#to my closest cultists...

[capesch-arts]

The King's Joy

(Richard Joy centric drabble)

Tw: implied transphobia, slight described gore.

"UNACCEPTABLE! COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE!"

There he goes again, babbling like a complete idiot.

"We need to- what the hell are you doing?!"

"Watching how well you've handled things on your end since my father's departure from this world, dear uncle. Have to say, not impressed"

"We are in a crisis! And you dare fool around while our master demands us of-!"

Oh. Don't cross it.

"Don't. Use. Our lord's name in vain, uncle. Your position as High Priest is unofficial. You're only here because your better half had suddenly passed away and you saw fit to take his title, unworthy as you are"

"UNWORTHY? Boy, if you don't shut your mouth, I'll -"

"Or you'll what? As far as I'm concerned our King has no interest in a talentless pathetic second son who leeched off of the wealth and gifts bestowed upon HIS chosen. And may I delightfully remind, that YOU lost his HEART to a couple of nobodies, nonetheless. At the very least my father dealt with more formidable nuisances, you lost to two ordinary people".

"Listen here you INSOLENT-..."

Here we go...

"... CHILD. I have been working alongside your father for YEARS! I am more than capable of leading us towards our goal! Our FUTURE!-"

I should gut you here and now.

"-I don't need the lectures of a confused lunatic!- *GASP*"

"Do you really want to cross that line, uncle? I have no qualms in ending you right now. Just one swipe and the knife on your neck would cut and paint these floors in stark crimson. And you won't be missed whatsoever. The only reason you're alive right now is that The King wishes it, not because he wants to, but because he is merciful. But, that mercy is starting to fade with your apparent incompetency. Did you think that I came all the way here because I want to follow you? Please. I'm here on the behest of our Lord to ensure that the rest of you don't fall short.

Tick tock, uncle. The King's patience for you and like-minded followers is thinning. Now, get out. The King calls for me, and I doubt he'll be happy to see you."

*stuttering* "You- I- Fuck-!"

Spineless fuck. All of them.

My Joy

Oh, that voice. That sweet sweet voice.

"My liege, Lord of Carcosa. Him who must not be named. Lord of Interstellar Spaces. The King in Yellow".

I'm pleased that you've arrived. I trust that your loyalty and service to me is unbound.

"Yes, my lord. Anything you ask of me, I will ensure it be done"

So, why is it that it took you so long to come and join the rest of them here? Have your faith wavered?

"No, my lord. I've taken initiative to learn about our foes before-"

Perhaps you thought that my satisfaction with you allows you to be bold and arrogant. Should I remind you of your place?

"Forgive me, my lord. Please, if I am unfit to be yours then I welcome your wrath and justice. I will die with content."

Hehehe. Delightful, my joy. Your devotion is needed. Amongst these fools who are driven by greed and desperation for my grace, you are a beacon. In time, you will not only be my eyes and ears in this plane of reality, but you'll be my golden tongue as well.

"Thank you, my King. Thank you for mercy"

Now, please. Continue. What have you discovered?

"Our foes. Their names are Peter Yang and Arthur Lester. Both are private investigators who reside in Arkham. Nothing of note from them aside that they specialised in missing person's cases. Why they stumbled upon your heart, My King, was complete coincidence. They were looking for Roland Cummings, but instead they discovered my father and the book."

What else have found about them?

"That they are very acquainted with one another, so much so that Arthur Lester allowed Yang to raise his daughter together. They're practically family".

Perfect, Richard. Perfect. And I trust that you know where they are?

"Their pattern, where they frequent, everything. Should you give the word, I'll strike them down and claim what you've desired."

Please.

I want it to hurt.

Yes

I want them to suffer both body and mind.

YES

I want you to kill and carve Arthur Lester into a wonder of blood and carnage. And as his daughter sees her father's fate, her screams of dismay and sorrow would haunt Peter Yang with drowning guilt and nightmares. And finally, finally, you'll do unto him with the same courteousy as you did his partner. Make it a tragedy, Richard.

"Oh... My lord. I thought you'd never ask."

[plantkat]

you know what im gonna say it. if it truly will only ever come down to biden or trump i think i Would prefer the latter cause then at the very least every spineless dirtsucking dem would grab their pitchforks and fight against the injustices being committed instead of asking daddy joe if they should shove another finger up their ass while he builds the same border wall and culls the same first amendment rights and funds the same genocide

[witches-and-weirdos]

💭 Since we're here, thoughts from Nillan on the whole party too, and on the vampire gang

Send 💭 for a thought my muse has had about yours

@undyingmedium

"And they did this all themselves, just the five of them..." She walked with a gentle slowness, watching the blood splattered across stone, kneeling to inspect the ruined corpses, and frowning at the horrible experiments that were stopped. The Meat Forge was now devoid of life, inhabited only by the legion of vengeful wraiths that were unleashed upon it. "Good riddance. Quite very impressive though. I would have needed a small army for this, maybe 10 handpicked and involve the troll too. In fact, that might not even had been enough, depending... hmm..."

She took a little chain of praying bones hanging on her waist and looked for an important-looking corpse. "Let's see how they did it, and where the rest you rotten filth are."

(CONTEXT: The "vampire gang" is a young vampire girl and 4 (now only 3) vampire kids that my players befriended and brought into the current city, then the players left for a few months, during which Nillan found them and helped them in the background.)

"They seem free, but Avi won't speak the name of who turned her, and that silence doesn't seem entirely voluntary. It makes no sense to keep her bound unless her master plans to later come back for something... curious..."

[gas-stxtion]

//tag dump

[cj-the-random-artist]

Is this my best comic ever?? Nope. Do I think I characterized either of these two particularly well in this comic?? Not really. Did I spend an unreasonable amount of time on it to the point that it would be a waste to not post it?? Yes, yes I did.

I really committed to this one, spent a lot of time on those backgrounds and treated myself to ample suffering with the perspective, which is not my strong suit but I am happy with how it ultimately looks. Yay perspective and background practice!!

(Tbh I shouldn't talk like I think this one sucks, I think I've just been staring at it for so long that my brain has decided it's not good and it's actually way better than I think it is, and honestly I am quite happy with it. The artistic process really is something, isn't it?)

The inspiration was basically me reminding... myself... to take breaks sometimes... by drawing for several hour stints during my only little bits of free time. Which totally tracks. Probably. But I've been rolling around in my brain this idea that Lambert is a very uptight people pleaser and anxious workaholic, but Narinder, at least since adjusting himself to the circumstances (which probably took at least a century, maybe two) has discovered the joys of self care, and has made an active effort to chill tf out. This has not made him any less terrifying to the cultists (save for Lambert's closest disciples), nor has it made him friendlier to really anyone but Lambert (and maybe his siblings), but he sure has found some serious peace of mind. That said, I can't place what his motivations are here. Perhaps he is secretly concerned about Lambert's sanity, because he doesn't want them to turn into what he was, or maybe he's just trying to steal away some quality time with his one and only friend, but regardless of the reason, I spent too much time on this for nobody to see it, dang it.

That said. Enjoy this silly little comic that I spent way too much time on, and I hope this silly comic brings you some joy today.

[ebonyheartnet]

Jason wished he could give a fuck beyond the hostage they were here for, but honestly? This latest cult’s lack of originality just pissed him off. Times like this, he wished contacts were an option to hide the glow so Dick would stop it with the puppy dog eyes.

“Stupid fucking corrosive reservoir condition,” he muttered.

“All good, Hood?”

“I’m fine, O. Just being a normal amount of crazy.”

“Chatter,” Batman snapped.

Jason groaned and checked his position for the fifth time. On Batman’s signal, they all dropped.

The plan was simple: neutralize the doomsday cultists trying to summon a creature to protect its daughter. They’d done harder, more complicated extractions with half the manpower and a quarter of the time.

Maybe it was the itch in his bones.

Maybe it was the sudden headache.

Maybe it didn’t matter what distracted him, because the outcome was the same. Jason had been pulling the unconscious hostage out of the summoning circle when he felt something hot against his neck.

Of course someone got a lucky shot.

All Jason could do was fling the girl clear as the green rose around him.

____

“Madam, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to step back,” Alfred said calmly, cocking his shot gun.

“Good thing you’re not gonna need that since it won’t work,” the glowing woman said. She crossed her arms and tapped a spectral foot. “Listen, this is entertaining, but it was a fight just to get here. I know you can help me get to my son.”

“And I believe I asked you to identify yourself.”

“Right, Jason didn’t have any pictures of me…”

“Madam, I will not ask—“

“Catherine Todd, at your service, Mr. Alfred.” The ghost glared. “Some fucker decided to botch summoning a, “nurturing spirit that would burn the world for their child,” so here I am.”

Alfred blinked, which was practically a spit take for him, and the shot gun lowered a fraction.

“Ms. Todd, that is quite the remarkable story. I don’t mean to cast any doubt, but…”

“Did I mention that I beat the shit out of Sheila for the right to be here?” Catherine’s smile was all knives. “The bitch might be blood, but that’s my baby she sold out. The spell didn’t leave much room beyond that.”

“Does that sound plausible?” Alfred said into his comm.

“It’s way more than probable,” Oracle responded. “I’ve lost Hood, RR, Wing and B. Black Bat was closest and is attempting recon.”

“Tell Barbara that Jason falling into the circle probably triggered a strong enough pulse to fry their tech. Ecto doesn’t play well with untreated electronics.” Catherine laughed at the carefully blank look Alfred gave. “Dead men tell no tales is a fucking lie. We’ve gotta pass the time somehow.”

“Well that’s… Hmm.” Barbara groaned. “If she knows, she knows. Bringing her down might be worth it.”

It was finally Alfred’s turn to smirk. He opened the door and lead Catherine towards the cave. Bruce wouldn’t like it, but he could be mollified. Video evidence of Sheila’s loss would be a powerful bribe.

[snaileer]

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

[mari-starz-writing]

could you do a two time x spawn!reader? If not that's okay:) sorry this is my first time requesting something

I find this quite interesting. A cultist and their god...

(WARNING: This is my own vision of the Spawn. A kind, gentle and slightly manipulative god who's cult so happens to be insane. And a bit aloof as well. If there's a canonical representation of the Spawn, I haven't seen it yet and... I am quite lazy. Forgive me if this is OOC for the reader...)

Two Time x spawn!reader

・You had noticed Two Time especially. They had always given you offerings, whether it be small snacks or perhaps a book. They'd also be the one reciting the most verses... No absences or tardiness for every single ceremony. Even if you don't let them know if one is different, they're right on time.

・Gosh, the amount of offerings you get... You wake up in your soft bed, sinking slightly in is as you lay, before turning and seeing a few flowers. You'll be walking around, and notice on the brown, hardwood shelf, a note for you. Inside? Some loving words and a snack or two. Or perhaps while you're eating, and once you finish, you finally notice that there's a small origami crane near the napkins.

・Reminding Two Time to eat is quite the hassle. They'll come back from the assignment you told them to do, that same slightly manic smile on their face as they run to you. "My Lord, I've finished the task," they'll say, before you clear your throat, softly grinning as you look towards their eyes. "Your eye bags, dear... Have you been getting enough sleep?" They'll brush it off, a slight bit of sweat on their face before you chuckle. "My cult followers' strength is my own. In simpler terms, if you're hungry or tired, I am..." Well, Two Time fixed those habits of theirs...

・Even with their personality, confessing was still quite difficult for them. What could they do to seperate their confession from the rest of what they've done for you? Even with that situation, you were sat down beside Two Time, tending to a few scrapes they had before they grabbed your hand, kissing it. "My Lord, I understand it might be a hassle to do, but could you ever seperate me from those other followers you have?.."

・Two Time does almost everything for you. You're their god, but how do you get someone to love you that much? You wake up, there's a plate of food beside you. You notice your room's slightly messy, Two Time is already coming with a garbage bag and cleaning supplies. Your hair is a bit tangled at the ends, they're sitting behind you and gently combing through it for you. They could never repay you for being such a graceful, kind, and beautiful god, so this is the closest they can get.

・Now, why do you even love Two Time? It's a question commonly asked by most people who even know of the relationship. Your answer? Sigh... It's how sweet they are to you. As previously stated, the way they do your own chores, the way they'll trace their hands down you at night and smile, reciting cryptic phrases, and the way they'll run up to you and compliment you. You'd go on to give more, but the reasons would be endless.

・When you go into their messy room, the first thing you notice is the numerous photos of you and the amount of items you thought you'd lost forever. A long white dress, several pieces of jewelry, and even a small bag of your hair that they occasionally find. Two Time will chuckle softly, telling you to ignore it, but it's a bit hard not to.

・A common occurrence for the two of you would most likely be being in your bed, Two Time in your arms as you lay on the plush bed, your partner's manic smile turning softer as they fall more tired. Their verses made for you that they recite get slower, and their breathing turns shallower until they go limp in your arms. You don't necessarily need sleep, but you'll do so anyway to pass that time.

・If you're sick, Two Time would do anything to make you feel better. Having their arms around you, or vice versa, making you warm chicken noodle soup, or watching a movie of your choice on the couch, whatever they can do to make you feel better will be done. If they could, they'd take your illness and give it to themselves, even if it was deadly.

・To be honest, when the two of you were first dating, Two Time was surprisingly... Shy? The slightest touch on their shoulder would make them blush, a compliment would turn them bashful, and a kiss would make them cover their face and squeal quietly due to your status as a God. Two Time felt as if you were just pitying them... Well, thankfully, now that you're in the later stages of dating, they're more confident.

I hope you enjoyed it. It was a bit new to me so in turn, hard to write, but I found it to be a nice change of pace.

[radiance1]

An off-shoot to an off-shoot!

Danny left the human world for the Ghost Zone, as the Crown Prince he has quite a lot of responsibilities, much more than he would like in all honesty.

He barely even knew there was a high society of the Ghost Zone, some of which he has met and others he's just questioning the existence of.

He was already tired of the amount of marriage proposals he was sent and had to sort through, and there was still 3 more mountains to go!

He was honestly looking forward to the calls from his two best friends when he was finally able to get a break from his duties as prince. Never has the sound of his friends' voices felt oh so sweet.

Sometimes he visits Sam when he managed to convince Pariah, or when there just wasn't any work to be done. He tried to visit Tucker too but, when he tried to leave Amity Park he just... couldn't???

There was something just, stopping him. He couldn't leave, like some kind of barrier that prevented from moving even smidge past the line.

He just left it be.

He heard about Tucker being a villain and decided he wanted in. But since he couldn't leave the boundary of Amity Park for whatever reason, he needed Tucker to plant a series of tidbits of knowledge that'll allow people to summon him.

Tucker very obviously agreed.

But they decided to have a bit of fun here. Tucker- who now goes by Daedalus as his villain name- has history with the Ghost Prince, who is the 'hero' to Daedalus' villain.

Daedalus does not like Phantom and constantly tries to neutralize him, which is a far cry from his usual non-lethal tactics. While Phantom, on the other hand, considers Daedalus to be his best friend and closest consort and often ignores said attempts of neutralization or plays it off.

So Tucker left behind bits and pieces of the knowledge to summon the Ghost Prince in random parts of the city, which are discreetly yet highly guarded. Then overtime certain people began to find those bits and pieces and Daedalus, in regard to such an event has notably gotten more panicky and worried.

With each and every sighting he's in he seemed to be searching for something and used the chaos he brought to search for it. To which the heroes have been taking notice of.

They think that he was searching for something to use for his next plan or something.

Then the Justice League got word of a group of cultists looking to summon the Ghost Prince to take over the mortal world, which they obviously couldn't let happen. So then they locate and find the group of cultists (and as usual in these ideas) they fail to stop the summoning in time.

But as the summoning circle was shinning and the room got colder, someone unexpected showed up.

Daedalus. (Imagen he's in the floaty chair thing that Eggman uses constantly)

Who, surprisingly. Is just a 16 year old. (This takes place in the second year of Sam's little isolation thing.)

Who then proceeded to get irritated and screamed at the cultists about how they managed to find the necessary components to summon that he specifically split into pieces to avoid this situation happening!

Then the Ghost Prince pops into existence, who then calmly looked around the room and then into the sky, his indifferent, cold expression faded away into a bright beaming expression and then went:

"Daedalus! My best buddy!"

And then had to dodge a blast from said villain. Then they proceeded to have a battle, quite- no, very lethal on Daedalus' part and not so much on the Ghost Prince's part.

It was... reminiscent of a dog and cat, really.

Until in the midst of said fight Phantom exclaimed his woes about the Ghost responsibilities and then Daedalus just kinda, stopped trying to kill him and then made Danny explain what problem he has and then gave him the solution to said problem and goes back to fighting.

The Justice League feels like they should intervene here, but they also don't know if they should.

Said problem was solved by Daedalus getting hungry and proposing to stop the fight to go and eat at a food place he knows that's very good. Phantom agrees, claiming that he hasn't had human food in ages and then they go and eat and forget about the Justice League.

Who then questioned why the Prince of Ghosts and the villain that a few of them has been fighting are literal children.

[yandere-fics]

♡ Alpha Apocalypse Sophie Feeds Her Darling Human Meat ♡

The first time you ever spoke to your alpha had been two days before your wedding despite this having been in the works for some time before that. You were picked to be her omega basically from the first time she spotted you though you couldn't understand why when she hadn't bothered to speak a single word to you. The date of the wedding was a surprise too. You knew you'd get married likely right after you completed your priestess training but you hadn't expected it to be exactly on the day you completed your training. Her first impression had come off as cold too, just a few words, a glance up and down at you demanding you eat more otherwise you won't be able to handle her ruts and then off to her work she went. It wasn't advice you took particularly seriously, you ate better than other cultist even considering who you were promised to so you mostly wrote her off as just overestimating herself, it couldn't have been that intense of a rut. Cult weddings were always planned right before whoever in the relationship had the closest rut or heat and as it turned out, hers was the day after your wedding, you had vastly over estimated yourself though. Your alpha was not kind or even considerate and while you found yourself enjoying it at times, it was overall not something you were looing forward to repeating every few months. When it was over she scolded you for not taking her words seriously before leaving and returning nearly a day later with plenty of meats that you didn't want to know what animal or… you didn't want to know where they came from even though you had a hunch. It disgusted you to no end that she wanted to force you to eat that in preparation for her next rut when you weren't even sure you wanted to spend another rut with her, all you wanted was find an excuse to get the marriage annulled like you being unfit to bear children, the cult wasn't super big on having children but you thought maybe your intense alpha would let you be if you managed to make yourself infertile. Beta's had lots of ways to make it happen but for an omega it was difficult to make yourself completely unable to have kids, even if it wasn't possible out of heat, omegas on contraception before the apocalypse still found themselves getting pregnant in heat. But you needed an out, especially now that your alpha was force feeding you a strange meat four times a day and punishing you if you were neglecting yourself.

After months though you found yourself drawing close to your next heat and the chance of getting locked in so after a terrible night of being made to eat meat you were now very sure came from a human and being your alpha's chew toy, you just had to book it out of the compound. It was better out there than it was with the cult and more specifically your alpha. You weren't going to put up with it for even another night. It didn't take long for her to drag you back, kicking and screaming and after three days on the post, Sophie finally managed to get the reason out of you.

"That's stupid dolly, I wouldn't share my omega's attention with some little brat, I already got myself fixed so I wouldn't have to. I will undo it though if you ever try to leave me again." You still wanted to leave the group but for the time being you would just be content with the knowledge she wasn't going to knock you up like you thought she would. You couldn't bask in it that much though when you back was covered in flog marks and you knew your heat was coming in the next couple days. Maybe you should have just ate the food she gave you, you were in for a painful time.

[charliethefool]

My AU for Dandy's World:

I've been working on this project for a few weeks now and though it is still far from finished, I do intend to continue it if you all like it, aslwell as add more designs !...

THE MAINS.

Astro (Cult member) He's known to be one of Dandy's most closest members in the cult, often visiting and talking to him more personally than anyone else. They were friends before the day the cult truly became what it now is. He has lost weeks worth of sleep, often helping with giving the cult members happy, more innocent and carefree dreams, often of memories from before the cult. Because of this, however, Astro is plagued by their nightmares and hasn't slept a wink. With ichor acting as a stimulant, he has grown addicted to the substance, now plagued by a guilt he created...he fears what will happen between him and Dandy if his secret is discovered.

Sprout (Cut member) The main cook of the cult who works with his partner Cosmo to prepare food and ritualist offerings to Dancifer. Having been attacked by a twisted and lacking proper medical attention since Tisha joined the rebellion, part of his head has been starting to develop mold. It's slowly spreading over his body, likely to eventually kill him. Yet he tries as he can to remain strong for the others, including Cosmo. What more can he do?...

Vee (Cult member/half twisted?) With a new and improved upgrade from the flower himself, Vee now does anything Dancifer asks without any refusal. Completely brainwashed and reprogrammed to be fit for the cultist doings, and punishes those that disobey without hesitation. Such an obedient cult member! And so happy...

Shelly: (Twisted) The ichor has taken over her completely, having been abandoned by those who once loved and adored her. It is believed that staring into her eyes for too long will cause you to lose even your most cherished memories. No one can remember her face, let alone find any images of what she once looked like. It's almost as if something or someone doesn't want others unveiling the truth...

Pebble: (cult member/half twisted) The cult's guard dog. Will protect his territory, as well as his master, Father Dancifer, even if it means killing. Will also attack those who try to escape...

WHO COULD FORGET?

Father Dancifer. (Cult leader.) The leader of them all, believed to be a reincarnated God. He is dedicated, manipulative at times, as well as constantly composed. Yet deep down he is losing it. He never wanted to hurt his friends, and it pains him to watch them all rot away before his eyes. Yet he is a God, he must stick with the plan.... it's what [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] would have wanted.

"Smile, for In this building, everyone is a devout friend, all except those that sin against what our sanctuary was built for; faith and loyalty to our one and only God who loves all equally."

.- .-.. .-.. / .... .- .. .-.. / --. --- -.. .-.-.-

[awful-little-goose]

Your Lamb is EXACTLY as scary as I expected from you and this delights me. I'm assuming their cultists love/fear them greatly; can you tell us what life is like in their cult?

Teehee!! Thank you!! I love giving herbivores some fucked up carnivore mouth, I’m basic like that 🥴

Also, I like to call my version of the lamb Baaa-Lamb (like Balam, the demon- again, im basic like that)

In my game, I tried to have a coherent narrative throughout the beliefs of my cult, the idea being “to die is merely to be birthed once more”, leading to practices that encourage reusing dead bodies, revering the elderly (close to death) and the newborns (freshly birthed again) and more

This means that cannibalism is a very casual act, as well as composting bodies: everything, every part of a community member must be fed back to the community

However, the lamb plays favorites in plain sight: the closest of lovers, beloved children, most trusted friends and most loyal cultists are buried and honored, and may even dream of being revived. Those have been only few, through the centuries

Most cultists end up either as food (especially those who were appreciated, like hard workers, or those with useful skills or traits), or compost

The lamb has established a firm believe in reincarnation: all children born in the cult are people that died in the cult, and are to be revered and adored. Well, more specifically: those who are reincarnated are those who have worked the hardest, been the bravest, etc etc. Those who failed to satisfy The Lamb have their souls merged to the earth of the cult’s grounds, their energy fed back into all that grows there…but again, that’s what the lamb tells everyone. In reality, they keep all reaped souls for themselves, gluttonously feasting on them…only few have actually been reincarnated (one a century)

Elderly people are welcomed, but often become food in cannibalistic feasts, or end up being sacrificed on the altar, or are the center of unruly celebrations…often leading to possession. Everyone is useful in the cult of this Lamb!

To be in this lamb’s cult means living every day being on your toes : wether they’re thinking up the best way to congratulate you, or the most cruel way to punish you is impossible to tell, thanks to their blank expression and empty eyes

Rewards range from more luxurious tents, gifts, celebratory dances with the lamb, invitations to the confessional and such

Punishments, however, can include being shackled until starvation arrives, being driven insane or possessed, or eaten alive by hungry fellow members, depending on the “crime” committed…not that the lamb is completely clear as to what’s allowed and what isn’t

[dark-and-kawaii]

any chance we can get more absolute Zevlor 👀 the way you write him is chef’s kiss and tumblr needs more dark Zevlor

Notes: Uhhhmmmm…. YES!!!!! I got you babes xoxo I got a little soft towards the end because I’m a loser bahaha!!! Enjoy!

Pairings: Absolute Zevlor x F!Tav/Reader

Content: NSFW - Knot - Absolute Zevlor - Dark Content - Minor Blood - Soft Zevlor Comes Out Towards The End

Photo credit @cinnasalmon on twitter

Zevlor doesn't even seem to register the sound of your cries, doesn't hear your whimpering voice as his nails bite into your skin, breaking the flesh as he forces you down further onto his length. He is too busy with his own pleasure, his own enjoyment, to even notice.

Those sharp teeth of his at your throat are a warning. It keeps you in check, makes you keep your mouth shut to a minimum so the other cultist don’t hear. Then again, even if you do keep quiet best you can you’re not sure he wouldn’t tear into it the way that he's fucking you.

“Be a good little thing and say my name-“ he growls out, the tip of his cock so deep in you, stretching you to your limits. His knot threatening to tear you apart.

The longer you go without complying, the harder he slams into you, threatening to rip you in half. His fingers- his long devil like nails hover right over the wound he had left moments ago, “say it- I won't ask again-“ digging his nails into the wound, your blood pools, running down your thighs, coating his fingers, “say it and maybe I will go easy on you. Maybe I won't take my fill just yet... Say it or I will carve you op-“

His words are cut short, the look on your face telling him all that he needed to know. He could do anything he wanted, anything and it didn’t matter. You would never say his name. Not like this…

He was a fool for thinking he could get you to beg, that he could break you.

A hand comes up to your throat, squeezing hard, cutting off the air you had just gotten. Your vision going blurry as you gasp for air…

He just wanted to hear you say it- just once… You were the only one he wanted to hear say his name in such a way- why was that so hard for you to give him? The way you looked at him, it was different, you were different. You were worth all the trouble, worth getting you alone in the goblin camp, worth killing the other cultist in the room just so he could have a this moment with you…

His thrusts grew slower now, his fingers leaving your neck to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. So why was he threatening you?

Your mind starts to drift as you lay there helplessly, the combined pain from the stretch of his cock and your open wounds numbing you. All you can see is Zevlor’s blissed out expression as he rolls his hips into you, feeling his knot catch against your entrance…

You hated yourself for it, but as you watched him with hazy eyes you noticed how his hair fell around his face, framing it. How his ears twitched whenever he felt you tighten around him. How he was looking at you with such hunger, such love… Thinking to yourself that he looks so handsome even when he's defiling you like this…

…

“Zevlor~”

It takes a few seconds for him to realize what just happened. The way you moaned his name out so beautifully. Your body giving him a warm welcome, tightening around him. His eyes widen as his ears perk up, his hips stopping completely, not wanting to miss a single second of this, wanting to savor every bit.

You reach out for him, taking his hand and bring it to your lips. Kissing the back of his hand softly. His name sounding so sweet as it falls from your lips again, “Zevlor~”

And just like that you broke him, watching as his composure slowly crumbled.

Tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, a shaky sigh leaving his lips. This is the closest thing to an orgasm he would have, but it didn't matter. He coos, leaning down and nuzzling against your neck, his hand gripping yours tightly, squeezing it, his other hand resting beside your head to keep him from crushing you as his weight fully settles on top of you, “That’s my good girl.”

[viennacherries]

QUOTH THE RAVEN - CHAPTER 2

Rolan/Tav | NSFW | 5,482 words

Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

As you pace back and forth in your room, your mind reels. 

The group had been to Moonrise. They watched Ketheric Thorm take an axe to the throat like it was nothing more than a splinter, and then use it to split a goblin clean in half. The mental image terrifies you, but it's not the main thing occupying your thoughts. 

The tiefling hostages are alive. Danis, Lakrissa; Lia and Cal. 

You've not seen Rolan since he stormed off. You want to talk to him. You want to tell him that Cal and Lia are okay, want to promise him you'll save them even if it costs you your life. 

You want to kiss him again. 

It's ridiculous, in all honesty. You're pretty certain that he hates your guts, but it doesn't stop you pining for him. You realise somewhat reluctantly that you've been pining for him since you parted ways at the grove, and if anything that makes the knowledge of his eventual rejection sting more. Of course he doesn't feel the same way. How could he? He considers you the reason his siblings are lost to him. 

You clench your jaw. You're going to get them back, one way or another. All three of them deserve the future that awaits them in Baldur's Gate. 

As you finish donning your armour, you glance longingly at the bed in the centre of the room. Maybe at some point you'll finally get a full night's sleep. 

Somehow, you doubt it. 

You stare at the back of his head, sat at the bar once again, as you all get ready to leave. A rush of relief fills you to see him safe. A rush of joy fills you to see he's drinking water, not wine. 

He doesn't look up, but that's fine. 

The next time he sees you, his siblings will be safe. You'll make sure of it. 

~~~

All of your friend's sordid descriptions of Moonrise pale in comparison to the real thing. 

On the walk over, Astarion had likened it to "a foetid corpse that even I wouldn't sink my teeth into". While his analysis came the closest, even that didn't truly capture the depths of the building's nauseating atmosphere and stench. As you stand at the base of the structure, staring up at the impossible height of it, Karlach leans over to speak to you. 

"We managed to convince them that we're true souls, but they want to meet you before they give us any more information."

You nod wordlessly. It's another show of your group's trust in you, that they mentioned you even when you weren't present. They've clearly sold you to the cultists as their leader. The thought makes your insides twist. 

Gale cuts in, "Thorm wanted us to bring you straight to Z'rell - I believe she's his commander? I recommend you be on your guard. From the brief glimpse we got of her, she appears rather ruthless."

Karlach nods seriously, "complete mega-bitch."

Astarion lets out a giggle beside you, "goodness, darling, I couldn't have put it more eloquently myself."

You snort at that, and Karlach's face splits into a grin. The group looks at you expectantly. 

You take a deep breath. "Right. If we're going to sell this you three are going to have to be quiet, if you need to tell me something do it through tadpole-mail." You punctuate your sentence with a brisk tap to your temple. The three of them nod, and Karlach mimes zipping her lips shut. 

You continue. "I'll talk to Z'rell, find out what we need to know about the artefact that's keeping Ketheric immortal, and then we'll go round to the docks and enter into the prison from the back. We're here for information and the hostages, nothing else. Don't get greedy." You pause. "That was aimed at you, Astarion. Keep your pilfering hands to yourself."

He sighs dramatically, "oh, if I must."

~~~

Listening to Zrell speak is difficult when you're trying not to choke on the smell of decay and death. It seems to seep through the very brick of the tower, festering between the mortar and filling your pores. You're not sure how successfully you're keeping your disgust off your face, but if Z'rell notices your discomfort she doesn't comment on it. 

"You came here to answer the Absolute's call." She says, and her voice is laced with mirth. "Let's see what you're made of."

All of a sudden she's communing with your tadpole, and you can feel her poking through your brain and the thoughts within it. Panic rises within you as you realise that she's trying to discern if you're truly faithful to the Absolute, and you know you have only a moment before she sees into the depths of your thoughts. 

You latch onto the first thing you can think of. 

As you shape the image of Rolan's face in your mind, you remind yourself of the anticipation in the moments before your lips met, and the rush of euphoria and excitement as you finally kissed him. You focus on the emotion in his eyes as he waited for your reaction, the blush on his cheeks, the shine on his lips. You can almost feel his hands tracing over your hips, slipping through your hair, and in your mind you're settling your weight back into his lap. 

Then the thoughts drift further. Watching his magic display at the party, the sound of his laugh as you traipsed through the shadows, the way his brow furrows when he scowls. The sunshine yellow of his irises and the shiver that goes through you whenever his gaze falls onto you, the dusting of freckles along his cheeks, the smooth scarlet length of his neck and how beautiful it would look covered in hickeys. 

When Z'rell retreats from your mind, she barks out a harsh series of laughs, and for a moment you're terrified. She's seen straight through you, she knows what you're here to do. Your hand slides to grip the handle of your blade where it rests on your back. 

"A refugee from Elturel?" She can hardly get the words out around her laughter. "Gods, what a pathetic little creature. And a wizard, no less! Don't tell me you're actually in love with that sad excuse for a man." She leans forward and runs a hand down your arm, a coquettish grin on her face. "A pretty thing like you? I can think of far more worthy conquests."

You feel bile rise in your throat at her words, both her blatant advances and her mischaracterisation of Rolan, but you swallow it down. Instead, you let out a fake, flirty laugh, and shoot her a half-hearted wink. 

This seems to satisfy her, and she launches into an explanation of the relic that Thorm needs - the one that you know grants his immortality - and directs you to the mausoleum. 

When you're finally outside again, away from the stifling air of Z'rell's atmosphere, your companions say nothing. The weight of her words hangs over you. 

'Love' she'd said. Is that what it is? 

Do you love Rolan? 

You're not completely sure you're ready to think about that. 

~~~

The battle in the prison is more draining than you'd hoped. You're only still upright thanks to a well thrown healing potion from Astarion, which had landed at your feet and splashed up your calves. 

The boat rocks on the water and the paddles propel you forward on their own accord, moved by Gale's magic rather than any physical effort. Karlach has the end of a bandage clamped between her teeth as she wraps a cut on her upper arm, and Astarion (despite his initial reluctance) is rationing out the remainders of your healing brews between the ex-hostages. A group of deep-gnomes had also been held captive below the tower, so the boat is cramped and your medical supplies aren't stretching as far as you'd hoped, but everyone is alive. 

You can't quite believe it. You feel like you're not even in your body. 

That may have something to do with the blood loss, in fairness. You'll worry about that later. 

As the boat starts to pull into the dock, you hear a loud cheer from the coastline, and for a moment you don't even think about the horrors of Moonrise towers. You watch Cal and Lia scan the shore for Rolan, and lean over to them both. 

"He's probably inside, waiting at the bar. That's where he was when we left."

Lia gives you a friendly smile, which morphs into something like amusement. "That sounds about right. He's not the type for heroic welcomes."

You nod and chuckle. There's a pause before she speaks again. 

"Is he... He's okay, right?"

"He is." You pause. "I'm sure he'll be less than pleased that it was me that got you guys out, but he'll be thankful to see you. He's been worried."

Lia smirks, and there's a knowing edge to it that unsettles you somewhat. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to give you his thanks."

Cal snorts, before covering his mouth and nose with a hand and turning away, trying in vain to make his guffaw sound like a cough. You narrow your eyes at the pair of them in suspicion and Lia laughs. You're beginning to understand Rolan's perpetual exasperation with them both. They've been out of mortal danger for all of 5 minutes and they're already teasing him, and he's not even seen them yet. 

Actually, scratch that. You realise as Lia looks at you that they're not teasing him, they're teasing you.

You try to think of something smart to say, but come up blank. Instead, you blush, and mutter sheepishly. "Am I that obvious?"

Cal snickers, and Lia breaks into a wide grin. "It wouldn't be obvious if he was anyone else," she starts, "but you have to be daft or smitten to enjoy Rolan's company. You're definitely not daft."

Cal cuts in, "oh I don't know, she might be. She did just break us out of prison."

You laugh at that, "in my defence, that was a group effort."

Any reply they might have had is cut off by the boat shuddering as it connects with the shore. 

Lia claps you on the shoulder, "for what it's worth, Tav, I think he's sweet on you." Before you can ask her to elaborate, she's clambering out of the skiff and tugging Cal out behind her. 

That flutter of hope flickers back into your chest.

As you step from the boat, Bex grabs you in a tight embrace. She sobs into you and whispers repeated thanks and prayers. You don't catch most of them, you just hold her. When she breaks away your shoulder is damp, and she lunges at Danis as soon as he steps onto the shore. They fall to their knees in a heap as they clutch one another desperately. 

You're showered in adulation from every direction; you lose count of how many hugs and handshakes you're given. There's a deep weariness settling through your bones that gives you only enough vigour to respond positively without considering your words. You're completely on autopilot. 

You finally make it back through the doors of the inn, and you're more than ready to collapse in your bed. You feel like you could sleep for an age. 

A loud, clipped admonishment shoots through the air, and you turn to face it. 

It's Lia. She looks surprisingly pissed off for someone who was so pleased just ten minutes ago. You sigh inwardly and resign yourself to the fact that you should intervene. 

"We're all safe, Rolan - that's what matters!" It’s Cal talking when you approach. 

Rolan is opening his mouth to speak, and you're reasonably sure by the expression on his face that whatever he plans on saying isn't particularly polite. You cut him off before he has the chance. 

"Rolan was in a bad state without you two."

His jaw snaps shut as his eyes dart to you, and he hesitates over his words. 

"I was just... overwhelmed. It doesn't matter."

Lia's eyes soften, and she takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. We should've been here."

"No -" Rolan is quick in his response this time. His tone is gentle. "- no, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have shouted. I'm sorry."

Cal turns to you, and there's a soft smile on his face. 

"Thank you, Tav. For saving me, and the two idiots." He tilts his head in their direction as he says it. 

Lia nods, then turns to Rolan, a teasing grin on her face. "Anything to add, Rolan?"

He scowls at her, but as he turns to look as you his expression smooths out, and a faint blush rises to his cheeks. 

"I've... lashed out at you. Drunkenly and otherwise. And you helped me anyway." His voice is uncharacteristically apologetic. "You didn't deserve that - I'm sorry. And... thank you."

The look the two of you share is charged, and there's so much you want to say. You pause for too long though, and Rolan clears his throat. 

"You went out of your way to help us, it's only right you get something in return." His tone is matter-of-fact as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pouch, and you can tell it's gold without looking inside. He takes your hand and turns your palm upwards, places the bag in your hand, and curls your fingers around it. His own hand stays wrapped around yours for a moment, and he glances up at you through his lashes, suddenly bashful. 

His words are quiet, meant just for you. "Here. I hope it helps."

You try to refuse - try to say anything at all - but before you have the chance he's pushing the bag towards you and loosening his grip. You're left standing there, staring at him, the pouch clutched to your chest. His tail flicks behind him. 

The silence lingers, and Lia clears her throat to break it. "Stay and have a drink with us Tav? The least we can do is pour you a decent pint."

It's tempting, but you shake your head, shaking yourself from your stupor simultaneously. "As lovely as that sounds, I'm completely exhausted. There's not enough blood left in my body right now for me to risk booze, I'll be more ale than ichor." 

Rolan's face twists at that, "you're hurt?"

You can only shrug, though the movement feels sluggish. "Par for the course of this hero business, funnily enough. I don't think I've been anything but hurt since I fell out of that nautiloid."

He frowns, "surely your group has healers? Potions?"

"Well," you nod, then shrug again, "Shadowheart and Halsin are healers, but their magic is better spent on you lot. And we're fresh out of potions right now, I'm going to go on the scrounge for some in the morning." Rolan looks distinctly unimpressed, so you shoot him a smile that you hope is comforting. "It's fine, really. I have a bed waiting for me upstairs which has been calling for me since yesterday. I'll feel right as rain after a few hours of rest."

This doesn't seem to placate him, and he shakes his head before standing from his chair decisively. "Absolutely not. I know some basic healing spells and I keep a few spare potions in my pack. I'll tend you - I insist." The last past comes briskly as you open your mouth to protest, and you close it again. He can clearly tell you're brewing an argument, and intercedes before you can fully form it. "Just let me look after you. Please?"

His echo of your own words stirs something in your chest, which feels a bit like he's cheating to be honest, and you find you haven't got the energy nor inclination to argue. 

"Fine, but only if I get to lay down. My head is pounding."

He nods, "fine by me, which room is yours? I'll come find you."

You tilt your head upwards, "first door at the top of the stairs, I'll leave it unlocked."

He nods again. "I'll be with you momentarily, then."

It's at that moment that you notice the absolute shit-eating grins that the twins are wearing, and you feel yourself flush. Cal winks at you, which sends Lia into hysterics, and Rolan turns on her sharply.

"What?!" His tail is raised and flicks sharply, in a movement you can tell denotes his irritation, but it just makes Lia laugh more. You turn away briskly before he can see the blush rising on your face and take the stairs two at a time. You hear Cal cackle and Rolan whisper-shouting his complaints at the pair of them as you shut the door and lean your back against it. 

You let yourself catch your breath, then take three long strides forwards til you're right at the edge of the bed, and unceremoniously fall face first into the mattress. 

~~~

You're roused to consciousness by a light series of knocks against the door, and you manage to wrench your eyes open just as Rolan walks in. 

He smiles, "sorry to disturb."

"Not at all, come on in."

He steps further into the room and clicks the door shut behind him. You smile to yourself as a thought crosses your mind, and mutter it quietly. 

"'The fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door.'"

He quirks an eyebrow with a smirk, "poetry, Tav? You better not be trying to seduce me."

You snort, "please, with 'The Raven'? Rather a grim method of seduction, don't you think? I'm sure I could think of something more suited, if you insist." 

His face flushes. "That won't be necessary." 

The laugh you let out is incredibly unattractive, but you don't have enough energy to care. You realise you're staring at him over your shoulder where you're planted face-down on the bed, so you roll onto your back and sit up to face him better. 

"'And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming...'" You trail off and laugh again. "Yeah, no, it's definitely not the most charming of poems. I'll have to come up with something better."

He smiles, his light flush unmoving, "oh, I don't know, that bit was almost sweet, if you ignore the original context."

You smile wide at that, and Gods, this feels so easy with him. So comfortable. You'd been so sure he'd hate you, but sitting here now looking at him, you can't imagine why. 

He clears his throat, and tilts his head towards the bed. "May I?" You nod, and he seats himself next to you. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted. Drained. A little lightheaded, if I'm being truthful. Feels like my bones have turned to jelly."

He frowns, "well that's far from ideal. Does anywhere in particular hurt? I'd like to make sure you're not actively bleeding out on me."

You shake your head, though the action makes your eyes blur, "just my head, really. Well, and my whole body aches, but that's no different than usual. I had been bleeding out, I think, but Astarion threw a potion and that staunched it."

He huffs. "Right. Where were you bleeding out from?"

You blink. "Oh, sorry. My side, under my ribs. Big sword."

He nods. "Do you mind lifting your shirt slightly? I just want to make sure the wound is closed properly."

You nod, and as you curl your fingers around the hem of your shirt he drops his various supplies between you both. There's a collection of healing salves, as well as a mundane first-aid kit. 

He notices you looking. "Healing magic isn't a particular proficiency of mine. For anything small I figured we could make do the old fashioned way."

It makes your heart clench a bit, the tenderness and thoughtfulness he's extending towards you, so you nod dumbly instead of saying anything. You lift your shirt to expose your waist to him. 

He sucks in a breath, and a look at his face tells you the wound is definitely not staunched. 

"That bad, huh?"

To his credit, he does a good job of steeling his features into something neutral. He also does a good job of stealthily avoiding the question. "Nothing that can't be fixed. Do you mind if I...?"

He gestures towards you with his hands, and once again you're mute as you nod. He places his fingers gently against the sore skin around the cut and you flinch. He responds with a sympathetic grimace. 

"Sorry, I just need to check how deep it is. The spell will be more effective if I know how far it needs to penetrate." You brace yourself as he touches the wound again, and he nods to himself as he inspects it. "It's a clean cut which means it shouldn't be too difficult to heal. What exactly happened?"

You wince again, though it's not from pain this time. You don't particularly want to go into the details with him; it's certain to upset him. He looks at you expectantly though, and his gentle touch on your skin is clouding your thoughts a little. You sigh. 

"One of the guards. He lunged at Cal while his back was turned." Rolan's eyes widen. You shrug noncommittally, hoping to ease his concern. "I jumped in to stop it, so it caught me instead."

Rolan just stares at you, blinking. 

"I..." He keeps staring at you. "You... You leapt in front of a blade to protect my brother?"

You wince again, making a sucking noise with your teeth. "... Sorry?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes, lines appearing on his forehead. "I don't know whether I should punch you or kiss you."

You feel your heart leap, and you let a coy smirk dance across your lips, "if you're taking suggestions, I certainly have a preference."

He huffs out a laugh, and opens his eyes to look at you again. You can tell he's trying to look frustrated, but there's a shadow of a smile on his face. "Gods, you would, wouldn't you? I've never known you to not have an opinion on something."

His reaction emboldens you, "I have several opinions on the matter, in fact. Are you taking suggestions? I can give you an extensive list."

There's a cocky grin on his features now, and he leans in til his breath is ghosting over your face. Just as you think he's about to kiss you, he speaks instead. 

"I thanked you once already. Don't be greedy."

The tone he utters the words in is low and gravelly, teasing in a way that's absolutely maddening, and you shudder involuntarily as he leans away from you. He looks very proud of himself. 

You roll your eyes. "Whatever, you tease. Hurry up and fix me, will you?"

His gaze falls back to your wound at that, and his face drops. He trails a finger featherlight around the cut, which sends a shiver through you, and when he speaks his tone is serious again. 

"Thank you, Tav. Truly. My family and I are eternally in your debt. Cal and Lia..." His eyes go slightly misty. "They're everything to me. I'm sorry you were injured, but I'm so deeply thankful for your help."

It's such a painfully genuine comment, and the only thing that feels right in the moment that follows is to rest your hand atop his free one where it rests on his knee. You don't say anything, but you don't think you need to. 

He clears his throat. "Right, I'm going to cast the spell now, if you're ready? It might sting due to the wound's depth, but I'll try to be careful."

You nod, "I trust you."

An emotion you can't quite place flickers across his eyes, and you squeeze his hand gently before withdrawing. He grabs your hand before it gets very far, though, and flushes as he places it on his knee. He pointedly avoids your eye contact as he laces his fingers with yours. 

"I... I can do it one handed."

You've absolutely not known him long enough for your heart to flutter the way it does, but you find you don't care very much. You squeeze his hand and shoot him a smile, before gesturing down at your abdomen.  

"Go ahead, I'm ready."

You feel his magic dance along your skin and you gasp at the sensation. It's somehow cool and warm simultaneously, and it tingles as your flesh knits together. The feeling is different to when the others heal you. Shadowheart's magic feels like being bathed in a warm light, Halsin's feels like blades of grass tickling your dermis. Rolan's healing magic feels more like a soft breeze blowing through an open window; it feels like the particles you can see in the air when the light hits at a particular angle. It's gentle and homely, like being wrapped up in a tender embrace, and it reminds you of the soothing voice someone might use to comfort a child. 

All too soon the feeling subsides, and you realise that your eyes have fallen shut. You open them slowly, blinking in the light of the room, and find Rolan already looking at you. His face is open and unguarded, and his eyes flicker across your features as though he's trying to memorise them. When he speaks, it's in a low whisper, as if the very air around the pair of you is fragile. 

"... How do you feel?"

You consider his question. You take in the lingering fluttering sensation of his dissipating magic, the feeling of his fingers laced through yours, the exposed expression he wears as his eyes dance over you. You're not quite sure what to say. 

So instead you say nothing, and you lean forward and press your lips into his. 

His mouth is pliant under yours, his lips satin smooth. You feel rather than hear his intake of breath as you make contact with him, and his grip on your hand tightens minutely. It's a tender, fleeting thing, the kiss you give him, and when you pull away you can't help the goofy smile that spreads across your face. 

"Far better, now." 

He scoffs, but there's a light in his eyes that wasn't there before, and he's leaning back in. There's no hurry to his movements as he parts your lips, and you sink into the feeling of his mouth against yours. When you separate again, he's wearing a beaming grin that matches your own. 

"As lovely as this is," the hand that isn't gripping yours comes up to caress your cheek, "I'd like to finish healing you. Is there anywhere else that hurts?"

You shake your head, then hesitate as the movement makes your skull throb. "Well... I have a pounding headache."

He chuckles, and both of his hands come up to the base of your neck as he leans into your space. He threads his fingers upwards through the hair there, the rest of your locks cascading over his forearms, and you shiver and let your eyes flutter shut as the hum of his magic washes over you once more. He scratches his nails lightly against your scalp and you let out a contented moan. Another soft laugh escapes him and you feel his breath against your cheek, which makes you shudder. 

When his magic recedes again, your head feels warm and fuzzy, and you lean into his touch to encourage him not to let go. 

"Don't fall asleep on me, Tav, I need to make sure you're fully healed."

You shake your head and plant your face into his neck, and Gods, his skin is so soft and warm. When he starts to chastise you again, you tilt your head and place soft open mouth kisses against his skin, and now he's the one shivering under your touch.

"Tav..." His tone is low, and you feel it in your chest. You hum in response which makes him shudder, and you feel his neck bob as he swallows heavily. "Tav, you need to rest."

You lift your face away from his skin, just enough to speak. "Do you want me to stop?"

He shivers again, and his fingers tighten their grip in your hair. "I should think you know the answer to that already."

You giggle, and reward his honesty with a light suck of the soft skin. He groans fully at that, and you feel the noise travel directly south. You can't help but pull the skin between your teeth and tease it gently.

"Gods," it's more of a breath than a word, "Tav, I- Can I kiss you? Please?"

You sit up and kiss him and he moans into your mouth as you slide your tongue against his. It's a maddening kiss, slow despite the underlying heat to both of your actions. Rolan's the one to break it, to your immense chagrin. You try to lean back in but he holds you at arms length by your shoulders. 

"Tav." His voice is chiding, the tone reminiscent of the one you might use to chastise a cat that won't stop bringing you vole. "I'm not finished healing you."

The groan you let out is fairly childish, but whatever. It makes him laugh. 

"Come on, I seem to remember you saying you wanted to lay down."

He eases you back til your head rests on the pillows. They're soft and downy, and Rolan's touch on your skin as he positions you on them is so light that you feel goosebumps raise on your skin. He sits facing you, one leg drawn up onto the mattress. 

"Gods, Tav, you look exhausted. When was the last time you had a proper rest?" 

You laugh at that, which probably isn't the reaction he was hoping for. "Never?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose again, before looking back at you. "Okay, I'm going to use a general healing spell over your whole body, to hopefully ease some of your aches and pains. It'll close up any small wounds and then you can actually sleep."

When you nod, his hands come to hover above you and the staticy feeling of his magic reaches out to you as he connects with the weave. His hands trail over your body without touching you, making their way across your whole form, and by the time he's finished you feel like you're surrounded by a cloud. He's gotten rid of aches you didn't even know you had. 

You only realise you're half asleep when you register the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek, so barely there that you could be imagining it, before you feel the bed dip as he moves to stand. You reach a hand out and grab at him blindly, catching the edge of his robe. It makes him pause, and you blink your eyes open. 

"Stay."

The look that spreads across his face is so raw and full of emotion that you almost feel like you should close your eyes to give him privacy. There's a softness to his gaze you've never seen on him before, and he swallows thickly and gives one small nod. You shuffle over enough to make room for him, and he unbuckles the silver gorget he wears over his robes, placing it gently on the small table next to the bed. You expect him to lay down then, but he stands for another moment hesitating, before eventually bringing his hands to the sash that holds his robes together. The flush that rises to your cheeks makes your whole face warm, and you watch his fingers (he has beautiful hands) as they untie the laces and drag the robe off his shoulders, so that he's left just in his plain undershirt and baggy trousers. 

You're pretty sure you've never been this turned on from seeing someone wearing clothes, but there's something about seeing Rolan in casual dress rather than his wizarding attire that ignites a fire low in your gut. He takes a moment to toe off his boots, and just as he goes to get in bed he pauses. 

"Is this definitely what you want? I don't want to intrude on your rest."

You'd roll your eyes if you had enough energy, but instead you pat the bed beside you. He chuckles and finally clambers onto the mattress. He keeps a respectful distance, lying on his back with one hand folded onto his chest and his ankles crossed over each other. His other hand brushes against the back of your own where it rests between you. 

~~~

[blackjackkent]

(tldr: read to end for my new favorite thing to have EVER happened because of RNG in this game, holy shit)

So. Yeah. When Orin said that Bhaal demands a duel, I was thinking the usual situation for "duels" in CRPGs, where it's nominally a duel but you're also allowed to bring your 2-4 closest friends who happen to be in the party with you.

AND BOY WOULD IT BE GREAT IF THAT WAS THE CASE HERE.

This is deeply not what I expected. I was actually low-key kind of excited for the standard Tav fight, because Rakha just hit level 12 and got the Spirit Guardians spell that I sank six levels of bard for, and I was real excited to see if they worked for buzz-sawing through the Sanctuary'd cultists.

No such luck, however. It's just us and Orin.

[slowly and carefully taps the reload button and examines Rakha's spell loadout]

There is actually some good news here too. I'm playing on easy so Orin's hit points aren't particularly terrifying, and far more significantly, she doesn't seem to have the buff from her cultist buddies, meaning she does not have stacks of Unstoppable and we can damage her immediately.

The downside is basically everything else. :P

Everyone else in the party currently has a condition called Duel: Murder's Chosen -

Very ominous. Even switching to any other character makes everyone get Big Mad:

At this point, the fight basically converts to normal, Orin recovers her Unstoppable stacks, the cultists start chanting, etc.

So I guess, ultimately, we could play this the Tav way if we wanted, but that seems counter to the spirit of the thing. XD Let's do this duel.

-----

POST FIGHT REPORT:

holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit

Y'all know how in tabletop games sometimes the RNG just plays out perfectly to do something never expected that nevertheless makes perfect story sense and feels like a brilliant thematic conclusion to everything that happened previously?

Rakha's fight with Orin started off pretty bog-standard. It's a pretty scary duel, but Rakha has her level 6 spiritual weapon out from the Harper Sacredstriker staff she's wielding, and it's doing a pretty good job of distracting and confusing Orin's AI and running her in and out of the Spirit Guardians that Rakha has up. She also landed a solid hit of Dethrone, "pulling on strands of the Weave" to "shred [Orin's] very essence."

All well and good.

Second round, she casts Misty Step to bring herself close to Orin for Burning Hands, and...

...well...

She wild-magic surged and unlocked Lae'zel's restraints on the altar.

Incredible. In-fucking-credible.

AND she is under our control as, basically, a summon for Rakha.

AND the Bhaalists don't consider this fight interference.

------

Perhaps it is simply random chance. It's happened before, after all - moments when her magic surged wildly out of her control, chaos incarnate to match the chaos in her brain.

But it feels like something more than that at this moment. A desperate reaching through the Weave in this moment of greatest need, her heart pounding with terror as she faces down her dark sibling. Jaheira and Minsc and Minthara and Wyll are beyond her reach, but something in her - mind or magic or something deeper still, some guidance from some force even Bhaal cannot stand against - reaches out and breaks the chains on her closest, oldest friend.

Help. Me.

The bonds break, and with them the enchantment that held Lae'zel unconscious. Her eyes snap open and she is on her feet in an instant, a sudden bursting release of tension and rage to match Rakha's own. For a moment their gazes lock, and Lae'zel blinks with recognition and astonishment and something like joy - and then her face hardens and she moves to stand at Rakha's side, shoulder to shoulder against the beast before them.

Her blade glints in the torchlight like sharpened flame.

[forsaken-headcanons]

Builderman has issues, hear me out on this one.

He is the most sane man out of everyone, he memorized how to build dispensers and sentries in six seconds, he tries to keep building to provide a distraction from his mistakes that he had commited upon being led here, the dispensers attract other survivors due to the free healing which provides Builderman with a sense of security that he is not alone.

but when he is, its horrid, fucker can't breathe properly and can feel his throat close up in sheer terror, hes supposed to be the most sane man within the room and keeps his comments straightforward and never properly builds connections with anyone around him, hes not rude , hes overly calm about the situation because now hear me out on this one.

He is aware there is a time loop, constantly dying and reincarnating and being aware fucks up your mental, so he keeps himself composed by never interacting with anyone else unless they need it, he is popular around the survivors, he does not mind it, he finds it endearing that such lovely citizens treat him like that, but he also finds it horrifying because HE could've prevented this, all of it he could've protected them from the monstrous torture method he goes through, but he can't .

So he decides to leave them unaware.

If he can't save them then.

Then he can save them now.

" You can't save them, David. "

" I know. But I swore to you I would, and I would keep that promise till my grave. "

" Of course you would. You never change, do you? "

" Never had John. "

( Dialogue hi )

By protecting their last sense of innocence

Oh yeah btw i headcanon builderman with a southern accent slightly

oh yeah another headcanon i like to believe his skins soft like you touch it and it feelz like a stuffed animal

Uhhhuh..taps my finger...

Builderman can use both of his hands well- was it called being ambidextrous? Ssoemtjjng like that..

Builderman has different types of hats - and he enjoys wearing all of them! He finds them so endearing.

He loooves making things work, he loves watching things spring to life just like how he wanted.

The closest character to Builderman is Shedletsky, but surprisingly you can catch Builderman hanging out with TwoTime, possibly listening to their rants about the cult, I like to believe ever since the Noli incident- (where there was a FULL ASS CULT AROUND HIM??) Builderman has taken interest in cultists.

Builderman is abnormal amounts of calm, if hes near death sure he'll be spooked but he'd still be relatively okay mentally.

Builderman doesn't really like 007n7, but doesn't mind his company, he can sit down and talk to him if he wants to.

Ahaha...sorry this is long- didn't mean for it to be, also this isn't organized per-say, im just jotting down thoughts and thought you'd wanna hear em.

- Food for thought

Of course I want to hear 'em. It's Builderman.

I fear you have cooked once more. Thank you, gonna go cry in my corner now.