#chapter: heart of darkness

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter Three - Smoke and Whiskey

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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

[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

[fosermi]

On this ARK we sail together...

@stillafanofsonic enabled me and I RAN with it.

[darkrooklobby]

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

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

[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

[queenerdloser]

i just finished dark heir

[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…”

[thebirdandhersong]

What has been encouraging for you this week? What has made you feel brave? How have you seen God's hand at work in your life?

[sankttealeaf]

baby ruetash

theyre talking about running away together (and they never will)

[ae-azile]

Emergence (Working Title): Fadel/Style, Kant/Bison Fic Preview

Link to first two fics in series:

Part 1: At Least We're Not on this Dark Road Alone (Fadel/Style)

Part 2: Through the Deep Waters (Kant/Bison, side Fadel/Style)

Style met Kant and Babe right after their parents died. Their uncle had been friends with Pa since they were kids. Pa even went on a few dates with Kant’s ma when they were teenagers. Despite Style meeting Kant when he was nine, it honestly surprising they hadn't met sooner in life. But once they did, they hung out all the time. Other than Boonterm, Kant and Babe are the closest thing Style has had to siblings.

But still, he has never been under the assumption that Kant or Babe share the same sentiment. They have both faced a lot of loss, but they have each other. Style understands that he does not compare in the scheme of things. He's a close friend to them, maybe a cousin metaphorically. While the trip down here this morning had been oddly beautiful, meaningful, and peaceful, Style knew he might have to tear every single bit of the trust he built with Fadel down if he found out Bison went through with killing Kant. If Bison killed Kant, Style would never be able to let that go.

Relief washes over him when he sees Kant sleeping on the couch. He looks exhausted, and his eyes look slightly puffy, as if he has been crying. That throws Style off enough. He's only seen Kant cry a few times, and he remembers the circumstances of every time he witnessed.

- Kant cried over missing his parents on his first birthday without them.

- He cried when his uncle died.

- He cried when Ma died. She was very present and kind to Kant and Babe. It probably felt like losing a mother all over again.

- Style didn't see it in person, but Kant called him while Style was visiting his father’s cousins up north. Kant was embarrassed and ashamed over a panic attack he had at Babe’s family swimming event. Style tried his best to be comforting, but he inevitably ended up trying even harder to lighten the mood. Although, that is the good thing about Kant. He is one of the few who seems to appreciate that.

- Kant also cried when Boonterm died. Kant and Babe loved him too. They helped Style with the funeral.

The last four circumstances happened all within the same year, with Boonterm’s death being at the tail end of a horrible one for all of them. Although, Kant didn't realize just how horrible it really was for Style. Kant never liked Gun and would say as much. He was pretty critical over Gun dating a seventeen year old when he was twenty-four. But Style just dismissed it as Kant deciding to be oddly protective. When Kant’s instincts about Gun and whatever less than noble ulterior motives he had ended up being right, Style felt embarrassed and played. That's why he didn't tell Kant about what happened at the party until four years later. They both drank on Style’s twenty-first birthday and it wasn't a planned confession, but drunken, twenty-one Style must have deemed it as the perfect time to finally tell someone what had happened to him besides Boonterm.

Kant had tears in his eyes as Style managed to keep the story to-the-point and nonchalant. He didn't cry, or else that instance would have made the list. Kant did, however, punch a wall, pace the room with anger, and demand that Style tell him where Gun was.

Gun moved to Phuket a month after Style broke up with him. He got a job in maintenance at one of the resorts. He never planned on staying with Style. Occasionally, Style checks where he is in life. When he checked six months ago, Gun had a wife and son and was recently promoted to general manager at one of the nicer resorts in the area. He and Fadel almost passed it. When Style saw a road sign for it, he decided to take Fadel on a detour and show him the overlook instead.

Of course, he didn't tell Fadel the full reason for the detour, just like he never told Kant about Gun’s whereabouts. All he has told either of them is that Gun is no longer a problem. Kant has seemed to let it go, although he did bug him for a while about getting the names of the other people who participated. Kant stopped when Style started shutting down whenever it was brought up, and then just tried to be more present and caring for a while.

So despite Kant likely not seeing him as a brother, Style knows he cares about him. Style would go as far as to say that Kant loves him. He assumes Kant will be happy to see him, considering their circumstances.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Style says, gently tapping Kant’s shoulder. When Kant’s eyes pop open and he turns his head to look at him, Style gives him a smile.

“Hey!” Style says, “Fadel and I thought we would come visit. We’re about to make lunch-”

Style is cut off by a gut wrenching sound, followed by Kant sitting up, throwing his arms around Style’s waist, and sobbing into his shirt.

It's a new bullet point for the list. But unlike the rest of the bullet points, Style is sort of lost when it comes to the reason.

“Did you miss me that much?” Style asks, awkwardly patting Kant’s back, “What’s the matter? You don't cry over me! You cry over death and occasionally when you feel needlessly inadequate. That's it! I keep track.”

But Kant doesn't answer. If anything his cries get worse as his hold around Style tightens.

Okay. Now he's concerned.

“Hey,” Style says, abandoning the awkward patting and becoming more soothing with the physical comfort, “Kant. What's wrong? Are you worried about Babe? If you are, don't be. I called Pa. He picked Babe up, so he's staying over at my house with him. Babe is fine, Pa is fine, even the cat is fine! Babe took him too! Pa sent Fadel a picture of him cuddled up on his lap if you want to see-”

“You were dead!”

Style glances down at Kant incredulously, “Nuh-uh. I never died once. I would remember something like that! You know my memory, Kant. It's impeccable. On the way down here, I was showing Fadel how good it is-”

“Fadel killed you!” Kant sobs, before lifting his head to look up at him. When Style meets his eyes, Kant immediately becomes inconsolable again and presses his face into Style’s stomach.

“Kant,” Style says, trying to get him to sit back up, “Hey. Hey, look at me! I'm fine. Maybe you had a really bad dream-”

Kant shakes his head, keeping himself firmly in place, “B-Bison said Fadel…It's my fault. It's all my fault. I dragged you into this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It’s my fault it's my fault it's my-”

“Kant,” Style says again, becoming slightly more forceful as he puts just enough space between them so that he can sit on the couch next to him, “Snap out of it. Don't make me do something stereotypical and cruel, like slap you across the face. Neither of us want that, just like neither of us are dead! I'm so happy you're okay.”

Even though Kant seems the opposite of okay right now.

“We’re both fine. Understand?” Style asks.

Kant shakes his head, “No.”

Well, Style understands. Their boyfriends love them too much to ever kill them. If Kant wasn't still finding a way to produce a fresh round of tears, Style would gush about how he is madly in love with Fadel. He would talk about how much closer they got last night, despite sex not even being a factor. He may also tell him that he feels inspired by the wedding he officiated, and that it made him want to propose. Not just as a joke where he coughs up his own ring. He wants to do it for real. He loves him he loves him he loves him he loves him-

“B-Bison said Fadel killed you,” Kant gets out, snapping Style from his obsessive thoughts, “He said that Fadel made it painless, but that you died. I pulled you into this. It's my fault-”

“How is something that didn't even happen your fault?” Style says, then lightly shoves Kant’s shoulder before gesturing at himself, “Look at me, man. How could Fadel stop this body’s heartbeat? It would be impractical of him. It's too easy on the eyes, and he gets too much enjoyment out of it! Not in his best interest. Style is here to stay.”

Style thinks that will lighten the mood. For a moment, it works. Kant’s face goes lax as he processes what Style is telling him. However, that only lasts for a few seconds before Kant’s expression screws up again.

What happened to him? Kant has never cried over him, and that is something Style knows for a fact due to his list. Maybe some of Kant’s grief for Ma was also for him since he knew Style was going through a loss Kant himself had already experienced pretty intimately himself. And Style does remember Kant getting teary after he finally told him about Gun, but he was never sure if that was because he was that upset over it happening, Style keeping it from him for as long as he did, or because he cracked a bone in his hand when he punched the wall.

This is very different. It's starting to make Style uncomfortable and worried. He isn't worth all this angst. But Kant doesn't seem capable of just moving past it, so Style supposes they’ll need to talk through it.

“Give me a second,” Style says, standing back up, “I'm going to tell Fadel to get started on the food and that I will come in to help once you're calmer-”

“Don't,” Kant chokes out, grabbing onto his arm, “I don't want you around him.”

Style tsks at that, “Don't deprive me of my man!”

“Style, please.”

“He's NOT going to kill me,” Style says, “He thought he had to because of the snitch stuff-”

“You aren't the snitch. I am,” Kant says hoarsely, “Tell him to kill me.”

Style groans at that, “Fadel isn't killing anyone. I promise. He believed me when I explained our situations. He tried to let me go last night, so I had to handcuff myself to the bed. And then we bore our hearts to each other. Not even our bodies, despite how tempting that was! I have never loved someone like I love him and I will never love anyone else ever again.”

“Huh?” Kant asks eloquently.

“I miss him!” Style wails, trying to pull out of Kant’s grasp, “I need to see him! It’s been ten minutes!”

“Style, stop!”

Style drops the act that actually isn't an act at all and turns to face him, “I'll be back. Fadel is expecting me to cook with him. I need to tell him that you need my support.”

With that, Style successfully twists out of Kant’s grasp and jumps out of range before running to the kitchen.

“I had him dig up crabs,” Bison says, gesturing towards the crabs crawling around in the bucket, “Just cook those.”

Fadel stares at them for a moment before shaking his head, “I told you that I'm done killing.”

Bison sputters at that, “They're crabs.”

Fadel doesn't seem to feel the need to explain himself. Good. He shouldn't have to. Style greatly prefers Fadel redirecting his attention and focusing on Style instead. His eyes go soft in a way that is still so foreign to him, even though Style saw hints of that softness during the few mornings they woke up together and at the concert they went to.

…As well as when Fadel was going over the top with the sweetness while he was planning on killing Style.

But now, the sweetness isn't filtered or an alleged act. He's a beautiful, sincere, and sexy teddy bear. Beautiful, sincere, and sexy teddy bears don't belong in prison at all. Style wishes the cop who was forcing Kant to work for him could be here now. He'd drop all the charges immediately because of how cute and sweet Fadel is.

Style knows that won't happen. They’ll need to get crafty to free Fadel and Bison from this mess. Luckily, Style now knows he is willing to do anything. He’ll pack Pa, Babe, and Kant up so they can go on the run. He’ll kill Lilly with his bare hands. He’ll plant evidence on someone innocent of Fadel’s and Bison’s crimes, but still someone who is a total dick and deserves it. He’ll even discredit that stupid, annoying cop by doing the same thing, or maybe seduce him, film the encounter, and blackmail him.

Fadel hated that last idea. He wouldn't talk to him for close to half an hour once Style mentioned that as a possibility. It's not like Style would enjoy it. He would hate sleeping with him, actually, especially knowing how this cop has been using Kant. But Style just focused on the drive, gave him time to cool off, and Fadel was completely over it by the wedding.

Doesn't Fadel realize that Style would only seduce an asshole detective to ensure they can get married one day too?

“What's up?” Fadel asks, bringing Style’s planning to a halt. He puts it to the side for now, walks right behind where Fadel is sitting, and bends over to put his arms around him.

“I love you,” Style mumbles, nuzzling his cheek against Fadel’s.

Fadel leans into the touch before turning his head to kiss Style’s cheek, “I love you.”

“What did you do to my brother?” Bison asks, his voice hard.

Style doesn't compute the question at first. He and Fadel are too busy rubbing their noses together and trying not to give into making out in front of Bison. It's only when Bison slams his fist on the table that Style stands up straight.

“That isn't the question that needs to be asked,” Style says before pointing a finger at him, “I have a better question: What did you do to my best friend?”

Going by the way Bison can't quite meet his eyes, Style knows he isn't going to like the answer.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

What if I say possesion storylines are secretly about domination and colonialism and the way in which the whims of the capital dictates every single aspect of social relations, and SA, which in turn is also about colonialism

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

x

[infinitelilith]

It's always a little weird to me when people are confused by Tumblr KH fans loving Dark Road so much because like... it's essentially an extremely angsty Xehaqus high school AU. Tumblr users had been dreaming about that since like 2015. Nomura made DR for the they/thems

[secundareforged]

Adored!

And such went last departure of our delicate elation - till further time, till next of morn.

Next day first chapter to be spoken out, a crawling of tall feather - please do so hither come onward, for us to share and shed along!<ззз

[acourtofquestions]

And if he found her, if he freed her …

Rowan did not let himself think beyond that. To the other truth that they would face, the other burden.

Tell Rowan that I'm sorry I lied. But tell him it was all borrowed time anyway. Even before today, I knew it was all just borrowed time, but I still wish we'd had more of it.

He refused to accept that. Would never accept that she would be the ultimate cost to end this, to save their world

Rowan scanned the blanket of stars overhead.

While all other constellations had wheeled past, the Lord of the North remained, the immortal star between his antlers pointing the way home. To Terrasen.

Tell him he has to fight. He must save Terrasen, and remember the vows he made to me.

Time was not on their side, not with Maeve, not with the war unleashing itself back on their own continent. But he had no intention of returning without her, parting request or no, regardless of the oaths he'd sworn upon marrying her to guard and rule Terrasen.

And tell him thank you-for walking that dark path with me back to the light.

It had been his honor. From the very beginning, it had been his honor, the greatest of his immortal life.

An immortal life they would share together somehow. He'd allow no other alternative.

Rowan silently swore it to the stars. He could have sworn the Lord of the North flickered in response.

[wikitpowers]

[WARNING! TLKOF CHAPTER SPOILERS AHEAD] 🚨

In fact, they’d found sweet FA, as Dru’s friend Kit liked to say. He’d been living in England for the past three years and had developed a whole new set of idioms, which Dru enjoyed teasing him about.