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sailorvenusxoxo · 3 months ago

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Demonic Bonding (Crowley x Male Reader)

Fandom:Good Omens Pairings: Crowley x M!Reader, Crowley x Aziraphale at the end Requests: Through the asks, and not comments, please ♡ Summary: You're a demon sent to survey Crowley's temptations, despite you two disliking each other. Aziraphale suggests a bonding session, to have you two tolerate each other better. Your minds misinterpret bonding. Warnings: Light smut, BDSM, swearing, author got cold feet by the end, collar, leather, soft aziracrow ending Word count:2.6k Requested by: @alexiyahyah , and @chrissydablsissy had also asked for something with Crowley, but not necessarily this. a/n (please read): So. I have no idea how to sum up my thought process shortly, but I'll try. By reading the Vulture Article, I was utterly disgusted. Distanced myself a bit, but still stayed in the fandom, because I love it so much. In my honest opinion, I now believe GO to belong to Sir Terry Pratchett, the honest actors and crew working, and the fans. It's my first time really writing GO smut. Read tons before, but not since the article. I don't know, I supposed that by doing this, I was afraid. I got a bit uncomfortable at first. What if people view this as insensitive? What if people misunderstand my intentions? But please be aware. I'm still a bit wary about writing smut on GO, but the fandom can't die. Some of us love it too much, to let this filth of a person ruin it. We can save it by our own fan works, not giving this man any once of recognition anymore, and simply support the victims, and try to make NG lose more and more money. Saw a blog talking about it. Either way... Love you guys a lot, I tried my best. I love Crowley and Aziraphale with all my heart, which is why I ended it on a soft note for them.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Do I look like a bloody…How do they call it? Kid-stander? Kid-sitter? Baby-stooder?”

You mumbled, looking at Beelzebub, your lips pursed in an annoyed fashion. Your mind and mouth were starting to ramble, as you tried to remember that human word they used, to address the person who watched over their heirs.

You sniffled softly, rubbing in your nose, avoiding snorting a fly by inadvertence. You were used to flies and other soiled things that composed the realms of Hell, but that did not mean you were fond of ingesting it. It buzzed down the current body you possessed, and Beelzebub was always extremely furious to lose a fly.

Beelzebub groaned in warning, looking up at you with their rotting lips and their glassy eyes.

“And do I look like I’m politely proposing this to you? This is not damned Heaven. Though we all wish it was damned. We suspect the demon Crowley of not accomplishing his temptations properly. For a bit, we let it through, despite the proofs he may or may not be fraternising with the blasted angel from the east gate. But now, we can’t let it slip. We need someone to assist him, and it’s going to be you!”

Barked Beelzebub, their voice raising in anger and command. You sighed in sheer annoyance, more bored and disgruntled than remotely afraid. You had been planning on torturing a recently deceased French twat politician, famous for colonisation, racism, and other lovely things that brought him to this place, but it looked like you couldn’t. You cursed silently, regretting the fact that Hastur would be the one applying the Nazi torture to the politician, instead of you.

But as you were contemplating on hurrying your task to get back to the little torture chamber, Beelzebub mumbled, a bit confused.

“I don’t get this bloody fussing. Thought you two got along, or you were his fan or s’mthing. You’re dressed like a groupie.”

Your head snapped back to the Duke of Hell, an offended scrunch on your face.

“…A fan? Will people just stop about it, already?! May I remind you he wasn’t the first snake in the existence of things? Nor was he the one who first dressed like this! He’s just trying so hard to be this snake entity, with it being his entire thing, just because he was the snake who tempted Eve, but he’s ridiculous! He’s trying so hard he even named himself Crowley! Who the fuck does that?! He’s just desperate, I’m telling you-!”

You ranted, as Beelzebub rolled their eyes, already sending you off to earth, as you pestered to yourself. You had never really met Crowley, nor did you interact with him, but you knew that because of that blasted fallen angel, the snake appearance was now all his… Sure, his snake tattoo near his ear was not a bad idea, so you did it yourself, except on the collarbone, also adding it to the list of things you had claimed for yourself. But come on, he wasn’t the only snake demon. You were there too! Bloody bastard had taken the credit all for himself…

As you descended on earth, you reviewed the information Beelzebub had literally thrown at you, the inscriptions written on the dirty parchment, that you held in your bloodied hands.

‘Demon Crowley. Not try and trick him, may possess holy water. Seen fraternising through years with angel from the East gate. Make sure he accomplishes temptations. Reports.’

You scoffed softly, as the crappy, shaky, and dirty elevator let out a cough of blurting horrible static noises, announcing you had arrived in earth.

Obviously, you had landed in Aberdeen, Scotland, instead of Soho, London, England. Typical of the people handling the elevator, to make demons land close enough to act like it was mistake, but far enough to piss you off.

Oh, well. Just a simple… Fly would do, right? Or a little demonic miracle to land in London. Not like they’d notice down in Hell anyway, with how much miracles bloody Crowley was producing recently, always making the alarms beep, driving Hastur out of his blasted mind. Which you always enjoyed, let’s be fair (or not. It was bad to be fair. Well, not your bad, so- anyway!)

You suddenly appeared in the busy London street, hurriedly leaning against a railing on the street, avoiding an old style Bentley that was driving extremely fast. You cursed to yourself, since you had almost gotten discorporated, all of that by a lousy…

You stopped, frowning, recognising the car. An old-style Bentley…? Oh god, it was-

“I told them I didn’t need or want to see you!”

Crowley hissed at you, storming out of his car, pointing a slender finger at you. You rolled your eyes, grumbling, recognising him immediately. Once again, you and Crowley did not really know each other personally. But you knew of each other.

And let’s say you two were not keen on sharing the same style and flair. It may sound so childish and immature, but you were demons. You were supposed to not care for maturity or proper, so you two weren’t going to pretend you two liked each other.

“You think I enjoy being here?”

You hissed back, pulling your hair away.

“Damn it all, I had a fat Frenchie to torture down there, and they just assigned me to babysit you, simply because you can’t do your job well!”

You snapped, gripping the railing with one hand, your knuckles turning white. Crowley scowled, rolling his eyes under his round sunglasses.

“Right, right. Sorry, forgot you’re always down there in the slums. Bloody loam, getting your hands dirty.”

He snarled, looking at your dirty and bloody hands, with some dirt under your fingernails. You rolled your eyes, unimpressed.

“Was that the best you can do? Acting like the posh angel you skip around with, and notice the dirt?”

You snickered, a mocking smirk on your chapped lips. Crowley’s squinted, a new fury seeping even through his sunglasses at the mention of Aziraphale.

“Do not speak of him. Do not even mention him, you hear me? If Hell is sending you about this, I’ll-”

He started, before you scoffed, your red snake eyes staring at him.

“Christ almighty, I’m not here to tell you to break up with your angel boyfriend. You think I give a fuck on what you’re up to here, between 8 to 8? All I need is actual proofs that you’re doing your temptations, and I’ll get the fuck out of SoMo.”

You grumbled, shrugging, as Crowley pinched his lips, still tense and annoyed.

“…I suppose they won’t just do it with reports, they also need other proofs, huh? And Aziraphale’s not- And it’s Soho, not SoBo-”

He grunted, as you mumbled.

“I said SoMo, not SoBo. Perhaps you’d hear better if it weren’t for that horrid tattoo on your ear.”

Crowley stayed silent, simply looking at you with a defying glare.

“…Wanna follow me around all day, like a bloody puppy? Fine. But no comments or other interactions. And just… Let’s say a week. It’ll satisfy them for a bit. And wear sunglasses, damn it! Humans will see your eyes!”

He snapped, walking away from you to a sort of old bookshop, that you reckoned to be the angel’s. You grumbled, cursing about the sunglasses, but still getting out the one you brought. You reluctantly followed him, crossing the busy street, looking slightly around. Last time you were around earth, it was… 1986, you reckoned? You had been checking in on new trends and stuff, for a bit of holidays from the Hell chambers, had even done some business with some slimy snarky TV magnate, Lord Baddingham or something.

Either way, you hurried to the store, your shoes clinking on the concrete, before entering the bookshop. Your nose scrunched at the unusual, pleasant smell, a mix of vanilla, coconut, and some monoi, along with the lingering smell of old books. This entire place, as large as it was for a bookshop, simply screamed of ‘Angelic’, and you were slightly disgruntled by it. Your throat hurt a bit, at all the pleasant smells, and you reluctantly walked in, as Crowley nonchalantly walked in, as if he owned the place, his pace always reminding of the tempting serpent he had been, before the first woman of Earth.

Should have been you.

Your eyes fell on a cozy, large royal red chair, where stood a fluffy blanket, with a pillow. It was angled directly to the sun, letting a ray of sunlight on the spot. You noticed Crowley’s eyes, despite the glasses, lingering quickly to it, and you scoffed to yourself. The lucky bastard… he must have relaxed so often here, simply lounging in his serpent form, embracing the warmth.

As your eyes still glared at it, visibly trying to burn it through thoughts, a person came in. Well, not a person. You immediately sensed it was the angel. Whether it was the white hair, the blue eyes, the fond wrinkles on his face, or the softness of his cheeks or his body, it was disgustingly angelic. This man was an angel.

“Oh, Crowley! This your guest, then…”

Aziraphale nodded, addressing a polite nod to you, as you blinked, a bit stunned at the angel’s reaction to you. Crowley grumbled, scoffing, laying his jacket on a sofa.

“Stop the teasing, angel. Y’know I don’t want him there. He’s just… there. For a week, minimum, time to give Hells the proofs.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes for a second, his eyes looking to Crowley’s, as he took off his sunglasses. The angel’s gaze seemed almost fond and amused, as he tutted.

“We talked about this, Crowley. With the amount of time, he’ll be spending here, might as well be making it more comfortable. You two ought to bond!”

Aziraphale grinned, nodding, as you cringed. Ugh, you remembered bonding. And as fun as it had been, you did not picture it with Crowley.

Crowley blinked, also taken aback by the angel’s proposition.

“Uh… Bonding? You are sure, angel?”

Crowley almost murmured, a bit stunned. Aziraphale proudly nodded.

“Yes! I’m sure you two can do it and simply create strong bounds! It isn’t that hard, when the effort is put it in.”

The angel confirmed, as the demon stood there, unconvinced.

“Were you the one who started this trend, anyway?”

Asked Crowley, as you both looked at his leather accessories and gears, up in his fancy modern flat.

You nodded, lips pinched, analysing each detail of the gears, begging to find a fault in it, just to spite him.

“I was. Well, BDSM was always a thing, humans can be kinky little things. I just put a name on it, made it more famous, and added the leather aesthetic.”

You explained, nonchalant, thinking back of numerous fun memories you had made on earth in the 80s, shocking some humans, and tempting others.

“Which you copied.”

You added, in a little jab, grabbing a collar with your bloodied hands. Crowley rolled his eyes, grabbing a whip himself. You stared at it and frowned.

“The leather’s worn. Throw it away. You’re fussy about plants, but not leather?”

You scoffed, scolding him, as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, piss off. You think this what I do all day?”

He grumbled, as you sighed, taking the collar off the wall.

“Let’s just wrap it up, hm? A little session, in all of hell’s ways, and maybe then we won’t discorporate each other in the next few days.”

You mumbled, heading to put the collar around his neck, your hands grazing against his neck, as he frowned.

“I’m the submissive?!”

He noticed, almost appalled, as you raised an eyebrow.

“…I’m supposed to watch what you do. So…Yeah, you are.”

You observed, rolling your eyes, hooking the leash to his collar.

“M’kay. You know everything, hmm?”

You asked him, as he scoffed softly.

“We’re not humans. I don’t believe we need to have the whole conversation about consent and boundaries with each other. Good on you for introducing it to them, which is odd for a demon, but we don’t need it.”

He said, as you raised an eyebrow, softly gripping it.

“…Piss off. Humans, demons, angels, no matter what entities, consent is the most important thing. I won’t touch you, unless you specifically say you accept, and want it.”

You gritted through your teeth, adamant.

“I don’t care if it means loathing this whole week. I won’t budge on consent. No nothing, without consent.”

You grumbled, as Crowley pinched his lips, looking away for a bit. He was hesitant. Not towards what he wanted, but perhaps over what he was willing to admit.

“…I consent, and I want it. I’ll be the submissive. My safe word is… ‘Be-bop’.”

He stated, as your eyes squinted. Huh, Be-bop.

“…Be-bop.”

You echoed, nodding, before gently tugging his leash down, to have him on his knees.

“…Are you ready?”

You asked, your voice surprisingly soft, as Crowley squinted his eyes, a bit surprised, but nodded.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

You kept him bound to you, for a while. Tugging on the leash when you wanted, earning soft grunts from him. You couldn’t understand why, but it was working. When your red eyes looked to his yellow eyes, you felt it. The pool of heat in your abdomen, and the lust that came over you, crashing like a wave.

Limbs were tangled together, as the smell of the leather and his cologne remained between you two. Blows were struck, soft and hard, mixing pain and pleasure. You gripped his hair, he gripped yours. His hand wrapped itself around your neck, as you tugged on his collar.

Your lips also found each other, in this mess of leather and sensations, in a surprisingly soft lock. It was working. You were bonding.

Your fingers caressed his back, tracing the scars from his lost wings, as you feverishly bit and grunted at his shoulder.

It had ended with actual binds, and actual poles. Just two bodies in fusion, working against the others, wrists and ankles tied together, simply bonding, until you both fell asleep, to your own surprise. You had forgotten about fatigue and sleep. But it was a pleasant feeling, after the panting, the sweating, the marks, the leather, the words, the gestures… To simply fall asleep on him, bound.

________________________________

Crowley woke up, feeling something stirring at the binds. At first reluctant and wary, he opened his eyes, finding none other than Aziraphale, beside the bed, softly untying the binds.

“…Angel?”

Crowley croaked out, surprised to see him. Aziraphale looked at him, his blue eyes bright due to the sunlight. His smile was as soft as usual, though there was hint of cheekiness to it, like whenever he was about to mock Crowley, and thought of a thrilling joke.

“Just so you know, I had meant a light lunch, or perhaps some baking, to bond. Not this.”

Aziraphale remarked, softly sighing, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“But I supposed it worked. Which I’m glad for. The result is the same, as you so often say.”

Crowley snickered softly, looking at Aziraphale.

“…Yeah, it worked. And you’re… You’re here.”

Crowley remarked, sounding nonchalant, though his eyes were everything but this.

“…Yes, I’m here.”

Aziraphale confirmed.

“I suppose… That at the end of the day, no matter what or who, it always is just the two of us.”

Perhaps it always was, yes.

#good omens #david tennant x reader #david tennant fanfiction #david tennant #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable idiots #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley x reader #crowley x you #fuck neil gaiman #anti neil gaiman #good omens fanfiction #good omens smut

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frillypinkcoffee · 20 days ago

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Lil Introduction 𖹭.ᐟ

I honestly wasn't expecting any followers/activity here and was originally planning on using this blog to yap about my interests lol. But treating this as a mini glow up diary sounds like a cool idea too!

So hello, you can call me K!

I'm currently in my early 20s, trying to navigate adulthood the best I can! I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing though.

My current goals I have for myself is getting healthy and wealthy (and just becoming the higher vers of me in general) — I have very long ways to go, but I'm learning to trust the process and myself.

I'll be using this blog to track my journey, occasionally share some motivation, thoughts etc. But all in all, I post for fun! Don't treat this blog as a "teacher" — most of the stuff I post is really just me talking to myself.

Random facts about me 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

I'm an artist and love to draw! May or may not post it here someday, idk!

I'm pretty spiritual (not religious) and find holistic practices very interesting. I used to be really into researching different gods/goddesses, energies, astrology, learning about the universe, crystals, etc.! I fell off with meditation, journaling and such and would like to get back into it.

Currently watching Sex And The City, Pretty Little Liars, Vampire Diaries and Gossip Girl! (Honorable mentions: Naruto, Jujustu Kaisen, Demon Slayer, Rick And Morty, Stranger Things)

My top musical artists are Doja Cat, Sabrina Carpenter, Ariana Grande, PinkPantheress, NewJeans, Don Toliver, Tyler The Creator and Teezo Touchdown! (Honorable mentions: Tate Mcrae, SZA, Kali Uchis, Jennie and Megan Thee Stallion)

You can also find on...

Instagram | Pinterest | YouTube

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hislittlestar · 25 days ago

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girl please help me

i wanna work with Lucifer but I dunno where to start…my issue is mainly I struggle with research so that’s my only hesitation.

any tips?

Hi, Anon!

It’s good that you are wanting to do research, as Lord Lucifer favors those who seek knowledge. I made a list of resources you can use for your research here:

Starting with all this can seem overwhelming at first. My advice is to frequent the r/DemonlatryPractices subreddit, as there are lots of great discussions held on there. If you read it enough you’ll eventually get a feel for the most popular demons and for practitioners’ general practices. I’d also at least skim through the texts I listed to familiarize yourself with demonolatry and Lucifer.

It is also a good idea to get into the practice of meditation. This is so you can develop your clair senses so that you can properly receive messages from Lucifer. Here are some tips for getting into meditation:

Another important step is to make sure you aren’t scared of him. If the idea of contacting a powerful god who can read your thoughts and influence you and the people around you sacres you, then you may want to work on this. More research and reading others’ experiences with him may help. Religious deconstruction is also very important for those coming from a Christian background. Yes, Lucifer is referred to as “the devil”, but he is not a malevolent deity, though he’s not fully benevolent either. Read about his different masks in texts like Princeps and Rites of Lucifer, so you know who you may be dealing with.

Once you feel you have a general idea of who/what Lucifer is and can meditate for at least a few minutes, go ahead and invoke him! This simply involves getting into a meditative state and repeating his enn “renich tasa uberaca biasa icar Lucifer” either in your mind or out loud for as long as you’d like. Notice if you feel any sensations or if there is any “paranormal activity”, like lights flashing or knocking in the walls. Notice if your thinking pattern seems different than how you normally think (this will be much easier with meditation practice). For me, Lucifer likes to use more complex vocabulary than I normally think. Hearing deities (clairaudience) isn’t physically hearing them with your ears, they are more so thoughts that pop up in your head. Note if an image of what he looks like pops up in your mind’s eye. Deities are different to each practitioner. You can tell him things like what you want to work on with him or what you wish to get out of a relationship with him. When you’re ready, politely ask him to leave your space (or let him stay and go do whatever you want knowing he may still be around you).

If he doesn’t show up the first time, don’t be discouraged and try a few more times. If he still doesn’t show any signs of being around, then perhaps now isn’t the best time for you to be working with him. He is generally gentle and patient, but he can make you deal with emotions and memories that are difficult to face, though he’ll guide you through them.

If you want to work with him, chances are he wants to work with you too! Best of luck, Anon ♡

#asks #information #luciferian witch #lucifer devotee #lord lucifer #luciferian #lucifer deity #lucifer #theistic luciferianism #demonolatress

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thatpodcastkid · 10 months ago

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Magnus Archives Relisten 19, MAG 19 Confession

The Magnus Archives reinforces my stance that religion-based horror is the genre's peak.

Yes I was raised Catholic why do you ask

Spoilers ahead!

Facts: Statement of Father Edwin Burroughs regarding his "possession." Statement given May 30th, 2011.

Statement Notes: My biggest question is how the institute got this statement. Burroughs says it was probably difficult to arrange and is grateful for the chance to give the statement, so it implies that he sought out the institute. If so, how did he find out about them? It's also possible that the institute sought out a statement from Burroughs, but why? Gertrude would likely understand his importance or at least would have attempted to follow up on the Hilltop Road Case, so it's likely if Burroughs did not actively seek out the institute, she found him.

The idea that Father Burroughs would reach out to give a statement is really great to me, though. He's coming from a culture that stresses the need to admit every transgression in order to remain perfectly morally pure. In giving his statement, Burroughs is seeking absolution. It's literally titled "Confession."

Though likely unintentional, Jon reading this statement furthers the idea that, at least in the world to come, he is the closest thing the TMA universe has to God. By Season 5, he is omniscient, all powerful, and simultaneously merciful and punishing. He takes Burroughs confession, judges it, and then moves on. Burroughs is haunted his entire life, but Jon--the absent God--hears hundreds of people's confessions and doesn't do anything. He just watches.

Continuing with the idea of religious horror as an extension or offshoot of eldritch horror, this episode utilizes fear of the sin inside oneself really well. In my experience, the fear of going to Hell or being punished for one's sins is lesser in Catholic circles than the fear of being a sinner. The idea that something inside of you is inherently wrong or evil is a common one across religions, so it makes sense that to destroy Burroughs mind and bring his worst fear to life, the entities would make him believe there is a demon inside of him. The evil isn't attacking him, but is a part of him. His worst fear is himself.

The demon attempting to "steal" Burroughs faith is really terrifying. The implication that something so immutable and intangible cannot only be taken away, but can be used by another being. The demon isn't destroying Burroughs faith, but keeping for itself.

What I find really interesting is how different the things Burroughs describes in this statement are from the second part of his statement. The pace really picks up between MAG 19 and MAG 20, in addition to the subject shifting. Burroughs changes from an observer of other people's torture to experiencing his own. This change really amped up my anxiety as I went from 19 to 20.

Entity Alignment: Anything Hill Top Road related is immediately a mixed bag of nightmares. Being a demonic possession episode and the "mentis" writing on the wall, the Spiral comes to mind. Bethany's degrading mental health after moving into her new home does align with the environmental triggers that usually accompany a Spiral episode. Additionally, Bethany and Burroughs both lose control of their minds and bodies, in line with the Spiral.

The eventual cannibalism does implicate the Flesh, however. I wonder how often the Flesh interacts with a religion that literally consumes the body and blood of its lord. (Side note, but "We'll get to the cannibalism," is now up there with "I feel like I should be upfront with this, I'm probably a cannibal," as my favorite lines a character says within the first 10 seconds of a statement.)

Hill Top Road does implicate at least some connection to the Desolation. But either way, in MAG 20, many more entities come into play as Burrough possession and hallucinations develop. Read my next blog for some thought on that if you would like.

Character Notes: Sarcastic Jon re-enters the arena with a steal chair!

"When it is found by myself, or given the state of the Archive's mismanagement, by my successor when I pass away from old age."

Oh sweetie, you think you're going to get an old age? That's adorable

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ru5t · 2 days ago

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🐇 / Run Bunny Run (I'm so curious? I'm unfamiliar with the album, so everything I know is contained to your carrd/blog)

If you drop a 🐇 in my inbox I’ll give you some starter ideas for how your muse might fit into the Dustverse!

That's fine I killed canon in cold blood and it's my city now anyway! Blog canon bears only a passing resemblance to 'real' canon, and technically everything on the blog started with this music video and this music video and everything since has been invention with the Squid (@/hvndredbattles @/hvndredzones) so that's the only 'canon' you need if you don't... feel like reading the excessive number of lore essays in the world building tag. However there is lots of information in the world building tag, if you want it. The album other than the videos is more of a tone indicator than anything and I have a whole playlist for that and I don't really acknowledge the comics because they're mostly not very good but hi yes onto the part you actually asked about:

Cherry as someone who wandered too close to zone 07. Zone 07 is a weird wibbly wobbly thing in the west, where the old coast used to be, that encapsulates some kind of phenomenon that nobody's really sure what it is; the city investigated it for awhile and came up short, the zones calls it a thinning place between the living and the dead, anyone who isn't superstitious just calls it Really Fucking Weird if they've encountered anything about it. Even I can't really tell you what it is, half because I don't rightly know and half because it's more fun that I don't. Anyone brave (or dumb, or unlucky) enough to go in dies, one way or the other. Either never seen again or something else that looks like them walks back out. I'm proposing Cherry got a little closer than most, but didn't actually walk in to zone 07 proper, meaning she got to keep her own thoughts but well. Now there's something else, too. Ghost, demon, prolonged hallucination or other psychotic break - well. We'll just never know. — And this would lend to either side of the conflict. Personally I feel more like she's killjoy coded if only out of boredom and the desire to not have to follow so many rules, but having gotten close to 07 could be a city character thing too, albeit she'd have to work for the company in some capacity. Which would be an area like the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit or some science-y field, to have come into contact with it. But also also her name is already Cherry that's so killjoy she very much seems like someone who grew up in the city initially and then went 'fuck this' as a teen and hopped the wall and then either was just particularly susceptible to its draw (it does in fact draw people in, that is part of its weirdness. moths to flame, etc.) or just happened to end up somewhere near 07 and. got reeled dangerously close to disappearing.

Yuna on the verge of becoming one of Better Living's new poster-children after cultivating a little following of her own (perhaps replacing their escaped dove, @lcfthaunted 👀) but it's a big step to sign the rights to your face and body and life away to Better Living literally and not just because they control so much of the infrastructure. Her father may be trying to persuade her away from it without actually saying the quiet part (that it will destroy her, eat her up bit by bit with no remorse and barely even a thank you) out loud, for fear of what might happen to both of them if he does(?). Anyway, she'd really have to get the crassness under wraps for it. And the city has ways of getting rid of it by force, if she signs her life away and doesn't quite manage it on her own. Image is everything, after all.

Hansel goes in here somewhere I know he does but my brain is returning error noises. something something european transfers something something Better Living's "progress without concerns for ethical boundaries". I don't know how I feel re: giving them the ability to revive the dead but to be frank there's precedence in some parts of the fandom over the years and if it's still highly experimental and not something that can just be Done to anyone at any time..... He's just mild and yet unflinching enough to end up somewhere deep in a lab doing things he should absolutely not be doing with BLi money and resources, because it's Science, and the company is taking advantage of it. Encouraging the worst parts of it. Show us how to raise the dead Hansel it is a worthwhile pursuit and there will be no negative long term consequences for this :)

This is who I can figure things out for right away but if I keep sitting on it I might be able to point the others in Dustverse directions too(!)

#daemondaes #naux could probably just bowled in here the same way she gets bowled into modern times anyway but im not sure where she'd land hmmmmmmmmmmm #smugglers always very needed and wanted though lots of smuggling going on here #unrelated i was poking around ur AUs; umbrella academy is a sister-fandom to dustverse and i *just* took her wip umbrella academy verse dow #on impulse because my brain was like MUST CLEAN. NO ONE WRITES WITH YOU HERE. but. that is a thing that vaguely exists #👀 just as a note

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theodosiani · 5 months ago

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LET'S GET REACQUAINTED ! hey rpc ! lets be honest, datv brought us all back in one way or another either you're a veteran or new, i'm sure there is stuff that has changed or we don't know each other so let's have a game about it to reintroduce each other ! repost this to do the same & tag some pals if you want !

Name / Penname: Sawyer for veterans, did you go by something previously ? if so what was it if you're comfortable sharing that name &/or penname: Used to be known as Sarah, don't mind if folks know but Don't Call Me That. age & gender( if comfortable sharing ): Nonbinary, 29 what was your first dragon age muse: I will be so forreal I don't remember if Averill or Varania's blog came first but I thiiiink it was one of the two of them? do you have any other darp muses / blogs: I run @orxna and I used to write on @rattrunner and @birdfacedelf, and several other muses that I've since moved over to my multi here. what muses / blogs do you have outside of darp: None right now thedas has two moons: true | false - Two moon truther I don't care what any of the newer media says

single line, para, or novella: Honestly, I'm pretty open for anything. I am a person who may spit out a multi para at you out of nowhere and if we haven't agreed to a length beforehand do not feel pressured to match my legnth. I just can't shut up about my muses sometimes. plotting or winging it: I like to plot a lot, I think it's fun to talk about how our muses interact and I think it can give more depth and nuance to any future spontaneous interactions. That being said, I also like just stuff out of the blue it's fun and brings in variety. fighting threads, you bold enough for them?: Depends entirely on the muse but yeah, I do like them. I do like to have some idea of how they're mostly going to go, and I'm ALWAYS happy to have a muse lose if yours is understandably more powerful. I actually think it's quite fun to find creative ways to throw my muses at brick walls so to speak. The desperation builds character. what content warnings are on your blog?: There's a lot of body horror potential from Several muses, I've got blood mages and demons and eldritch abominations so it's not something I shy away from. I do also have some level of child abuse in several of my muses' histories along with themes of slavery and finding personhood after. what things do you need tagged for your comfort?: Just general epilepsy related tags. Flashing gifs, epilepsy warning, etc.

shipping preferences: single | multi | no ship | polyshipshipping boundaries: For the most part, as long as a person shows pretty basic respect of not autoshipping, and actually checking in with me? I'm real open for shipping. I love smashing our barbie dolls together, I like to be able to talk with folks about the ships so like communication is key and all that but I'm not particularly finicky, I guess? I also love all varieties of ships be they romantic or platonic. favorite ships in dragon age: I love HoF/Sten, any HoF I simply don't care it's just a good ship whether it's queer platonic or romantic, I am a VarricHawke truther. I did not like Solavellan when the game first came out but because of all the wonderful rpers in darp I'm pretty feral for it now lol. favorite ships from the rpc( tag your friends ships ! ): My fucking KINGDOM for Solas(@theharellan) and Ian(@theshirallen). I have shipped that shit for almost my entire time in Darp which is buckwild. I love Inara(@valorcorrupt) and Alistair, Merc has given me so much emotional damage over on Orxna about it.

fun facts about yourself that may have changed since in the past ten years( when inquisition dropped )--

This is so hard, lol. Well, I don't live in the south anymore and am, in fact, like an hour from canada now. I also work on a whole ass Farm now, it's pretty great.

be honest, did you miss darp. come on now--

Yeah, I really got my legs writing in darp I think it very much helped shape who I am as a writer. Definitely helped me fine tune what kinds of characters and tropes I enjoy and work on my collaboration with cowriters just as passionate about this series as I am.

challenge round ! put a small top five things unrelated to dragon age !

I have Too Many birds. Three geese, one gander, twenty-six hens, and one rooster.

I also have too many dogs. I have four Hungarian puli and two Scottish deerhound.

I'm working towards getting my vet etch certification in the next few years.

I currently work at a brick fire oven pizza place making pizza and I'm really good at stretching dough HOWEVER I cannot toss dough. I don't have the pizza rizz necessary but I make a really good sausage mushroom alfredo pizza.

Snow was put upon this earth to specifically inconvenience me every morning when I must do bird chores.

tagging: I am really bad at tagging because I have a horrible time keeping track of people who've already answered so just steal if you wanna

#;ooc #;dash games #;mun

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ryoshudoodles · 1 year ago

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The Plushū Diaries

This is a long post about the plushie I made as a beginner and just me venting about the process. Just skip this is you don't like long posts. Also I will probably mix up UK and US English a lot here. The usual Internet learning experience.

Canto 1- I can (not) make a plushie myself

So... As you may gather from the existence of this blog, I love Ryōshū a very normal amount. And like many other PM fans, I wanted a plushie of my best girl.

Two problems arise.

Independently made plushies made by commission are EXPENSIVE (For a very valid reason, this things take AGES to make and require a lot of work and skill.).

And

All the "Mass" produced ones by indie designers that I saw had animal ears or features, which I don't really like.

So, Sunday at around 10:00 pm, I, in all my wisdom, say to myself "I want it! So I'll make it!" I already had some material from a previous failed attempt, so might as well use them.

I dug up the doll skeleton and the body I had and stuffed that thing. By then it was already late and I had to work on Monday so, to bed I went.

Canto 2- The Real Start

By morning on the following day, I had already gotten over the Idea of making a plushie myself. Too much work. Too little skill. Like any other good little ADHD demon, I am allergic to completing my own projects and I jump from new idea to new idea too quickly to get anything done.

So, imagine my shock when at 11:00 pm I get that little itch to just make the thing. That little night owl brain magic that happens when everyone else is asleep and you are just now deciding to be productive.

So I grab the body, my embroidery thread and a bathtub of coffee and I just started.

Luckily I already had a pattern that a friend printed out for me two years ago. But then, the mistakes also started.

Mistake 1- Improv

I had no idea what I wanted to make. I had a design that I had painted In photoshop before but I didn't have that materials nor skills for that. So I made a simpler one on the spot. I don't own a printer. I don't have transfer paper. So... like a person with a very aesthetically pleasing smooth brain, I just drew the design STRAIGHT ON THE FABRIC with BRIGHT red pen.

Mistake 2 - The bright red pen

At the start it wasn't much of an issue just something to mark the design because I don't have a tearaway stabilizer.

By the end of this saga, those smooth clear lines had bled SO MUCH I could no longer tell the difference between te guide and random stains. Oh! And you can also see the guidelines from the outside of the doll. Cool.

Mistake, the third - The felt hair

This doesn't seem like a mistake, but trust me, It will haunt the narrative.

Mistake forever after - Hubris

It took... around 1 hour to line up everything correctly on the embroidery ring? Why? Because I am stupid, that's why.

During this first day I decided that I didn't need to use pins. I could just put it on the ring by eyeballing it. How bad can it be?

I was a fool. There's a reason why professionals use them, and there's a reason why some people sew some pieces temporarily during certain steps of the process before finally attaching them together. Pins truly are unsung heroes.

Canto 3- The unembroidered

So... embroidery. Embroidery is hard. Symmetrical embroidery is hard. Symmetrical embroidery with bleeding guidelines and no stabilizer is HARD. Symmetrical embroidery with bleeding guidelines, no stabilizer and you are a total beginner is maddening.

I watched someone do it by hand on YouTube before and I tried to mimic the process as much as I could. It didn't help much. Youtube tutorials can only do so much to compensate my lack of experience.

By the time I had done one eye I was already seeing problems. My stitches were all scattered to the four winds. They were all going in different directions. Some of them were too far apart or too close to others. The lines in the back of the doll were piling up and there were more knots in the thread than in your average omegaverse fic.

I went colour by colour. First black since I needed it to line the hair and it was the most used colour, then white just for the little highlights and finally red.

(Funny thing, the number of this red thread of this brand is 666 wich is kinda funny for miss hellscreen over here.)

After the red thread it finally started to look kinda decent (by beginner standards)

Canto 4 - Revenge of the felt hair

After all the embroidery was done it was finally time to get her off the ring and sew the parts together.

For those unaware, the regular soft plushie material, Minky, is really lightweight and very thin. Felt... isn't thin. And when you are sewing a plushie head with may parts and layers, all those millimeters of fabric pile up really quickly. One layer of felt is easy to pierce with a needle. Five layers? Not so much. Several needles were broken in the process of joining the front of the head with the back. I do not own a sewing machine. I did all of this shit by hand.

Thank god for the tetanus vaccine. When I say this little creature has my blood, sweat and tears, I MEAN IT.

The curse of the felt hair didn't end there.

Now that the head was done, it was time to stuff it.

Naturally, I had to rip parts of the stuffing to get it inside the head and around the skeleton. This sent bits and pieces of the thing flying everywhere. My room is FILTHY. And the felt hair got the worst of it. All those little dusts and microfibers stuck to it like a fly in a web. As I write this I am still trying to rip out bits of stuffing without damaging the felt. It is horrible. My girl is DIRTY.

(Also, plushie heads take WAY more stuffing than I thought. Holy shit.)

Finally, on the last day, it was time to attach the body to the head and sew the back of the hair. (I should have done that before but... more layers of felt. Broken needles. You know... nheeeeeee)

So, with a lot of fear in my heart I ladder stitched those bastards together and mocked up a decent enough pattern for the back of the hair. And just like that.... she is done.

Canto 5- The Plushie Defining

So... what did I learn?

Use pins. Stitch things temporarily with an obvious visible line that you can cut out after and test things before committing to a permanent stitch. If you are a beginner, like me, and are afraid to sew pieces together because you don't want to ruin your embroidered parts that you spent SO LONG working on, do this before.

Fuck felt.

Don't use a bright red pen.

Mess up. Make your plushie. Make it ugly. If you hate making bodies like me, buy one made and practice the head. Despite everything, I love my asymmetrical girl a lot. Like... I made this little bastard. She is MINE and I made her. This never stops being magical. It's a nice feeling.

And I did it without specific materials.

Some cheap threads, a body you can probably make too, some felt I found at the discount bin and random needles. That was all. No tearaway stabilizer, no sewing machine, no printer, no embroidery machine. The minky fabric is the only thing that was more of an investment. The rest is pretty accessible.

Do you know that post that says "Everything worth doing is worth doing poorly." Yeah, that applies to artistic projects. Go for it! Just... don't start with something hard like a human... Christ sake that was a nightmare.

I'm probably still gonna get a better plushie of her in the future, but for now, this is my baby.

Goodnight Tri-state area.

#not a doodle #long post

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miiilowo · 2 years ago

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May I ask for some info on characters in your gay boy summer drawing (Idk names sorry)

GRINS EVILLY. yes u may ( vvv pictures for people who havent seen em)

human dudes named finn, big monsters named arthur. arthurs not his actual name, but ill get to that in a minute. theyre ocs ive had for quite some time now but i've been renovating because i wanna make an actual digital horror series sometime in the coming years (everything would be posted to an in-universe youtube channel 'owned' by finn)

Finn is a shoddy paranormal investigator who lives alone in an RV out by the woods. While he's not too far from town, he's out there enough to get in trouble and not have anyone find out for ... A longer period of time than what would be preferable, let's just say that. Loves ghoul hunting. loves ghouls. ghosts and demons and whatnot. Uploads everything to a youtube channel.

One day, he decides to check out an abandoned house thats rumored to have demonic rituals and summonings happening within it, cause why wouldn't he? He gets there. snaps a photo down the hall. sees a numerous amount of red eyes staring back at him, and immediately books it back home! naturally he immediately gets followed home by the Thing he found. this is not preferable.

Arthur, when summoned, only has one way he can get back home. He needs a willing blood sacrifice in order to draw the portal and return- Emphasis on the word "willing". Typically, he would manipulate the summoner into being that sacrifice, by getting them emotionally attached in some way; making them reliant on him. Whoever summoned him last was aware of this, however, and booked it before he could do anything. With Finn being his first human contact in years, he's desperate, and tracks him down-So he can lure him in and use him.

issue one: there's been a string of murders in the woods nearby where he lives issue two: he's kinda thick skulled. since the murders happened recently, there might be some weird paranormal activity happening, right? issue three: the killer was visiting the scene of the crime when finn showed up, as killers tend to do. now he has a murderer coming for his ass

now, you can't really have a "willing blood sacrifice" if someone kills them before you do, right?

the series would follow the two as arthur tries his absolute best to keep finn from getting killed, and over time, arthur realizes he isn't being kind and loving to finn just because he needs to use him to get back home anymore.

anyways. handful misc information:

finn nicknamed arthur out of fear when he saw it staring at him through his window in the dark at like 2 am and it stuck

arthur cannot form words because of the way his mouth is, so he primarily communicates through technology, sort of forcing finn to be constantly recording. think of that one scare in the mandela catalogue where the date displaying on the recording changes to the words 'bad idea, mark' or whatever it says

eventually i want finn to strap a modified spirit box to arthurs neck so he can communicate like that. ideally this will resemble withered chicas voicelines in ultimate custom night

everything about them you can find in the #redux tag on my blog and also on @reduxblog cause i RB everything there :3

#redux #i have more information about them but this is a basic rundown

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eating-plastic · 10 months ago

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Unwinding by the Lake: Ace Visconti x Fem!Reader (SMUT)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, (minors and ageless blogs do not touch please and thanks!), age gap (older man-younger woman. Reader is ALWAYS +18), AFAB!Reader, Oral Sex (male and female receiving), face fucking, face sitting, fingering, daddy kink, slight degradation, lots of pet names, fluff, comfort, probably some grammatical errors

Word Count: 2898 words

A/N: This is a part two for my other Ace Visconti x Fem!Reader fic Away from the campfire. I was originally not gonna write one, but a lovely anon on AO3 asked if I could write one focusing on "Ace using reader's mouth" and I was all like "You know what? I can certainly do that!" Unfortunately, they asked me this months ago lol whoops. Oh well, better late than never, right? I don't know, hopefully someone else enjoys this. Cheers!

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Despite the horrific circumstances that led to it, your relationship with Ace is one of the best things that has ever happened to you. Your relationship continues to burn strong, so much so, that it makes it easy to distract yourselves from the unforgiving and harsh realm that is the fog. It is something you are incredibly grateful for, even with the embarrassment you sometimes feel when he gets the urge to smother you with affection in front of the other survivors.

It is also a sentiment that he echoes greatly. You have no idea just how happy you make the older gambler. While your shyness would make someone believe that you are aloof and uncaring, you are the sweetest woman he has ever had the pleasure of meeting. And while he may consider himself a “lucky bastard”, he truly believes that you actually being with him is nothing short of a miracle.

Ace knows he isn’t the best man in the world. While he can be helpful and even heroic in his own way during trials, he also knows that he can be impulsive and brash. Traits that he still possessed from his old gambling days that seemed both ages ago and mere minutes ago. Time works oddly in the fog.

The point is, despite loving you and you loving him, he still feels like you’re too good for him sometimes. A beautiful, caring, younger woman like yourself didn’t deserve “an old fuck up” like him; his words, certainly not yours. No, in his head you deserve a nice, simple life with someone more like you and a nice house with a picket fence, maybe some kids and a dog. A life that, when he wasn’t in the entity’s realm, would’ve scoffed at and continued to chase the rush and adrenaline from a game of blackjack or poker.

Now though, he honestly wouldn’t mind a life like that, especially with you. He was done with rushes and bursts of adrenaline. God, does he hate it here in the fog. Not only because of the trials, but also because they remind him of a fact he hates to admit: he is old.

As much as he can joke about how he’s not as old as Bill or Ash, he still wasn’t as young as he likes to think. Hell, he didn’t even have the excuse that they had where their past lives were full of running from monsters. Heh, zombies and demons; two things that he wouldn’t have believed in, but now, after being here for God knows how long and seeing all that he has seen, would be tame.

After doing five trials back to back, Ace is surprised he was even able to drag himself over to the place where he knew you’d be waiting for him: the good ol’ lake. He leans against a tree and lets out a groan of exhaustion. He raises his hands to his face to rub it in a means to get some sort of energy back.

“Ace?”

His eyes shoot open and he quickly clears his throat at the sound of your voice. As soon as he sees you peek around a tree, he flashes you one of his signature smiles and straightens his back; he hopes that you don’t see him wincing from that. Unfortunately for him, your keen eyes spot it in an instant, causing your face to drop.

“Hey, babydoll. Been missing you,” he says, trying to distract you from his drained state.

You just shake your head and hold his face in your hands, a gesture which makes him visibly relax and drop the suave act he was putting on.

“Tough day?” you ask, though you already know the answer to that. From the fact that you hardly saw Ace all “day”, for lack of better terms, you figured he was marathoning trials.

“Eh, what can I say? I was clearly someone’s favorite,” he shrugs, nonchalantly. “But hey, let’s not think about that. Right now, let's think about you, me, and a nice hour or so alone. What do ya say?”

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You honestly can’t think of a better way to unwind than snuggling up with Ace by the lake. Despite how comfortable you are with your head on his chest and seeing a look of content on his face, you can’t help but think about another way to help the older man relax. Then again, you don’t want to ruin the wholesome mood and the thought does seem rather out of character for you.

“Yeah, this is just what the doctor ordered,” Ace sighs before glancing down at you. Confusion takes over however, as he sees your conflicting face. “You okay, Y/N?”

You meet his gaze and your face quickly grows warm before looking away. Your fingers fidget with the fabric of his undershirt as you try to put together what you want to say.

“Um, well…I don’t know. I-It’s nothing,” you attempt to assure him that everything is fine, but he clearly isn’t buying it.

“Hey, you know you can tell me anything, angel,” he moves the hand that was resting behind his head to hold your hand that was playing with his shirt. “Come on, what’s up?”

You look back to his face and see how soft his expression has become. You sigh and turn your attention to his hand holding yours. You certainly aren’t going to look him in the eyes when you make your proposal.

“I guess…I just have another idea to…help you relax?” you cringe. Oh how you wish you were less awkward with things like that.

“Oh really?” Ace asks, intrigued. He lets go of your hand to tilt your head up to look at him. Of course he wants to see your face for this. “And what might that be, hm?”

“W-well… it might be better if I…showed you,” you then move slowly and carefully to straddle his waist, resulting in him giving you a sly smirk. “Is…is this okay?”

“You’re the doctor, here, baby,” the older man wastes no time with grabbing your waist, with one of them threatening to move lower. “You know what’s good for me.”

God, it’s all enough to soak your panties, but this is all about Ace, so you lean down and kiss him. That doesn’t stop you from rocking your hips back and forth though, especially as he works his tongue into your mouth. Even when you pull away for a quick breather, you quickly move to leave a trail of kisses along his jaw and neck, getting lower and lower.

He can’t help but chuckle at the initiative you’re taking, still as shy as ever but he still feels proud at your taste of confidence. It was funny since you could handle trials like they’re nothing, yet when it’s just you and him during moments like this, you turn into a stuttering mess. Despite that, he certainly isn’t going to stop encouraging you with taking the reins, even if it’s only slightly.

Once you reach his abdomen, you push his undershirt up and trace your fingers over his skin before fiddling with his belt. While you fidget with it, another dirty thought enters your head making you audibly whine.

“Aww, are we getting eager already?” Ace props himself up on his forearms to get a better look at you.

“Well…,” you breathe. “This is about making you feel better, so…you should be able to use my mouth however you like.”

While this isn’t the first time you’ve had his dick in your mouth, he’s never really fuck your mouth before. With your dirty mind though, the idea just sound so fucking good. Besides, it would definitely make him feel better.

“Really? You want daddy to fuck your mouth, huh?” he purrs.

“Y-Yeah,” you mumble, your eyes not leaving the belt that you had just undone.

“Well, if that’s what you think is best, then let’s go ahead with the procedure, ‘doc’.”

You nod before undoing his fly and taking his cock out. You can’t help but wet your lips at the sight of it, before leaning down to drag your tongue up the shaft. Ace allows you to lick away at his member for a little bit, but soon rest his hand on the back of your head. You quickly move to wrap your lips around the leaking tip and look up at him through your eyelashes, silently giving him his green light.

To your slight surprise, he doesn’t start out rough. Instead, he slowly moves your head up and down his dick, getting a feel of things. The pace has you ensnared with anticipation for him to go faster because you know eventually he will. The thrill of it, on top of the pleasant sighs and breaths that escape Ace’s lips, go straight to your cunt.

“Yeah…that’s it. Always knowing just what daddy needs,” he exhales before suddenly slamming your head all the way down his cock. You let out a muffled moan in surprise and feel your pussy clench around nothing.

That is the turning point that you were waiting for. Ace figured you were probably prepped enough, so why not pick up the pace? It’s rough and brutal, every time he slams into the back of your throat makes tears prickle in the corner of your eyes and saliva seep past your sealed lips. And honestly, you only get more and more turned on by it all.

Just as you are about to reach your hand under your skirt to help relieve that ache in between your legs though, Ace pulls you off of his dick causing you to whine in confusion. I mean, sure a little break sounds nice, but you feel more frustrated than anything.

“Shit, am I going to rough for you?” he asks, noticing the tears streaming down your cheeks and how out of breath you sound.

“What? N-No, not at all,” you pant, wiping your face. You take a couple more deep breaths and compose yourself before speaking again. “I’m enjoying this too. I-I want you to continue. Please, I…I want your cum down my throat”

You feel way to fucked out at this point to feel embarrassed by your confession. All you do feel like doing is giving the older man the best puppy dog eyes you can muster and moving your head back down to lick the tip of his member. Ace lets out a hiss and tightens his grip on your hair from your actions.

“Hah…you’re gonna be the death of me, angel,” he chuckles and nudges your head closer to his dick.

With that, you eagerly wrap your lips around him once more and he resumes the harsh pace he had before. Your hand can also complete its mission of granting you a bit of relief as it is able to move under your skirt and push your damp panties to the side. The feeling of your index and middle finger gliding through your slick fold makes you shudder and moan around the gambler’s cock.

“Aah…hah, you keep doing that, and you’ll get your wish granted for sure,” Ace groans and rolls his head back.

You take this as motivation and know exactly what to do to drive him crazy. You move your finger to stroke your clit, making you moan and whimper even more.

“Fuck! Mm I knew you’d like the sound of that. Who kn-ah knew a sweet lil’ thing like you could be so dirty,” that’s when you feel the slightest twitch of his cock against your tongue. God, he is so close and that just thrills you even more. “O-oh…! Heh, you just love being used, huh? Just like being daddy’s favorite sex toy, right?”

If you could nod, you would, but instead you answer with what you’ve been giving him before: your muffled noises and willing mouth.

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it! Oh fuck! Fuck!”

Your mouth floods with Ace’s cum and you try to swallow as much of it as possible, but it’s not an easy feat from just how much of it there was. What you can’t get down drips past your sealed lips just like your spit. It’s all overwhelming enough for you to pull your hand away from your wet cunt to grab his thigh as a brace.

Once he comes down from his high, he pulls you off of him and pulls you both to sit up. He then tries to gently wipe your face as clean as he can get it.

“There we go. Good as new,” he smiles and kisses your lips tenderly, something which you eagerly return.

“Do you feel better now?” you ask when you two pull away. Ace laughs before placing another kiss to your forehead.

“Oh yeah. That fixed me up real nice,” suddenly, he grabs your hips and pulls you closer to him. “But unfortunately, doc, I don’t think I got the money to pay you. You need a reward though, and I think we can work something out.”

“O-Oh, well…you really don’t have too. This was all about you,” you stutter despite your body crying for its canceled release.

“Really?” he drawls and places open mouth kisses along your neck. “So that little pussy of yours doesn’t need any attention? Come on, sweetheart, I saw that hand of yours under your skirt.”

To prove his point, he too snakes his hand underneath the soft fabric. When his fingers meet your soaked lips he hums in amusement.

“Oh yeah, my babydoll needs something all right,” he smirks and slips his index and middle finger inside of you, making you gasp. You then grasp at his jacket and pant while he pumps his digits. “Hmm, let me think….Oh, I think I know.”

“W-What?” you whine, but then give him a frustrated huff as he pulls his fingers out of you.

“I’m thinking about treating you to a nice seat right…here,” he then raises his hands to motion at his face.

“Oh,” is all you can squeak out as a response, but Ace can tell you love the idea.

“That sounds good, doesn’t it, angel?” he purrs and plays with the waistband of your panties before pulling them down, indicating that he wants you to take them off. You nod your head eagerly and awkwardly remove the fabric due to your position. “Mhmm, I thought so. Now then, let’s get comfy again.”

With that, he lays back down and casually rests his hands behind his head, waiting for you to get into position. You slowly and carefully move yourself up his body until you’re eventually hovering above his face.

“Uh…is this ok-ah!” you get cut off as Ace pulls you down and your pussy collides with his mouth. He wastes no time licking away at you, his hands now gripping your thighs next to his face like a vice, making loud, shaky moans tumble from your lips.

“A-Ah! A-Ace, slow down-hah!” you cry out, but still grind yourself against his face. God, you’re already so close to cumming and you only seem to inch closer each time his nose brushes your clit.

In response to your plea, the older man hums before latching his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks on it hard. You wail out in pleasure and almost double over. Your hands scramble to grab anything as a brace, one settling on Ace’s hair and the other grasping at the dead grass underneath you two.

Your new hunched position makes it a little hard for him to breathe, but truthfully he couldn’t care less; he’ll happily suffocate between your legs as long as it means he gets to taste you. This thought makes him release your clit from his mouth, opting to now fuck you with his tongue instead. That doesn’t mean the bundle of nerves in between your legs gets a break though, as he lets go of one of your thighs to stroke it with his thumb.

This is what ultimately does you in, as you cry and your thighs tremble from his actions. All it takes is three more strokes of his thumb before your release washes over you, your sobs of pleasure echoing off of the trees around you. Ace slips his tongue out of you and places kisses along your wet slit and his hands massage your thighs as he waits for you to come back down to Earth.

Once you get your bearings, you shakily move off of him to sit and continue to catch your breath. Ace props himself on his forearms to flash you an amused grin, licking your slick from his lips and wiping the rest off with his sleeve.

“Whew! God, you are perfect,” he muses, making you laugh shyly. He then scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around you, embracing you at his side before peppering the top of your head with kisses. You can’t help but giggle at this and bury your face into his neck, a pleasant sigh leaving your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper as you nuzzle into him.

Ace gives you a smile and looks down at you. No, he may not think he is good enough for you, but you clearly think he is. And that is all that this old gambler needs.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

#dead by daylight #dbd #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #ace visconti #ace visconti x reader #ace visconti x fem!reader #x reader #rita writes

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dankdungeonsrpg · 6 months ago

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Big Trouble and the Mythic Underworld

Have you seen the 1986 John Carpenter masterpiece Big Trouble in Little China? ...Because you should.

Briefly, Big Trouble is a fantasy adventure film about a man trying to find his truck.

As you may have seen before on this blog, I'm a big fan of a small family of RPG podcasts, including Keep Off The Borderlands. Currently, this show does a monthly movie call in episode. As you may have guessed, the most recent was about Big Trouble.

This film excels at a lot of things but my favorite is its portrayal of a Mythic Underworld.

Briefly, a Mythic Underworld is a (typically underground) place where reality gets pushed aside. The deeper you go, the more fantastic it gets. IE: a dungeon.

John Carpenter discussing the film on set in a behind-the-scenes interview available to watch on YouTube.

One of most fun bits of this is that it is set in modern-day (1986) San Fransisco, so the introduction of magic and monsters gets wild. We also have the advantage of our audience perspective character, Jack Burton, being an outsider. So he and the audience get to be flabbergasted together when a ghostly sorcerer passes through his big rig.

Some Fun Ideas (d6)

With this in mind, I thought it would be fun to come up with a table of plot hooks that can take us from the ordinary to the fantastic in our RPGs, specifically focused on the modern world and comedy.

Astute readers may recall I did a similar thing with my call in to an earlier Movie Monday podcast episode, and encapsulated that in an article on 1963's The Raven. These kinds of lists are meant to be a reference to the Sword Breaker podcast, which I miss dearly.

d6 modern supernatural story hooks:

Congratulations! You’re the new owner of a historic colonial home. One issue, the flagstones were placed in such a way as to create a door to the spirit realm every equinox. This tends to dramatically reduce market value so it wasn’t disclosed in the sale and your inspector missed it…sorry!

Turns out, one of those early a-bomb tests tore open a rift to the 9th dimension. So that cross country road trip took you from route 66 to between the atomic structure of solid matter. Avoiding the aliens living in there, pretty easy, getting back to our reality…a bit more difficult.

Due to an ancient prophecy the high rise office building you work in is now zoned over a ley line. So you’re gotta have to meet your corporate deadlines while sorcerers from across time battle over the property, but that’s just life in the big city for ya.

Those suburban homeowners associations? Satanists. I know, not really that surprising but in order to fulfill your new neighborhood obligations you will have to seek out Belial, do battle with his 80 demonic legions and/or 50 spirit legions afterward presenting a virginal sacrifice.

Government bureaucracy may seem totally soulless, but that’s because it actually is a giant machine that sorta just tabulates everything. So to renew your license there’s a whole labyrinth of mechanized dead traps to fight through for that to be approved.

The cosmic forces of law and chaos hold a tournament for control of the universe every planetary conjunction. The game itself and the champions representing mortals are determined by one of our competitions which happens to start at the time of the conjunction. All this is to say congrats on your bowling league making the finals, but they’re gonna be a bit different this year.

#big trouble in little china #john carpenter #indie ttrpg #modern fantasy #comedy #ttrpg #rpg

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doom-nerdo-666 · 3 months ago

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My personal Doom "manifesto" (yes, calling it that)

This is a list of things i would do if i had control over the series (which will never happen)

This post was in my drafts for a while, so some info is already outdated by the time this comes out.

On one hand, stuff everyone could agree is good, on another, some very specific and weird stuff.

That and a lot of this stuff relates to my OCD and awkward preferences but in a logic of "nothing is lost, something is gained".

Also a logic of "canonicity" as in "how canon/official is something".

By the way, SOME of this stuff here can be found in the tag "important" but even other tags like "opinions" and "idea" include stuff in here.

In fact, there's probably stuff i could've added in this post that i forgot as of writing this.

Not only that but as i keep making posts in this blog, maybe i could even have new ideas and concepts that could/should/would've been on this post but may never be added, who knows.

(there's also the fact that Tumblr has a character and link limit)

Anyway:

Concept art

Something i think would be neat is "preserving" concept art in a game, like ingame galleries.

Specially for stuff like unused designs, early iterations, unused sprites, ideas, promo material, cover art etc.

Could even be for stuff that may never be used, so the inclusion of the art could still count as "saving an idea".

Because even the art books (So far, there's of D3, 2016 and DE) and stuff like the id vault in D+D2 don't cover anything.

And with the older games or even mobile spin-offs, i'd probably have galleries for sprites that are used (Sometimes, because they're not "fully shown", like how in D2RPG, the Holy Water Pistol pickup sort of noclips with a ceiling).

(or even the D1 intermission screens and how the buildings are covered by text and the blood spots... again depends on how OCD one can get)

But yeah, there's always concept art and sketches you'd have to look for in social media of artists even.

Also art for promo material like box art, since D64 has that unused cover art.

If classic Doom ever gets an "art of classic Doom" sort of book, consider: sprite rips, unused sprites, photos of models and assets, even concept art like the recently shown D64 artworks or even concept art/materials for the cancelled 90's Doom movie and Doom 3DO FMV stuff.

So much history to cover.

Similar to this is model showcases

Specially for a re-release of Doom 3 (that is actually good)

Like showing off models of Doomguy/marine, demons, weapons and maybe some other stuff.

Even some pre-existing examples could be improve on.

A specific example is showing the inside of Doomguy's helmet because there's always stuff that has details we barely/never see.

Manuals and booklets

Similar to above, since there's always texts that could relate to "lore" or at least sound interesting and with personality.

Maybe even the use of fonts and the style too.

Like how D2's manual states where cybernetic demons come from, maybe even Final Doom mentioning Doomguy's pickup truck or the non-canon 2022 date in SNES' manual.

Maybe one issue is console ports because of how the original booklets mention computer buttons or those of specific consoles but still.

Speaking of texts worth preserving: Master Levels for D2 came with texts that people read through DOOM-IT at the time.

I aslo recall there being a "lore book" of DE.

Speaking of lore, they might as well include even "outside lore" like when Hugo Martin said stuff in interviews or streams.

"Museum"?

Depending on how much stuff i think should be preserved and is about Doom history, this idea could be cool.

Like something out of Ratchet and Clank.

Also, even the music and sounds like a jukebox or playlist.

(even for unused sounds like cut character voice lines in DE or Reznor's D3 sounds)

Now speaking of showing off cut content: Levels and maps, which is more complicated.

It’d probably use The Cutting Room Floor and some community members like MarphyBlack as helpful reference.

Ports

There's some stuff that hasn't been ported, like the PS1 version of Doom and Final Doom.

Some probably don't have reverse engineering projects too.

With the RPG games, i'd think of the following:

Both versions of each game, since they had more than one version.

Preserving D2RPG's comic

Art galleries with all sprites

Even the "touch" controls/UI/sprites for D2RPG, at least if there's a Switch port (or in general, if it returns to mobile and doesn't go away)

Also, you know the computer in the Fortress of Doom with the Doom ports?

Imagine an upgrade to that including all classic Doom's and even the mobile spin-offs and both Sigil's...

(i could say even Romero's E1M4/8 deserve to be "canon/official" but at that point, i'd hire him again and fund whatever he'd want to do with the Doom name)

And even the classic Heretic/Hexen/Quake games (expansions included) just because Doom already took enough from its brothers lol.

On the subject of porting episodes/mapsets/wads: Make sure Master Levels are seperate (Like a menu selection for each map/This is also because of how Bloodsea Keep had a missing linedef/script thing that worked because of the map 7 slot) and come with their original texts (So people know the lore of the Cyberdemon who became a Doomguy).

Speaking of preserving content: Something about showing the original TITLEPICs and credits screens (because i recall BFG edition being guilty of changing it)

(Maybe if we give people options to change stuff, like the 2 menu themes in DE)

If DE gets a special edition release a decade later, i'd like to include stuff that was planned but cut like specific podiums, skins, icons, master levels, even the "gold bosses" etc.

When it comes to the Bob Ross skin: Change the afro to a painter beret and then put the afro on a disco skin.

So you can save both the clothing and afro just by seperating them.

Speaking of modern console ports: Keyboard and mouse support should be considered.

On the subject of classic Doom ports: Maybe looking into the "things" limit, because i think Final Doom had stuff flickering due to that.

(I also recall that Sigil, when it was added to the Unity ports, ended up affecting the limits of stuff like linedefs and things in general, which is also tied to some of the addons, no?)

"Backporting" Doom related stuff from other games

Like when Fallout 4 had that Creation Club thing about Doom or Doomguy's cosmetics and Doom related stuff in Quake Champions or other games.

I guess even using the Harbinger of Doom from Wolf RPG counts.

What about cut or obscure content like PS2's Quake 3 port and the unused Doom lines?

Preserving even the merch and other media

Like an ingame gallery option for THE Doom comic or digital stans of real life Doom merch that existed (Which is like the opposite of how DE had collectibles ingame turned into real merch).

Because there's obscure examples like the Symbiote Doomguy/Phobos with a BFG dolls or the "Son of Phobos" snowboard with unique artwork.

We gotta make sure those scans/recreations of the real merch are accurate.

As for the novels or the movies? maybe sure...

What about websites like the lost UAC website based on the RPG games and D3 or Martian Buddy's site?

But what about stuff like interviews or promo art? I guess there's a point when wikis could do that stuff, specially if for example: Interviews with a certain website means the website itself has its own brand, therefore copyright.

And there's specific videos like those of Gregor Punchatz showing off the Manc and SMM models during D2's development.

Game preservation in general

This applies to even game updates or "events", which is notorious in Doom Eternal even for minor things like that Doog easter egg

And let's not forget skins/banners/etc and HOW to get them.

Specially with stuff like Slayers Club, Twitch Prime or the now gone BethNet or whatever you call it.

Or 2016's SnapMap, multiplayer and online stuff like leaderboards.

Even D3's MP didn't have proper off-line with bots, right?

I think any game with online stuff should have off-line options so the content is safe.

Specially with bots.

And specially if bots can be programmed to react/interact with speficic things.

Think of how 2016 MP has the Blursphere, Hologram, Threat Sensor/Pulse and smoke grenades: I don't think the current MP bot AI reacts to that.

Same probably for BattleMode.

The older games are simple in that regard i think.

The mobile games are mostly lost except for the reverse engineering ports by some fans but Resurrection is totaly lost (maybe).

Edit: I think a file of Resurrection might be on the Internet Archive, so hopefully something is done to save that game.

Mighty Doom should have a "finished/off-line" version that has all its available content and can be access without monetization or online.

In fact, when it does get that "finished" version: I like to think it could've been a minigame inside a bigger Doom game.

VFR? I dunno, did it have a "not VR" option?

Another thing: Game updates that rebalance the game, which affects strategies and stuff, which honestly is kinda weird in singleplayer games and feels like a "George Lucas" thing except Lucas' edited movies didn't replace the older ones.

Also related to game updates: When DE replaced Mick Gordon's theme with the new one from TAG and then id added an option to switch between one and the other.

An idea i had for 2016 was a horde mode where it would use the maps and contents from MP (and there'd be bots based mimicking players, that would use the weapons and randomly generated armor parts to show off the armor).

Restoring cut content?

There's always unused/cut ideas i like to think should be in a game and not just as gallery images or museum showcases: Actually used.

Like a D64 episode that uses its unused enemies, weapon (destined to be a flamethrower) and level themes

Or a D3 expansion with Trent Reznor's sounds, the Arachnotron, Birdman etc

Honestly, this stuff could at least be spin-off/expansion material because "MAIN" games will obviously prioritize new ideas.

But i like to think so much stuff in the cutting room floor or some underworld of ideas deserves a second change.

Who knows, maybe there could be a classic Doom spin-off that's like a canon/official Doom Delta where DrPySpy helps make the Doom that Tom Hall wanted to make.

Also, if the cancelled Doom 4 is restored: I'd prefer restoring all the other cut stuff first just to be sure.

Expansions?

I like to think D3 could have something by the people behind that Phobos mod (and at the same time, its sequels so it could be on par with 2016 having Eternal and TDA).

But even with DE, i always felt it'd be cool if it had expansions with either ARC/Sentinel soldiers or even Crash and Phobos.

I already said D64 having the cut content in extra levels.

Speaking of Crash/Phobos

I'd be interesting integrating them in Doom, not just playable in DE expansions but even have their own classic Doom episodes, skins like their classic armors and collectible toys.

Remastering designs

Instead of "remaking" the old games, i prefer when a brand new Doom just picks up old designs and modernizes them.

And there's always old little things that may not return like the UAC with blue carpets.

I like to think old designs can be "remastered" in different ways like how FIREBLU is either fire, crystal, frozen magma or something else.

Like a question that could have multiple answers.

The idea of remastering things in different ways could require different artists.

Doom 3 better edition

Again, someone can find my D3 re-release idea post where i wrote what i think it should be, as opposed to what we got in the BFG Edition and later releases.

Third person camera options?

Because i'm obsessed with the idea of designs being "shown" that leads to the gallery stuff, so even this one sort of counts

Something similar is camera modes.

Maybe noclip counts as "exploring how a game looks" because even some classic Doom console ports remove that cheat

Skins/themes of pickups

Basically, exploring the themes of Doom's worlds through gameplay items, which is something that was always fun in Doom

Also as a response to modern Doom making its pickups "videogamey" because of the idea that these ideas are supposed to "exist in their worlds".

(And to have a better look at the quality of some models and appreciate them more)

But it's fun to imagine weapons, ammo, power ups etc in variations based on UAC, Hell, Sentinel or Urdak.

"World expansion in gameplay"

In general, i'd expand Doom's worlds/themes through gameplay: Pickups/weapons/etc under specific themes, interactive stuff like vehicles and weapons or enemies and even locations based on these worlds. And this sort of "theme/world expansion" doesn't have to be exclusive to a specific version of the Doom universe because in some ways, certain ideas, as usual, may not work in some versions of lore/style/gameplay/etc.

Quality of life additions

You know how classic Doom sprites have certain issues like missing pixels, missing rotations or even the wrong blood in Cacos and Hell nobles?

I wonder if some port even considered adding them, even as an option just because.

In general, think of anything by fans considered a "fix" like how people fixed the missing yellow key in TNT's map 31.

Or even stuff like brightmaps?

Modding

Important, even if there's legal stuff behind ever releasing source codes.

Gotta make sure people can do the most with these games.

Also, save SnapMap.

"From influencee to influenced"

You know how Doom 3 even copied the Gravity Gun or modern Doom may have taken its platforming from Turok?

I'd unironically push that further.

Consider that as the "daddy of FPS" honoring its off-springs, specially dead franchises.

But also as a way to make Doom look like a spoiled child that gets all the toys.

It'd make Doom feel expanded with how many gameplay features exist.

Both Doomguy and the demons with expanded movesets for crossovers even.

"Canonizing fanfiction, even if basic ideas everyone had"

Or ideas basic enough that feel like id themselves could've thought out.

Because when people want to see the series grow, they probably think of what they want to see and what's already put in various mods or is treated as canon.

A lot in Doom modding and fandom already feels like stuff that id could/would/should've done, like an alt timeline of the series.

If we can have Doomguy say "rip and tear", i don't see why he also can't do the Skulltag taunt sound.

That and how people forget that concepts like the mere term "Doomguy" is fanmade.

Spin-off galore

I feel a lot of my ideas (and others') would work better in spin-offs, because it's almost like a "less serious" area.

Like one thing is a mainline game where you have to think of the whole picture and how fresh it has to be.

But with spin-offs, you can either do things a bit more casual, for the sake of fun, throwing stuff and see what it sticks, or even do out there stuff like how the RPG phone games are turned based.

A specific thing i'd explore in Doom spin-offs is anything "sand box" related: Like side modes where you explor gameplay mechanics or toy with stuff for fun, like pitching demons against each other.

Emphasising on different interpretations, lore included

As usual, i keep saying stuff about how Doom's setting is fun to make different versions of and even lore applies to it.

Plenty of ideas i've had in this blog and will continue to have (or even some that i stole)

I talked so much about Doom's potential for versatility that, if i had control over the series, i'd unironically milk it and make it huge.

But at least one could admit it'd be the most "content packed" FPS series.

All these enemies, weapons, gameplay features and ideas.

Like by checking my "idea" tag, you can find a lot of stuff that i'm sure people could agree are cool.

Or even ideas from others.

Maybe it's a good thing i don't control the series whatsoever, because this feels like it'd be putting so many people on crunch mode, since it includes stuff most wouldn't consider that important.

What about Quake or other series?

Yeah, maybe i should consider the same.

Just think of what i said about Doom and then look at Quake, then make something similar in case i don't do it myself.

Same for others.

Some stuff to link

Ideally, i'd add way more links but there's always a limit, so i'd recommend you to explore my blog if possible.

D3 needs a proper re-release

Stuff existing thanks to fans

How "eternal" IS Doom?

Videos for Doomwiki

Ideal tips for game preservation

Cut lore in DE?

About the "id vault" in Quake 2

Something about remastering old Doom

2 essential tags: idea and opinions, feel free to explore them

At some point, i could edit this.

But after releasing this, i wanna do that "meytr" game redo, which will be a series of Tumblr posts this time.

#doom #id software #fandom #important #idea #opinions

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pengychan · 9 months ago

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[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 21

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

Title: Hell to Pay Summary: Assassinating an archdevil is a daunting task, even for the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Some inside help from ‘the devil they know’ would be good, if not for the detail their last meeting ended with said devil dead in his own home. Or did it? Characters: Raphael, the Dark Urge, Astarion, Haarlep, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll. Rating: M Status: In progress

All chapters will be tagged as ‘hell to pay’ on my blog. Also on Ao3.

*** When you gift an incubus to your son as a slight, and it turns out to be the best thing you've ever done for him. (The bar is on the floor in the eighth layer of the Hells.) ***

“It’s been too long.”

“It’s been just over two hours.”

“Which is entirely too long. We should go--”

“Haarlep asked us to give them three hours before we went looking, remember?”

“And I was against it,” Raphael snapped, stopping mid-stride to turn and glare at the damned bhaalspawn who’d had the brilliant idea to tell Haarlep that their hare-brained scheme to infiltrate the scab on their own was actually a good plan . “That would have been the end of it, if you hadn’t decided to put it to the vote!”

Halfway through polishing the leather of the penumbral armor, Astarion looked up with both eyebrows raised. “No, it wouldn’t have been the end of it. As Haarlep made a point to remind you, they don’t have to obey you anymore. They could go with or without your approval.”

A scoff. “They fact they don’t have to doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t obey--”

“Oh, is the devil missing complete control over his bedslave?” Astarion asked, and Raphael wished nothing more than seeing that smirk wiped from his face. He had no patience for snide remarks borne out of his own grievances for two centuries of slavery.

“You’re making the incorrect assumption Haarlep was ever under my complete control,” he snapped. “But yes, I could make them desist if they came up with something as idiotically suicidal as strolling in a burrow filled with demons!”

The spawn snorted and seemed about to reply, only to pause when Durge leaned in and murmured something under their breath. Not under their breath enough, however, for Raphael not to hear. “Astarion, please. He’s scared.”

Later on, Raphael would be informed with a laugh that he’d looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. He very much felt like he was, to be entirely honest. “What are you-- I am most certainly-- I am concerned that the imbecile is going to get themself caught! They’d put every demon in there on high alert, and I wouldn’t even get the satisfaction of skinning them alive!”

Durge looked back at them, those blood red eyes infuriatingly calm. Was it him, or had their lips quirked upwards for a moment. “I am certain they know what they’re doing.”

“Then you don’t know them at a--”

“Or perhaps you should have a little more faith in their abilities,” the druid cut him off, lifting his eyes from… hadn’t he whittled enough ducks already? “They can fool some demons, certainly. It was impressive, how they simply turned into… er… I’m actually not sure that that was. Karlach?”

“A bulezau,” Karlach replied. She was taking advantage of the break to fix up her armor, too, while Ravengard sharpened his rapier. “Nasty beasts, those. When did they even get the chance to bed one of them?”

Raphael had absolutely no clue why or when Haarlep had decided that bedding one of Baphomet's perfect children would be a bright idea, nor he cared - aside from the fact it was proof of their poor judgment, as far as he was concerned. “The fact they look like a demon doesn’t guarantee their success. Demons may tear one another apart on a whim, and that’s assuming they’re not found out. One demon capable of seeing through their glamor, a single slip of the tongue--”

“You wound me, my pet. My tongue never slips, it’s always exactly where it’s meant to be. And this was a fine performance, if I do say so myself.”

For a moment after turning back to the entrance to see his own face grinning at him, Raphael wasn’t sure whether he wanted to strangle that idiot, turn them into a sheep, or strangling them after turning them into a sheep. But as they had made him back, he settled for letting them share any useful information they may have gathered, first.

There would be time to kill them later, after all.

***

Mephistar hadn’t changed at all since he’d left.

Granted, he’d only been away a few years; it amounted to nothing, for a citadel that had stood there so long that records of its creation were lost to time. But he had changed plenty, and stepping back in through the gates, warmth rolling out in clouds of steam that quickly froze in the harsh cold outside, felt both alien and familiar.

He’d known he would have to visit, of course, the moment he took Bel’s offer to become the steward of Avernus. It was tradition for all new stewards to pay a courtesy visit to stewards of other layers, and that was what he’d been doing for the past tenday. From Dis to Minauros, through Phlegethos and Stigya, to Malbolge and Maladomini, he’d met representatives of each layer - down and down he’d gone, from the first all the way down to the Eighth.

Cania.

Granted, he received a better welcome than he had when he’d first been plucked from the Material Plane at his father’s whim. Two attendants rushed to take his cloak, with one bowing so low it was a wonder his spine did not break.

“Duke Raphael,” he spoke, and Raphael had to hold back a smile. He suspected he’d never quite tire of the title Bel had bestowed upon him when he’d made him his steward. A true title, not the mockery ‘little duke’ had been. “Please forgive us, we were not expecting you this early. Duke Adonides is on his way back to Mephistar as we speak. If you’d be so kind as to follow me, you may freshen up and rest as you wait for his return.”

Raphael was not early and Adonides was being the spiteful bastard he’d always been, but that was no surprise. Any and all who’d looked down on him as their lord’s halfbreed whelp now knew he was capable of ascension, capable of wielding hellfire, and with a keen enough mind to become the steward of Avernus. They would hate him, for the notion alone that a half-fiend could achieve what they could not, but what did it matter? He’d gladly trade scorn for hatred any given day, and he intended to deserve it.

Raphael nodded and followed the attendant to luxurious enough quarters with a sitting room, as well as a bedroom with a hot water pool. It was inviting, he had to admit: even with his resistance to cold, crossing Cania’s frigid wastes was unpleasant to say the least.

“Is there anything I may get for you, sir?” the attendant was asking, and Raphael didn’t turn to look at him before he answered.

“Some wine would be welcomed.”

“At once, sir.” The attendant left, and Raphael glanced at the doorway to his left, towards the bedroom. He was expected to spend the night, it seemed. Not overly uncommon, although not all layers were the same; he’d been sent away from the Iron Tower nearly as soon as the meeting with the steward of Dis had ended, while the steward of Phlegethos had insisted he remain a second night to visit the Pit of Flame.

He wasn’t certain he could tell what he’d precisely hoped would be the case in Cania. Part of him wanted to leave as quickly as possible, and part of him wondered if his presence would cause enough of a stir for someone other than Adonides to visit him.

The answer to that came as a knock at the door that came too soon after the attendant had left for it to be him. He turned, straightening himself, and called out. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Lady Antilia stood in the doorway, the usual half-smile on her lips. It widened a moment before she spoke. “Say, am I still allowed to call you little duke?”

Some of the tension that had been coiling in his stomach faded, and Raphael smiled back. “The High Cantor of Mephistar may call me however she wishes, and I’ll consider it a honor.”

A scoff. “Flatterer,” she said, and shut the door behind herself before closing the distance between them in three strides and pulling him into an embrace that Raphael found himself returning, that fluttering sensation back in his chest. When Antilia pulled back, she was laughing. “Well, look at you - Steward of Avernus,” she said, and turned his head to look at the hair he kept tied back in a loose tail. “And you grew out your hair? Heh. It fits you. I’m glad to see you gave my words some thought. About staying in Avernus, not the hair.”

“For someone who warned me of her untrustworthiness time and time again, you have yet to give me the wrong advice,” Raphael pointed out, and she chuckled.

“Careful there. One may tell you the truth a million times, until they have reason to lie.”

“Speaking of lies, do you know where Adonides truly is?”

“Believe it or not, he was actually called to deal with some unexpected business in the Material Plane. He’ll return by evening to meet you.”

“But I’m expected to stay the night,” Raphael pointed out, and Lady Antilia nodded.

“... Your lord father will ask for your presence come morning.”

There it was again, the knot in his stomach, the primeval fear threatening to choke him; even the fact he was there as an envoy under the protection of the Lord of the First couldn’t quite smother it. It had to show on his face for all his efforts, because her hands reached to grasp his and held tight. “He is not displeased,” she spoke quickly. “I will not claim I can read him as well as others might, but I promise you, he did not demand your presence in anger.”

A long breath, and Raphael managed to force out a laugh. “How do I know you’re not lying now?” he asked, and she chuckled as well.

“Why would he be displeased? You have been sent to serve in Avernus, and you’ve done it exceptionally well. Your rise at Bel’s court is the talk of the Hells. It reflects well on him, that a halfbreed son of his can achieve that much in so little time. That, and he cannot harm another archdevil’s steward. He knows that as well as you do.”

That was true, he knew it to be true. Raphael nodded. “... Of course, you’re right.”

A knock at the door and the attendant was back, carrying the wine and some silver goblets before making himself scarce again. They shared the wine, as well as some idle chatter - some gossip as to what went on in the highest floors of the palace from her part, some speculation over what fate may have befallen the missing general Shummrath from his, talk of music and poetry from both.

They were almost out of wine when Raphael asked, “How did you become the High Cantor of Mephistar?”

Her hand paused midway to her goblet. She looked over, the mild surprise already fading in an amused look. “Same way you became Steward of Avernus. I had talents others did not, or at the very least I played my strengths better than most.”

“You mentioned you’re not much older than myself, and you were already the High Cantor when I arrived in Cania. Did you lie about your age, Lady Antilia?”

“Oh dear, asking a lady her age? You seem to have misplaced your manners in Avernus,” she lamented, but she was smiling as she brought the goblet to her mouth. Still, she did deign him with an answer. “From what I heard, my mother was devoted to some deity before she switched allegiance with the Hells. She bore me willingly and was aware of the cost, I was told. As soon as I was born, the deity destroyed her soul as revenge. My sire took me to the Hells immediately, and I was raised here. You could say I got a head start.”

“... I see.” Raphael emptied his goblet, a thought occurring to him. “You never told me who your sire is,” he said, and Lady Antilia sighed.

“What does it matter? I no longer have a sire, for an act of treason. Lord Mephistopheles forbade me to speak his name, but allowed me to remain at his court. Of this, I am grateful.”

It was no lie as much as it was a twisting of the truth. Raphael could tell that there was something she was not revealing, but he did not press on. She could keep her secrets.

After she’d protected his, he knew he owed her at least that much.

***

“Eugh, stale blood. Are you sure there’s no other way in?”

Already perched on top of the dome and watching them climb up the chains, Haarlep shook their head. “I’m afraid not. Come now, you’re almost there!”

Astarion made a face, but he did keep climbing. He reached the dome around the same time as Wyll did through another massive infernal chain… only to almost lose his balance when one of the boots sank a few inches into the spongy substance. He yelped, only to someone to reach out and grab his wrist before he could plunge down - Raphael. Good to see he wasn’t too angry about the earlier jab, Astarion thought, and looked up at him with a grimace. “Remind me to burn these boots.”

“With or without you in it?” Raphael asked, and Astarion rolled his eyes.

“Feeling hilarious, aren’t we?” he muttered, but he did let Raphael pull him back on the dome, or at least the portion of it that wasn’t yet covered. He glanced back to see Durge had climbed up, too, and was reaching into their bag of holding for two bottles. They drank one, and handed the other to Raphael.

“Elixir of Darkvision,” they explained. “If it’s as dark as Haarlep described, you’ll need it.”

Raphael nodded. His expression made it clear he did not care for the taste, but he emptied the bottle before he spoke. “Very well. I believe we’re ready. Where is the entrance, then?”

“Right this way, my darlings.”

The entrance, as it turned out, was quite literally a hole that looked much like an open, gaping wound. Haarlep took on the appearance of a demon again before slipping in, followed by Karlach, Raphael, and then Halsin. Astarion wrinkled his nose, not really looking forward to going down the oozing entrance, and turned to Wyll. “Ah, the things I do to curry favor with the son of a grand duke,” he sighed, and Wyll laughed.

“You have already earned more than enough goodwill as is, I’d say. Or is it--”

“Please don’t.”

“Good Wyll?”

Astarion groaned. “Gods, I hate you. Love, can we leave now? I changed my mind. I’m not helping this idiot out,” he declared, but Durge just laughed and down the hole they went, leaving Astarion no choice but to follow. He sighed again, just a touch dramatically. “If we die in there, I’ll kill you,” he told Wyll, and another laugh followed him down the tunnel. He tried to ignore the spongy walls around him as he crawled on. Gods, how was this somehow worse than the Illithid colony in Moonrise?

Soon enough, to his left he felt something different from the spongy, stinking substance all around - a smooth wall, which seemed to be made of marble. The wall of the citadel, he supposed, and his guess turned out to be correct when the tunnel ended and they emerged in a small chamber. Astarion found himself staring at a stained glass window, the blue and yellow panels depicting what looked like a face.

An angelic one, of course.

“It’s beautiful,” Wyll murmured, reaching out to touch it. He blinked. “Did you feel tha--” he began, only to trail off when Karlach spoke up.

“Why don’t we just break it and get in?” She reached for her weapon - the Blood of Lathander, more useful in there than just a greataxe - only to pause when Raphael shook his head.

“For the same reason Yeenoghu’s servants haven’t, I suppose. If this window could simply be destroyed to gain entrance, they would have done it long ago. I suspect that, much like the rest of the Citadel, it is unbreakable. I suggest you save your blade for the real Zariel.”

“The real--” Karlach trailed off, and looked back at the window, at the beautiful visage on it, eyes covered by a blindfold. “You mean that’s supposed to be Zariel?”

Raphael nodded. “Before her fall, yes. Beautiful, wasn’t she? Solars are a sight to behold.”

For a moment, Karlach very much looked like she might try to smash the window after all. She was tense, eyes fixed on the image of the creature who’d bought her like chattel, ripped her heart right out of her chest, forced her to become a soldier in an endless war she had never wanted any part in.

Astarion could sympathize; he remembered feeling the same, one time he’d found an ancient portrait of Cazador stashed away in his castle, not too long since he’d become his spawn. It showed a pale, tall woman he only heard of through tales - Donnella Szarr - with her hand on the shoulder of what was obviously Cazador himself. His tormentor had looked so very young in it, not quite a boy but not yet a man, and had obviously not yet been turned. He’d looked somewhat haughty, but his mouth and eyes lacked the cruelty Astarion had learned to know.

How dare you look innocent, Astarion had thought, when you have turned me into this?

Astarion shook his head, chasing away the memory, just as Karlach drew in a deep breath and stepped away from the window. “We should keep going,” she said, her voice tight. “The sooner we get to the sword, the sooner I can stick it up her ass.”

“An interesting battle strategy,” Haarlep commented, obviously approving. Their voice was a low, guttural growl through the mouth of the bulezau whose likeness they had taken. They tilted a bestial head towards another tunnel. “That way, straight down for a while. We’ll emerge in the larder. Nothing worthwhile there, just a few piles of half-eaten corpses and a couple of annoying insect swarms. Took care of the bugs for you. You’re so very welcome.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Insects were definitely going to be our biggest problem here,” Astarion muttered. Crawling down yet another tunnel to land in an opening full of festering devil corpses did little to improve his mood, although now at least the scab felt solid. Going by the gagging noise that came from Halsin he was not the one who had it worse there.

“All good?” Durge asked, and Halsin nodded with a grimace.

“I am beginning to re-evaluate goblin viscera, but I’ll be fine, I hope,” he muttered, wiping his mouth, and glanced over at Haarlep. “Which way no--” he began, only for Haarlep to bring a clawed hand to their mouth and tilt their head to their left.

“Listen,” they rasped, and listen they did… to hear a voice coming from below, bellowing orders in a harsh language Astarion had never heard, but could only guess was Abyssal. The voice grew louder the closer they got. He turned to Raphael.

“What is it saying?” he whispered.

“Orders to dig,” Raphael whispered back, then, “It says that Crokek'toeck is just below.”

“Ah, the giant pair of jaws with unending hunger? I take it that if they freed it, it would be bad.”

“An accurate assessment.”

“Leave it to us,” Karlach muttered, and gestured for Halsin to follow. With the passage ahead narrow as it was, Haarlep had explained, it would be hard for more than two people at a time to drop into the room below, where a group of dretches were digging desperately under the orders of a shadow demon. Still, their best bet remained attacking from above, while hidden.

“Dretches are no concern, but shadow demons can pass through walls. We must catch it by surprise and kill it quickly, before it can run off and gather reinforcements,” Raphael had said.

“Do I win anything if I guess what shadow demons are vulnerable to?” Durge had asked, gaining himself a sound halfway between a laugh and a scoff.

“No,” he’d replied, and to be fair it was a very easy guess. How lucky for them that they had a druid who could cast Sunbeam, and a powerful weapon containing the blood of a god that allowed its wielder to do the same. Hopefully, catching them by surprise would allow them to hit enough times to do in both the dretches and the shadow bastard.

“If it’s not enough, I’ll jump in and hit it hard,” Karlach promised, and off she went with Halsin, Blood of Lathander in hand.

***

When Adonides, Steward of Cania, finally arrived to meet him not long after Lady Antilia took her leave, he was not alone. But instead of his usual guard of ice devils, he was accompanied by a single fiend who was very much not a gelugon.

Still, to be honest, Raphael had hardly glanced in their direction at first, and Adonides did not bother to introduce them. They remained quiet throughout the meeting, and Raphael nearly forgot their presence halfway through it. What did it matter if someone else was present? The courtesy visit from one steward to another was hardly a thing of secrecy.

“Your lord father will see you come morning in the Frost Garden,” Adonides said once the expected pleasantries were over with, all smiles and false politeness as was often the case between stewards of different layers.

Of course, there was the added factor that they’d known each other for a while, and that there was no love lost between them. Last they’d spoken to one another, ‘glorified butler’ and ‘glorified salesman’ had been the kindest words they’d exchanged, plus Adonides’ jab on how Raphael would have rather been a courtesan.

The look he was giving him now made it plain enough that he suspected Raphael’s climb of ranks in Avernus had less to do with his abilities on the field and more to do with his willingness in bed. Idly, Raphael wondered if he’d ever have the stones to openly accuse him of sleeping his way through the barracks as Justiciar Bele had implied, or even of warming Lord Bel’s own bed.

For now, he did not. Instead, once Raphael did his part by bowing his head and saying he’d be honored to meet the Lord of the Eighth the next morning, Adonides nodded towards the fiend who’d been standing by the door in silence.

“Our Lord has sent you a gift,” he informed him, causing Raphael to blink and truly look at the incubus for the first time.

The gift was a shorter, slender fiend with cinnamon-colored skin and simple daggerpeaks horns. They had long wine-red hair and, when they looked up, Raphael could see their eyes were a bright red too. They were strikingly beautiful, as all incubi were, and they were looking at him in silence but with no small measure of curiosity.

Raphael, on the other hand, frowned. A gift to warm his bed and make sure he wouldn’t whore himself out to half of Mephistar during the one night he spent there; as far as jabs went, that was certainly not subtle.

“A thoughtful gift,” he replied, stiffly. “But I am tired from the journey, and have no need of company for toni--”

“Not for tonight. It is a gift, as I said, from Lord Mephistopheles,” Adonides cut him off. “You’re to take them with you when you leave.”

“... I beg your pardon?”

“That, or you may kill them if their performance is unsatisfactory, should the whim take you.”

“I have no need--”

“What I strongly advise against is refusing his lordship’s gift. It is extremely poor form and any lord of the Hells would take offense.” Adonides looked at him with those inky black eyes of his, with no pupils to be seen. They matched his skin, such a dark blue it was almost black in places; he was one of very few members of Mephistopheles’ court to be truly native of Cania, and it made him stand out amidst pit fiends. “I am certain I don’t need to remind you what happened when you last caused offense to the Lord of the Eighth.”

Raphael remained silent, jaw clenched, and the Steward of Cania put some parchment down on the table before turning. “The deed of ownership is ready, and needs only be signed by yourself. You may pick their name as well. With this I bid you goodnight, Steward of Avernus.”

The door closed, leaving the incubus standing there in silence, awaiting orders.

***

“Well, that wasn’t too bad.” Karlach grinned, the Blood of Lathander slung over her shoulder.

Around them, dead dretches lay across the ground. The intact ground, Durge was definitely glad to see: for all their efforts, the demons had barely made a dent in it. If this Crokek'toeck was truly trapped beneath their feet, it would remain there for another while.

“The shadow demon?”

“Dissolved like mist on the third Sunbeam - fucker was so surprised, he didn’t get a chance to run off,” Karlach replied. “I bet hitting it would have been more satisfying, though.”

“With shadow demons being incorporeal, it would not have work--”

“Let a girl dream, Raphael,” Karlach cut him off, and he lifted both hands in mock surrender.

“Far it be from me, then, to interfere with dreams of carnage. But the sooner we press ahead, the sooner you can make those dreams a reality with more tangible foes.”

“All right, that is a good argument.”

“I have been known to make good arguments,” Raphael replied, and glanced ahead. Another passage led out of the chamber, quickly turning into yet another downward slope. “That way?”

“Yes.” Haarlep had once again taken Raphael’s form, muttering something about the bristles covering their bulezau form being insufferably itchy. They tilted their head towards the tunnel with a nod. “If we go that way, we’ll emerge riiight above the chamber with the door. They must have been trying to open them for a while, but it’s still shut as tight as Dispater’s Iron Tower. When I came scouting, there were three bulezaus trying to break in, and a… ah, I don’t know. Kind of an ape, kind of a boar?”

“A nalfeshnee,” Raphael said, and Durge could almost sense the terrible effort it took Wyll not to say ‘bless you’ again. Unaware of the Blade of Avernus’ struggles, Haarlep nodded.

“Yes, one of those. Ugly as they come, yelling orders while doing little else. Unless you count scratching his testicles as doing something. I backed out before it spotted me and tried to put me to work punching the door.”

It seemed that opening the door to the Citadel may be a problem, after all. Durge turned to Raphael. “You said the Citadel won’t allow any fiend to open its door. Is that why these demons cannot get through it?”

“It seems the most obvious explanation. The Bleeding Citadel was created with the one purpose of keeping the Sword of Zariel safe from either devil or demon, so it stands to reason that its door will not open for either. I believe we have the key which they lack, however.”

Durge almost asked about this key, but in the end they did not. They would find out soon either way; for now, clearing their way to the door was the priority. So they just nodded, and looked back at Karlach and Wyll. “All right. You’re the experts. What are we dealing with?”

Wyll made a face. “I never came across a nalfeshnee, but I’ve dealt with my share of bulezaus. As Karlach said, they’re nasty bastards. You can get necrosis if you get too close, they jump around a lot, and you’ve got to watch out for the barbed tails. But if you hit them hard enough and enough times, they’ll stay down.”

“Noted,” Astarion said. “And the big one?”

“It will definitely need more hits,” Karlach replied. “They’re resistant to damn near anything. But they do feel acid, so go wild with that. And necrosis, they feel that too. And if Halsin has another sunbeam or a moonbeam left in him...”

“I do.”

Wyll nodded. “Good - that will help. I’ll try to Banish the nalfeshnee first thing. It may give us enough time to take down the bulezau before it returns, and we can all focus on killing it.”

“All of us against one? Unfair. I like it.” Astarion bared his fangs in a grin, and patted the daggers in his belt. “Very well. Let’s go kill some demons.”

***

Under the silent gaze of his very much unwelcomed gift, Raphael kept reading through the deed’s terms and conditions, his scowl deepening with each line his eyes scanned.

Nothing in the Hells was unconditional, and nothing was ever truly a gift. Anything claiming to be such, coming from any devil, should be regarded with as much suspicion as a nest of vipers - let alone one from Mephistopheles. And Raphael had learned to be very suspicious indeed.

So he hadn’t deigned the creature of another glance or word as he sat and went through every sentence, every word and clause, looking for loopholes and finding… none. Absolutely none. The incubus was to serve him until he chose to dismiss them; they’d be bound to him, sworn to keep his secrets unless given leave to speak of them by him, and obey his orders. They would be unable to lie to him; no exceptions, no loophole where they answered to the greater authority of their owner’s own liege lord - nothing.

His father was gifting him his own personal incubus, and Raphael could find no drawback, no deceit. At the bottom was Mephistopheles’ seal and signature. Seals and signatures could be forged, but not his father’s unmistakable arcane magic, which he could sense in both. The deed was authentic, its terms as straightforward as anything could be in an Infernal contract.

“Is something the matter, master?”

The incubus spoke softly, a lilt to their voice. Raphael scowled, and looked up. “I am not your anything until I sign this,” he snapped, then, “You’re sworn not to lie to me. Tell me--”

“I’ll be sworn not to lie to you once I am named and the deed signed,” they cut him off. Raphal had to begrudgingly concede they had not tried to exploit that loophole. He wasn’t sure whether he was pleased or annoyed by the fact they’d passed that test. With a hum, he snapped his fingers to summon a quill and ink. The contract was sound; no harm in claiming them, he supposed. If he did discover it was a trap, he could always get rid of them.

“Do you have a name?”

“None that matters.”

Raphael said nothing and stared at the blank line on the deed without actually seeing it. In the back of his mind, he heard Barbas’ voice again, the way he’d dismissed his old name as one would dismiss old clothes.

“Lord Mephistopheles is keen to choose the names of every spawn he welcomes home. Your name is Raphael.”

It had grown on him, but at first it had felt almost as foreign on his tongue as Infernal did. He remembered trying out some variations on a piece of parchment, when he was too tired to keep reading up about the Hells or trying to learn Infernal. Anagrams had always amused him and he’d tried with those, but he hadn’t come up with many usable ones, aside for perhaps one he’d found passable.

“Very well,” he said, and wrote that name on the deed of ownership. “Your name is Haarlep.”

“As you wish, master.”

Well, they were respectful at least. Raphael could get used to that. He nodded, and signed the deed before putting down the quill. “ Now I am your master; you’re sworn not to lie to me.”

“Of course.”

“Lord Mephistopheles gifted you to me. Is there anything you’ve been ordered not to tell me?”

“No, master.”

“Did he say why he decided to gift me an incubus?”

“To keep you entertained.”

“Entertained?”

The incubus nodded. There was something almost hypnotic in the way that wine-red hair caught the light, in the tiniest hint of amusement in their eyes, in the curl of their lips.

“His lordship said you can be naughty, and that some distraction would do you good.”

Raphael ground his teeth, struggling to hide his fury at the notion that Mephistophele had spoken of him as such to an incubus. There he was, the new steward of Avernus - having proven himself in battle, as a strategist, as a negotiator - and even now, all that Mephistopheles saw was some halfbreed whore who ought to be pacified with a glorified bedslave so he wouldn’t further embarrass himself and his sire.

“I see,” he ground out. “Well, I have no need for your services tonight.”

The incubus tilted their head and glanced towards the bedroom, at the hot water pool. “Surely you’d enjoy a bath at least, after braving the cold outside. Let me help you bathe,” they said, and moved for the first time since their arrival. They walked up to him and smiled, reaching for the buttons of his doublet. Raphael opened his mouth to tell them to stop, but those hands were already stroking his chest, and they were soft.

What little clothing the incubus had on burned away; Raphael glanced down the creature’s lithe body to see they had both sets of genitalia. “Is this your true form?”

“Yes.” A hand cupped his face, and the incubus - Haarlep - was grinning. “But I can take many forms, master, if this does not satisfy you,” they reminded him, lips a scant inch from his own. They knelt before the chair, hands resting on Raphael’s thighs, nudging them apart. He should have resisted, he truly should have. He did not, and hissed when Haarlep nuzzled against his groin through clothing. “A thousand lovers in one body.”

Of course. That, it seemed, was how many Mephistopheles and his court thought it would take to sate his whore of a son. Raphael scowled, some bitterness cutting through the incubus’ charms. “I have no need of yet more faces sneering down at me,” he snapped, pushing them back. The creature blinked, taken aback only a moment before smiling again.

“How about your own?”

“... My own?”

Haarlep rose again, and kissed him. Much like their touch it was soft, tender, and it made something within Raphael - that yearning part of him he could never silence for long - give way, making him melt under it. He parted his lips, and shivered when that tongue pushed in, incubus spittle already sending heat to his head, to his loins. Still, it was nothing compared to the shudder that ran through him when the incubus spoke next.

“Let me have you now, give me use of your body, and you'll feel every sensation twice over,” they whispered against his lips, hands on his shoulders, before leaning lower to kiss his throat and chest as Raphael’s breath caught.

What would that be like? Looking up at himself , powerful and in control-- call me archduke -- while he could lay back and feel it all, the act of taking and being taken?

The mental image alone was almost too much, and Raphael let out a whine in the back of his throat. With a chuckle, Haarlep let their teeth graze at skin before they pulled back; they smiled with the unabashed triumph of someone who prepares to taste the first of many victories - the first inkling that they would perhaps not remain as respectful as they had seemed upon first impression, when they had yet to even begin figuring him out. It took all of Raphael’s willpower not to grab them. He swallowed before he spoke, voice rough.

“No one else, here or at the Bel’s court,” he rasped, “is to ever see you wearing my form.”

A chuckle. “Of course not. It will be our little secret,” they said, and stepped past him, in the bedroom into the pool. They turned, and smiled. “Won’t you join me, master?”

Raphael stood and for the first of many, many times, he followed Haarlep into bliss and oblivion.

And that, love, was that.

***

“Incoming!”

Wyll ducked without bothering to turn, before he even heard the whistle of Karlach’s handaxe flying towards him. It went right over his head in a perfect arc, the blade burying itself in the bulezau’s skull with a crunch. The demon shrieked and staggered back, still trying to claw at Wyll with skeletal hands, only for one of Astarion’s crossbow bolts to go through its left eye with a sickening squelch.

As the creature collapsed there was a crack of thunder, almost deafening in the chamber. Wyll turned to see Durge had just downed the second bulezau, while the third was charging at Halsin with a ranseur, screaming something in Abyssal.

It was nothing Halsin couldn’t take, particularly in his cave bear form, but Wyll had a clear shot and he saw no reason why he shouldn’t intervene. “Dolor!”

The blast caught the demon on the side and threw it against the wall, causing it to shriek. It lifted itself almost immediately, foaming at the mouth, but before it could do anything Raphael’s voice rang out - a command Wyll recognized right away. The bulezau tried to fight the hold on its mind, but it was a fight it quickly lost; when it stood, ranseur in hand, it was entirely under Raphael’s control. Not bad. It surely would come in handy when--

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

Ah, there it was - a very big and very pissed nalfeshnee, back from its temporary banishment to another plane of existence just on time to get itself beaten to a pulp. The creature was obviously no paragon of wisdom, but even so Wyll saw realization sink in on the the demon’s bestial face when it took in the sight of all of them, of the two bulezau dead on the ground, of the third one brandishing a ranseur and looking at it through empty eyes. And, to be honest, Halsin standing on his hind legs to roar right back was a nice touch.

Wyll knew no Abyssal whatsoever, but he supposed the noise that left the demon could very safely be translated to ‘I’m so fucked’. A fair enough assessment, considering their numbers and what each of them was capable of.

At least, they could make it quick… and they did. The demon fought well, to its credit, but it truly was outmatched. The battle was a flurry of spells, blows and blades, and the only creature it was able to take down was the mind-controlled bulezau, with a blow that turned its head into so much gore before it was killed in turn by Astarion, claiming the killing blow with an acid arrow right between the eyes. With one last groan, barely audible through the sound of sizzling brain matter, the nalfeshnee collapsed, and the battle was over.

As Halsin dismissed his bear shape to tend to a cut on Durge’s forearm, there was a clapping sound from above. Wyll looked up to see Haarlep grinning before they glided down from the tunnel they’d watched the fight from. “Oh, that was a lovely show. Say, do you turn into a bear for fighting only, or are there other special occasions?”

“Well--”

“Two sentences, and you’ve already spoken enough,” Raphael muttered, and played a Song of Rest to heal any minor injuries and restore a few spells before stepping over the dead nalfeshnee to get the doors. For the first time, Wyll had the chance to take a truly good look. Brass double doors, with the image of a blindfolded angel holding up a sword - Zariel, surely, before her fall; she looked the same as she did in the stained glass window.

There were brass handles, but no keyhole of any kind. Runes were carved into the doors, inlaid with gold and unlike anything Wyll had seen before. It was not Infernal, that was for certain. “What language is that?”

“Celestial,” Raphael replied, eyes running over the runes. “Against evil, we stand united. Only the pure of heart can part these holy gates," he read. He paused for a moment, as though hesitating, then he grabbed the handles and pulled. The doors did not budge, and Astarion laughed.

“Hah! On a scale of one to ten, how relieved are you that it didn't work?”

“Beyond measure,” Raphael replied with a chuckle, and turned. “Very well. We need someone pure of heart, apparently. Who shall try first?”

Wyll turned to Karlach, and opened his mouth to suggest she tried - surely, the heart part was not literal - but he didn’t get a single word out before everyone else chimed in.

“Wyll.”

“Definitely Wyll.”

“What? Ah, come on--”

“No, you come on,” Karlach laughed, patting his back. “If you don’t cut it, I don’t know who would. Maybe Halsin,” she added, and Halsin laughed.

“I’m certain we won’t need to find out.”

“You don’t know that,” Wyll muttered, his face suddenly hot enough one could probably cook an abyssal chicken egg on it. “I mean, the CItadel is supposed to be holy, and I look--”

“Handsome?” Haarlep quipped.

“Ye-- no!”

Astarion shrugged. “Well, that too. Annoyingly so.”

Wyll rubbed his face before turning to Raphael. “Mizora turned me--”

“Yes, I know all of your punishment for refusing to kill Karlach. It changed your appearance, nothing more,” Raphael replied, and shrugged. “Mortals can be turned into devils without going through all the stages - the Cassalanters from Waterdeep surely can attest to that - but believe me, if you’d been turned into a fiend, I would have known.”

Of course, Wyll knew that - he knew he was no true devil - but even so, he’d been touched by the Hells. He’d hoped it had changed nothing past his looks, convinced himself of it even… but now, as he stared at the doors, he knew he was about to put the theory to the test. If he failed to open them, the rejection would sting more than he was willing to admit.

“Go on,” Karlach spoke, gently, reaching down to squeeze his hand. “Those horns only show how you stuck out your neck for me when striking me down would have been a lot easier. I’m sure you’ll open that fucker like it’s nothing.”

Slowly, Wyll nodded and squeezed her hand back a moment before stepping forward. He’d given up praying to any gods long ago, but now he prayed to anyone willing to listen that the door would open after all. What if he couldn’t open it, what if none of them could?

Enough. Only one way to find out.

Wyll drew in a deep breath, grabbed the handles, and pulled.

***

For a moment after the brass doors opened, Raphael couldn’t see anything but light, painfully bright against his eyes. He let out a grunt, closing his eyes, and reached up to shield his face. His hand wasn’t even midway up when the screams began, wordless, holding all the pain and terror that the Hells could inflict.

Only that this agony was not of the Hells; realization only hit Raphael when he recognized the screaming voices, both of them. Astarion’s and his own, over the sound of sizzling flesh.

Holy. This is holy, undeads and fiends cannot survive this.

Something seemed to grip his throat, a kind of terror he could not name, and he turned, forcing his eyes to remain open. He heard Durge screaming Astarion’s name, felt them rush past him, barely made out their form and someone else’s - Halsin? - as they knelt over the screaming, writhing vampire spawn.

Only a few steps away another form writhed in agony, barely capable of forming words with their next cry as their skin burned away.

“Master! Help me! Please!”

“WYLL! KARLACH! CLOSE THE DOORS!”

He heard grunts as they began pushing the brass doors shut, to keep that accursed light inside the Citadel, but he didn’t so much turn to look. He could hear Astarion groaning in pain over Halsin’s murmured healing spells, but all he could think of was he could not hear.

Haarlep had stopped screaming.

No. No. No. No.

As the blinding light began to dim and finally faded he ran back to where Haarlep had fallen, drawing in air in shuddering gasps, skin blistered and smoldering where it wasn’t entirely gone to leave behind charred flesh. He’d almost reached them when someone grabbed him by the throat, slamming him against a wall with a thundering growl.

“What have you done!” Durge snarled, fangs bared, fury etched in every feature. There it was for a moment again, the pure bhaalspawn, child of murder. A vision out of a nightmare. “What sort of trap was this, you miserable bastard! I’ll tear your heart out and --”

“I did not know!” Raphael choked out, gripping their hand to try and pull it away from his neck. It didn’t even occur to him to cast, to retaliate, to force them to let him go. He could think of nothing but the screams, feel nothing but that rising panic. His heart was pounding, his face was wet. He had not meant to, he did not, how could he? “Please, I did not know-- Haarlep--”

Durge hesitated a moment, then the snarl faded and so did the fury, leaving behind only a look of horror for how close a call this had been, and perhaps at what they had almost done. They let go of him, and Raphael scrambled to Haarlep’s side, to cast a healing spell. It did little for their visible wounds, but the agony seemed to ease and they blinked their eyes open. Those too were damaged by the light, and they had to squint to put him into focus.

“Raphael…” they managed, voice hoarse. "That-- hurt."

You should have kept away, Raphael wanted to scream at them even as he cupped the back of their head to help them sit up, lean against him. I should have told you to keep away, he almost said. I knew you couldn’t step inside, but I wasn’t expecting holy light to pour out. I should have expected it. I’m supposed to know better. I should have--

“I did not know,” was all he found himself choking out in the end. Somehow, even now, Haarlep’s lips curled in a grin. A hand reached up to touch his face. Only with that warm touch on him did Raphael realize how cold he felt against all reason, and how he couldn't stop shaking.

“Aww, don’t cry. Of course-- you didn’t know. What would you-- even do without me, my little brat?” they murmured, and let out a sigh of relief when Raphael cast another healing spell. This time, they managed to lift their head and turn. “How’s my-- ow-- fellow disadventurer?”

“Still-- ugh-- alive.” Astarion grimaced, even through Halsin’s healing spells, as Durge helped him sit up. He leaned against them with a groan. “Gods, that hurt, ” he managed.

Durge let out a long breath. “It’s all right - you’ll be all right,” they managed, their voice not entirely firm. Standing a few paces behind them, Ravengard looked on in anguish.

“I’m sorry-- gods, I’m so sorry,” he repeated, as though he'd summoned the holy light himself instead of just opening a door. Karlach shook her head and grasped his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“It’s not your fault, Wyll, or…” A pause, a brief look at Raphael. He was casting one more spell on Haarlep while they half-sat, half-slumped against him. “... Or anyone’s. The Citadel had never been opened before and look, we’re under a scab in Avernus. There shouldn’t be any fucking light. No one died, that’s what matters. Let’s just all rest a bit, and--”

“Um. Excuse me? You opened the door, didn’t you?”

A voice none of them recognized rang out, causing them to turn. While more of the chamber was now shielded from the holy light, the brass doors weren’t entirely closed - and something had slipped out through the crack, a creature covered in golden fur keeping itself airborne with small, rapidly flapping wings. A hollyphant.

“What--” Ravengard stared a moment, then cleared his throat. “I mean-- yes?”

The creature’s wings seemed to flap faster, the excitement palpable. “Oh! It’s so nice to meet you,” she exclaimed, fluttering closer in a circle that almost looked like a little dance. “My name is Lulu. And you must take me to Zariel.”

*** [Back to Chapter 20]

[On to Chapter 22]

[Back to Start]

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #raphael bg3 #astarion ancunin #halsin bg3 #haarlep #raphlep #wyll ravengard #karlach bg3 #haarlep bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #bg3 astarion #durgestarion #wyllach #zariel bg3 #hell to pay

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