#sold my soul to this game help

[skadi-hunt]

((red eyes for a request for Astarion from Baldur's Gate 3))

[ehlnofay]

Summerfest Day 2 - SECRET

All the air in the room shivers and gusts like an expulsion of breath; the sluggish, oil-slick water below resumes its flowing; Arabella, liquid metal curled lacelike over her skin, starts laughing.

It’s dark, in this dank cavern. Karliah left the lamp she carried outside and did not suggest lighting another. Perhaps it would be sacrilege. For several minutes, all had been shadow; but now if Arabella squints, she can vaguely make out the motion of the water, the distant shine of filigreed armour, the bird-mark on the floor. She can make out Karliah on the middle plinth and Brynjolf on the distant one; she can make out the cracked stone below her; she sinks down, low, into a crouch, hood pulled down over her forehead, and cackles. It echoes in her mouth, against the fabric-smoothness of her mask.

“Well,” says Brynjolf’s voice, blankly, from across the room, and again, “well.”

“The first meeting can be… overwhelming,” Karliah says, tactful. Like Arabella’s cracked under the pressure of watching someone talk to a big not-light in a hole so soggy-stale it feels as familiar as the cistern. She is still laughing – she can’t help it (it’s either funny or it’s very serious, and she’d rather not take it seriously) – as she rolls her shoulders back the way she practiced in the armoury, lets the metallic carapace unravel itself, shrinking and sinking again into her skin, to the cold metal mark she pressed like tattoo ink into the back of her neck. (She’s been branded – she’s been gulled – perhaps she should be taking it seriously, but it’s so ridiculous that she doesn’t want to.) The armour goes away. She can, just about, see her skin again.

She is still laughing, birdlike high and delighted.

Brynjolf shakes his head – she catches it only because of the way his eyes glint in the mask – and says, “Didn’t wake up this morning thinking I’d be meeting a Daedric Prince.” He sounds very deliberately careless; taking everything, very intentionally, in stride. “Suppose I’m honoured.”

“Oh, yes,” Arabella crows, “most honoured bargaining chip –” and she goes off in peals of laughter again. Her language is bleeding into Bos, a little – she’s getting her grammar mixed up in her head, blending her words in ways that should give them layers but instead just turns them to gibberish. Most-honoured, ill-weighted, played like lamb-tendon lute-strings, all an unintelligible mess of sounds. It’s all so patently ridiculous.

Brynjolf pauses, asks, “Does this happen, often?” with a nigh-audible furrow of the brow.

“Arabella,” Karliah says. “Arabella. What, the hysterics? No, or, I’ve never – Arabella, pull it together.”

“Lest your Lady think –” and the rest of it is lost to scrambled syntax, but then Arabella wipes her mouth – probably smudging her paint, she realises after the fact, damn it – and stands up straight and says, gleeful, “You liar. Well done.”

“Are you listening, now?” Karliah asks; when she moves, she gleams, ever-faint.

Arabella echoes, “Will you tell us, now? You’ve been so dreadfully surreptitious.”

Karliah gleams again. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy. I’m sorry I’ve had to mete out information so slowly. But now that you’ve transacted the oath –”

“Such a vague oath,” Arabella remarks, shark-toothed.

“I would like to hear more about the oath,” Brynjolf puts in, “and whatever else, but do we have to have this out in the dark?”

“I would like to hear about how it’s supposed to make us more powerful,” Arabella says, “and why I can’t feel any bloody difference.”

Karliah moves – coils her fingers, maybe, so her armour can slink off to puddle in her hand, pulled night-dark in toward the mark at her wrists – and Arabella can see her a little better, then, a ghostlike shape standing ill-defined on the platform. “That,” she says, soft-voiced, “relates to what I was going to say; Mercer’s –”

“Do you feel a difference, Brynjolf?” Arabella calls.

Sharply, Karliah says, “Stop interrupting.”

The water burbles quiet below them. Arabella’s smile is pinned so broadly to her face that her cheeks sting.

“We’re going back into the hall,” Brynjolf decides. His armour sloughs off as he starts picking his way back down the shadow-cracked stone. Halfway down, he looks over, his face a smudge in the dark. “No. But it’s new.”

“New indeed,” Arabella agrees, the soles of her shoes ringing against the marks in the stone; she holds her arms steady for balance as she steps onto the spit of rock. “Whatever power we expect, Karliah – it won’t come up until we’ve made amends with your goddess, will it?”

She is so very spectral, in the dark. Blue-grey, distant-pale. “Nocturnal’s favour alone is a powerful thing,” she says, clipped. “It will give us an edge.”

“Will it,” Arabella says. It is not a question. She is putting considerable effort into not giggling again.

Even in the dark, even without the masks, she can just about catch the shine of Karliah’s eyes as she looks at her. There is a lengthy pause. “It might.”

Brynjolf, a shadow almost at the end of his stone-spit tightrope, pauses. “Ah,” he says, and then, faintly disgruntled, “Really?”

“She played us well,” Arabella tells him with airy unconcern; her teeth scratch against the meat of her lip. “Very cleverly. I bought it just about enough.”

“It might help,” Karliah insists, dogged; “I – I hope it will. And I couldn’t tell you the whole truth if you remained outsiders – we would have been ineffective, barely a chance –”

Arabella slides the last half-metre of damp stone on the flat soles of her shoes, skirt flaring, hair in her mouth. She says into the dank cavern, “You sold us to curry favour.”

“Yes,” Karliah snaps; she strides down back to the ground, quick and practiced, a blur against the stone. “Yes, all right – we need her favour if we’re going to be able to return what Mercer stole, which you still won’t let me tell you about, we need – it’s been a decade.” (Arabella remembers the thick patterns of dust in these strange halls.) “It’s been a decade, Arabella, this is my life, and if bringing it back isn’t – maybe it won’t help! But I told you, it’s business.” She tosses her head; she’s still hooded, and it’s still dark, so this conveys very little. “Yes. I negotiated acquittal. And if you want to be angry about it, that’s fine, but do it less obtrusively so we can actually start –”

“I’m not angry,” Arabella says, and she licks her teeth. Karliah looks at her; in the dark, her eyes don’t flash. Her face is an ink-smudge. Arabella grins. “I just wanted you to admit it. That’s truly astoundingly selfish.”

“In fairness,” Brynjolf says, before Karliah has a chance to rail at that, and he gestures, quick and loose and just fast enough for her eyes to register it, to the lax little circle they stand in, like the points of a lopsided triangle. “Would you expect anything less?”

It’s still so dark – so little light comes in even through the entryway – but the water sounds cold and quick as it runs, and Arabella is good at taking up all manner of sensory space. “Touché,” she says through beaming teeth; shrugs, exaggerated, the motion rippling the metalline mark pressed into the back of her neck. “Really, Karliah, I don’t mind. Nocturnal can have my soul. What worth is it to me?”

[anghraine]

Nothing like being super into something highly visual to make me mourn my lack of artistic skills ;_;

[slippery-minghus]

gods, why didn't i get a college degree in anything useful?

[bisexual-ashe]

yes. yes i now owe my sister 324 bc she paid for a ps5 for me. which ill be paying her back ofc.

[obae-me]

Happy Birthday to my favorite boy who I love with my whole soul!

He's ostentatious, yes. It's hard to think otherwise with his title of Pride, his extravagant clothes, his dramatic entrances, and his peacock-like aura; always strutting about with his head held high and his metaphorical and oftentimes literal wings held out fluttering behind him.

So, it's easy to forget how much he loves simplicity. How he craves normalcy.

You'll fully admit you had misjudged him when his first birthday with you rolled around. Rumors forced visions of Diavolo putting a screeching halt over the whole kingdom, making everyone come out of their homes and business in droves just to celebrate. He'd have a limo or flying carriage take him to an exclusive five-star restaurant, drinking millennia old Demonus so expensive, one drop could have Mammon rolling in money for months. All the while decked up to the nines- the tens, even.

But, you quickly learned that those symbols of opulence were not what he wanted.

However, this year, you still found doubt clawing at your insides. Was this enough? His brothers assured you that what you all had planned was more than adequate, but it was still difficult to think so. You wanted to give him the world... Now you knew Diavolo's struggles firsthand when it came to the fallen angel.

After he had fallen asleep, you'd rolled over and disabled the timer on his phone. Mammon had already somehow snuck in and stolen Lucifer's alarm clock, eliminating his backup (which might already be sold at this point). He could sleep in now. Diavolo had already given Lucifer the day off, but old habits died hard, and everyone assumed he'd be up before he needed to.

The plan was set. He'd wake up to already-made coffee he could sip in bed before lumbering down to breakfast in his pajamas. There would be no arguing, the house would be clean, and everyone was ready to participate in a historical museum tour that was showcasing demon adaptations of human technologies. One of which was the first magical rendition of an assembly line.

Then you'd head out to have tea and snacks in the Royal Gardens. It would be just you, him, and Diavolo (with Barbatos serving of course) while the others set up a party at the House. The only ones attending would be family and close friends. It would be then that he opened presents, ate his favorite homemade dinner, and drank a little in the company of others while playing different games. Then while the night was fairly young, you'd offer to take him away.

As you rolled over in bed, listening to his light breathing as he slept soundly, you couldn't help but feel both nervous and excited for what you had planned for him. For months, you had tried scouting for the perfect gift. Was this...enough? It deviated from what you would normally plan to get him. It wasn't a cursed record or a set of cufflinks or a tie or anything like that. This year, you'd managed to find a music box. It played a lovely little tune that had the sort of melody that forced you to go quiet, chills running down your spine. But this wasn't just any music box. No. Under certain conditions, it would show the listener the memory that would make them the happiest in that moment. And the conditions were easy, one only needed to turn the winding key exactly six times.

Thinking about presenting it to him made you all giddy inside, knowing that he could use it whenever he felt particularly stressed...but also more anxiety allowed itself to flood your nerves. What if it had somehow broken in the spot you'd hidden the gift in?! Did you check it twice last night? Yes. But stranger things had happened in this house, broken things were actually quite common. So, you'd check on it again...just to be sure.

You eyed Lucifer as you slipped out of bed, keeping the mattress from bobbing too much as you tip-toed your way out of his room. Straight to the planetarium you went, assured by the youngest sibling that he'd keep it safe by shooing Lucifer out of the area if he got too close, which was so common already the eldest shouldn't get suspicious. Slipping your way into the room, you rushed over to the specific chair you had hid it behind. The ground was cold as you sat down on it, your legs crossed over each other as you sighed in relief as the intact music box was pulled into your lap.

"Might as well give it a test run," you muttered to no one but yourself as the key clicked six times. Music poured out into the room as you opened the lid. Mist seemed to shimmer a little in the air, a scene projected into the magic. Faint voices played into your mind, syllables almost twinkling in time with the notes.

"You worry too much." A familiar voice had you smile a bit sheepishly, an old memory of Lucifer shaking his head at you being the music box's memory of choice. "I've told you time and time again that you don't need to fret over impressing me, or whatever that silly word you said was." Ah, yes...you remembered this now...it was some time ago, worrying over some kind of RAD gala. Even now you weren't exactly sure what the specific thing you had panicked so grievously over was, but you had been so anxious over letting everyone down, especially the one who you held so close to your heart. In the image, Lucifer grabbed your face, looking so deeply into your eyes, it was as if he were reaching through the haze to assure you all over again. "And if I must, I will continue to tell you time and time and time again, even if my jaw must break from the strain. So take a breath, relax your shoulders, and remember that--"

"I love you," something echoed. You jumped, your arms pulling the music box close to your body instead of launching it in the air. You shut the lid as you glanced over your shoulder.

"L-Luci..."

The demon chuckled a bit as he tucked the fabric of his robe tighter against his body as he came up behind you, getting on his knees and resting his chin sleepily on your shoulder. "Should I be offended or pleased that you're sneaking off in the middle of the night to meet up with another me?"

You audibly sighed. So he saw... "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Answering a question with a question are we?" As he mused he wrapped his arms around your torso.

"Answering my question to your question with another question?" you quipped right back.

Even without fully seeing him you could feel his eyes roll. He gave you a squeeze and pressed his cheek right next to yours. "Am I to assume...perhaps rather selfishly...if all the secrecy is to imply that this interesting little thing is mine?"

A long pause settled between you. Was this...a bit of disappointment bubbling inside you? "It was supposed to be a surprise..."

If anyone knew the tragedy of derailed plans, it would be him. He hummed in apologetic understanding. "I can pretend like I didn't see it."

That actually had you chuckle a bit, shaking your head. You scooted on the floor to turn around to face him. Grabbing one of his hands, you placed the gift inside his palm. "Happy birthday, Lucifer. May this uplift you in those darker moments when I can't be there. May your birthday this year add to the pool of happy memories to choose from. May I be by your side for another birthday, and the birthday after that, and so many more to come." You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, chuckling at his slightly wild bed-hair that you were just now getting a good look at.

He went a bit silent, and you could've sworn as his eyes shut for a moment, a little bit of color came to his cheeks. He set your gift off to the side of himself as his arms wrapped around you once more, pulling you into a tight embrace. "And may I get to tell you time and time and time and time again...how much I love you."

[flamingpudding]

DPxDC Family Week June 24 (Day 7)

Prompts: Distant Relatives | Engrave

A/N: This is what I believe some would call straight up crack :D

AO3 Link: DPxDC Family Week Contributions

How do you tell your great great great great great (how many greats do you add when the child is the x-generation after about… how many years again? Danny had lost count) grand nephew that the ghost king, he just summoned, with an old family heirloom is his granduncle of many generations?

"Batman. Why does the pendant you gave me summon the fucking Ghost King?" Danny heard a familiar man in a trench coat say next to his nephew (he decided he needed to keep it simple there were too many greats to count)

The batman grunted glaring at the man, Danny blinked finally recognising the guy.

"Aren't you the guy who sold like a tenth of your soul to Ellie's spouse? I am sure I also heard Lucifer complaining that Mammon got more parts of your soul than he has." Danny mused as he looked down at them in his eldritch form. Noting how his nephew tensed as he got past that pathetic wall of protection.

Honestly all the protective engravings he had gifted his nephew and nieces through out generations were a hundred times better. How else would a place like Gotham survive on only Lady Gotham as spiritual protection from ghosts of the Ghost Zone and his former rogues that still liked to mess with his children, nephews and nieces? At least Jazz's branch of the family was safe from them this way. He had baby proofed the entire town or better every town a part of his branch family lived in.

"So, trading game, why did you summon me?" He would have liked to stay hidden, you know? The branch family had long forgotten their relation to the Ghost King and Danny had easily accepted that. His own child of chaos had not so much and preferred to play with the earth family branch but that's besides the point. They had used the pendant to summon him, with his own personal engraving. Did that mean they remembered or did his son let something slip to his cousin?

"Trading game." Someone snorted and for the first time since he got summoned Danny noticed the audience around him. His eldritch form did the equivalent to stunt blinking as he straightened up and took count of the children of his nephew. Baby Ghost, Baby Menace, Baby Stalker and Baby Stabby were there.

A gasp left his lips. A Baby Ghost was sick! In a puff of greenish smoke his eldritch form was dismissed and he changed to his favorite 20 years old Phantom form, rushing past his nephew and trading game.

"You poor baby! I didn't realize you were this sick! If I had known I would have done something way sooner!" He fretted as he inspected one of his nephew's babies, hovering around the boy poking and prodding the little guy, well little to him anyway.

"Who are you calling a baby?! Get your fucking hands of me!" Danny only hummed, patting the baby's head, only a little sad that he couldn't look at his face as Baby Ghost was wearing his favorite red explosive helmet and was on duty.

But on second thought seeing their cute little uniforms live was way better than when he had watched them through his ice mirrors. "Don't worry little Red Hood. You will be feeling a whole lot better soon. Your Uncle Danny will make sure of it."

"The fuck?" The sick baby probably looked at Danny like he had gone insane and the ghost king could only laugh. Good had it been long since he interacted with the earth branch family let alone humans. Maybe he should start accompanying his youngest to his visits to earth.

"Constantine! I thought the sigils were supposed to contain him!" He heard his nephew grunt and Danny grinned over his shoulder at them.

"My little nephew. I granted you way better engravings than this pathetic wall of protection." As if to prove a point he flew around the babies, stopping by the youngest and pulling his sword from him. There were gasps of shock as well as complaints and he couldn't help the laugh as little Baby Stabby tried to lunge at him but got held back by the eldest Baby Menace. He just held the sword towards his nephew and trading game as he held his palm against it and let his power flow. Soon the sigils he had placed on the sword as a homecoming present to the youngest baby, when he started living with his nephew, started to appear, glowing and shining.

"You… you engraved your sigils on things the bats own?!" Disbelieve clearly coloring the trench coats' voice as the man paled. His nephew appeared to be close to start brooding like he had seen him do a couple of times through the ice mirrors. Danny returned the sword, huffing amused how little Robin instantly inspected the sword again, the engravings no longer visible.

"Of course I did. I promised my sister a long time ago that I would always protect her children. Though the engravings were certainly hard to hide from one of your babies."

"Sister? Babies?" Baby Stalker aka Red Robin aka little Tim asked and Danny coed. This baby always reminded him of his best friend Tucker and he was glad to have a technology adept child in the family again.

"Yes your great great great uh…" he stopped thinking how many greats he needed to add and ended up sighing compromising with: "...your grandmother many generations ago."

"How many of our things did you engrave?" His nephew finally grunted out, trench coat guy definitely looking like he was having an aneurysm by now.

"Don't remember, decorations, jewelry, toys, weapons, I think I even engraved your belt buckle." The ghost king shrugged, he honestly didn't. Ellie liked to joke that he was way too protective of the earth branch with the amount of protective engravings and sigils he had put up for them without them even knowing. She was still a little cross with them when they started forgetting about their ghostly part of the family after Jazz died.

There was a distinctive frustrated sigh and for a second Danny did feel bad for his nephew. Maybe he should not have just simply spewed everything but he couldn't hold himself back when he saw the sick baby. He was protective of his family, sue him. At least he hadn't given any of his nephews potential mates a shovel talk yet, not like he had with Ellie's spouse anyway. Jazz had banned him from using Fright Knight's Soul Shredder on humans after he had mentally scared and traumatized her first boyfriend with it. Apparently the guy had been too weak to handle it and lay sick in bed for a while after his return from the nightmare realm.

That reminded him! Turning around he flew up to the sick baby again who flinched back from his touch. He ignored that and only made a calming thrilling noise, calling out to the baby's sick core.

"Get the fuck away-"

Poor baby must be suffering badly from uncontrolled anger and ghostly intermittent explosive disorder. No wonder he hadn't developed any of his powers yet. That Disorder tended to be violent, especially the ghostly kind. Carefully letting his power wash over the baby, Danny coaxed out the little underdeveloped core. Usually he would make sure to do these kinds of things for any of his children, nieces and nephews in a safe environment but this was an exception. It was a sick baby core that would receive long lasting damage if not treated.

Gasp resounded as the tiny core came out of the baby's chest, not wasting any time Danny refresh the ectoplasm in it and removed the corrupted one. He then sent the core back into the baby's chest patting him where it sunk back into the body.

"There you go! Should be all good now!" A second after he said it Danny blinked at all the weapons that were pointed at him. He flinched a little as Baby Menace let electricity spark near him.

"WAIT THAT IS THE GHOST KING YOU IDIOTS!" Trading game screamed, apparently finally waking up from whatever stupor he had been in.

"So? He did something to Todd. Who knows what that was." Danny cooed, he knew Baby Stabby cared, his own youngest was similar in that way, just more chaotic in his display of affection, which also earned him his title. Little Damian was also the most intune with ghostly etiquette next to Baby Ghost, considering the reason for the nickname Danny gave him.

"And he can destroy entire dimensions! Do you guys want to doom us all?!" Trench coat countered very much insistent that the babies pull back their weapons.

Danny in return only huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. Like he would destroy the home of the earth branch. That man was talking rather rudely to them and he was also stopping him from bonding with his nephews' babies. "Buzz of trading game. This is a family matter and if the babies want to bond then we will bond."

After a moment of consideration he added. "Also don't talk to them like that. They are royalty and I will not have you disrespect them."

With a wave of his hand a green portal opened below the man swallowing him. Being nice Danny decided to drop the man off in his own home. He was the one that taught his nephew how to use the pendant again after all. But he wanted to be left alone with his family. Before his nephew or the babies could panic he smiled brightly and said. "Don't worry I sent him home to his house of mysteries or whatever he calls it. So we can have some family time! Besides, my In-law wouldn't be happy if I harmed his contract even if his soul is a trading game among the demons…"

They all shared a look and seemed to take the ghost king's words for it. Especially as litte Jason finally got out of his shock, patting at his own chest and mentioning that he indeed did feel better. Saying that there was no Pit Madness in his mind anymore, huh so that's what the Disorder got called on earth.

They instantly questioned Danny of what he did to which their ghostly uncle only smiled at the once sick baby without answering. He would have Frostbite to take a second look soon though, just to be safe.

"You mentioned us to be royalty?" The gruff voice his nephew put on when on duty resounded and a warm smile spread across the ghost kings face to the wonder of the bat-clan present.

"I thought that information got passed down through all the generations like the summoning pendant." The ghost king tilted his head. "You do know your part of the Infinite Realms Royalty right?"

"We… are royalty? For real?" One of the babies slowly asked and Danny grinned at them.

"Of course you are. In fact, the little Baby Ghost here-" He flew up to Jason, the once sick baby and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Is the fifth in line should neither my children, nore Ellie or her children want to take over the throne when I don't want it anymore and don't feel like bothering on waiting for someone to beat me in a succession battle."

"Red Hood is? Shouldn't it be like Batman or Robin?" Little Tim asked and Danny sadly shook his head.

"By earth standards, sure. Not by Ghost Zone standards though. They don't have a core, it would be different if they develop a core after death but right now? It's baby Hood here who is in line."

"So… to sum it up." The oldest baby started packing his weapons away and Danny felt just a little bit disappointed but the youngest had his sword out. So maybe a bit of bonding would still happen now that the earth branche knew about their relationship again.

"B is a descendant of your sister which makes him royalty and in turn all his children, blood and adopted equally? And Red Hood is even in line for the throne of another dimension because he has, what you call a core?"

"Yup." Danny popped the 'p', he was about to explain more considering his nephew had adopted quite the stoic look and the babies did appear to become slowly a little too overwhelmed. When a red portal opened and his own son decided to join the family reunion.

"Dad! What is taking you so long? Aunt Ellie is sending me to fetch you cause she thinks you're skipping your meeting with the observants again!"

"KLARION?!" Baby Stalker shouted and Danny blinked. Oh right, his own baby boy liked to bond with his cousin's babies. When was the last time his baby boy visited earth? Oh the babies were taking on fighting stances. How sweet of them! Even his nephew was tensing up and looked ready to fight.

"Baby Spook, are you here to bond with your cousin's again?" Sue him, he couldn't help the excitement. His little chaos was the most interested in playing with his earth branch family compared to everyone else in the ghost branch, including Ellie's children. They liked to mess with entire dimensions though and nearly caused at least three wars in the last ten years. They had also inherited Ellie's ire in regards to the earth branch forgetting their existence. That's why his youngest son had taken it upon himself to teach and bond with the little ones here.

"Bond?" Little Tim questioned while his son sighed.

"Beings of the Infinite Realms bond via fighting. How else are we going to teach babies how to protect themselves and become stronger?" The Lord of Chaos explained in exasperation like he was talking to a toddler. Considering their age differences he kind of was, Danny mused.

"Hold on, does that mean all the times you spent attacking was…?"

"Me bonding with you babies, yes. My siblings as well as older cousins aren't interested so of course that leaves me, the heir and superior cousin, to take care of our earth bound family."

"Even when you messed with the watchtower?"

Klarion arched an eyebrow at Batman. "Just because you are the oldest among the earthly doesn't mean you're any less of a toddler."

"Klarion." Danny warned, his cousins might be babies by ghost terms but that didn't mean he could act all arrogantly with them. Danny might have spoiled the boy since he was his youngest child but he surely had raised him better than that.

"No bonding today, Dad, you do have a meeting scheduled." A sigh left his lips, he guessed it was time to return. The disappointment must have been written all over the ghost king's face as his son huffed in amusement. "Maybe next time, Dad. You can come alone… if you get away from the observants."

"Alright, alright." Agreeing, Danny flew over to the summoning cycle and picked up the pentant before floating to his nephew.

The boy took a step back from him but Danny just smiled and continued forward, placing the pendant around Batman's neck. "My calling card, little nephew. We don't exactly have phones in the Infinite Realms. So use that to call me any time, though now that you guys got reminded about your relation to me I will make sure to come visit more often and not just watch and protect you from the other side."

"See you later Amadillos"

"Bye Bye Baby Bats!"

With that he didn't leave his nephew and the babies time to respond as he opened a portal and he and his son returned to the Infinite Realms, where an angry Ellie was waiting for him. Oh boy…

Meanwhile the bat clan exchanged looks slowly digesting the information dump that had just happened. They had just wanted to have Constantine check on the engraving they had on a family heirloom that happened to be similar to one that was found on an ancient egyptian summon plate and had caused some rather dangerous events.

Who would have thought that the Ghost King himself would tell them that they were apparently related and royalty in another dimension?

"I am so going to rub it in Roy's face that I am Royalty." Red Hood broke the silence.

"I always knew I was of royal descent." Robin added holding himself even prouder than before.

"Am i the only one losing my shit here that B and Robin are apparently blood related to Klarion? Also… just a warning I am going to start digging into the Family tree now." Red Robin informed with a glint in his eyes hidden behind his mask. He was definitely not asking for permission to do so.

"The Ghost King kept calling us babies though." Nightwing sounded amused, watching at how his brothers were taking the news and wondered how the rest of the family would react.

While Batman on the other hand was brooding and appeared to be severely constipated, probably thinking of all the worst case scenarios and most likely trying to figure if he needed a contingency plan for their newly discovered interdimensional family or not.

John Constantine on the other hand awoke back in his home and let out a long and suffering groan with the new knowledge he gained. Apparently the ghost king's in-law had a contract with him and now he also couldn't even be rude to the bats anymore because they were royalty and he would be screwed and potentially risk his entire existence should the Ghost King take offense. He was fucked the next time he had to deal with the bat-clan again.

[keeterz]

Time to make an updated post on the Guilty Gear artwork I've made up to this point!

First things, gotta include Bridget and Elphelt since these were made this year in 2023. Baiken, Testement, and Giovanna were done back in 2022. I think I'd like to do a Jack-O illustration at some point, and a friend of mine wants to help fund a Ramlethal print, so those might be coming up in the future at some point.

I've made some updates to the chibis as well to include a handful of the male cast! A few noteworthy mentions include an Axl that was inspired by an animation that my friend DoovadHohdan made, a Potemkin that works as a Pot Buster when you use it as a sticker on another sticker, as well as the husbandos in general being paired with plushies of their partners (well, missing Nago and Elphelt because that wasn't a thing at the time)

A little after the Elphelt illustration I also made an Elphelt chibi as well! This one will be double-sided once I convert it to a charm~

Finally, a sneak peak at something that isn't Strive related...well, not yet, at least (maybe). Here's a value comp for an ABA illustration I'm working on based on her Accent Core design! Hoping she makes it into Strive at some point.

I might want to explore doing some Accent Core related artwork in the future. Accent Core is a lot closer to the point of when I first got into the series in my middle school/highschool days, and there are some designs from the older games that are still hecking rad. Plus the music is awesome :D

It's kind of funny; I have to confess that I actually don't play Strive. Truth be told, the GGST movement and limited combo structure never clicked with me when the game first came out (and I was always more of a 3D fighter guy for gameplay with games like Tekken and Soul Calibur). And even though I am pretty sure I would actually thoroughly enjoy playing I-No and Elphelt with the season 3 changes, I just don't really do as much gaming these days since I'm more enamored with making art (and a few other things like biking). Plus I'm kind of just waiting for Tekken 8 at this point (dear god I hope the online is good just this one time god).

But as an artist? You bet your butt I hecking love coming back to Guilty Gear. I've been a fan of the series since the early 2000s (back when I stumbled across an abandonware PC version of Guilty Gear X and became sold on the series). The characters from this series check a lot of boxes for things I love to draw, from the way they are designed and all of their classic rock references all the way down to their zany personalities and backstories. And I feel like Guilty Gear is really special in this regard for me. Even though I'd rather play other fighting games (like Tekken or maybe even SF6), Guilty Gear is probably the one fighting game fandom I want to do art of the most.

If you are a Guilty Gear fan stumbling across this art collection post, hope you are enjoying the art! I will enjoy the series vicariously through you as I get back to working on some Tekken 8 artwork for Frosty Faustings, lmao. And if you're someone who is new to the series, give Strive a try! It's neat and the characters are great.

[steddieas-shegoes]

One sentence for your brain kickstart

"How did you do that?!"

Eddie was certain that Nancy Wheeler was the one who sold her soul to the devil.

Or maybe he was just a little loopy from the drugs they were still pumping into his system.

He was told if he could finish all his exams with a C or better, he could graduate. Kind of a "we're sorry we were wrong about you but we want you gone" thing.

Nancy made him flashcards, and sat with him for a couple hours every afternoon going over her own study guides for classes.

She'd quickly found that he was smart enough to pass without her help, except for one subject: pre-calculus.

He tried, she watched him try, and she tried so hard to explain in a way that he could understand, but he just couldn't.

"I'm calling in reinforcements," she said on the third afternoon in a row of Eddie getting so frustrated his heart rate spiked and a nurse walked in to make sure he was okay.

"Who at Hawkins is smarter than you?" Eddie asked, doing his best not to let the frustrated tears fall yet.

"Overall? No one. But in pre-calc? Steve."

No way.

There was no way.

"Steve Harrington? The Steve that carried me out of hell? The Steve that looked me in my eye yesterday and asked if I knew any Hobbits in real life?" Eddie's confusion only grew as Nancy started to nod along. "You can't be fuckin' serious. My future depending on the abilities of Steve."

"If he can't help, I'm not sure who can."

So they finished up his biology practice exam and waited.

When Steve arrived, Nancy caught him up on everything while Eddie watched him nodding along, hands on his hips like he was receiving his next instructions during a basketball game.

She left, saluting him on her way out the door, an unreadable smirk on her face.

"So. Pre-calc is trying to kill you?" Steve asked as he sat in the chair Nancy had just occupied.

"It may succeed," he grumbled back.

"Nah. If I can pass with an A, you can." Steve looked over one of the papers Nancy had handed to him before leaving, brows furrowing. "This is from the practice test you did?"

"Failed it," Eddie nodded, playing with the rings on his finger.

Steve set the papers down on his meal tray on wheels, pulling it closer so they could both look at it.

"I see where you were going. You just took a wrong turn, see?" Steve started working the problem from the beginning, the pencil scratching against the paper as Steve found the answer with ease.

"How did you do that?!" Eddie asked after a moment of shocked silence.

"I'll show you slowly. You're just overthinking the third step."

Steve explained each step, showing him as he went exactly what to do.

It took a couple tries, but Eddie finally got it.

The next day, Nancy gave him another practice test.

He passed with a B.

And after another study session with Steve, he passed the real thing with an A.

When Steve heard, he leaned down and kissed the top of his head unexpectedly.

Eddie stared up at him with wide eyes.

"Dammit. I knew the drugs were good, but now I know I've been dreaming this whole time," Eddie whispered, afraid to wake himself up.

"They haven't even given you anything today so you could take your exams, Eds."

"Oh. Right." Eddie blinked. "So, that was real?"

Steve answered with a brush of his lips against Eddie's.

[bitethedevil]

Am i delulu or does raphael admire tav/durge? I know its him performing, but as gale says "inviting to dine with devil is devils equivilant of serenade and roses" and first scene where we meet him he does eye tav/durge througly from bottom to top. Also he says "im fan of your work" to durge. So idk?? It lowey feels like raphael is fond of us in game but i need proof/ professional analysis. [Ahem you are the professional mouse afterall heehee~]

He Loves Us, He Loves Us Not: What is Raphael’s Relationship with Tav/Durge?

*Puts on my little mouse glasses* I’m glad you asked. I’m summing up a few points that I have also written about in another analysis called ‘Raphael and weaponized mortality’, so if that sounds interesting, you can find it in my reading list.

Everything about Raphael screams wolf in sheep’s clothing (or a cambion in man’s clothing if you will). Here are a few points illustrating this:

Cambions naturally have a really predatory kind of stench to them because they are entirely carnivorous. Yet, he is described as a perfumed trickster who smells of cherries and sulphur, most likely because he is trying to cover up that smell.

Poetry, an art that is very dependent on nasty mortal concepts such as ‘feelings’, is something we know he uses a lot. He’s not really good at it and he even says it’s not his ‘main interest’ to Karlach in the second act. His theatrical nature and use of poetry humanizes him, and I think he is well-aware of this.

When you call him out as a devil in front of Mol, he says something about how she wouldn’t believe them anyway, ‘not with his angelic complexion’. We also know that Gortash’s parents sold him to a ‘warlock’ and that’s how he ended up with Raphael. I’ve seen multiple places that that warlock is supposed to be Raphael himself.

Now this all makes me believe that he usually does not reveal his true nature to his clients unless: 1) they’ve already signed, or 2) they are so utterly fucked that they have already reached the point of no return with him and are forced to take his deal no matter what.

Yet, he reveals his true nature to us from the get-go. Yes, one could argue that the tadpole-gang does fulfill option 2) according to him and that’s why he does it, but I think it could also be something else. I think he knows from early on that we are his best bet, so he chooses to lay out all his cards on the table and tries to build as much trust as he can from the beginning.

This is also the function of helping us with Astarion’s scars. Dealing with a devil when you’ve never dealt with one before? Scary. Dealing with a devil when he has proven once before to keep his word? Much less scary. He’s ‘grooming’ us for trusting him to keep his word with THE deal (and he gets to fuck over Daddy Meph by potentially robbing him of a lot of souls. Win-win.)

I think Gale is right on the money when he says that it’s ‘a devil’s equivalent to serenades and roses’. Raphael is like a bird or something. He’s showing off, charming us, but also reminding us that he is big and scary. Although despite the fact that he is big and scary ‘he simply wants to help us’.

He’s done his research and already knows everything about us, so he knows exactly how to play us. This is demonstrated in the comment to Durge in the beginning and the thing he says in Last Light if you tell him he knows nothing about you: “Don’t I indeed?.

I really think that we turn into an obsession for him at some point and that the lines between the obsession about the Crown and his obsession about us blurs. This seems definitely to be the case in his journals. I mean the poor guy has nightmares about us…

I also am so sure that he is not even trying to trick us into anything with the Orphic Hammer. He truly does believe that the Emperor is a threat to us. See this:

I DO think he admires us or at the very least is heavily rooting for us. I don’t remember the exact quotes, but Korrilla tells us in Sharess’s that her and Raphael made a bet about if we would make it to the Gate, and Raphael won that bet because we had. He really believes in our merry little band of idiots.

His reaction if we betray him is also very telling I feel like. Notice how his eyes widen for a moment before they narrow and say the ‘You’ line. He seems surprised. In that whole sequence he is obviously pissed, but most of all I also just get the feeling of a man that has been humiliated and who is angry that he had put so much time, work, and trust into us.

He says that ‘he is fond of us, in his way’ and that I completely believe. It might not be out of love or affection or anything like that, but he is as fond of us as a cambion can be of someone. We’ve grown on him, and he sees potential and use in us. We fascinate him and I’d even go as far to say that he respects us. I feel like even if you give him the Crown of Karsus and he gets to rule the Hells, he will not forget the people who brought him there. He would not flaunt the fact that he had mortals help him get the Crown, but I think that when he goes on his spree to fuck up the realms outside the Hells, Tav and gang would at the very least be spared or even given privileges in that new world order. Is that a bit fucked up? Yeah…But we have to remember what he is: a devil.

(Thank you so much for the ask <3 That became a long answer. I love to yap lol)

[mllemaenad]

Listening to Wyll's backstory in context of all the details we're acquiring on devil's contracts and soul selling is fascinating.

See - I listened to Lann Tarv's three tales to get my soul coins. I felt bad for making Karlach listen to that, obviously, but to be honest I didn't even want the coins that much. I actually wanted the stories. I wanted a better understanding of how this works.

And what I'm learning is - for the gods (and godlike beings) of this world, cruelty seems to be the point. I mean - it's possible there's a god in this world I wouldn't want to stab to death with a rusty fork, but if so I have not met them yet.

These beings have the power to save people and places, to change lives, to do anything. And when someone asks them to - they demand a terrible price. But they don't just demand a price. They subvert the original request in such a way that they utterly fail to deliver on the original promise.

An abused woman wishes to be loved - and her true love appears, but dies instantly. A man wishes to save his children from starvation, and ends up personally growing masses of meat on his own body - not only painful for him, but forcing his children into survival cannibalism, which they were trying to avoid.

Auntie Ethel works the same way. Every one of her customers is left in a tortured state, while Ethel still takes her payment.

The idea is that the person must come to regret their wish long before the payment comes due. Every cry for help must be met with a boot to the face. Or else the mortals will get uppity? Or something.

What is interesting is how consciously Wyll defies that. And how much Mizora is dancing around, trying to force him into that state of miserable regret.

Wyll was manipulated into selling his soul. He was a kid, and he was summoned into a terrible situation - and in that moment, he could see no other way to save the city. Mizora did need to save Baldur's Gate to serve her boss's purposes, so she couldn't take that victory from him - but she did everything she could to take the joy of it.

He didn't get respect, or admiration, or his father's pride for saving the city. He lost his home and his family. He was assumed to have done something monstrous because he was denied an opportunity to defend himself.

That was supposed to fill him with bitterness and regret - but he got to work building his own life instead. By the time you run into him, the Blade of Frontiers is a hero of some renown. He's remade himself, and found a way to enjoy what his powers can do, however he came by them.

So that didn't work.

Then Mizora sent him after Karlach, and that was a mission tailored to break him. Karlach is kind and heroic herself, and that the start she has been sold into slavery, mutilated and forced to fight in a war against her will. If Wyll killed her, and then found out who she really was, then he betrayed everything the Blade of Frontiers is supposed to stand for - and he would lose the life he made for himself.

But he didn't, and that didn't work either. He's got a friend, now, who at least knows part of what he's dealing with.

So Mizora gave him demonic features. That would destroy the life he's made for himself, because no one would trust him to help them.

Except now Wyll basically goes nowhere on his own, and a small army of people can attest that he got those horns and eyes as punishment for being a good man. Mizora might be able to shut his mouth, but she can't silence his friends - and the group absolutely have shouting sessions about everything. Wyll's horns become a battle scar, like his missing eye, and nothing more.

And beyond that, if you are playing as a heroic character, a significant throughline in the game's story is the journey of the tiefling refugees. The story makes it clear that these people experience a constant barrage of racism, due to their appearance and "demonic" heritage. It also makes it abundantly clear that this prejudice is entirely undeserved - they're just people, with virtues and flaws like everyone else, and what is happening to them is terrible. So Wyll turns up to assist a bunch of people whom he now at least somewhat resembles - and with Karlach along, you have two people in the group who technically count as "infernal", but haven't got an evil bone in either of their bodies.

Mizora created solidarity. Oops.

Wyll is deeply suspicious of gods and higher powers. He doesn't want to make more deals with devils. When Elminster arrives to tell Gale what Mystra demands of him, he explicitly says he does not do religion. When you get Mizora to agree to let his contract expire in six months, he starts by casually invoking the gods - but switches to thanking the player character instead, because he knows who helped, and who did not.

But he utterly refuses to regret the pact he made. That can be a struggle. He clearly misses his dad, and would like that relationship repaired. The fact that he was transformed very much against his will is clearly a source of distress from him.

But if he regrets, then Mizora wins. That's it. Game over. She gets what she wanted all along. So he doesn't.

The main companion characters all have this kind of problem, and naturally have different ways of dealing with it. You have characters like Shadowheart and Lae'zel, who were indoctrinated as children, or Gale, who was literally seduced by one of these nightmare deities - and with them you have to start out by convincing them they they were the wronged party in the first place.

But Wyll knows exactly what game he's playing, and he's been screaming defiance the whole time. It's just that, in his case, the "defiance" is grinning and carrying on every time Mizora inflicts some more bullshit on him.

[aswefindourwayback]

Sold to one direction 2013 (BAU's version)

Author's note: This is a literal joke and for fun and nostalgia. Also yes I know hazel eyes aren't completely green or anything but I've got limited emojis lol.

WC: 569

No warnings! Hope you guys enjoy!

You had just gotten home from a day at uni. 

You went to your room, covered in posters by bands like the smiths and radiohead. You weren’t like the other girls who had Taylor Swift and Harry Styles posters on their walls. You were… different. You were weird and quirky, so no one ever paid you any mind. 

You took off your beat up converse and put your hair in a messy bun. You looked in the mirror and analyzed the outfit you were wearing: a nirvana shirt, shorts, black knee high socks and a plaid flannel around your waist. 

All of a sudden your mom opened your door. “Mom, privacy? Knock next time.” 

“Oh you won’t have to worry about that. Pack your things.”

“What? Why? Are we moving?”

“I’m not. You are. We’ve sold you to pay for our trip to Bora Bora.”

With that, she walked out the door of your bedroom. 

Welp, you guess you have to start packing. 

After about an hour, you had all your things packed into 2 suitcases. You didn’t have much since you didn’t wear makeup and wore less girly clothes, unlike the other girls. 

You carried your stuff downstairs where you bumped into a tall, kind of broad build. You look up and are met with honey brown eyes. 

“Aaron Hotchner. Hotch. Is this all your stuff?”

“Y-yeah..” was all you were able to say. 

As this “Hotch” took your bags out to the car, you looked at your mom. 

“Bye Sweetie!” was all she said as she waved you goodbye with a smile plastered on her face. 

You walked out to the car and saw Hotch holding the car door open for you. 

“Prepare yourself to meet everyone.”

Everyone? Who’s everyone? What the hell is going on?

After a few hours of driving, you guys finally arrived at your destination which was…. An FBI building?!

“Woah mister, idk what kind of game this is but I haven’t done ANYTHING wrong. Okay I lied, one time I stole a pen from Jessica Anderson but that was because I really liked that pen and she stole my boyfriend but THAT’S IT. Oh my god I can’t believe I’ve already lied to the FBI. I SWEAR IM INNOCENT AND NONVIOLENT SIR IM SORRY.” you scream as you bury your face into your hands. 

“Are you done screaming?” says Hotch.

“Yup” you say, still hiding your face. 

“You’re not in trouble or anything.” You sit up straight and look at him, “I’m not?”

“No, this is where the team and I work. Come on, let’s go in.” The team?! What in the butt fuckery???

You guys walk into the building, towards the elevator and go up a few floors. 

When the doors open again, there’s another fucking glass door.

How many doors are there? Damn. 

“Most of the team are out at lunch but this…” he says walking towards a scrawny looking boy, not too far from your age, “is Dr. Spencer Reid. I think you two will get along well.”

Spencer begins to stand from his chair. 

He’s so tall he’s towering over you. It also doesn’t help that you are small and petite and fragile. 

His hazel orbs 🟢👄🟢 are staring into your soul. 

“Hi” he says giving you a smirk.😏 

“Hi” you say back.

Maybe getting sold by your family isn’t going to be so bad at all. 

[frantic-fiction]

Hear me out… my TAV’s background is that she was a sex worker that was sold into the trade from a young age, and this has been her chance to break free, and she’s romancing Astarion and he’s the first person she slept with that she CHOSE to and WANTED to, and all I can think of is the “you were just a transaction” line he has… and maybe he says it to her because he freaks out and is scared of his feelings? Just something SO angsty, HEAVY groveling, happy ending??

My heart ugh you monster (I love you 🥰)

I don't write angst very often. This was incredibly fun and heartbreaking to write...and I might have gone a little too melodramatic with it. Hopefully this lives up to what you were imagining!!

Transaction

Astarion x gn!reader

Warnings: Angst with a slightly happy ending, implied that reader was a sex worker, if I missed anything major let me know

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

Transaction.

Transaction.

Just a transaction.

You were just a transaction.

It's a bitter realization that hits you like a cold wave crashing over your very being. How naive of you to believe that someone could see beyond your body? To look deeper than sex and find all the quirks and vulnerabilities underneath. The person who savors the taste of sweet rolls and red wine, who secretly indulges in cheesy romance novels but would never admit it out loud. The person who was forced to do unspeakable things but still stands strong in this cruel world.

You thought he understood. After all the nights spent sharing your history, baring your soul, and listening to him bear his own, you dared to hope he would be different. How could you have been so blind, so naive, to succumb to the romantic fantasy of finding someone who saw and understood the scars you carried and loved you all the same?

How could he do this? The laughter you once shared under starlight and the kisses captured behind tent flaps all feel hollow all merely a performance to win you over for his benefit alone. How could you have been so blind to his true intentions? Was it the desperation for connection that clouded your judgment, or simply the yearning for love you so desperately craved?

The signs were there. Astarion's gradual withdrawal began after the events at Moonrise Towers. You convinced yourself it was merely that the group was finally back in the city. You hoped that a night alone together would help. But hope was a fragile illusion.

Instead of finding solace in each other's arms, you are standing on the precipice of your unraveling. Each word, each action, reinforces the painful truth that you were nothing more than a pawn in his game—a transaction to be exploited for his gain. And as you grapple with the emptiness gnawing at your chest, you can't help but wonder why you failed to see it coming.

"Hey, Soldier."

The voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present moment. Blinking slowly, you find yourself in the dimly lit confines of an alleyway, the stench of decay mingling with the chill of the night air. 

Moving like you're wading through water, you turn towards the voice. You stare blankly at Karlach, who kneels beside you with concern and caution as if approaching a frightened animal.

You sluggishly realize—you're the frightened animal.

Behind her stands Halsin, his attempt at a reassuring smile falling short in the face of your obvious distress. 

"We were getting worried about you," Karlach murmurs, her usual cheer tempered by genuine concern.

"I'm sorry," you croak, your voice raw with emotion.

You don't remember when the tears began falling, but they nonetheless stain your cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Halsin assures, his voice a soothing balm to your battered soul.

Wrapped in a cloak infused with the scent of pine and honey-suckle, you allow yourself to be guided through the silent streets of Baldur's Gate, the passage of time seeming to have slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

How long have you been lost in your despair?

"He, As—" you choke on his name, the pain of his betrayal still fresh in your heart.

"You don't have to explain anything. Not to us," Karlach interjects, her hand a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

"Thank you," you whisper, gratefully.

The journey back to the Elfsong Tavern is a silent procession, your footsteps echoing in the empty streets as you grapple with the weight of your shattered reality. Once inside, you are ushered into a bed. Gale gives you a sleep draught while Shadowheart heals your shredded palms, which you didn't realize you injured in your dissociation. After that, you're left with a fleeting moment of peace.

No one mentions the absence of a familiar presence, but the void he left behind looms large in the silence that envelops you.

*

From his vantage point on the rooftops, Astarion watches as Tav is led back to the safety of the tavern. Their frail form is a stark reminder of the havoc he has wrought. Guilt gnaws at his insides, punishment for the pain he has inflicted upon the one person who saw past the facade he so meticulously crafted—the person who began to love him.

He feels sick to his stomach, the weight of his actions crushing him beneath its burden. With each passing moment, the memory of Tav's heartbroken expression sears into his mind, the irreparable damage he has caused.

Astarion wishes he could take back the venomous words that slipped from his lips and erase the pain etched upon Tav's face. He wishes he could confess the truth that lies buried beneath layers of deceit and self-preservation and admit the depth of his feelings without fear of rejection or abandonment. Pull them into his arms, kiss away the tears, and whisper all the love Tav deserves to hear.

 But wishes hold little sway when your world is governed by fear.

*

You allow yourself one day to mourn, to grieve for the shattered illusions that once held sway over your heart. But with the dawn comes the realization that there is no room for weakness. You steel yourself against the pain, burying it deep beneath a facade of strength and determination. You still have a tadpole in your skull and a city to save.

The days blur into nights, a relentless cycle of action and exhaustion that leaves little room for introspection or regret. You throw yourself into the fray, tackling each challenge with a ferocity born of desperation and resolve.

Nights, however, offer no respite from the torment that threatens to consume you whole. In the darkness, when the world is shrouded in shadows and silence, the memories come rushing back with a vengeance.

Astarion's parting words echo in the recesses of your mind, a relentless refrain that serves as a painful reminder of your naive hopes. Despite the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface, you still hope Astarion's safe. Deep down, you still care for him.

It was another restless night. You were digging through your travel pack when a hesitant knock hit the sturdy wooden door of your room. It was late, but it was not unusual for Karlach or Shadowheart to pop in and check on you. Standing up, you stowed your pack away and moved to the door. Your socked feet padded against the wooden floor. 

"Shouldn't you be asle—" The words die in your throat, and your stomach drops as you're faced with the man you've been trying to forget. 

Astarion looked terrible. His hair was a frizzy mess, curls sticking out in unruly strands. He had dark purple circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks. His clothes–the same ones he left in–were covered in a splatter of mud and grime. At that moment, Astarion had never looked more like a corpse. Where had he been?

"Tav," his voice was a whisper, laden with sorrow that pierced through the still air.

The sound of your name on his lips was like a knife twisted in an old wound, reopening the fragile scare you hastily tried to heal over the last two weeks. You recoiled instinctively, the pain of his presence threatening to ruin you all over again. You couldn't afford to unravel not again, not when so many counted on you. With wide eyes brimming with unshed tears, you turned away to flee.

But Astarion's desperation refused to be ignored. His hand shaking with uncertainty, he reached to halt the closing door. "Wait! Please, Tav," he pleaded. "I know you owe me nothing, but I beg you, let me say this, and you'll never have to see me again."

Your throat tightened, a lump choking back the bitter retorts that threatened to spill out. The impulse claws at your conscience, tempting you. Yet, the crack of Astarion's voice, the tremor of vulnerability that seeps from him, holds your tongue.

With a heavy sigh, you relented, the door inching open just enough to meet his gaze. "Two minutes," you whispered.

Astarion's relief was palpable. "Gods, Tav, I'm so sorry," he began each syllable, a testament to the regret that weighed on him. "You can hate me for eternity, and I would deserve it. But I need you to know that every word I spoke to you was a lie."

A tear traces a path down his cheek, and you long to reach out and wipe it away—to soften the turmoil on his beautiful face and erase the sorrow that consumes his glistening eyes. But instead, you tighten your fist against your thigh and stare up at him blankly, waiting for him to continue.

"I need you to know that I pursued you instinctually because I needed someone on my side, someone to trust me," he continued his voice a fragile whisper against the silence. "But then you showed me love and happiness and became so much more. You were… you are… more than I deserve. And I hurt you, and I will carry that with me forever."

"Astarion," you began, the syllables catching in your throat, suffused with a longing you dared not acknowledge. But before you could find the words again, he spoke once more, voice quivering with regret.

"I love you, Tav," Astarion confessed, the words lingering in the silent room. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but before I leave, I need you to know you are more than sex and safety. More than a Gods damn transaction."

"Astarion," 

 "And I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for ruining the one good thing in—"

"Astarion!" You grab his arm, ceasing his frantic apology. You're stunned, standing on the threshold of your room, feeling more confused than ever. Love? How are you supposed to feel when the man who tore you apart is telling you he loves you?

Astarion's eyes widen in surprise, his breath catching in his throat as he meets your gaze. His eyes swim with a mix of hope and despair. 

The weight of his confession presses down on you, threatening to suffocate. Wordlessly, you walk back into the room, leaving the door open for Astarion to follow. Collapsing onto a chair, you rub your face, struggling to make sense of your raging emotions. The heartbreak and betrayal are still so fresh, but the sincerity in Astarion's regret seems to chip away at your defense. 

"I don't know what to say," 

"I… I understand," Astarion murmurs, his resignation soaking his words. I'll leave you be. I promise you won't see me again, Tav."

But as he turns to leave, the ache in your chest intensifies, the void he leaves behind widening with each step. And that moment, despite the pain, the betrayal, and your base instinct to shut him out entirely, you still care for him. Maybe even love him, too.

"Astarion, wait, you call out, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them. "Stay."

He freezes mid-step, his back turned to you, body tense with anticipation.

"Please," you plead, the word heavy with the weight of your conflicting emotions. "Just don't go."

Astarion slowly turns to face you, his expression a mix of disbelief and hope, his eye shining with more unshed tears. The silence stretches in the room. Hesitantly, with slow steps, he walks to the seat beside yours. The two of you sit there momentarily, unsure where that left you.

Tentatively, you reach out and take his cold hand into your warm one. "You hurt me," you start, not looking over at the man but feeling his intense stare. You betrayed my trust, and I can't just forget that."

"I understand." Astarion's shoulders slump in defeat. "I didn't expect…"

"But I care for you," You interrupt, squeezing his hand softly. "I haven't been able to stop worrying about you since you left. I don't think I can handle you leaving again."

"Okay," Astarion says, simply rubbing soothing circles into the back of your hand. "So what now?"

"I don't know, but I'm willing to figure it out if you are?"

"There is nothing I'd like more,” he responds, pressing a tentative kiss to your knuckles.

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[reveld-r]

Something I noticed about TF2 comics

TW: Spoilers

I was reading again the comics and I noticed something. Okay, we can notice that during the issues there are 3 main mercs that die (without counting Miss Pauling, Zhanna, Soldier and the Admin because the first three weren't as dramatic and the admin probably died a lot of times during the comic) and this three were Scout, Medic and Sniper. What I took notice of is that these three represent the 3 common places from the catholic (or similar) religion to go after death: Heaven, Hell and The Limbo; and they also have three diferent ways for coming back: Granted, negotiated and forced/external help. Before I start I want to say I am NOT an expert on religion or not even a devoted christian, I write this on behalf of what I know and definitions from the internet and that english is also not my first language and I'm trying my best to not use Google Translate.

SCOUT

In The Naked and the Dead Scout dies on his father's arms, RIP, and we can see he arrives to Heaven. But Reveld, how do we know it's not an alucination from him? Easy, Tom Jones is also there, Jeremy dies thinking Tom Jones is his real father, but since Tom Jones dies in Ring of Fired he is there, and also the presence of God and the little angels tell us that this is the catholic (or similar religion) heaven. Now, back to the point, Medic is busy also being dead, therefore he can't revive Scout so, how does he comes back? By being God's favorite, literally.

He sends Scout back to the Earth to fulfill his task as "God's gift to the women", without medical intervention or deals and PAM he is back into the game.

MEDIC

Lets go again into The Naked and the dead, Medic dies from 2 bullets, RIP again, and after some panels we can see him talking with someone in Hell, and this someone is The Devil, normally we wouldn't know what hell is this or if Medic even practiced a religion (a man of science, you know), but with The Devil's apearence we can asume it's the catholic (or similar religion) hell. Now, he isn't in good terms with The Devil and he can't be helped since Heavy is fighting with Cheavy so this would be his end unless he made a deal with him, but he wouldn't do that right?

Well folks, he did it, he sold one of his nine souls for a pen and a chance to be back, leaving Hell without Satan being happy with this and without having to need an external help, and PAM he is alive again.

SNIPER

Now we go back to Blood in the Water, Sniper dies, RIP, and then in Old Wounds we can see him on God's Secret Base with his parents. Now if you search the definition of Limbo, the next definition will appear on top.

Now, if this is this secret base, we can say it's this abode, since it isn't principal Heaven, an there is where people are supposed to go if they died before Christ's coming, therefore before resurection. Now, neither God or The Devil are there, so how does he comes back? A medical intervention, that's right. We can see Medic brings him back on a forced way, since Sniper, God nor The Devil agreed on bringing him back. So a little operation later and 12 hours and PAM he is back.

Well, that's all folks, I couldn't keep this little connection with me so I tried to write it in a rush, anyways, hope you liked :D

[sfhvn-alltheas]

An open letter to Netflix and for everyone who feels the same

I would like to apologize in advance for any linguistic errors, English is not my native language, but I will do my best to express my concerns appropriately.

I am reaching out to you to express my deep disappointment at your cancellation of Dead Boy Detectives. The news of your decision hit me hard and I would like to ask you to reconsider. I understand that Netflix is ​​a company that is about money, about numbers, about streams, about performance. It is a business and the decisions are based not on emotions but on lucrative fundamentals.

We all know that.

But this cannot work in the long term, not without an outcry from your viewers. Because what you do is selling dreams. You might not see us, but we are here, we are being absorbed into the alternative realities you have created. We live these dreams you sold us. 

You know this, you know that you mostly produce more than just mindless entertainment that is subsequently forgotten, and that is exactly why I feel so let down by you. You are aware that our hearts and souls are attached to these characters, that’s what you want and it totally makes sense. Because whoever is emotional involved stays long term. A show can be so many different things for different people: a place of well-being, comfort, escapism, distraction, mental support, self-discovery. Queer and inclusive programs in particular help people and make them feel seen, understood and accepted. A show can be the only light in a darkness that so many people find themselves in today. A show with their characters can save lives.

How then do only numbers decide whether something continues or not? 

You, as the producer of dreams, have a responsibility to us. Money and numbers should be secondary in your industry. Feel free to call me naive, I am, I like to be, I have to be in this world, but I believe in humanity, in the values ​​that you claim to represent. Not every show can bring in billions. Not all of them can be Wednesday, Squid Game or Bridgerton. Not within fourteen days, not without support. With your impatience, you are depriving great shows of the chance to grow and, over time, attract the viewership that meets your expectations. What I'm trying to express here isn't only about Dead Boy Detectives. It's a fundamental problem.

I am not okay with this

Julie and the Phantoms

The OA

The Society

1899

Six of Crows

Shadow and Bone

Archive 81

Lockwood & Co.

Glamorous

Half Bad: The Bastard Son & The Devil Himself

First Kill

Inside Job

Midnight Club

Warrior Nun

- just to name a few. All this shows have met the same fate, they all were cancelled too soon and never got the chance to grow, to become a next Stranger Things, the next slowburn success.

This has to stop! Imagine having cancelled Stranger Things after one season back in the days. What you would have missed! Instead, you give up on shows too easily without hesitation and disappoint the very people who could have been your allies in the effort to bring the next success.

I honestly don't understand that. And it's not fair either. Not to us, not to the creators and actors who gave their everything. You should trust them to be capable of creating something epic if only they had a little more time. 

I'll tell you how it is: The news that Dead Boy Detectives had been cancelled is devastating. My life pretty much sucks for a few years now and there is little to nothing that still brings me joy. A second season has been the only thing I've been looking forward to these past few months, the anticipation has been the reason I'm still here. You took that away from me. From all of us that are like me. Now I’m sitting here and write this letter, hoping to save the show that has given me so much confidence and joy and meaning, visibility and understanding that it's okay to be who I am. It's not fair that I have to fight to keep this precious show instead of enjoying it while I deal with the wreckage of my life. 

If you don't understand that what you're doing is impacting so many people, then maybe you shouldn't be selling dreams. Better sell electronics.

I won't stop fighting for what means so much to me. It's not too late yet, you can at least right the wrong you did with Dead Boy Detectives. Please do it, give Dead Boy Detectives another chance. We, the viewers, deserve it, the creators and actors deserve it, and most of all the show itself deserves it because it is the greatest thing I have seen in many years.

Thank you for your time and for considering my request.

[raginglesbian2006]

I just read your Alastor x an overlord reader and it was literally amazing!!! I was wondering if you could do husk x an overlord reader next?

My first Husk fic! To be honest, I was hesitant to write this one since I ship him with Angel so much but I decided to give it a try anyway!

Hope you enjoy it!!

Husk with an overlord! reader

Ok, so you met him when he was an overlord as well

He, of course, beat you quite spectacularly at a game of cards. It impressed you, to be honest

Slowly, the two of you formed a friendship- him giving you some of the souls he'd win from gambling and you gifting him the finer luxuries of life, with booze, obviously.

Safe to say, both your love languages were gift-giving

So it surprised you when he suddenly stopped talking to you

You tried approaching him quite a lot, but he brushed you off, not looking you in the eye

Soon, you'd start hearing rumors about Husk selling his soul away to none other than....the radio demon

Your hands clutched around nothing. That bastard.

Seeing as he was now bound to the ever-grinning overlord, it wouldn't be until the Hazbin Hotel popped up that you were able to see your dear friend again

When you were made aware of the fact that the radio demon had started sponsoring the hotel, you knew that's where you would find Husk

And right, you were

He looked...dead. As if all the life was sucked from his being- never mind the fact that everyone in hell was in fact, not alive. Your dead heart ached at his miserable state

He hadn't noticed you when you walked into the establishment, greeted by the princess of hell herself. Your eyes stayed fixated on him, trying to get him to notice you without saying a word

Alastor materialized in front of you, his face stuck in a permanent grin

"Why, it is a surprise seeing you here, dear. Don't tell me you want to sponsor this hotel as well?"

Oh, how you wished you could punch this motherfucker. You could, it's just that you didn't want a fight to break out in front of Husk. He would probably scold you after.

"Alastor," you acknowledged him, "Rest assured, this fine establishment is all yours for the keeping. I am here for... other purposes."

Hearing your voice ring through the lobby, Husk stopped cleaning the glasses and looked at you. You were still talking to Alastor, but if looks could kill, the radio demon would've been dead by now.

After Alastor disappeared, the princess of hell excitedly introduced you to everyone, although you didn't need much of an introduction.

You approached Husk soon after and sat down in front of the bar. He didn't meet your eyes

"Husk," you greeted. He mumbled out your name in response.

The silence persisted and your annoyance grew.

"How have you been?" you asked.

"Just peachy," he replied, dryly.

"You know if I didn't care for you that much I would probably have already hung you upside down and tortured you till you spoke to me properly."

At this, Husk chuckled a little and finally met your eyes.

"It's nice to see you too"

Sensing your worry, he continued, "You don't need to worry about me. As you see, I'm doin' just fine."

"You say that as if you haven't sold your soul to the radio demon," your voice rose a bit.

Husk grumbled a little under his breath, "You don't know anything."

"Then tell me," you emphasized, "If you were that downtrodden on your luck, you could've just told me. I would've helped you out! You know I would've.

"Can we not do this right now?" Husk gritted his teeth, his angry eyes staring you down.

You huffed and relented, "As long as you promise, you're gonna talk about this with me, later." He agreed.

When no one was around, he told you about how he struck a deal with Alastor as a last resort, after having lost souls through gambling game after game. His reasoning for not talking to you about his struggles was that he didn't want to see him like that. Like he was struggling to stay afloat.

You didn't say anything. The only thing in your head was how you could help him get out of his situation now.

The rest of your day together was spent relishing in good memories, bonding over drinks, and ended with him beating you in a game of cards, again.

Before he retired for the night, you called out to him, "You know I would do anything to help you, you just need to ask."

Husk chuckled, "I know. I know. But I'm fine as long as I get to see you again."

From the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow. You turned around to see who it was, finding an empty corridor instead. You shrugged it off.

After helping Husk settle into his room and rest for the night, you disappeared with a click of your fingers.

A shadowy figure approached the radio demon. It slithered up to him and whispered to him whatever it saw and heard.

"Interesting..." Alastor's eyes lit up and his grin grew menacingly, "Interesting, indeed."

A/N: This turned out to be a whole ass fic lmao.