#but it’s such a Faustian deal

[foreverppl]

Orla’s liberation comes at the price of the merc’s. The further they entrench themself into being used as an implement for her to use to her ends, the more divorced they become to themself (though, even that’s a bit complicated. Who is the merc without Orla? Her guiding hand. Her crook shepherding. Her word governing.) She’s building her empire; the merc’s shoveling their grave. But at the same time, her empire doesn’t necessarily guarantee her own (true) freedom and is, in fact, a kind of gilded cage in its own right. You painstakingly build yourself a palace behind enemy lines, with all the luxuries you can scrounge together. Give yourself every comfort, loud music to drown out whatever ghosts you’re still trying to outrun, good sex, good food, people who will jump to murder for you without blinking an eye… yet it’s difficult to truly allow yourself to relish in any of it for more than a couple fleeting moments when you know there are serpents slithering just right outside the gates. Doesn’t matter how much you fortify your house of cards, it can still all come crumbling down with a gust of wind. And what then? One king (queen) deposes another, Vapolis continues on. No one will mourn. Orla knows this. Orla is terrified by this.

Anyway.. @vapolis sending you my therapy bill as I type this.

[saiintvalentiine]

Drabble request for Wifies getting Omz Masked because I need suffering

I had a weirdly hard time with this one and im not sure why...... I hope it's still alright :') does this tie in with the other omz mask request? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I'll let you guys decide.

Word count: 319

It's unnervingly quiet. The mask is usually quiet, at least as far as Ken remembers; it doesn’t necessarily need to talk to get what it wants. But he doesn’t know what it wants, and it’s just looking at him, head tilted in a familiar, uncanny way. Seeing it in their shared world is—

Seeing Wifies’s eye so dark and empty is disturbing. He’s someone who’s always thinking, always moving in his own mind, and yet he looks almost corpse-like with the mask on.

“What do you want?” Ken asks.

The mask has a crack along the jaw. Ken isn’t sure where that came from. Honestly, he thought the damn thing was indestructible, but now it wears evidence of real damage. Who could’ve broken it like that? Where has it been?

“This vessel is a poor one,” it says in Wifies’s voice. “It lacks much of the skill and force other vessels have.”

“So you want a new one?” Ken can do that. As awful as it sounds, Ken can make it happen. As long as he can have Wifies back—

“No.”

—Okay. Less to work with.

“It can be made better.”

“I can’t let you do anything to him and you know that.”

Wifies’s mouth smiles and then drops away.

“Is it a bad thing, to make it better?” the mask asks. “This body hurts. It falls apart easily. It lacks.”

The mask pauses. Ken keeps still.

“You care about him, don’t you?” another flickering grin. “You care about me, don’t you? I’m your Wifies after all. Can’t you make it better?”

Ken is going to throw up. He feels it rise from his stomach and fights to keep it down, fights away the nausea, the spotting in his vision. His Wifies, sickened with Ken’s sin. Wifies’s footsteps are thief-quiet as he gets closer and closer, exposed eye half-lidded and brow furrowed.

“Won’t you make it all better Ken?”

[aunti-christ-ine]

[red-dead-sakharine]

Cinematic ART

Okay actually, I need to talk about this scene some more:

In his post-credit scene, Raphael is framed very very classically with a light vs darkness / good vs evil theme, by having one half of his face lit and the other in shadow.

I can't help but think back to my art class in school, where we discussed the topic on the example of FAUST, where no other than the devil, MEPHISTO, is framed the same way:

The lighting also changes throughout the scene, subtly emphasising what Raphael is talking about in each shot.

As he thanks you and marvels over the crown, the background is brightly lit:

Yet, his face is already half in shadow.

When he changes frame (like a TV presenter, why??? This is such an unusual almost-4th-wall-break. Someone else has to interpret this one for me), the background is dark. This is where he talks about conquering the Hells, ending the blood war, and looking for new worlds to conquer.

This is where the light-dark contrast on his face is highest, too. Think about: Uniting the hells and ending the blood war (by eradicating the chaotic evil demons, aka bringing order) is technically a good thing. Ending war, right? But the blood war is essentially what keeps evil (both, lawful and chaotic) from expanding into other worlds, because it's kept busy in Avernus. The act can be seen as good and bad, but ultimately the consequences will be horrible for the other planes, so he is steeped in darkness, but there's still light in it.

Now he turns again. The background is bright, his face fully lit, as he tells you that he'll come knocking at your door.

The theme is flipped now. The shot suggests 'good', while his words sound like a threat. It's unsettling, and adds to the ominous tone.

It makes it harder to be certain how his words are meant to be taken. Is he threatening us, that he'll come and destroy us? But he did "swear not to use the crown's power to dominate a mortal" (don't get me started on how many loopholes this one phrase has).

After all, we helped him, and are his most cherished client. Maybe it's not a threat at all, and he just intends to contract our services again.

Who is to say? The lighting certainly suggests that he's no threat to us, even if his words do.

I love this ending cutscene way too much.

[drconstellation]

When Crowley met Jesus, and the other demon at Golgotha

You know the scene. 33AD. Aziraphale is watching the crucifixion take place and certain fem-presenting demon sidles up to him.

Aziraphale greets them, and finds out they have changed their name.

"What is it now?" he asks them. " Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?"

I know most you have learnt by now that Asmodeus is the demon of lust, and this is obviously Aziraphale's idea of a flirty little joke (perhaps the first we see? because he's the one who's really as "mad as bag of frogs" after all and that's why Crowley's made an appearance, because he was probably just in the area, you know...), but I haven't seen or come across much meta about the first suggested name, which is a GO "lead balloon" moment.

Mephistopheles, Aziraphale? That's the name you thought of here? Of all places? jfc...you bad, bad angel! lmoa! This is a serious, sombre situation you are witnessing!

Mephistopheles is the name of the fictional demon sent to do a deal with the character Faust in a story that dates back to Germany in the early 1500s. Faust was a like a scientist in his day, well educated in things like alchemy and astrology and other mystical arts, maybe even having wizard powers (why not?) But he was hungry for more power so he did a deal with the devil for 24 years of assistance to achieve and gain anything he desired, and at the end of that time he would be claimed by Hell. Needless to say, despite starting off well it didn't have a happy ending. (I wont go into details as there are lots of variants, and its not that short, and they aren't all that relevant to the point of the post.)

It has been a hugely influential story ever since, appearing in many forms over the years; in opera, theater, movies, novels, adaptations such as Oscar Wilde's The Portrait of Dorian Grey, and Queen's famous song Bohemian Rhapsody. Terry Pratchett also did a parody of it in his 1990 book Eric, and readers have often noted the similarity to the Hell depicted there to the Hell in GO.

Its the origin of the idiom "to do a deal with the devil" and a Faustian bargain. The mortals that enter into the deal with a powerful supernatural entity are usually set up to fail, and we go along with it because we are so used to the trope, its one we've come to expect the bargainer to fail in some spectacular fashion. It's one that keeps being repeated again and again because it so interesting to explore - often the protagonist is looking for some form of happiness, sometimes revenge, and hopes the deal will deliver, but find out the hard way that they should be careful what they wish for because the delivery is a two-edged sword. They may find out that they don't actually want what they thought they wanted, or they get what they want in an very unexpected way.

Back to Golgotha, and our demon and angel. We learn the demon has merely modified their name to Crowley. And yes, they met Jesus.

C: "Seemed a very bright young man. I showed him all the kingdoms of the world."

A: "Why?"

C: "He's a carpenter from Galilee, his travel opportunities are limited."

This is a reference to one of the the tests of faith Jesus was put through before his crucifixion, from the Book of Matthew.

I like this modern version I found:

For the third test, the Devil took him to the peak of a huge mountain. He gestured expansively, pointing out all the earth’s kingdoms, how glorious they all were. Then he said, “They’re yours—lock, stock, and barrel. Just go down on your knees and worship me, and they’re yours.” Jesus’ refusal was curt: “Beat it, Satan!” He backed his rebuke with a third quotation from Deuteronomy: “Worship the Lord your God, and only him. Serve him with absolute single-heartedness.” The Test was over. The Devil left. And in his place, angels! Angels came and took care of Jesus’ needs. Matthew 4:8-11 The Message

Or, you could say: Crowley showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world, and offered the bargain that he could rule them all if he would renounce God and worship Satan instead, but Jesus just turned to the demonic messenger and simply told him to "fuck off!"

And there we have it, folks. Mephistopheles, and Asmodeus. Touche, Aziraphale, you sly little shit stirrer.

[howifeltabouthim]

He bent down on one knee in front of her. 'Then what is your pleasure? If it's in my power to grant it, it's yours. Tell me your heart's desire and I will make it real.' She drew away from him as if his proximity might burn. 'Don't make such offers. You sound too much like a demon with such pretty words.'

Jenn Lyons, from The Ruin of Kings

[loosescrewslefty]

This was SO subtle and clever that it makes me furious about TOH's cancellation all over again.

[spookcataloger]

The Devils Bridge

[dionysiaproductions]

In honor of my deal-with-the-devil script's latest revision, Here's my mood board and my favorite line for each main character:

[dmagedgoods]

A Deal Worth Taking

Here we finally go. I said I would write a story for this confession. And I did. 😁 Rating: Explicit Relationship: Raphael/Male Durge (my character Cian) Tags of importance: sub Raphael, orgasm denial, chastity device and chastity magic (by contract), bondage, bdsm themes, dirty talk, sex toys, blow jobs, prostate play, anal sex, Haarlep mention but they don’t make an appearance Summary: A short while after the game Raphael makes another quite explicit deal with his favorite client. And comes to regret it. Or does he?

((Cian is a Seldarine drow, a sorcerer with a conceited streak, hungry for knowledge and the power it holds, in his spare time a writer and poet.)) AO3 ~ The self-control of this devil was disastrous for a creature so utterly convinced of – and dependent on – his abilities as a master manipulator. Cian leaned closer to place a kiss on this angry, tight-lipped mouth. To his own surprise, Raphael kissed him back. It was not a patient kiss and did nothing to conceal his desire. Raphael kissed him as if to devour him, as if to regain some of the control he had taken from him, his lips moving in a sinful manner that sent burning pleasure through his veins. “See, that’s the core of the problem I’m talking about.” Cian grinned and put some distance between them again. “You will pay for your insolence, little mouse, you will pay for it direly.” He tested the strength of the ropes tying his wrists to the bedframe, but their enchantment would hold him in place. Cian was confident in the spell, and even if not, well, thanks to their newest contract, he had other means to enforce the cambion’s … cooperation. With the faintest smile, he hummed in agreement and rubbed his thumb softly over one of Raphael’s hardened nipples. Gods above – what an empty saying, the gods had no hand in this –, he was breathtaking, and intensely aware of that fact. The magical mirror he had conjured above the bed made sure he was able to admire himself, just the way he liked it, and the desperate state he was in. “You put your signature on the bottom line, my fiendish friend. For three days, you are mine – within the limitations we agreed on.” He knew well that Raphael had underestimated his creativity. And oh, he would find ways to punish him for the liberties he took right now, there was no question about it, so he would make sure the game was worth whatever he planned to inflict on him. “Picturesque.” He muttered. “Surely you didn’t lose your taste for fine art.” The devil’s magnificent horns rested on a soft pillow, thick enough to support the position, his enormous wings spread underneath his naked, crimson body which was bound to the luxurious bed by heavy iron around wrists and ankles like a glorious, sinister painting. Skillfully bound, heat-resistant ropes held his legs wide open, and all his most intimate parts accessible, and vulnerable. Cian smiled as he surveyed a detail he especially enjoyed: another well-shaped piece of metal – pure gold, not iron –, delicately ornate and yet cruel and unyielding, kept his cock from growing fully hard. The entwined bars left space to allow stimulation of the sensitive flesh and for the impressive length to fight against its restraints, but held it firmly enough to be noticeable at all times and quite uncomfortable in states of arousal. – States of arousal like the one he was in right now in this very moment. His hands – their pale white a stark contrast to the dark red – explored the masterpiece this devil was with open admiration, the sharp lines and ridged skin and tense muscles. His massive tail twitched, betraying his inner turmoil. “I want you to watch yourself break apart underneath my hands, Raphael, and watch closely: all the things this little mortal can do to you if he so desires.”

He felt the heat of his body rising under his touch in unrestrained rage. “You insolent little wretch, who do you think you are dealing with?”

Cian chuckled and lowered his lips to the pointed ear to speak with a low voice: “The devil I got to know a little too well.”

He brought his mouth to the sensitive skin of his neck and bit down not too gently, and smirked with satisfaction when Raphael gasped.

The shine of the near fire played on his chest, his abdomen and thighs, and he put enough distance between them to hold his gaze as he ran his hands over his body again, almost worshipping it with slow, smooth strokes, tantalizing, and enjoyed it a little too much when the devil’s hip twitched upwards while he gave intense attention to the sensitive inner sides of his thighs but none to his caged cock.

In his egomania and impatience, Raphael tended to lose his temper too readily, but for now there was little he could do to escape the sweet torture, serving to remind him how pleasure could hold on and last.

With a smile he reached for one of the toys, not the first one tonight, and covered it in warm oil before he pressed the tapered end to his hole.

“Stop boring me.”

Raphael seemed displeased about the new intrusion. Ignoring his protest, Cian pushed it firmly against the rim. His hole opened up around it and there was no way for him to stop him from slowly and steadily easing it into him.

The way he clenched tightly around its narrow end hinted that it rested inside of him in a way that didn’t feel so boring now.

When he touched it again, the magic it held sent soft vibrations through the toy grinding against the devil’s prostate.

Raphael’s lips – a tight line of anger before – now open in a soft gasp. Cian caught a glint of the diamond adorning his forked tongue. Hells, he would love to feel it scratch against his skin while the devil used his mouth to pleasure him … Well, maybe later.

The magic of the plug increased the vibrations and massaged Raphael’s prostate in ways that were hard to bear – as he knew from experience. He usually couldn’t take it for long before it made him give into a rough release.

Of course, Raphael had no such choice. The cage, more humbling adornment and agonizing reminder than flawless tool to actually prevent all sorts of unauthorized orgasms, worked so relentlessly well thanks to a little bonus in their contract. It was written in cold ink: his pretty devil wouldn’t find sexual relief for three days, at least not without his explicit permission, no matter the stimulation, no matter what he tried. Furthermore, he was compelled to obey his every command for the same duration. – Aside from those explicitly excluded in the document. Another interesting detail gave Raphael the power to end this little game at any given moment. But if he made use of this bonus stipulation before the three days were over, well, he didn’t have to pay either.

All the rest, the restraints, the toys, they only served to inflict a delicious sensation of utter helplessness he certainly wasn’t used to.

Raphael probably hadn’t expected him to take advantage of the chastity clause to the extent he did.

His cock twitched and Cian watched with undisguised amusement how he tried to move his bound hands in a pointless attempt to stroke himself, believing he was still the one in control of his cock.

“Touching it would not help you much, Raphael. I’m doing you a favor by keeping it out of reach for you. Imagine the humiliation of rubbing yourself, frantically, unable to stop, but to no avail at all.” He smirked and the devil’s mouth opened. But instead of spitting curses, he moaned pathetically when he raised the vibrations of the toy inside of him.

“On the other hand, you seem to enjoy the thought.”

Whatever words Raphael threw back at him were in Infernal and, unfortunately, he had neglected his lessons.

Pre-cum dribbled from his glans and he reached out to stroke it in slow, tender circles, spreading the wetness and making the cambion squirm in an attempt to escape the teasing touch. The reaction encouraged him to keep going.

“Does it tingle too much when I tease it? It’s weeping already.”

“You forget that you will be mine.” Raphael’s deep voice sounded breathless, heavy with arousal and embarrassment, and still he managed to give the words a threatening touch: “In a heartbeat from now.”

“A heartbeat? I would not call it that.” Cian continued his cruel ministrations. “One month of service for three days of control over you,” he repeated the core of their arrangement without the slightest hint of fear. Aside from the main stipulations, it also included countless clauses and constraints that forbade lasting harm and defined what was to be considered as such. – However, not a single paragraph against keeping the cambion bound to an overly comfortable bed and pleasuring him until he became a whimpering begging mess under his hands. “Worth it. I’m sure a devil like you has no idea how long three days can feel.”

“It’s barely a blink compared to the month ahead of y…ahh”

He thrusted upwards when he rubbed his cock more firmly through the cage and the stimulation, combined with the vibrations inside of him, brought him close to the sharp edge of an orgasm that wouldn’t come.

His tail lashed as he wiggled and tried to fuck himself on the plug without meeting the needed resistance. Raphael inhaled a sharp breath. His heavy balls clenched and the dark purple of his cock seemed more intense than usual between the unyielding golden bars. The build-up must have been more than he had ever experienced before, it looked deliciously uncomfortable, slightly painful, and he couldn’t resist. With another cruel smirk, Cian leaned in and licked the trapped, heated flesh. Raphael whined for him, and he took his caged cock into his mouth as wide as it fitted with the special jewelry around it, massaging the exposed parts with his tongue.

“Take it off!” The devil’s rage was palpable in the very air around them.

He ignored the harsh order and sucked more firmly, lapping at his glans with every upwards motion and taking in the bitter, salty note of his desperation, mixed with something strangely spicy and heavy, unique to the cambion. His cock felt hot against his tongue, even hotter than the rest of his body.

Cian’s hands stroked his muscular thighs while they strained against the restraints in Raphael’s fruitless attempts to close his legs and escape the agonizing edging.

But he was trapped. And he would experience every well-aimed stroke of his tongue, every teasing touch of his fingers and toys for as long as he decided.

The thrashing became stronger as if Raphael sought more stimulation despite the cruel tightness of his little cage. With a pleased little smile, Cian let his cock slip from his lips. It was wet from saliva and the now constant steam of clear precum.

“Remove this vile thing from me or I will make you regret it.”

“Manners, Raphael.” But he was willing to grant him a small mercy and free him from the cage. – For a little while. The lock reacted to the quadrangular ring he wore when he put it into the opening at the device’s side. Carefully, he removed the metal, and immediately Raphael’s erection grew to its full impressive length.

The devil let out a sigh of pleasure and relief and Cian captured his lips in another demanding kiss while he reached for the oil again, this time to coat his hands with it, wrap his right around his devil’s cock and rub it in slow, sensual motions. He could feel every delicious ridge against his palm, the more tender, silken skin near the tip, the tightly pulled back foreskin leaving the glans free and unprotected to his touch while he allowed his tongue to thrust into Raphael’s half-opened mouth, coaxing a moan from him and then another as he kissed him deeply in the rhythm of his strokes.

When he felt the cambion’s cock throb, hard, he removed his hand – and his lips as well.

Raphael looked positively miserable, his hair a mess of brown curls around his horns, his sharp-edged face glistening with sweat and tense in the agony he was unable to conceal, lines of discontent deep around his mouth and nose and a profound anger glowing in his bright eyes.

“Was that another edge?” Cian watched his length leak onto his abdomen and leave a sad little puddle. “It’s so swollen and constantly leaking, I can’t truly tell.”

“You impertinent little worm, don’t think for a second ���”

“I allow you to cum,” he interrupted him. “You have my permission for exactly ten minutes. If you manage to get there.”

He put his hand back and started stroking him again, far more slowly now and so gently as to drive him insane.

Raphael moaned, then gritted his teeth to focus on the sensations.

Cian imagined the bright spike of an orgasm crawling from his tense stomach to his yearning cock, nearer and nearer, building steadily and so slowly it was sweet torture to reach it.

“Close …,” Raphael gasped, beginning to forget his pride. His hole clenched tightly around the toy while the wave of pleasure built with each of his tantalizing strokes.

Oh, Cian knew the feeling, those ripples of sharp sensation radiating throughout his body, that white hot tension pooling deep within. Raphael’s thighs were shaking now. Hells, he was incredible like this, entirely lost in sensation, robbed of all control.

And he had more for him.

Raphael’s body gave away that he was approaching orgasm any second now. He trembled, his full balls drawn close to his body, his hips met his strokes in little thrusts, and the sheer heat he radiated threatened to burn him. His attentive studies of his body’s reactions paid off. Those fierce sensations were right at their very peak when Cian brought the magical vibrations to a halt and pulled the toy out of him. At the same moment, he stopped his strokes and let go of the devil’s cock.

Raphael’s eyes widened. An anguished “No” slipped from his lips, then he groaned with helpless need. His body fought the restraints in earnest now, his cock twitched in cruel neglect. “Please!” It was the very first time he heard the proud cambion beg and the sudden little plea combined with the utter distress in his voice sent a hot jolt of arousal to his own groin.

Ah, if Raphael only knew. This little game cost him all the willpower he had. Cian was painfully hard since they had started. To witness him so defenseless, his beautiful body utterly vulnerable, all his, and the sweet torture he inflicted on him, aroused him direly and to a degree that made it hard not to give in and give the devil the relief he so urgently craved.

“Look at you, what a marvelous view you are …”

He wondered if he liked what he was forced to see in the mirror above him, the full extent of the shameful state he was in.

The cruel edge subsided and the devil was left stranded in sweltering need. Cian imagined his frustration, and how it was made worse by the fact of how good it would have felt, how explosive it could have been.

“Beg me for it, Raphael,” he said, the calmness of his tone a lie, but a convincing one. He would savor every confession, every helpless plea from his irresistible lips.

In the most casual of ways, he slipped two of his oily fingers in Raphael’s hole. He found his prostate with ease and massaged it with gentle, teasing circles.

Raphael looked at him, unable to hide the heavy, feverish desire and he felt him clench around him when the pressure built again. He got there terribly fast now and Cian had to slow down. “Ah, your sweet spot is quite sensitive after all the teasing, isn’t it? Does it feel nice to have it stroked? I might find myself of a mind to be more merciful if I hear you say it. What do you need? Tell me. Beg.”

“Please,” Raphael repeated, the hesitation making clear that the inner battle against his own pride still raged. His desperation, though, was gaining the upper hand: “Please grant me relief.” Cian stroked his prostate more firmly, encouraging his words, making him breathe harder and lose the tense stiffness he had been speaking with: “I need to come, keep touching me, hells, don’t stop … don’t … Nghhh.”

He pulled his hand free when he felt him getting closer to orgasm again. Precum oozed out of his cock with none of the pleasurable contractions or squirting he had begged for.

He chuckled. It was a dark, mocking sound. “Someone is quite the mess.” He met Raphael’s eyes in the mirror and his face showed the shame he had hoped for. “But you’ll have to learn to beg better than that to convince me. And I fear your ten minutes are over. You’ll just take what I give you now, without any relief at all – until I allow you another chance. If I allow you another chance.”

“You can’t be serious,” Raphael hissed.

Cian opened his pants. Unlike his devil, he was still fully dressed and didn’t truly plan to change the fact. Instead, he only freed his own eager cock from the restricting fabric, suppressed a relieved sound, and coated it in oil.

“Oh, you will find out that I can. And now be a good, obedient cambion and relax for me.”

Without further preparations, he brought himself into position and lined his length up with the slippery hole.

The ring of muscles easily gave way under the determined pressure. He was bigger than the plug had been but he wanted Raphael to feel the stretch. His little gasp and the tight grip of his ass around his cock showed him that he did.

It didn’t fail to overwhelm him when he pushed into the heat of his body and he let out a little sigh. Halfway in he held completely still for a moment to compose himself. The sensations radiated through his body and the intimacy of the act made his heart beat faster against his will. Throughout all of it, Raphael had not used his way out, had not rescinded their contract. Either he fiercely wanted to take revenge or he enjoyed it just as much as he did. – With a little luck both were true.

Nonetheless, Cian didn’t allow himself too much gentleness, not here and now. Raphael already tried to push himself upwards in raging arousal and to take his cock as deep as it would go. He placed his hands on his hips and held him in place while his tail moved back and forth with impatient turmoil.

Cian pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained inside the tempting heat, then pushed back in with vigor. They both moaned and he repeated the movement again and again – slowly building speed and a rhythm.

A gasp from the devil and the tight clenching of his insides told him when he found the right angle to rub his prostate with every well-aimed thrust.

Gradually, he increased his pace and fucked him with deep and hard vehemency, skillfully taking ownership of the devil’s body. He used his right hand to brace his position, his left found its way to his cock and enclosed it firmly, rubbing it without mercy as if to make him cum for him. Raphael’s muscles quivered with the sexual tension it created, nerve endings stimulated in all those hard-to-bear ways, no doubt: body and mind focused on the fullness inside of him, the utter control he had over him, the intense overstimulation of his most sensitive body parts and the imminent ecstasy of orgasmic release. Every time the cataclysmic sensations threatened to peak, the bounds of their contract stopped the relief he was seeking. He groaned under him, grunted, hips thrusting, tail swishing, cock jerking in his grip and helplessly dribbling over his hand.

He wasn’t able to stop himself, wasn’t able to hold still despite the agony – or because of it.

“You think I may change my mind?” Cian brought out, voice strained, “Fuck yourself on my cock. Show me how much you need it. Show me how you get off from my control over you, how you need me deep inside of you, how you yearn for me to possess you.”

Raphael was too far gone for an answer, delirious with lust, but met his movements with his own as hard as his restraints allowed, his moans pitching higher. Cian’s mind was filled with his voice, his heavy scent, the way he felt around his cock, and the magnificent view of his now so obedient body.

The silent, forced confession from his devil brought him close to his own release. Raphael’s burning eyes were no longer focused on his own predicament in the mirror, instead his infernal gaze locked with his, reaching for his soul in ways he should never allow with a creature as dangerous as this. But he was lost, he had been lost for a long time already, and willingly gave into it all, thrusting into him with relentless pleasure until his orgasm shot through him, erasing all his thoughts, and ripping his name from his throat.

“Raphael!”

The bliss that had overtaken him rushed through his every fiber and only subsided slowly. His thighs trembled with orgasmic aftershocks when he pulled out of him. His muscles felt heavy and he wanted to press against the heat of Raphael’s body for a while, kissing along his neck, breathing him, freeing him from his restraints and give him the relief he so urgently needed with his hands and mouth before finding himself enwrapped by his arms and wings. Ah, it was disgusting how soft he became after an orgasm.

Cian sorted out his clothes and closed his pants. Then he allowed himself to stroke a messy curl from Raphael’s damp forehead. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he muttered.

The room smelled of sex, their sweat and Raphael’s perfume that was so much more domineering than his own.

Gods, to imagine the frustration his devil had to be in, his balls aching, his hole sour, cock ignored in its helpless, throbbing need while he lay there sweaty, a pool of his own precum on his abdomen and his cum leaking out of his ass.

“You can’t mean to leave me here for three days.” Raphael sounded much tamer than he knew him.

“I won’t.”

After all, he had to obey his commands; it didn’t truly matter if he freed him.

“But for a while longer. I need a break. And a bath. Maybe I’ll allow you one too after my return. Try to become soft enough we can put on your cage again.”

To make the task harder for him, he pushed the toy back into his hole where it gently vibrated with his magic. “For your entertainment. Better hope Haarlep won’t find you while I’m gone. They might get ideas too.”

Raphael’s jaw clenched in anger and a hint of fear flashed in his eyes. While usually he preferred not to have the incubus around, the idea that they could come in and take advantage of this whole situation, brought a smirk to his lips. “You probably wouldn’t especially enjoy it to have them ride your cock while I’m not even around to maybe give you permission to cum,” he shared his thoughts with the distressed devil. His cock, though, twitched as if it were more interested in the idea than Raphael would ever admit.

Cian leaned in to place a chaste little kiss on his lips. Raphael didn’t try to escape his touch. “You know …,” he said, when he left the bed. “If you’d agree to continue this little game for ten years, I’d give you my soul.”

Raphael snorted. “You overestimate your value.”

Cian smirked. “Or maybe you are afraid that, after ten years of this, I would own yours.”

~ thank you so very much @dujour13 and @steampunkserpent for your amazing help and support! (@edisonstolemyheart I saw you wanted to be tagged if this story would happen.)

[josephinevalor]

I feel sorry for the deal with the devil trope. It was turned from a profoundly philosophical question of what one is willing to sacrifice to achieve knowledge and power (as well as the religious cautionary tale against it) to a “character wants something so they sign a deal with the devil and then they must pay for it when rent comes due”. It used to be a cautionary tale against human ambition and never ending quest for knowledge, which the church deemed went against God (a more cynical interpretation of this is, of course, that the church would lose its power with people gaining knowledge that might not align with the church. This, in a way would actually make the devil the good guy).

And on this note, I feel sympathy for the devil. He used to grant forbidden knowledge to the scientists and the scholars of the arcane. Now his role is to help edge lord aspiring rockstars. Also, if we think of the devil as a symbol for rebellion, this would mean that the real rebels are the scientists, the scholars, the people who want to dedicate their lives to the pursuit of knowledge not teens with purple hair who skip class and smoke weed in the bathroom.

[magicstar16]

High Guardian Spice Rewrite: Lavender's deal with The Rot

*Lavender is in a dark earthy pit, filled with dark sludge that goes up to her knees, the walls are covered in dark, rotting thorns. Towering above her is an old, decaying ent. It's breaths are heavy and slow, It's many roots are held by chains, it's leaves are blackend, and it's bark is filled with holes it's face is obscured. Lavender looks up at the Ent*

Lavender: Ramosoi...

*The Ent looks down at her, It's face is made of misshapen, jagged holes, like a rotting Jack-o-Lantern, the only hint of color being a dark jewel in the middle of it's forehead The ent's mouth curves into a smile, and laugh*

Ramosoi: Ahhh... Lavender Salvia. I see you have once again come to attempt to strike me down. I had thought mortals would have at least learned by now that if you are going to fight a god, you should not do it alone.

Lavender: Not necessarily

Ramosoi (Intrigued): Oh? Enlighten me then.

Lavender: I've come to make a deal.

*Ramosoi slithers back, the thorns around the room shift slightly, the sludge bubbles he looks down for a moment.*

Ramosoi: The Great Lavender Salvia, asking a request of me? You know that out of all mortals, you and your team are the closest who have ever come to defeating me? Do not think you are the first to attempt to deceive me like this.

Lavender: No tricks, I'm just here to talk.

*Ramosoi doesn't answer her, he just glares*

Lavender: *sigh* look, I'll even put my sword down.

*Lavender takes her sword out of her sheathe and lies it flat onto the sludge. Due to the thickness of the sludge, the sword actually floats on top of the rotten substance*

Ramosoi: Hmmm.. I suppose I'll humor you

Lavender: You've been around for what? 4000 years? Nobody's ever defeated you. Like you said, I'm the closest whose ever defeated you.. and *Lavender squeezes her eyes and her fists tremble* I've... lost so many friends in the process..."

Ramosoi: If you wish to ask that I cease spreading my influence across the world, I cannot fulfil that request no matter what price you are willing to pay. All things must inevitably die, and I must feed on what is left of husks. I am merely accelerating the process of life and death. It is why you mortals have dubbed me "The Rot"

Lavender: I know... That's why I want to join you.

*Ramosoi's roots shift back a little, whatever reply he was expecting, it was certainly not that*

Lavender: I'm so tired... Not just from fighting you, but watching everyone else fight you. it's always one step forward, four steps back. I still haven't forgotten how my teammates... no, how my friends suffered while fighting you... Sometimes when I'm asleep, I can still hear them scream. And the thought of everyone I love, my hometown, my neighbors, my family... it...

*Lavender shivers, swallowing a bit of vomit in her mouth, but manages to pull herself together, just barely.* It haunts me. So I'm willing to join you. *Lavender holds up one finger* On the condition you spare the citizens of my hometown and my family from your conquest. Or at the very least, my family.

*Lavender holds up her hand, shaking a little*

Lavender: What do you say?

*Ramosoi ponders for a moment, his roots curling inward*

Ramosoi: I suppose having the great Lavender serving me, would be valuable... with the addition of sending a message...

*Ramosoi smiles and leans towards Lavender, a thorny vine emerges from the sludge, and it slithers towards Lavender*

*Ramosoi*: You have made a wise decision, Joining me. I accept your request.

*The vine wraps around Lavenders hand. As Lavender shakes it, pain shoots throughout her body, the thorns sink into her skin, like tiny blades, it feels like her hand is swelling, Her brain feels like someone had forcefully ripped it out of her skull and thrown it right back in with maximum force. IT. IS. AGONY. but Lavender endures it. The decades of anguish she had to bear of losing her friends to this... thing, has been far more torturous than the pain she feels in this brief moment.*

*The vines lets go, and Ramosoi smiles*

Ramosoi: Thank you Miss Salvia. I look forward to your service. You need not worry, as long as you are obedient, your family and hometown shall be spared. You may be dismissed.

*As her cue to leave, the sludge parts into a pathway. Lavender picks up her sword and puts it into her sleeve. Despite the path being clear for her, the warrior trudges back to where she came from, grabbing her hand and rubbing it. She feels sick, physically from the pain she just experienced, biologically from being near the personification of The Rot himself, emotionally from the flood of memories that had crawled their way back to the front of her mind upon seeing that monster again, and most of all, mentally, from the choice she knew that in the future, a part of her would always regret, no matter what good came of it.*

[pasdetrois]

one thing that is so fascinating about vita nostra's finale, beyond the narrative payoff of two opposing forces finally reckoning with one of the primary conflicts of the story (will sasha proceed with her apotheosis or not?), is the intimate and biblical confrontation that takes place between sasha and farit. he who “never asks for the impossible” has stated the one crucial exception when a defeated sasha remarks that it is impossible to live in a world where he—fear, death, the void of unlucky chance and lost faith—exists: “it is impossible to live in a world where i don’t exist.” when farit presents the dream escape to her once again, he has raised the stakes of their initial covenant (the forceful initiation that began this pas de deux, with only a single person as hostage) to that of the devil approaching christ in the desert, offering her a cosmic faustian deal with the entirety of humanity’s future—its mystic salvation, if we are to take sasha’s vision literally—as the ultimate bargaining chip between them. as his current incarnation’s time draws nigh, and as he believes in the world's inevitable damnation as its single absolute truth, so he approaches sasha with the certainty that she must eventually surrender. "fear the general, fear the emperor"—there can be no world, no free will, no love, without his shadow intertwined with it. her devil, who knows her better than anyone else, who knows almost every part of her, has fashioned an inevitable end that all her paths must lead to. yet sasha resists! it is the innermost heart of her that he can never occlude and take for his own. have courage, she tells herself—tells us, even—i will find a way; even the impossible can yield.

[l0stmyfr0g]

The Witch

The woods were peaceful on that day- fog, having no motivation to move or disappear, hung between the trees. In the middle of the woods, a Witch awaited a visitor. 

This Witch was one of the last. He was older than the woods themselves- he had lived in this place long before the first tree had sprung. He nurtured the woods from birth, and the woods were kind to him in return. It was the trees who told him that day, through the rustles of their leaves and the creak of their boughs, that someone was coming to visit him. His name is Egbert Woolton, the trees whispered to the Witch, he seeks power. 

The trees were never wrong. There were three knocks at the door, which the Witch opened to reveal a grim-looking man.

“Excuse my intrusion,” the man said stiffly, striding into the room without a response. Ah, thought the Witch, disappointed. He was familiar with men of this calibre. Still, company was company, and he gestured for the man to take a seat. 

“What brings you here, Egbert?” The Witch settled into his own chair.

The man scowled. “I should’ve known you’d predict my arrival. So it’s true, then? You are a sorcerer?” 

“If that’s what you would like to call it, yes. Why have you sought me out?” 

Egbert shifted in his seat, pulling from his coat a canvas pouch. “I’d like you to cast a spell for me.” The Witch sighed at this, leaning towards Egbert to examine his face. The man flinched. 

“What do you need?” The Witch asked, plucking the pouch from Egbert’s outstretched fingers and opening it, amused by the glint of coins from within. Egbert pulled his hands back sharply. 

“Well, you see,” he said curtly, “I’ve been the subject of some distasteful hearsay as of the past month or so. My father passed recently, and I’ve been accused of patricide.��� Egbert spat the last word, mouth twisting into a snarl. “Now the townspeople want my inheritance to be instead passed onto my younger brothers.” 

“You want to ensure your inheritance? Even without your father’s money, I’m sure you understand your wealth is not lacking.”

“I’ve heard of spells that could do the trick. Things that could teach the fools a lesson for disrespecting me.” Egbert’s eyes burned with spite, “That would have them revere me.”

From outside, the trees were stirring. A murderer, they hissed, branches groaning, the boy killed his father for money, and now he lies. 

“Perhaps I’ll do you one better. How would you like to cast the spell yourself?” 

Egbert straightened in his seat, interested. The Witch continued: “Of course, the gift of Witchcraft is very dangerous to those with ill intent,” he said, “I’ll need you to agree-”

“Get on with it, old man! I assure you, my intentions are-” 

“Do you swear on it?”

“I swear, I sw-”

The Witch tapped Egbert’s forehead, and cast unto him the power of Witchcraft. It was a painful process- the Witch knew from experience. Flooding a human brain with unmeasurable knowledge of the extraordinary seldom ended well. 

Egbert collapsed. “What are you doing to me?” he shrieked.

“You are being judged.”

His bloodshot eyes bulged- full of fear, and realisation. “Please, I’m sorry, I lied, make it stop-” but it was too late: the judgement had been made. Light filled the room, and once it was gone all that was left of Egbert Woolton was a pile of dust on the carpet. 

The trees outside rustled, pleased. The Witch sighed, and got to sweeping.

[gasstationclown]

busting my ass preparing for a new campaign with 6 (!!) players, here are mediocre drawings of the frequent npcs theyre gonna see (horrid quality probably but i dont know how to fix such issues sob)

[lovelyrotter]

DESPERATE to write smth where the villain successfully kills the hero and the victory is short lived as fuck. like the villain is just empty afterwards. they long for the hero again. theyd do anything to have the hero back. their goals change so they can get the hero back