#The dark patron

[roselyn-writing]

when the whispers come to an end, does this means that I am finally free?

____________ Aliyaa Aepel_ the Dark one

[angiemaniac]

Thank you for a fantastic year!

The Durge Companion AU is continuing into next year!

Here's some DurgeTav for the holidays

[devotionfm]

The son (moomin) the father (snoopy) and the Holy Spirit (miffy)

[soullessseraphim]

Is this even Arcana related anymore ? -

[lizaoverlord]

Pride is fragile. Or, what could possibly go wrong for the dark elf Deimos when you turn your high elf lover into a warlock patron? I wanted to experiment with shape design again for this drawing, so that I can show more of Deimos' psyche: Prideful yet starting to shatter.

The bright side of this situation being the warlock powers he gets from the high elf Vannatir.

And hey, Vannatir has feelings too! And he's never done anything wrong, ever.

Vannatir ending up trapped on the outerplanes? Arguably Deimos' fault. Vannatir returning as a powerful warlock patron? That was more of a collab of these two elves haha. Deimos was the one that carried out the ritual without knowing all the details. He just trusted Vannatir completely and wanted to save him.

[ghostbsuter]

The house of Nightingale & Constantine ( P. 3 )

> previous

.・゜-: ✧ :-

"Why are you avoiding me." Green eyes, sharp and unflinching, locked on Danny.

Startled, he turns to the younger boy, Damian? Bruce's only blood kid, he reminds himself.

"I'm not avoiding you." He denies, shaking his head, eyes trailing off.

But Damian knows, he learned and memorised the movements, signs, and behaviour of human kind.

"Do not lie to me, Nightingale."

The use of the name triggers something, and both Damian and Danny jump back, startled and cautious.

"What's the meaning of this!" The boy demanded, snatching his sword from the hilt.

The other raised his hands, pleading. "Look Damian– put the sword down and let me explain, please?"

They stood in tense silence, the sword pushed down reluctant and swiftly tugged back in.

"Explain."

Danny sighs in relief.

"You're more than aware of your parentage, yes?"

A nod, if not slightly confused. "Wayne?"

"No, al Ghul."

He keeps his facial expression and body language closed, obviously trained, and tilts his head to the Ghost. Listening, assessing.

Danny swallows as the air takes on sparks, dangerously close to one another.

If only Dick was in the mansion, maybe he'd cut the air with a knife followed by laughter and help him escape.

"The al Ghul line is in a delicate balance that can be toppled any time," he explains. "it's an old house, new compared to the houses of ancient, but powerful."

"You're saying," Damian drawls, carefully placing the words to form the sentence. "that the line of Al Ghul is... magic." He is studying the older, eyes narrowed and focused.

He knew such accusation would be called ridiculous by the younger. It would definitely earn him a few attempted kills.

"Not all dark houses are magic, just magic adjusted. The reason al Ghul is where it is today is that the founder, your grandfather, is still alive."

"You're aware such claims would have your head."

A wince.

"Fine." Damian scoffs. "We will go back to that after, tell me of the name triggering then."

"Names have power, but family names are more powerful, especially those of dark houses. If another dark house calls—"

"It registers as a warning and summoning." He finished, unfazed at the owlish blinks received.

"You were taught."

"I was, you're right, the al Ghuls are not magic. I haven't taken it seriously back then, I now see the error of my actions." The boy simply states, arms crossed.

"Calling another house of dark by name and immediately pulling a weapon is a declaration of challenge." Dannt adds after a moment of quiet. "I would rather not fight and make an enemy here."

"Not an enemy, but neither an ally?" Is quickly thrown back.

The Nightingale shrugs. "I'm not fond of your grandfather," he admits. "but it's known that every generation changes the house, I would not mind being the ally of the al Ghuls, if it meant you did the contract."

"Being an ally to my name only and to the al Ghul if asked." Green eyes, borderline neon, it reminds Danny of the zone. "Bold."

A grin cracks through, and Danny gestures to the door. "We can discuss the terms during snack time, if you wish, al Ghul."

A spark and Damian scowls harder. "Stop that." He says. "Let's do so, Father would be quite pleased knowing I've made more allies."

As he stomps to out, Danny follows with a jump in his steps, very pleased.

Nightingale 1, Constantine 0!

[a-h-li]

Introducing: the DND Hazbin AU!!!

Sue me some of these classes and races are homebrewed…

Background: for board game night, the subject of DND comes up and Vaggie reveals that she was kind of a nerd while she was alive. She’s a bit self conscious about it but?? Charlie has heard her talk about it before and has wanted to play for ages but they haven’t had a group of people to play with. In a way it’s genius because. Dnd is basically an ultimate team bonding exercise; there’s a lot of empathy and problem solving involved…Vaggie is convinced to give a crash course on the rules, prints out a couple of character sheets, and the rest of the hotel (as per first character creations usually go) basically create themselves as their characters 💀.

Campaign summary: the world is set in a high fantasy adjacent of hell, where Charlie is dead broke and has 0 means raising money for a hotel to redeem the sinners of this realm. With the rest of her party, they set off from avernus (the top ring of the nine hells of Baator ) to Nessus (the deepest ring), where Lucifer has isolated himself within a securely guarded fortress. She intends to ask him to get an audience with heaven to plead her cause.

Team Comp: So the tank for this team is definitely Vaggie, with Charlie and Husk as the support + healers, nifty as a front line damage dealer, Pentious, Alastor, and Angel as long distance damage dealers. To balance out this team maybe Charlie multiclasses to a barbarian down the line??

[inkeyjay]

🫀 Eucharist of the Ravenous 🫀

It started out as a bellyache, guts rumbling after two days of barely eating. An unfinished visage, featureless, fixing the blurry sockets it had for eyes into his soul.

The humble priest dropped his brush onto the cold floor of the chapel and stumbled backwards. The walls, towards the ceiling, all full of still fresh perfect faces framed by golden halos, that he had been carefully painting non stop for days. Faces of dead saints and prophets, long gone, commissioned by the high church as a display of power and opulence in an age of religious and political crisis. And this last saint, the one that still had some loose and tired brushtrokes for it's face. There was something about it that made the priest flinch out of his creative trance. He swore the paint moved, vibrated with anticipation at the touch of the brush.

He laid tired in the center of the chapel, exposed to a hundred pair of eyes that almost felt judgemental, knowing of the priest's internal thoughts. "Why am i doing this" "Why do i have to over exert myself with work to survive while i use pure gold to embellish... You. This" "Why"

And the faces remained still and silent.

"Why all this for long gone martyrs that had the fortune to die for their for their beliefs, or to let their God speak through their lips, bestow miracles through their fingers"

"Why this for a God that let them die at the heretical hands of the non believers. That leaves hundreds if not thousands of people to die of the pestilence outside this golden, rotten, WALLS"

The bottle of turpentine exploded and its contents dripped down the wall, dragging hours of work with them, dissolving like acid false flesh and gold leaf alike. And then blood, through the priest's hand, holding the neck of the bottle. He panicked and kneeled towards the wall, trying to undo the mistake with cloth, only to make a bloody mess. Red running through the gold, ichor like.

The priest cried holding his hand, a deep wound running through his palm, burning because of the chemicals. But the pain was not the cause of his tears.

"A sign" "I just need a sign"

But the faces remained still and silent.

The priest got up, slowly, and turned around towards the door. Why be here then. Why remain hungry, at the mercy of a dying church that kept their riches safe in mausoleums and layers of paint upon gold leaf upon stone, while its believers died in the streets famished and sick. The priest saw it clear now. If God did ever exist, it was long gone, uncaring for its creation. He might as well die outside, with his people. It would be like inviting the sickness into his chest but at least his last breaths wouldn't taste of incense. His steps echoed through the chamber, determined, reaching for the doors.

But the faces opened their lips. And with a cacophony of voices, each one vibrating with a torrent of beating wings, It spoke. No.

It sang.

Super happy to finally be able to show you this illustration i made for Tome of Pacts, a zine about warlocks, patrons and their pacts! There's a leftover sale going on right now! This is Pantheon, a shapeshifting entity that impersonates long absent gods and feeds on the faith of their followers, always hungry for more. But it's not for me to tell you.

! First of all, credits to @/gothhoblin, the writer of our team, for helping shape out this Patron "...and it spoke with a cacophony of voices, each one vibrating with a torrent of beating wings, a thousand or more." Is a marvelous line of her creation.

Tome of pacts has 11 more patrons and 24 warlocks for your enjoyment, all beautifully depicted by teams of artists and writers. Im super proud to have been able to participate in this project 💛

This short story is about an original character i created after the patron, just as an appetizer, pun intended. You get it right??

Hungry for a copy?

[drathe]

Hunger of Hadar

[zu-is-here]

Happy Valentine's Day ♡

[anae-art]

Some time ago I was working on a drawing of the patron of our warlock A powerful vampire who decided that keeping a good lawyer with her in exchange for the power given to him was a pretty good deal

[pinkdeath6]

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

This probably isn't going to go any where, but it was a fun evening, lol.

Okay but if I did:

Premise would be working in the bordello version of 79s... Guess what I called it? Anywho, it would mostly just start out as a brothel simulator with clone smut.

I'd begin by just making some shiny's (various personalities, part of the challenge would be feeling them out and deciding how to act for them) but then slowly add in named clones, romance story lines, special event characters and hell, other OCs if its wanted.

These are the only assets I have for this lol.

-----

Some tastful lil'tags

@feral-ferrule @cloneflo99 @thecoffeelorian

[chvoswitch]

═━─ ❩ᱬ❨ ─━═ ❩𖤓❨ ═━─❩ ҉❨ ─━═ ❩𖤐❨ ═━─

❩ 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝒀 𝑴𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 ❨

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

e-offering / devotion to the goddess hecate.

[succulentsiren]

NEVER ARGUE WITH IGNORANGE

+ LAUGH AT THE HATERS

1. Never take hate to heart, just laugh. Laughter is food for the soul.

2. Treat haters like silly children who know no better, because they don’t. This shows them that they are not that important to be taken seriously.

3. Use haters and the attention they give you to your advantage. You must see the positive in all situations and find a way to benefit from it. No press is bad press. Use the free promo and attention they give to further your own projects.

[lizaoverlord]

The consequences of Deimos’ own decisions. Keeping everything about the warlock pact a secret from the Grey Wardens has given Deimos a lot of gifts, knowledge and advantages. However, for the first time in the DnD campaign the need to have someone truly on his side is becoming incredibly strong.

This is definitely a type of hopeless portrayal that Deimos himself would HATE. But I think it's always good to experiment a bit with how I tackle my drawings. ^^