#terror fanfiction

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny was livid.

The Guys In White had been following Phantom around constantly and while they weren't much of a threat, they were a massive nuisance. They had shot him down on Thursday and caused him to crash into some poor kids birthday cake in the park.

On Friday they had accidentally released ghost rats into the school.

On Saturday they had somehow managed to turn Paulinas hair ectoplasm green. She refused to leave her bedroom until it was reversed

On Sunday they tried to commandeer his parents GAV and earned the ire of his mom. They found out exactly why that was a bad idea.

On Monday they bardged into Danny's classroom, interrupting his math test because they were looking for a ghost parrot. It was mostly harmless but kept insulting them in a cheery tone. Danny decided he liked that bird.

We won't speak about what happened on Tuesday.

On Wednesday, he scowled at an agent that had accidentally blasted him and his friends with liquid ectoplasm while they were sitting and eating lunch. It was then that Danny began plotting his revenge.

That night he when ghost and lead the GIW on a while goose chase. Did danny take them across state lines? Yes. Did he manage to pull a massive following of these creeps? Also yes.

Did he plan for his target-the guy he had been leading them to- to already be in cuffs when he arrived in Gotham? No. Not at all.

"Hey, uh..." the words died on his tongue as Batman- The Batman- turned to him with narrowed eyes. Mustering his will, he started again, "Could you let him out? Just for a little bit?"

"No."

"Aw, Cmon!"

Condiment King began raving about something, but Danny didn't particularly care to pay attention. "If you're not going to let him out, then can you at least call the rest of the paw patrol? I wanna ask if they wanna throw mud at evil secret organization people. For enrichment." Danny gave his best, most cheeky smile for extra measure.

"Hn."

[justaz]

lol arthur realizes with the other knights after watching merlin flirt and being hit with a wave of deja vu: holy shit you asked me out

merlin and the rest of the knights around a campfire after leaving a village bc lancelot and leon somehow started a brawl in the tavern: ???

arthur points at merlin: after valiant! you asked me to buy you a drink! you were asking me out!

merlin is busy cooking dinner and confused out of his fucking mind: what???…..valiant….oh the knight with the snakes.

gwaine who was slightly tipsy now stone cold sober and sitting up straight against a tree: wait. explain. what do you mean merlin asked you out??

arthur snaps his fingers as he recalls the memory: i apologized for sacking you and you said that if i bought you a drink we’d be even.

merlin now remembering how he had stumbled into camelot, picked a fight with a pigheaded bully which quickly turned homoerotic and flirtatious, and continued their teasing-flirting for days before merlin shot his shot and asked the prince out only to be rejected: oh yeah, i forgot i did that…..wait, you mean you didnt realize what i was asking?

arthur: no?? we argued everyday, how was i supposed to realize you were asking me out??

merlin now abandoning the dinner and staring across the camp at arthur while the rest of the knights watch their back and forth like a game of tennis: to you we were arguing, to me that was very much flirting. i thought you were flirting back so i decided to ask you. then you rejected me

arthur, mentally beating his past self up for fucking up their chance: i didn’t reject you!!! i just didn’t realize what you were asking me. how was i meant to? we fought every chance we got

leon, nudging elyan, glee and excitement riling through him: its happening!!! its finally happening!!! seven long, grueling years is finally paying off!!!

merlin, realizing the misunderstanding and acknowledging the fact that he wasn’t rejected, his flirtations just weren’t noticed - realizing he still has a chance: oh…oh i see. arthur, my dear, our fights were extremely flirtatious. need i remind you of what you said? “do you know how to walk on your knees? would you like me to teach you?” or “i could take you apart with one blow”

arthur, mental capabilities at an all time low: m…my dear….?????????

merlin grinning devilishly as he realizes that his flirtatious persona he had hidden away after falling head over heels for arthur can make a come back: that is what i called you. should i call you something else? say…mine?

percival gags in elyan’s ear: cheesy

elyan hides a laugh: at least they’re finally getting somewhere. better than the hopeless pining

arthur, flushed from head to toe: ah uh no um im uh

merlin thoroughly enjoying himself: oh come now, your majesty. use your words.

[regina-della-luna]

Chapters: 16/16 Fandom: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Francis Crozier/Original Character(s), Francis Crozier/Original Female Character Characters: Francis Crozier, Original Female Character(s), James Clark Ross, Sophia Cracroft Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Older Man/Younger Woman, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Victorian Pining, very slow burn, Character Death, Smut, Victorian, Gothic, Romance Summary:

Eleanor Wood, a young woman yearning for adventure, has embarked on the Erebus for a polar expedition with James Ross. She'll have to prove to herself and the others that she deserves her place on the ship but her good intentions alone won't be enough to impress Francis Crozier. Their first encounter didn't go smoothly, will they get over their trust issues and learn to work together ? Romantic fic with a tragic end. Inspired by Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë and Herman Melville. And my therapist. Francis Crozier x OFC *Title is a reference to “Icebound in the Arctic” by Michael Smith. COMPLETE Reviewed and improved in January 2023

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter One - The Perfect Gift

Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N (Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.

~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.

"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."

"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."

"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."

"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."

Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"

Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"

"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."

"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."

Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."

"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."

"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."

You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.

It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.

“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”

You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”

“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”

You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”

“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”

Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.

As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.

The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.

You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.

Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”

You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.

“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”

Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.

You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.

You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”

So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.

“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”

He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.

Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”

You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.

And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.

The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.

You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?

Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”

“You drugged me,” you accuse.

“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”

“I like my apartment,” you protest.

“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.

You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.

He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”

They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”

“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”

“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.

“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”

“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”

“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.

“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.

You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”

“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”

The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”

“Terrified,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”

You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.

He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.

“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”

“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”

He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”

You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.

As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.

He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.

Or worse, to play with.

You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.

Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”

So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.

“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”

“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”

“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”

“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”

I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[sixxrock666]

…let’s just say I wanted to share my Pinterest adventures with you (っ- ‸ -)っ

[keekee-23]

Daddy Tag Team

A Y/N X Damian Priest Fluff Fanfiction

Summary: Damian Priest tackles his biggest challenge yet – caring for his daughter, Luna, while Y/N is away. Through diaper changes and sleepless nights, Damian discovers that being a dad is the most rewarding match of them all.

Damian Priest stood in the doorway of their home, Luna cradled in his strong arms, as Y/N zipped up her suitcase one last time. The look on her face was a mix of determination and unease. This was her first time leaving Damian alone with their baby girl for 2 days, and though she trusted him completely, there was still that lingering doubt.

"You sure you’re going to be okay?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with concern as she straightened up, her eyes flicking between Damian and Luna.

Damian chuckled, his deep voice full of reassurance. "Babe, I’ve faced steel cages, ladders, and even Gunther. I think I can handle our little princesa for a few days."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “You do realize she’s teething, right? And she’s been extra fussy these past few days.”

Damian nodded, shifting Luna to his other arm. “We’ve got this, haven’t we, princesa?” he cooed at his daughter, who responded by drooling on his shirt.

Y/N tried to smile, but the worry lines on her forehead didn’t quite smooth out. "I know, I know… it’s just, you’ve never been alone with her for this long before. If you need anything, just—"

"—call you," Damian finished for her, leaning in to press a kiss on her lips. "I’ve got this, Y/N. “Go, save the world or whatever it is you do,” Damian teased. “We’ll be here when you get back. Hopefully, with the house still standing.”

Y/N laughed softly, still hesitant, but she knew she had to trust Damian. He was her rock, after all. She turned her attention to Luna, who was happily tugging at Damian’s long hair with a tight grip, her tiny face full of curiosity.

"Mama’s gonna miss you, sweet girl," Y/N cooed, leaning in to kiss Luna’s chubby cheek. Luna gurgled in response, her big eyes lighting up as she reached for her mother’s face.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away, feeling the sting of leaving her baby, but knowing that her work demanded it. As she slid into the waiting Uber, she looked back at Damian and Luna, both waving at her from the doorway. She forced herself to smile and gave them a little wave back before the car pulled away.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Luna’s face scrunched up, and her lower lip began to quiver. Damian looked down at her, already feeling a pang of worry. “Uh-oh. No need to cry, sweetheart. Daddy’s here.”

The lip quiver quickly escalated into a full-blown wail. Damian’s eyes widened. “Okay, okay, we can handle this.” He began to pace the room, gently bouncing her in his arms like he’d seen Y/N do countless times before. “You’re okay, Luna. We’re just going to have some fun today, right? Just Daddy and his little girl.”

After a few more laps around the living room, Luna finally calmed down, her big brown eyes staring up at Damian as if to say, I’m watching you, Dad. Damian took a deep breath. “Alright, first things first—diaper change.”

What should have been a simple task turned into a comedy of errors. Damian laid Luna on the changing table and began to undo her onesie, but the tiny snaps on the fabric seemed to defy him at every turn. “Come on, it’s just a snap,” he muttered, finally getting it open only for Luna to kick her legs and send a tiny sock flying across the room.

“Alright, you’re feisty today, huh?” Damian said with a laugh, retrieving the sock and placing it back on her foot. But the real challenge began when he opened the diaper. “Oh, man. How does something so small make such a big mess?”

He carefully wiped her clean, trying to keep everything under control, but Luna was in no mood to cooperate. She wriggled and squirmed, nearly kicking the wipes out of his hand. When it came time to put the fresh diaper on, Damian struggled to keep her still. The result was a slightly crooked diaper, but after a few attempts to adjust it, he decided it was good enough. “There we go, all clean. Let’s see your mom do better than that,” he joked, holding her up proudly.

The rest of the morning went by in a blur of tiny challenges. Feeding time was a mix of sweet moments and sticky chaos. Damian thought he had the bottle’s temperature just right, but when he went to test it, he ended up spilling milk down the front of his shirt. “Okay, so maybe I should’ve worn a bib too,” he chuckled, wiping it off.

Luna, for her part, seemed more interested in gnawing on the bottle’s nipple than actually drinking from it, which led to a minor battle of wills. “Come on, Luna, you’ve got to eat,” Damian coaxed, trying to gently guide the bottle into her mouth. After some persistence, she finally latched on, and Damian couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride. “That’s my girl. We’re getting the hang of this.”

Nap time, however, was a different story. Luna had always been a light sleeper, and today was no exception. Damian tried everything—rocking her in his arms, walking around the house, even playing soft music on his phone. But each time he laid her in the crib, her eyes would pop open, and she’d start fussing again.

“Come on, princesa, you need to sleep,” Damian whispered, exhausted but determined. Eventually, after what felt like hours of rocking and shushing, Luna finally dozed off. Damian carefully placed her in the crib, holding his breath as he slowly backed out of the room. The moment he stepped on a creaky floorboard, her eyes fluttered open. Damian froze, holding his breath, but to his relief, Luna let out a tiny sigh and fell back asleep.

Damian tiptoed out of the room, collapsing onto the couch with a sigh of relief. “This is tougher than a ladder match,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He pulled out his phone to check the time and noticed a message from Y/N: How’s everything going?

He couldn’t help but smile as he typed back: We’re surviving. No major disasters yet. He added a winking emoji for good measure before setting his phone down and closing his eyes for just a moment.

He was startled awake by the sound of the baby monitor crackling to life. Luna was awake again. “Already?” he groaned, dragging himself off the couch and heading back to her room. He found her sitting up in the crib, wide awake and looking as bright-eyed as ever.

“You know, it’s supposed to be nap time,” Damian said, scooping her up and holding her close. She responded by grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging, which made him wince but also laugh. “You’ve got a strong grip, just like your dad.”

He spent the next few hours trying to keep Luna entertained. He tried singing to her, but his deep, gravelly voice only made her stare at him in confusion. He brought out her favorite toys, only to find that she was more interested in chewing on anything within reach—including his championship belt, which he quickly had to rescue from her tiny grasp. “Not a teething toy, sweetheart,” he said, holding it up out of her reach.

He tried reading her a story, but Luna seemed more interested in the sound of his voice than the actual words. She cooed and babbled back at him as if trying to have a conversation. “Yeah? Is that right?” Damian played along, nodding seriously as if he understood every word. “You’re already smarter than your old man.”

The hours passed, and soon it was time for Luna’s evening routine. Damian managed to give her a bath without too much water ending up on the floor, though she did manage to splash him a few times. “You’re a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” he said, wrapping her in a fluffy towel and drying her off.

Getting her dressed in her pajamas was another challenge. Luna was wriggly, and every time Damian tried to get her tiny arms through the sleeves, she’d pull them back out. “This is definitely harder than a chokehold,” he muttered, finally succeeding and zipping up the onesie.

Finally, it was bedtime. Damian settled into the rocking chair with Luna, cradling her gently in his arms. He tried to hum a lullaby—one he remembered his own mother singing to him when he was little. Luna’s eyes grew heavy, and after a few minutes, she was fast asleep.

Damian looked down at her, feeling a wave of love and pride wash over him. “We did it, princesa,” he whispered, carefully placing her in the crib and brushing a kiss against her forehead. “You and me—we make a pretty good team.”

He tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t help but smile as he collapsed onto the couch once more. It had been a challenging day, but also one filled with sweet, unexpected moments that he knew he’d cherish forever.

Just as he closed his eyes, his phone buzzed. It was Y/N, checking in again. Damian grinned as he typed back: Survived the day. House still standing. Princesa asleep. I think I deserve a championship belt for this.

He hit send, leaning back on the couch and finally allowing himself to relax. Y/N’s response came quickly: I’m so proud of you. Can’t wait to be back with my two favorite people.

Damian smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest that was different from the thrill of any wrestling match or victory in the ring. It was the simple, undeniable joy of being a dad, and he knew he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

The next morning, when Y/N walked through the door, she was greeted by the sight of Damian asleep on the couch with Luna curled up on his chest, both of them snoring softly.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she set down her bags and walked over to them. She gently brushed a kiss on Damian’s forehead, then Luna's. "Looks like you did just fine," she whispered, feeling a warmth in her heart.

Everything really had turned out okay—better than okay. It was perfect.

[theboarsbride]

The Ballad of Sir John and the Dragon - A Dark Fantasy Terror AU🐉🏰⚔🩸

Knights Sir John, Sir James, and Sir Francis are tasked to explore - and bring the holy light of their god - to the dark, mysterious Northwest Wood, a realm of crooked trees, unending snow, and beasts with blood-stained teeth.

My silly, self indulgent medieval dark fantasy AU for The Terror where the captains are knights heehee!

Can be read on ao3, and is inspired by both my love for 80s fantasy movies and Misanthrop by Blod Besvimelse (and uhhhhhh Ciarán Hinds simping but what else is new tbh?).

Also doodle concepts for this AU!👇

[starryeyeddreamer21]

Hazbin Hotel Incorrect Quotes

Lucifer: *walks into the room covered in lipstick marks* Hey... why is everyone looking at me like that?

Vaggie: Um, Sir, you've got a little something... everywhere

Charlie: Mom WHY

Lilith: *puzzled* It wasn't me

Angel: Than who-

Alastor: *walks in with smudged lipstick* What's going on in here?

[bongazo]

You know this series holds a terrific amount of exploitable sexual tension but I swear I was oblivious to it until I watched that scene of Jopson taking care of Crozier where he opens up about his mother's addiction and the guilt he felt for not saving her despite his dedication. He couldn't stand a woman laughing PEOPLE!! Can you imagine how awkward it must have been for a man in the 1800's to feel weirded out by a woman and the conflict that followed upon realising that a place FULL OF MEN felt SAFER? And he chose to disclose his trauma at his captain's most vulnerable moment, a situation only allowed by military complicity elevated by devotion AND TRUST. The bond making was so visible it put me on my knees. He was being seen by the man he most admired thanks to his kindness and love my goodness the power the drama of this scene I could feel Jopson's heart trembling, distilling anguish. THIS. MAN. How defective he must have felt about himself and his feelings towards other men, all converging in the determination of keeping his captain alive, redeeming his faults through DUTY. This ship really has it all people it broke me it really did

[urnothere12]

Duos

[dutifullylazybread]

Hi Darcy!! Love your writing so much!

Since you're opening up Headcanon requests, I was curious: What do you think Rolan's nightmares contain? Same for Cal and Lia maybe?? I love how you alluded to Rolan's nightmares with how he wakes up "choking on his own panic" I always think Rolan's nightmares are either about his mother, Lorroakan, or both! I can't wait to hear your thoughts!

Thank you so much! 🥹 I had a blast reading through your fics the other day—so thank you for sharing such lovely writing with all of us.

So this was a really interesting thought exercise for me. I was a little nervous to start this headcanon list, because I wanted to do these three characters justice.

I have done my best to pull from nightmares I have had, and I have also conducted research to make sure I am not working solely from one point of view.

Content warnings: Nightmares as a result of living through some pretty terrifying experiences, parental death/finding deceased parent (mentioned at the end of all three sections) and discussions of past abuse (found in Rolan's section).

Nightmares - Cal, Lia, and Rolan

Cal

Cal dreams of falling.

To be specific, he dreams of when Elturel descended.

The reason I say this is because I came across this MtG card illustration of the Descent into Avernus, and it has stuck with me:

So when Elturel descended, would it really be too surprising if some people lost their footing and fell off the edge?

As Elturel is dragged into Avernus by these chains, cityfolk are being ripped off of the ground. If they can’t grab onto something stable enough to hold fast while the city descends, or if they aren’t flush to the side of a building, then they are likely flying off of the edge.

Cal had been running errands for the general store that he worked at when Elturel descended. Were it not for the sturdy building he found himself pressed up against, he might not have survived the Descent.

Now, he frequently dreams of falling into the River Styx. He doesn’t usually wake up when he hits the water, but he will dream of staring up at the city, and he can’t move. He can’t swim to the surface.

Cal also dreams of Moonrise Tower’s dungeons. He remembers the smell of rot and death, and he remembers the sounds of things moving around in the shadows.

When these nightmares take a turn for the worse, he manages to get out of the prison cell, and he starts searching for Lia. He knows something bad has happened, but he can’t find her.

He, like Rolan, dreams about finding their mother's body.

Lia

Lia dreams of Zariel. My personal headcanon is that, when Elturel was pulled into Avernus, Lia was likely in the city’s square (Shiarra’s market). This would be a place where there would be a lot of people, especially when the Descent occurred. So after the city was pulled into Avernus and chained above the River Styx, Zariel landed in the city square.

Zariel would have made this appearance to 1) scare everyone shitless, 2) to show off the forces under her control, and 3) to make it clear why she chose to drag Elturel into Avernus. She would make it known then and there who was at fault, because she would want to sow dissent amongst the people of Elturel.

And Lia, who had been in the midst of training, was right there. Perhaps paces away from Zariel. And she brought a detachment of her devil army with her. 

Lia dreams about fleeing the marketplace. She never looks behind her, because she fears either Zariel or her devils will be there, at her heels.

While she runs, she searches for Rolan and Cal, calling out for them but receiving no answer.

She tries to find her way home, but as she flees, the city’s streets become almost maze-like. 

And, at a certain point, she feels like she is running in place. The street stretches out in front of her, her legs are moving under her, but she simply can’t gain enough traction to push herself forward.

She will usually wake up just as she feels something grapple her from behind.

If her nightmares turn into sleep paralysis, she might dream that Zariel is in the room with her, watching from the shadows cast by her wardrobe.

When Lia dreams about their mother, she dreams about trying to run towards her but never reaching her. When having these dreams, she feels like, if she can't reach her, something very, very bad will happen.

Rolan

So I agree with you that Rolan dreams about Lorroakan. There are indeed instances where he just relives Lorroakan's abuse as a flashback.

He also dreams about getting lost in the Shadow-Cursed lands. He wanders through the forest, calling for his siblings.

If he dreams of Elturel, then he dreams of running through the house, calling out for Cal and Lia and their mother. No one answers. 

It’s like he is moving through a strange haze. He is looking everywhere, but he knows that no one is there. He can hear chaos outside of the household, and it makes him panic.

Something is banging on the front door. He cannot find his family, but he knows he needs to before whatever is outside gets in.

I do headcanon that their mother died before Elturel was returned to the material plane, but she was alive prior to the Descent. 

Rolan and Cal found her body.

In his nightmares, Rolan rushes out into the garden, thinking that he might find Cal or their mother there.

The garden wrapped around the house. And when he immediately steps outside, he is struck by this deep, sickening dread. He knows something is wrong. He wants to go back inside, but he is compelled to keep walking forward. He remembers looking for his mother out here before and finding something horrible.

He wants to go back inside, but he can’t.

Before he rounds the corner to where the flowerbeds are, he wakes up.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

I've seen "Danny is Dick Graysons clone/son", "Dick Grayson is over sexualized by people in the comics", "Dick Grayson is protective of Bruce Wayne when it comes to romance" and "Danny is just as farel if not moreso than Dick"

But I haven't seen them combined yet.

Let's fix that >:)

----

Dick was a bit antsy. Someone had been putting his rogues and allies in the critical care units for the past two weeks and hes no closer to figuring out who it is or what thier motivations are.

He didn't want to ask his family for help since they were all busy with cases themselves. Apparently Gotham had its own new rogue that was giving them trouble. Figures. Well, thats fine, he could always be up for seeing Kori again-

Kgnk

The sound of an empty soda can falling out of a trash bin behind him had him whirling around, locking his eyes with that of a startled child.

A child who was stick thin. Walking the streets at night. Alone. Following him around quietly.

Well, at least this one didn't have a camera.

"Hey, kiddo. Who are you?" He asked as he approached slowly, body purposely relaxed as to not scare the child into bolting.

"Danny." The kid just stared at him as if lost in thought. Huh. It's not the typical little kid reaction Nightwing normally gets and it kinda stings his ego. "Okay Danny," Nightwing says softly as he enters grabbing distance, "Were are your mommy and daddy? Do you know you shouldn't be out this late?"

"I don't have a mommy," the kid replies, "But I followed my daddy here!"

Dick looked around, his bad feeling growing worse as he saw no one else but him. "Where's your daddy?"

Danny pointed at him.

"What?! How??!"

"Clone."

Dick stared at him. Yep. That would do it.

-----

Danny was a little terror. Dick and his family had discovered the connection between all of the people that were attacked. They had all harmed Dick or his family at some point...or, to his shock, hit on them.

The bats had thought little of bringing him to the Watchtower after five heroes were assigned to watch him so he didn't get into anything or in case this was a trap set up by someone.

Nightwing wasn't even gone more than 20 minutes but when he had returned, Kon was tied up with an apple stuck in his mouth as he inched across the floor and away from the pile of kryptonite was was currently on fire (How?! Where did he even-) with what looked like one of those rotisserie things over it big enough for Kon to be on.

Bart was on the floor with what looked liked cookies around him. Was he drugged?

Cassie was face down on the couch looking like she had been thrown there like a rag doll.

Superman himself was standing perfectly still and staring blankly at the wall, clearly in some sort of trance.

Finally his Baby Bird, Tim, was sitting in a recliner with Danny curled into his side. Danny listened with rapt attention as Tim told him the story of one of his adventures.

Dick thought this was karma for how he had acted as a kid. But first, he had to go rescue Red Robin who was giving him pleading looks every few seconds.

[justaz]

a spell is cast on camelot that thins the veil enough for ghosts to appear. the catch? the ghosts that appear are spirits of people that were killed by the person they’re haunting. the knights have a good amount of bandits/raiders/whatever that they took down in battle, maybe a few shady knights have genuinely innocent people that they murdered and got away with. the executioner’s killings are transferred to the king since he was simply acting out the king’s commands. arthur has quite a few. uther has hundreds of sorcerers in various states of gore and horror. those who were hanged have perpetually bent necks, those who were beheaded have either no head or just a head floating a bit above their body, and those who were burnt are more charred remains (the most grisly of them all). merlin has more than anyone expected (which was zero) and all of them keep calling out for arthur/uther’s death and camelot’s downfall while also turning to merlin and calling him a traitor.

[littlelouprophetjohn]

Queering the Arctic: the Newly Found Franklin Expedition’s Letters

The papers are unidentifiable–there is no personal name attributed to any of the pages, and, although there are references to a ‘James’, the commonality of the name (especially within the context of the expedition) makes it so that it is uncertain whom the papers both belong and refer to....

a fake academic essay about a short collection of journal entries unearthed from nunavut.

read it here

new fic out! not too sure how to explain but it’s an academic essay about fitzier (the tv show ones, i mean) in an au of our world but where they found a collection of someone’s love letters/journal entries. and that someone is of course our dear frmc writing about jfj. pls enjoy

[goldfishgrahamcracker]

Another one of these

[sixxrock666]

Can I please ask for more Mötley Crüe with a platonic reader, it was surprisingly really wholesome but yet really creative and energetic, please and thank you, love <33

thank u sweets<33 of course here u go more mötley crüe shenanigans :))

Part 2

can you tell I’m a little Tommy biased (￣ω￣;)

• you would love to braid their hair, especially Tommys, since he was always eager to get it done. You usually had some problems regarding Nikki and Mick but at the end of the day they would let you anyways

• since Nikki and Tommy get into a lot of arguments just pissing each other off all of the time, when a physical fight would break out you would always have to be the one to pull them apart. When they would finally settle down you’d scold them, and they would just sit there like sad lil puppies

• late night talks with Mick on your bed while you are painting yours and his nails, his strictly black. He would always grumble about it but would secretly enjoy it

• i feel like Tommy would get slightly possessive over u sometimes, he just wants to spend time with you in peace without others interfering, jealous boy :o

• clingy Tommy when drunk>>> hed be all over you ,Nikki, Vince and Mick, would lean on your shoulder and even fall asleep in your lap sometimes

• Vince would adore taking care of you, just random acts of service here and there like bringing you a glass of water and some pills and setting them on your nightstand whenever you’d get drunk

• you’d borrow their t-shirts all the time

“is that my shirt”

“might be yours Vince, might be Nikkis”

• once in a while you’ll all gang up on mick and tease him or some shit till he ends up chasing you all and cursing the shit out of you

• impulsively getting matching tattoos in the middle of the night, drunk with the boys

• inside jokes with Mick>>>> you’d randomly say something only you two would get and you’d just start laughing like two crazy idiots. The rest of the boys would just sit there and stare confused

• the only time they would eat homemade food is if you’d cook because they would be helpless, they would either burn the whole kitchen down or make so much mess while trying to make eggs and bacon -_-

They loved it when u did cook for them tho-Tommy’s for sure licking that plate up

• alright hear me out, movie night but it’s pure chaos

☆ you’d take forever trying to pick out a movie, you would end up arguing and pulling and chasing until one of you eventually won. Not everyone would be happy about it and would just complain throughout the whole movie

☆“ you can’t be serious this is so fucking predictable”

“ Vince shut it and watch the movie”

“ but look i fucking told you he’s gonna-“

Would get a pillow in the face so he’d shut up

☆if you’d watch some romantic shit Vince and Tommy would end up crying openly over it, and then you’d catch Nikki and make fun of him, until he would literally tackle you on the couch so you’d shut up

☆Tommys picking some sappy romance, a cartoon or some sex related shit, there’s no in between

• the boys can never say no when you do the puppy eyes except Mick of course, he’s a little devil

• you’d help them die their hair, but it would just end up with you all messing around and in the end the hair dye would be everywhere except where it’s supposed to be-the hair

Part 3

☆彡𐬾𐮚✧✯⁂☆