intimidating without his mask on.

After a while, Gaz and Ghost go out for a cigarette. The chair looks inviting, and you’d like to get a little space, but Price’s arm drops around your shoulders casually, pulling you in a little closer to his side. “Relax,” he says against the top of your head. “You’re alright, doll.”

The door opens again. “Soap, we’ve got a spliff, you want?” Gaz asks.

Johnny picks himself off the other couch, grinning. “Aye. An’ then cake?”

“Fuckin’ forgot about cake,” Ghost says. “Hey doll, d’you want some of this? Cap?”

“Who rolled it?” John asks. “Because I’m not smoking one of Gaz’s joints ever again.”

“Oh fuck off, Price, I can roll just fine.”

John looks at you and shakes his head slightly. “He really can’t.”

“I can roll,” you say. “I always do with my friends.”

You can see the calculation running behind John's eyes as he adds new information to what he knows and assumes about you. You want to laugh. You almost do. Most people take one look at you, with your big doe eyes and round face and and sunny disposition and think that you're some innocent little thing. Sure, you tend to live life with your arms open, and that might come across as naive to some, but you're not inexperienced by any means. You're nearly thirty years old, you're by no means a child.

"Let's see, then," he says. "Box on the coffee table has everything."

"Does tha' mean we can smoke inside again?" Soap asks. "It's startin' ta get pure Baltic out here."

John looks at you expectantly. "Up to you, doll."

"It's not my house."

He hums. "You're stayin' a while. Might as well be. It's important that you're comfortable."

You slide to the floor and reach for the box. "Well. You'd better open a window or two. But I don't mind."

Making a fuss over the semantics isn't worth doing. You probably are staying a while. Even if John really won't force you, you'll still need his cooperation to get all your stuff loaded back into the van, and all four of them are likely headed for hangovers.

John tells them to open the windows, and leans forward to watch you break up slightly sticky buds into the grinder. He brushes your hair behind your shoulders for you, and when you tip your head back to look at him, there's something in his eyes that makes your ears warm.

Johnny drops down to the floor on the other side of the table, a crumpled looking joint hanging out of his mouth. You can see what John means about not wanting to smoke it.

"You want a drink, doll?" Gaz asks. "More tea?"

You twist to look at him, hanging over the back of the couch, that handsome face smiling. "Have you got pop? Wouldn't mind a ginger ale."

"Got irn bru too," Soap suggests. "Ye've got some Scot in ye, aye?"

"Yes."

"Didja want more?"

You level an unimpressed look at him across the table. "I should've seen that one coming."

"I'd like to see ye com--"

"That'll do, Soap," John says firmly. "She's not goin' to have sex with you."

"Might feel a bit better if she did," Soap says, shrugging. "Ah'm just sayin'."

"You're not saying anything." Gaz sets an unopened can of ginger ale on the table next to you. "If you're gagging for it, we'll take care of you in a bit."

"And if you don't behave yourself you're not goin' to get anything," John rumbles from behind you. "She's been good. Surprised none of you have been slapped."

"Just the once." Gaz snags the joint from Johnny and sits back in the chair.

Ghost snorts. "What did you do?"

"Surprised her picking her up. My own fault."

You lean back and hold up the neat joint you've been rolling, hooking your arm over John's knee. He sets his whiskey to the side and takes it, holding it up for an inspection. "Nice work, doll," he says warmly. “Got a bit of a wild streak to you, eh?”

The praise makes you glow, despite yourself, and you laugh aloud at the second part, a real laugh, not nervous or bitter. All four of them shift their attention to you at the sound, snapping a tension you hadn’t noticed until you felt it’s absence. It’s important to them that you feel comfortable, and your genuine laughter is the first sign that you’re on your way. They really did think that they’d done you a favour.

Insane. But almost sweet, in a fucked up, unsettling way.

You pluck the joint out of John’s fingers and meet his dark blue eyes evenly, not missing the hunger that sparks into existence. “Got a light?”

John pulls his lighter out of his pocket, a little awkward with you leaning on his other leg, and holds the dancing flame out for you. You have to lean in a little to get to it, so you do, your eyes still locked on his as you inhale, the slight sizzle of paper and weed igniting clear in the otherwise silent room. You can hear the way his breath catches too, taken by surprise yet again. You offer the joint back to him, holding in a lungful of smoke.

“Shite,” Johnny hisses, breaking the heavy silence. “Yer absolutely sure ye dinnae want your cunt licked?”

You blow smoke at him from across the coffee table. “I’m sure.”

It doesn’t take long before drowsy complacency overtakes you. Curling up against John’s leg, your arm still hooked over his leg, you let conversation wash over your awareness, not paying enough attention to pick out one thing or another. John’s hand settles on your head, fingers threading into your dark hair, combing through soft strands idly. When you glance up at him, he’s watching you, blue eyes half-lidded but still plenty aware, a funny smile twisting the edges of his mouth upwards. He has nice lips under that bristling moustache of his, not as thin as you would have expected. His voice is a pleasant rumble when he speaks to the others,

He takes a sip of whiskey, and you follow the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way the tip of his tongue darting across his lips. It takes a moment for you to realize that he’s watching you study him.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

For the first time since you’ve been there, you don’t feel scared. Just dozy and content, like a cat curled up next to a fireplace. “I’m alright,” you admit. “It’s been a strange day.”

His fingers flex, not quite gripping your hair, just holding you in place with the lightest pressure, encouraging you to keep facing him rather than turning away. “I imagine so.” His hand glides along to your ear, his thumb grazing over the shell, sending shivers down your spine. “It won’t be so strange tomorrow.”

“No more surprises planned?”

John glances up, looking at each of his men in turn, and then back to you. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“We do have cake, though,” Soap says. “Ye want some, bonnie?”

“Yes please.” You only turn to look at Soap for a moment before John is gently coaxing you back, curling his fingers around your jaw. Can he feel the way your heart leaps into your throat, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings? It’s hard to look John in the eye, but harder still to pull yourself away. His touch leaves burning traces behind, and you’re all too aware of your body and the way you respond to him. It’s all too much, too soon and too strange.

He catches your hand when you try to brush his away. “Why don’t you come on back up here, doll?” he asks. “Be more comfortable than the floor, don’t you think?”

“No, I’m happy down here.” You tuck your knees to your chest, looping your arms around your legs, extricating yourself from his sphere of influence just a little. You’re still pressed up against his calf, but you don’t need to go that far, you just need to face forward so you won’t get pinned under that blue stare again.

John has a certain gravity, a magnetism that you can’t help but be drawn in by. It would be all too easy to sink into his arms, but the idea that you’d been given to him still bothers you, like a persistent, sharp little stone in your shoe, ruining what might have been something.

You perk up some when Soap hands you a plate with a slice of chocolate cake on it. It's not the prettiest thing you've ever seen, but it tastes incredible, rich dark chocolate and an icing that had so much whiskey in it that your teeth feel funny after a few bites.

"This is really good, Johnny," you tell him. "If the whole military thing doesn't work out, you could consider becoming a baker."

"Thanks, hen. And dinnae think I havena considered it. Gettin' closer to packin' it in awl the time. Just cannae leave Gaz until he's got a good team watchin' his back."

"We've got some good sergeants," Gaz says. "Nitro's got real promise."

"Shivs too. Little devil," Ghost adds. "You need a door smasher though. Those girls are tough as 'ell, but some occasions call for a big boot."

"Aye, ye'd say that, bein' the biggest fuckin' boot the Queen's army has ever seen."

"King now," John points out.

"Oh, fuck if I care which poncy arsed Windsor is sittin' in the big chair."

"Bloody leeches," Ghost agrees.

"I've got Sanderson in mind." Gaz winks at you, like you're in on some secret.

"Gary Sanderson? Is he no' dead?"

"No! Turns out he locked himself in a cryo chamber when the bomb went off. That facility was full of 'em, all kinds of experimental tech. It was finally safe to take a team in and we found him. Nitro started calling him Roach, and it's stuck."

"He's a damn good soldier. Be good for the taskforce," Price agrees. "Would've picked him ten years ago."

"Well, he's had a nice long nap, and he's hopping mad about missing so much. He'll make a good doorsmasher," Gaz says.

"How about that Lucky kid? Nitro’s brother.” Price asks. “He looked pretty promising. Unless his luck ran out.”

Gaz hums, licking frosting off his fork. “He’s a good kid, but his problem is that as soon as Nitro’s around he lets her do all his thinking for him. Splits her focus.”

You sigh, setting your half-finished slice of cake down on the table in front of you, and climb to your feet, wincing at the ache of not moving for so long. You edge between Ghost’s knees and the coffee table and skirt around the edge of the couch wordlessly. No one stops you, and there’s no falter to their conversation despite the eyes that follow you until you disappear upstairs to use the washroom.

As you wash your hands, you stare at your own face in the mirror. You look pretty, even with your eyeliner a little smudged, and your lipstick faded to nothing. The buzz of THC is your system makes you giggle. Pretty enough to kidnap, even.

You think about it for a long moment, and then take your makeup off and braid your hair back so you can wash your face properly, and brush your teeth too. All the weirdness of the day is catching up, and all you want to do is sleep it off. The low buzz of their voices carries up the stairs when you step out into the hallway again, seemingly unbothered by your absence. There's no reason for you to say goodnight-- you don't owe them any kind of civility. But you still hesitate.

Long enough that John appears at the bottom of the stairs. "You alright, doll?" He asks. "Comin' back down?" The stairs creak slightly under his weight as he starts coming up towards you.

"I was thinking-- I'm just tired, is all. It's been a long day."

He stops two steps down, so he's still looking up at you. "I understand. We can talk more in the morning."

"I'm sure there's a lot to discuss."

"If you say so. Already told you most of what I needed to tell."

"Just most?"

He nods, and beckons you closer, a conspiratorial smile on his face. You take one halting step toward him, and then another, until you stand right at the top of the stairs. His big hands catch yours, holding you in place when he moves one step up, taller than you once more.

You stare up at him, and your breathing is turned shallow, your heartbeat rapid and heady. His eyes glitter in the dim light as he leans close, the tip of his nose skimming yours, as if he means to kiss you. Like a deer pinned under the headlights of a rapidly approaching truck, you stand frozen, unsure if you even want to move, or if you welcome the inevitable collision.

He smells like smoke and whiskey when he speaks, his lips so close to yours you can feel the soft brush of breath on your skin. "Forgot to tell you how good you look in my shirt," he purrs. "Been thinkin' to say so all night."

Heat licks across your cheeks, his words waking something dangerous in your core, something that wants his hands on you more than anything else. It’s unfair, what he does to you already, barely more than a stranger, and you want him to be a good man so you can indulge that desire without fear of consequence. It’s been such a long time since someone looked at you the way he looks at you now, an almost indescribable fondness that you haven’t even begun to earn.

“It’s a nice shirt,” you say lamely. “Thank you for lending it to me.” You don’t mention that it smells very pleasantly like him, and how it’s been a bit difficult to keep yourself from sniffing at the flannel all evening.

“You’re welcome to anything I have,” he says, and you know he means it.

“I hope that includes your bed,” you say jokingly, trying (and failing) to diffuse the intensity in his eyes. “Because I think that’s where I’m headed now.”

“Of course it does.” His thumb rubs across your knuckles, the other hand coming up to cradle your cheek. You shake, all nerves, worried that he’ll close the distance and kiss you, but he just taps his forehead against yours instead, eyes smiling. “Off you go, sweet thing. You give us a shout if we get too loud, eh?”

You swallow nervously and nod, taking a step backwards. “Goodnight, John.”

"Goodnight, doll.”

You quickly shut yourself into the other room, flicking on the light while you strip down to your panties and wrap the flannel shirt around yourself again, and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a bizarre day, and the room feels strange, too open and too dark, but it still doesn’t take long to fall asleep.

Hours later, you wake at the sound of the door opening and clicking shut again. You sit up before you’re fully alert, dreams shredding apart and solidifying into reality as you blink away sleep.

“Shh, s’just me,” John’s voice comes out of the darkness, slurring slightly. You can’t see anything in the darkness, until he crosses over to the window and opens the curtains, letting in a little light from the waxing moon outside. He turns towards her, his big frame silhouetted against the scant light, humming. “Bloody hell, you’re a pretty little thing.” The soft clink of his belt buckle is far too loud in the quiet room, as is the rustle of his clothes as he strips down to his boxers.

“John, what are you doing?” you ask nervously.

“Coming to bed,” he says, like it’s obvious. “M’too old to sleep on the floor, and Gaz is on the big couch.”

“Oh. I’ll move then. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” You throw back the sheets and swing your legs onto the floor.

“No, no, stay right where you are.” He swoops over and grips your legs gently, lifting them up and back onto the bed. He smells strongly of whiskey and mint toothpaste, and the clinging remnants of cigar smoke. “We can share tonight. Get things set up better tomorrow.”

“John…”

He slides into bed beside you and easily pulls you close, strong arms wrapping around you tightly, rolling so you’re half on top of him, one hand cradling your back and the other on your waist. “Yeah, doll?” he asks.

“John, we can’t— I can’t sleep like this.”

“Shh, just give me a minute to hold my pretty girl.” He nuzzles against the top of your head. “I’m gonna be so good to you, sweetheart. I promise.”

"You're drunk," you say, holding the flimsy excuse out for him, hoping that he'll take it. You don't want to think about him meaning it. It makes going home look all the more unlikely.

"A little," he admits. His hand drifts lower, fingers dipping below the soft lace of your panties to dig into soft skin around your hip. He groans. "You're perfect. Sweet and soft, so damn beautiful. I'll make you happy. I'll give you anything you want, if you stay with me."

"John! Stop that, we can talk later, just go to sleep."

"I know this all started wrong, doll. The lads got carried away. But this is right. You feel that too, don't you? We'll have to come up with a better story for our kids, hm? Something proper romantic." He kisses the top of your head, humming happily.

"Our kids?" you squeak. "Jesus, John, you can't be serious."

"Course I am. We can start trying whenever you're ready."

Well, at least now you know he's just as delusional as the rest of them. "You don't even know if I want kids."

"You do," he says confidently. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're drunk," you say firmly. "Go to sleep."

He chuckles. "You didn't say I'm wrong."

You push away and roll over so you don't have to look right at him. Even in the darkness, you're certain that your face betrays more than you'd like. It was none of his business if you wanted kids. You certainly weren't going to have them with him. "Go to sleep," you repeat.

"Yes ma'am," he says, looping his arms around you again, tugging you close to his chest. "Goodnight, doll."

Thanks for reading!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[fosermi]

On this ARK we sail together...

@stillafanofsonic enabled me and I RAN with it.

[critter-covenant]

Two more entries to the critters with bows:

Here's Bobby and Crafty! They were both fun, their bows are probably the most complex and my favorites. Enjoy! :D

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 10 : Happy Moments for the Badger

Fluff And Happiness :33

[𝔻𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕪-ℂ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣]

[ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 12 , ????? ᴀᴍ , ꜰᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴢᴇɴ]

"Danny!" Dante yelled out as Danny ran to Dante and jumped in his arms "Big Brother!!" Danny giggled as they spun around and Dante Kisses his forehead. "Are you feeling okay now you little twerp?" Dante asks, his voice still filled with worry for Danny's health.

"Yep! Nocturn made my nightmares go away!" Danny chuckled and the two pressed foreheads with each other, Frostbite merely chuckled and Plasmius ruffled Danny's Hair as Ellie hugged Danny as well.

"You did a good job fighting your nightmares Daniel..." Vlad says with a comforting gentle voice as he smiled at Danny, Danny only nodded and talked about the dreams and Conversations and things Nocturn had taught him in his dreams as Dante carried him and Ellie back to Gotham.

"Goodbye Frostbite! Thank you again!!" Danny waved and Frostbite waved back, "You're always welcome here, Oh Great One." Frostbite chuckled deeply as he waved his giant furry paws at Danny as a goodbye.

Danny kept waving until they reached the makeshift portal Dante had made and Danny regal clothing turned back to his normal clothing as they passed through the portal. "Finally back home! Nocturn taught me how to write ancient ghost spea—" Danny stared at Jason who was chilling on the couch.

His pupils turns into slits and he immediately hides behind Dante, "Oh right, Danny... That's... Jason, the Revenant, c'mon now don't be shy." Dante kneels to Danny's Height and Danny Cautiously stepped out behind Dan.

Jason stood up and slowly also kneeled to Danny's Height, "Hey there kiddo, I'm Jason! Jason To—" Jason was cut off by Danny's sudden speaking "You're also Red Hood, Former Robin before Red Robin and the youngest Robin." Danny merely said and Jason was stunned.

"It's a pleasure to meet you" Danny smiled softly but cautiously. "I am also dating him—" Dante tries to say but Danny just whips his head at him in shock.

"H-HUH??? DATING?! YOU STARTED DATING SOMEONE WHEN I WAS ASLEEP?!?!? WHAAAAAAT?!" Danny yells in shock as he grabbed Dan by the collar and tried shaking the... Very large Man.

"My Reaction Too!!" Ellie interjects in protest, "Even Sissy Sam was Shocked that Undergrowth probably got hit with an eco-fwendly frying pan because he tried to ask Sissy Sam why she's so distressed!" Ellie adds into her small statement.

Danny was just stunned and mouth agape in shock, "Now Now Daniel, Calm Down... Do you all want to go out to the city today? So I can buy you 2 more possibly furniture and groceries and such." Vlad suggests as he puts his hands in Danny's Shoulder behind him.

"You're coming with us?? Fuck yeah!" Dante said as he slowly stood up with Jason, "You pay for everything right?" Dante smirked,

"I always paid for everything Dante." Vlad states with a blank face and a blunt tone as he carried Ellie in his arms. "Isn't that right princess?" Vlad asks Ellie and Ellie Profusely nods in agreement.

"True" Dante didn't defend himself and just laughed at the sight before him, his core now vibrated and felt more at ease, matching Danny's Purring, they were both happy to be finally back by each other's sides. Jason was still adjusting to the 'Ghost Cultures' and stuff but he's slowly getting used to it seeing as how he's cooing over Danny's Purring making Danny feel Embarrassed with his cheeks Flushed an odd but cute greenish Red.

His freckles were much more noticeable now, constellations bore his face in bright neon green that occasionally glowed in the darkness, his hair seemingly sometimes floating or flowing in this non-existent wind in the surroundings, Jason Hesitantly but gently pats Danny's Head and Danny lets him making Jason's Heart feel even more happier because he feels as though he's in a family again.

They all liked it.

Even Vlad Surprisingly.

[𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 12, 4:45 𝐏𝐌, 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥]

Danny was with Ellie and Dan in the Space-Section, Jason followed them but Vlad couldn't come anymore Because of how busy he got all of a sudden.

"Aries constellation! I want it! I'm going to school again right? Can I have that bag?" Danny pointed at the Aries Star Constellation Backpack. "Ofcourse Twerp! You can pick whatever you need for Back to School Stuff." Dante chuckled and reached for the Bag and Gave it to Danny.

Ellie was very pleased to pick her own Backpack, she picked a Badger(?) Designed Backpack, her smile was wide and very pleased . "Hey JayJay! Can you come with me to pick my stuff in the girls section?" Ellie asked enthusiastically as he grabbed Jason's Hand.

Jason was taken aback— honestly these kids trust him already and it was heart melting. "ofcourse Ellie, Dan, Babe, Just Call me if you need me Kay?" Jason looked at Dante and Dante nodded with a wink.

"Ew. Don't do that shit Infront of me" Danny motioned a Fake Gag and Ellie just Laughs as Dante stared at Danny and Judgingly, "Language Twerp, Vladdy Daddyo's gonna fuckin kill me if he finds out you swear cuz of me" Dante joked and laughed,

"Ugh, You just did Bitchass." Danny scowled jokingly as they picked more back to school items, Danny hadn't felt so excited for school until now. He never knew he loved education as much as he did now and it was honestly very much fun and amusing.

Danny picked everything he could find that could relate to stars and Dante paid for them with Vlad's Card, they then waited for Jason and Ellie to come back and when they did Jason was chatting happily with Ellie who was yapping continuously about Badgers and Animals she sees as Ferals in General.

Danny felt as if he's in a happy family but something inside him tells him something is still missing and Dante notices it fast. "I know bud... I know." Dante pats his shoulder reassuringly and Danny nods with a gentle caring Smile.

He loved being in this warm environment... Hopefully it stays that way... Oh.

"Dante can I dye a part of my hair orange?" Danny suddenly asks and Dante froze, Slowly Dante's eyes softens and he merely nods before speaking with approval. "Ofcourse Danny. Anytime!" Dante smiled and they bought a small box of orange hair dye and a turquoise headband Bandana sort... just like Jazz's and one that Danny had picked by himself.

Dante paid for it and ruffles Danny's hair, Jason was confused on why the three Phantoms are acting like this, as if mourning someone but he not dare to ask just because it felt like a sensitive topic for them... A very sad topic probably.

Danny smiled to himself as he stared at the plastic bag that contains his Hair Dye and Headband.

His core was Happy and So was he.

[𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 12, 9:40 𝐏𝐌, 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭]

Robin landed on Danny's window as Danny was placing his new Glow in the dark stars to his ceiling, he soon noticed robin as Robin knocked on the wall to get his attention.

Danny slowly hopped off the ladder and ran to Robin Enthusiastically, "Robin! Hi! Do you want to help me put stars on my ceiling?" Danny asks happily. Robin was honestly taken aback but he couldn't force himself to Reject his offer and so he complied.

Robin hesitantly helped Danny Form the Constellations and got so into it that he didn't notice that Jason was staring at them and leaning on the door frame as he watched amused by this.

"Hey Babe what are you doing ther— oh. Robin." Dante says totally unbothered by this scene and Robin stares at them for a moment. He felt his cheeks redden in Embarrasament. "Heya Red Hood! Robin is just helping me out stars on my ceiling! Isn't he nice?" Danny says Enthusiastically as Dante gave him a plate of cookies. "H-Hood— did.... Goodness fucking gracious— this is quite the humiliating scene..." Robin stuttered as he slowly got down from the Ladder.

"Yeah, Demon Brat, I can tell it IS humiliating for you but absolutely fucking funny for me." Jason laughed and Damian held back his urge to wield his katana or to tackle Jason and Plummet him into the ground. But Danny was there so that wasn't allowed, Danny gave him a cookie and Robin sat On Danny's bed Beside Danny himself.

"So why are you here Baby Brat?" Jason chuckled with a smirk, "Same Question to you Todd.." Damian's tone remained plastered and blunt towards Jason. "I'm dating his Brother." Jason said Straightforwardly making Robin almost choke on his cookie. "What...? Does B know about this... Relationship??" Robin tries to say and to state Jason the HINT.

"He doesn't need to and I know.. I know.. the whole scarecrow thing and shit but he's hot and stuff—" Danny cuts Jason Off.

"Not Infront of my Cookies Please." Danny says with a frown and Glare with his tounge out. "Right Sorry Kid. And yes. baby Brat. They know. Dante has known the very moment he saw us but now don't tell B but he doesn't intend to tell anyone unless we want anyone to know so do not fuckin worry about anything." Jason Reassures Damian.

"Right-right- Christ. Mother of Christ?? Whatever god it is out there— This is... Utterly Shocking to say the very least— you don't actually expect me to believe all that but then again HE IS the... Prime suspect so I can say the very least to that is that most of it is true." Robin huffs as he ate another cookie and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I might become like Red at this point... I need more coffee to process this... Information you have provided to me." Robin sighs.

"Right! Now. Why don't you two continue sticking up the stars and go back to B and tell him everything— well mostly everything except the identity part Kay Demon Brat?" Jason stood up and leaned on the door frame as he told Damian with a subtle Stern Glare.

"Whatever Todd.... Fucking—" Damian calms himself down Infront of Danny as they finished up sticking the constellations in the Ceiling.

It took atleast an hour and a half for them to finish it finally, with the Last Final Touch Being a Crescent Moon that glows brighter than the others.

Danny's eyes sparkled and soon Robin hopped on His bedroom window again ready to leave and disappear off to somewhere Danny doesn't know— probably a secret base but eh—

"You'll come back to visit me again right robin?" Danny asks him and Robin just smiled, "Ofcourse Danny... Anytime..." Robin chuckled unexpectedly as he disappeared into the shadows and heading back to the Batcave to Report to B.

Danny was Happy, very happy, this was the happiest day so far for him. Nocturn was right after all, that once he wakes up he will feel this type of Heart Melting Happiness that made his core purr.

His eyes flashed green for a few moments gradually fading to the Deep Sea Blue eyes of his as he felt intense emotions of positivity seep out.

He wishes jazz was there to feel the same...

Jazz too would have been happy.

I'm insane. MY HANDS ARE COLD FROM WRITING SO MUCH ANYWAYS ENJOY ILY GUYS ALL SO MUCH FOR READING THESE <333 AHAHHA HAVE FUUUNNN

[darkrooklobby]

Link Click fan-art (pt 2. ⭐) + a meme 💖

💖💖Do not separate💖💖--- I say, in denial 🥲

[tezerenotameiki]

DELTARUNE: Raise Up Your Bat Arrangement & Vocals: Ranipla Cover Art: @kays-artstuff

[siravalondulac]

stars above, songs below

- the reading guide

you! yeah, you! have you ever been interested in my asoiaf fic? have you ever come across my yappings of cerelle and become curious about her? have you ever wanted to read her story but didn't know where to start because there is just so much of it? then this reading guide is for you!

i have compiled a comprehensive list of every single chapter and one-shot and cut scene and different pov i have written for this fic, and listed them all off here - in the correct reading order, of course. this list links to every single individual chapter, marks out when something is not considered obligatory reading, and will be updated whenever i upload a new chapter.

era one: meet me in the dark, kiss me in the moonlight

1.01 northern stranger 1.02 western guard 1.03 eastern companion 1.04 southern daughter

additional reading: that silhouette (smut one-shot, dubious canonicity)

1.05 the mother 1.06 the smith 1.07 the warrior

additional reading: training with ser alliser, deleted scene (ao3 link)

1.08 the stranger 1.09 the father 1.10 the crone 1.11 the maiden 1.12 princess in the tower 1.13 lady come to heal 1.14 maiden to be saved 1.15 queen of all the lands

additional reading: first draft of chapter 14 (ao3 link)

era two: a heart so golden, a sun so bright

2.01 what was that about going home again? 2.02 actually, helping people is quite nice 2.03 we're only re-stealing, no need to worry 2.04 i am calm, i am... content 2.05 why do crazy people love fire so much 2.06 i like horses. a lot. 2.07 oh, to be saved by a beautiful knight in shining armour 2.08 is the being fawned over included in knighthood?

additional reading: jon and ygritte conversation about cerelle

2.09 there is blood on my hands 2.10 waking my sleeping beauty should not be this much work 2.11 a council meeting to decide the future 2.12 i see the faces of my past in the people of my present 2.13 is it still justice, or already vengeance? 2.14 songs connect me to my people 2.15 i can run from the people i love. my dreams cannot 2.16 all for one and one for the damsel in distress 2.17 interruptions and how to handle them 2.18 hold still that fiery spit of hope

additional reading: chapter 18 from benjiamin's pov (ao3 link)

2.19 the visit 2.20 to not believe a prophecy 2.21 and so the devil returns whence he came from

additional reading: chapter 21 from benjiamin's pov (ao3 link)

2.22 the wolf bares its teeth 2.23 captivity reveals 2.24 the wedding 2.25 what happens when all is lost 2.26 riverrun

additional reading: oberyn receives cerelle's letter (ao3 link)

era three: house of lies, city of blood

additional reading: cersei and catelyn conversation before book 1

3.01 cerelle i 3.02 elia i 3.03 oberyn i 3.04 ellaria i 3.05 cerelle ii 3.06 cersei i 3.07 cerelle iii 3.08 sansa i 3.09 tywin i 3.10 elia ii 3.11 oberyn ii 3.12 cerelle iv 3.13 elia iii 3.14 oberyn iii 3.15 cerelle v 3.16 ellaria ii 3.17 tywin ii 3.18 oberyn iv 3.19 jaime i 3.20 cersei ii 3.21 cerelle vi

additional reading: oberyn's pov pre-chapter 22

3.22 the courtier 3.23 jaime ii 3.24 cerelle viii 3.25 cersei iii

additional reading: jon and melisandre conversation about cerelle

3.26 sansa ii 3.27 balon swann i 3.28 cersei iv 3.29 tywin iii 3.30 cerelle viii 3.31 jaime iii 3.32 ellaria iii 3.33 elia iv

°☆to be continued☆°

[crescentmoonsandroses]

Ralsei is making me cry. I mean, I knew something like this was probably coming, but still. My poor fluffy boy.

I am getting him so many plushies and so much furniture.

[king-magppi]

WIP...

[queenerdloser]

i just finished dark heir

[baphomimi]

PROLOGUE – ABSENCE

PROLOGUE / CHAP 1.1 / CHAP 1.2 / CHAP 1.3

CHAP 2.1 / CHAP 2.2 / CHAP 2.3

cw: lots of blood and gore that made me sick to research lmao please be careful

The Absence is not a God, as Gods are known to reside in separate planes, conveniently detached from the consequences of their actions. The Absence, in contrast, lingers in every empty corner of this Earth, whether it be between blades of grass or the hollow of our bones. Its form is invisible to us, but It is still very much a sentient being– closer to a microscopic organism than some mysterious higher being.

The human mind perceives The Absence as emptiness and loss. When we feel, inexplicably, that something is missing from our lives, this is how It guides us towards a greater destiny. When we lose a love, a limb, a child, The Absence takes its place and becomes stronger, just as we become stronger for Its company.

He watches Eli fill each chamber of the revolver with a small, gold-coloured bullet. There is a machine-like precision to his work, and though the older man has never spoken a word of his past, Trent knows he must be ex-military, ex-cop, something like that. 

“You really think you’re ready for this, tiger?” His mentor’s voice is low and smoke-damaged. Eli clicks the barrel back into place and sets the gun sideways on his knee, muzzle pointed towards the teen opposite him. The back of his palm is covered in ink up to his elbows– messy depictions of serpents and flowers– and his ring finger is missing, amputated at the knuckle.

Trent swallows, and nods. He’s not sure if he can follow through with using it, but whether out of stubbornness or admiration, he can’t allow himself to let Eli down either.

“You sure?” The man’s face barely moves; even freshly-shaven, that broad, blocky face shows nothing resembling human emotion. It was the first thing Trent noticed, when they met properly for the first time. Like something was missing. The others say that it’s his gift, a manifestation of The Absence, but Trent wonders if Eli wasn’t always like this, long before he was ever Chosen. 

“‘Cuz I heard about the last time you tried-  how your hands were shaking so bad you couldn’t even keep the gun straight.”

The teen feels his face flush red. “I’m freakin’ ready, man! God…”

The way that Eli chuckles at that makes shame burn hot in his throat, but he swallows it down. He hates how easy the guy can get a rise out of him, and won’t give Eli the satisfaction of knowing when he manages it. 

“What’s with the hostility? Someone’s not keeping their mind empty for The Absence.”

“Yeah, well why don’t you go ahead and eat my entire ass, how about that?”

Eli scoffs, as the gun is snatched unceremoniously from him. It is a sound alarmingly close to laughter, maybe even fondness, and Trent hates the way his mind sparks from the gratification.

The man eases himself off of the bench slowly; it’s hard to tell how old he is exactly, but he’s certainly still young enough to carry his own weight with grace. Trent remains sat opposite for a while, still considering the gun in his hand.

This room they’re in, it was probably intended to be the hotel’s sauna, but now it’s cool and arid and solemn, much like the rest of the building. To invite warmth is to invite life; there is no room for the Absence if one is distracted by excessive comfort and convenience.

So the manifesto goes, but that doesn’t stop Lena from sneaking them cigarettes for after Judgements, nor Eli from taking them up through the skeletal frame of the half-built hotel, so that they can drink at the top and look out at the desert. 

“Hey- mask up, kid,” Eli says, “If we leave this much longer he’ll start screaming, and I ain’t got the patience for that shit today.”

Trent stashes the gun away inside his jacket for now, and pulls the mask over his face. Once Eli has done the same they are suddenly indistinguishable from one another: alabaster faces with only the vague suggestion of features, like two weathered roman statues. Through the peepholes of his vision he follows the older man down past the lockers, and into the pool room.

The pool itself was fully constructed but never filled, so it resembles more of a vast, sloped bathtub now. Its tiles are spotless from frequent cleaning, gaudy blue, and at the deep end a thick silver chain has been drilled firmly into the wall. Usually it lies coiled harmlessly on the ground, but tonight the collar it is connected to is filled with the throat of a half-dozing stranger.

Eli says his name is Clayton: middle-aged, greying, probably someone’s father– but Trent shouldn’t to think too much about that. Let The Absence fill your mind, Old Gloria told him before he witnessed his first Judgement outside of his own. To give such precious space over to anything else is to reject Its guidance.

Trent is still trying to work out what The Absence wants from him, exactly, but he’s still fresh. Understanding will come with time, that’s what he’s been told.

“Huh...” Clayton blinks slowly at their approach, taking a moment to understand the kind of danger he’s got himself in. “The hell’s this?”

He tries to get up, but Eli set the chain short this time. The metal rattles cruelly at the attempt and the sound echoes off of the tiles.

The slightest of nods from Eli is the signal for Trent to start the rites. From behind his mask, he sucks in a breath, and then he speaks the same words that were once spoken to him, and the countless others that came both before and after.

“Congratulations, Clayton. You’ve been Chosen.”

It feels like a prayer on his tongue. His skin tingles with pride.

“The Absence feels that you may be worthy of Its blessing. You’re here now, so that we can find out for ourselves.”

At that, Eli moves closer, crouches down besides their captive– the Chosen. Clayton is starting to tremble, mouth hung open uselessly. He must be a flight-er rather than a fighter. Eli will be pleased about that– means he shouldn’t make too much noise.

“If you try to escape before your Judgement is over,” Trent goes on, “or if you don’t do exactly as we say, The Absence will deem you Unworthy.”

Eli rolls out a small bundle of black cloth across the pool floor, exposing a single, slender scalpel. This is the part where Trent has to bring out the gun. He takes it carefully from inside his jacket.

“...and I’m afraid it’s our duty to kill every Unworthy we find.”

“No…” Clayton glances at the scalpel on the ground. “No, this is fuckin’ crazy…”

“I’m going to give you your instructions now. Are you ready?” He can feel the two points in his shoulders burning, scar tissue screaming with the bitter familiarity of it all. 

"Fuck, man!” Clayton tugs uselessly at his collar, “What kinda fucked up joke is this?!"

Trent falters, unsure whether to take that as refusal to participate. But Eli nods again, so he just goes in.

"The Absence would like your nose. You can use the scalpel to remove it."

Clayton barks a laugh– it’s a demand so unthinkable that he probably doesn’t know what else to do. Under the tense, one-eyed gaze of the revolver, though, he has to at least consider it.

"And if I do...?"

The rites don’t cover questions. Trent squirms on the spot uncomfortably, but Eli is ready to pick up his slack.

"Worry about that when you get there, pal,” the older man says, “But you'll live, if that's what you're worried about.”

"If I live, I'll goddamn kill the both of you. First chance I get." Seems there's a little fight in Clayton after all.

"Okay," Eli replies, deadpan. Trent keeps the aim of the gun focused and unwavering.

With trembling hands, Clayton leans forward and takes the scalpel. The chains clink softly, as though encouraging him. He brings the blade tentatively towards his face, and for a moment it seems as though he really might give it a shot, but then Clayton yells and thrusts out at Eli with it instead, aiming for his throat.

The other man catches his wrist easily, doesn't even seem surprised. Trent watches him squeeze Clayton's wrist hard enough to immobilise him, masked expression blank.

"Oh, you'd better hope you're Worthy now, pal," Trent can hear the clench of Eli's teeth when he speaks, "Cuz' if you're not, I'll cut that beak off your face myself."

Something about that feels very wrong. They are forbidden from intervening in a Judgement, or harming any Chosen until they have proven themselves Unworthy. And even then, an Unworthy's death must be quick and clinical. It's a sacrifice, not a punishment. But Trent does nothing to dispute the threat, just watches Eli drop the Chosen's arm.

"Since it’s happening either way, I recommend you at least try." Eli’s tone is cruel, and darkly humorous.

"God...who are you people? I haven't done anything to anyone, I..." Clayton glances down at the scalpel again, and it's clear that he really is considering it this time. Trent can admit to himself a kind of sick fascination for this moment, where the Chosen must find a way to override their innate sense of self-preservation; a force bolstered by the hundreds of generations that came before.

He isn’t sure he’s really felt The Absence yet, like he was told he would. But in moments like these, surely It must be close.

Clayton reasserts his grip on the blade, and presses the point of it to the bridge of his nose. Eli immediately tuts, says, “You’ll wanna go from the bottom– trust me.”

“Fuck you.” Is the reply he gets.

Clayton sucks in a breath to brace himself and then begins to saw into his septum; makes some awful whimpering, sobbing, hissing noise that feels so disturbingly animalistic that it makes Trent's hair stand on end. The spill of blood is almost immediate– it’s already painted the man’s upper lip red. His body sucks in an involuntary breath and he splutters when blood is pulled into his throat.

“Breathe through your mouth,” Eli says, “It’s gonna get a hell of a lot messier than this.”

Clayton tips his head back against the tile. The strip lights overhead illuminate the beginning of tears, forming at the rim of his eyes. "God...fuck, I can't..."

"You’re not gonna think your way out of this one, pal. You just gotta do it."

A little encouragement is permitted during Judgements, or at least it's not uncommon– no one really wants a Chosen to be deemed Unworthy, after all. But the way Eli says it, it doesn't sound like he's trying to help. It feels a lot more like he just doesn’t want the show to end so soon.

But regardless of intention, Clayton listens to him. He returns the trembling scalpel to its starting point, presses back into the wound he's already made. His eyes squeeze shut, he steadies his breath, and then he starts to cut again; fast and frantic, compared to before. He’s screaming behind clenched teeth, mouth closed so he doesn’t swallow any more blood.

"Yeah, like that. Keep going," Eli breathes.

Trent doesn't remember his own Judgement well enough to recall if the Eli enjoyed it as much as he’s enjoying this. He hopes not.

They both bear witness as Clayton makes it further into his face, blood spilling over his hands in sickly bursts. Whipped up into some kind of adrenaline-fuelled frenzy, every now and then he puffs out a breath and it sends droplets flying in every direction. A few hit Eli’s mask, but he doesn’t react.

"Look at you go,” Eli says humorously, “Might even be halfway there by now."

The cartilage is tougher, and more painful. Maybe the stranger thought he’d made more progress, because Eli’s comment has him dropping the scalpel to the tile and clutching his nose, like he’s given up. 

"Please–oh God, I can't..."

But he's already come so far…

"You can–" Trent begins, but then Eli is grabbing Clayton by the hair, scalpel in hand, attacking the bridge of their Chosen’s nose.

"Goddamn– nnh– pathetic.” Eli is grunting with the effort of his work, “Could tell you didn't have it in you the second I saw you."

Clayton is screaming now. Really screaming. He flails wildly– trying to get away from Eli– so the scalpel is slipping and cutting great slashes into his face.

And it's not right, so Trent shoots. 

The sudden noise puts the chaos of the scene on freezeframe, with both men suddenly stuck in place; one from the shock of the gunshot, and the other from the bullet now lodged in their eye socket.

“Damn.”

Eli loosens his grip, and lets Clayton's body slump back against the pool wall. He wipes his bloody hands off on the dead man's clothes. 

"Hell of a good aim, tiger. But if you ever undermine me like that again, I'll make sure you end up ten times worse than him."

Trent gladly accepts the compliment, and discards the rest. But as he watches gore bubble from Clayton’s lifeless face, some tiny part of him wonders if perhaps it was the wrong guy who got shot.

[yaksinhats]

Astarion got up and faced him, dagger held high, for as much good as it would probably do against an armored swordsman. “I saw you on the ship,” he said. He tried to sound fierce, but his voice really just sounded strained and panicked. “You’re in league with those tentacled freaks, aren’t you? What did you do to me?" Working on re-drawing chapter illustrations for Teeth in Your Heart & starting with chapter 1 - you can read it here <3

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (15) - I Cast My Spell of Love on You

📣EVERYONE!!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!! TAKE A LOOK TOO AT THIS AMAZING ART BY @bby-bel-art OF ALFIRA AND OFELIA📣

It's finally time! I am going ultra mega sap rn- THIS is the chapter. This is the one I sat in my car listening to Crazy on You by Heart thinking hmm, how cute would it be if a bard sang this and serenaded Astarion at the tiefling party? 8 months later and here we finally are ❤

I'm so very proud of this chapter- sure, it's not Shakespeare, but regardless 💕I'm finally here, and I'm so so proud of myself! Thank you all for the journey so far! On we go!!!

Chapter 16 may not come out until the last Sunday of the month, FYI, but I will keep the masterlist pinned to my profile updated under the chapter list with ETAs if there are any delays. 💕 Stay tuned!

Summary: In this celebratory installment, the tadpole gang retires from their successful conquering of the goblin camp back to the Grove, where the grateful tieflings decide to throw them a party. Ofelia and Alfira perform songs for the weary gathering under the light of the stars as the meaning of the lyrics rings truer for the group's unlikely leader than she'd realized. Feelings of longing and jealousy possess the night as song after song floods Ofelia's mind with nothing but thoughts of that one pale, crimson-eyed thorn in her side.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Durge

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 6,667

AO3

Bonus screenshots and a snippet under the cut!!! 💕

✧˖Tag List: @khywren @allymcfee @pinkberrytea @beewilko

Her fingers begin to pluck the strings with practiced ease, a provoking melody between her and Alfira blooming into a light show as the wizards cast glowing orbs behind them. Ofelia feels the music surge through her like a tidal wave, the tune picking up the closer it gets to its crescendo. Volo awaits his turn on the edge of the rock, fingers silently drumming over his instrument, as Alfira’s lute peters out into silence.

With the vigor of bottled-up emotions- fear, hopelessness, and staggering longing, Ofelia strums in a quick downward motion, the music possessing her. It never felt this vibrant and electric on Earth, and as she continues, fingers sliding over the frets in quick succession, she opens her mouth. She suffuses every word with yearning and passion, her heart pounding in time to the acoustic rhythm that twists through the air.

“If we still have time, we might still get by,

Every time I think about it, I wanna cry.

With bombs and the Devil, and the kids keep comin’

No way to breathe easy, no time to be young…”

[gauntletgirlie]

Hi!!! I told you before that i would imagine Leah/Lélca and I made this one that im so proud of!

To break down each element:

Green eyes with brown hair: As human as one can get, a reminder of how different she is from any being so far in the Tolkein universe. The curls are there to show her grace

Silver circlet: A nod to the elves, the one whom she is unable to love or let go of

white rose necklace?: a remnant of her past life and love (also a nod to the question of Melkor's could-be favourite clothes of Leah's from her world - her wedding dress). I went with a white wedding dress since in my mind its the most culturally neutral

white lilies: white lilies symbolize purity, innocence, and new beginnings. They are also associated with rebirth, chastity, and virtue, particularly in religious contexts like depictions of the Virgin Mary. Their association with the resurrection of Jesus makes them common Easter flowers, and they are frequently used in weddings and funerals to represent these themes.

The dress: a flowy star-themed dress, symbolic of the void Melkor first found his light in. The faded blue sleeves symbolise how the stars (meaning light) have diminished since her becoming a vampire-like being?

her expression: she's trying hard to keep a neutral face amidst the chaos and trying not to intervene with rhe predestined future of melkor's (tho we all know what happened last chapter). it also shows her conflicted emotions for Melkor and Illinhen

The background circle: symbolic of the pedestal Melkor puts her upon

I wanted to add an element relating to Ulmó but couldn't find any that fit properly.

Oh. My. Valar.

😭🖤😭🖤😭🖤

I cannot express how much I love this and that you loved the OC I wrote enough to create this has made my day, my month, my year.

1. This is so spot on, the thought and detail you have gone into is phenomenal. I’m actually blown away. Her hair, her eyes, her expression 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼

2. I ACTUALLY HAVE HER IN A BLUE DRESS JUST LIKE THIS IN AN UPCOMING CHAPTER!

3. I’m loving all the symbolism, especially the pedestal Melkor puts her on and the white rose necklace. She did indeed wear a white wedding dress so it all tracks.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.