#cause you know she'd use it to be a nuisance

[aroaceleovaldez]

goofy fierrochase doodle hours

[alexanderwales]

"I don't think I could have the relationship with you that you have with me," she said. She was very casual about it, and I was immediately on the defensive.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

She put the book she'd been reading down. "It's just, the way you've described it, and the vibe that I get, I don't think I could do it how you do it."

"I still don't know what that means," I said.

"You're always doing this like ... micro calculation thing," she said. "You weigh your words. You try to time things. You have never once called me up while I was at work, or asked me for something when it was inconvenient for me, and you check and double check that you're not being a nuisance."

"And ... that's bad?" I asked.

"No, I love that about you," she said. "It's very kind and considerate. I know that if I tell you I'm not in the mood to hang out, you'll apologize and not push it. If you suggest that we get pizza and I say I'd rather have Korean BBQ, you fold instantly and we get Korean BBQ. I like that. I get the things I want. But it seems like an exhausting way to deal with people."

"I want you to be happy," I said with a small voice.

"I am happy," she replied. "You're great. You remember when we first got together I was like 'hey, look, if you want pizza, we can get pizza, it's just not what I'm in the mood for', and you kept insisting that you didn't care, that you would rather have me follow my needs? And I just thought, 'you know, maybe I should just trust that's what they actually feel'. And it is, as far as I can tell. There's not some secret part of you that wants me to break your way."

"You think I'm ... a simpering coward?" I asked. Even as I said it, it felt too accusatory, the wrong thing to say in the situation.

"Whoa, no, not at all," she laughed. "I think you do all that stuff because ... I don't know, you want to? Because otherwise why would you do it? It's how you are with every aspect of your life, you're a tryhard. I mean you said to me that you wanted to reclaim the term. Your relationship with me is that you're a tryhard (affectionate)."

"And you're ... not?" I asked.

"I'm not that way with anyone," she replied. "You know why I hang out with you so much? It's 'cause I like you. Most days, I am very much in the mood for you, and if you ask for a meetup, I'll say yes, and if you don't ask for one, then I'll ask you first. And for you ..."

"What?" I asked.

"It's like ... you're keeping track," she said. "You want to make sure that you're not sending me more messages than I'm sending you. You're balancing social micro stuff that I don't pay attention to. You're consciously monitoring how much each of us has said and making sure it's the right number of words or whatever."

"It's really not about the number of words," I replied. "It's more ... making sure that social and emotional labor is equitable, that there's a good rhythm to the conversation. I don't think you'd get good results by tracking word count."

"But see, I don't do any of that," she said. "I talk because I feel like talking. I listen when you need to vent because I like you and it feels good to give you an outlet. I mean you are undoubtedly putting in a bunch of work, and for me, there's no work. That's all I meant, really."

"You've thought about it," I said.

"Oh, I'm just reading this book, and there are two characters like us in it, and I was like 'yes, exactly', and then 'that would not work for me'." She shrugged.

"And if I stopped 'putting in the work'?" I asked. "Would we still be ... friends?"

"See, I don't know," she said. "Because that's never who you've been. You're asking me if I would still be friends with you if you changed your personality and how we interact with each other. Maybe? Probably? Who knows? Maybe we'd be better friends somehow. Maybe we're just two basically compatible people, and every time you've ever worried about anything it would actually have been completely fine."

"Or maybe it's load-bearing," I said.

"Maybe!" she replied with a smile that slowly faded. "You okay?"

"I'm thinking," I said. I didn't know if I could verbalize what I was thinking in a way that would be palatable.

"Do you not like being this way with me?" she asked. "Because I have never asked you to. I've made my preferences known, but if you've been bending yourself into knots and feeling a burden, then ..."

"No," I said, because I knew it was what she wanted to hear. "No, I like the way things are between us."

"Good," she smiled. "I do too."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for kind of manipulating a friend in hopes she'll stay away from my not-so-really partner?

(emojis to find later: 🌸🌸🌸)

ok so this is kind of insane and im very mentally ill (self-diagnosed; done lots of research and have come to the conclusion of bpd, diagnosable according to the dsm-5) so this won't sound very rational or. normal. but here we go

so i (15FTX) have a classmate (15F?) who i've been in a close friendship with for 1.4 years. let's call her vick for this ask. i fell in love with her about a month into our friendship and it grew into her becoming my favorite person. i think of vick 24/7 and i put a lot of care and love into her, we're even planning to move in together into a dorm for university. i confessed to her about my love in october 2023 and she confessed she'd been having "weird" feelings about me since the first month of our friendshsip as well, but she doesn't know if it's anything romantic or not. we have stayed friends due to religious reasons but she has also said she wouldn't have minded us dating if religion wasn't a factor (we're muslim).

i've been pretty committed and loyal to her ever since i confessed and i consider her more important than anything, but i don't get this back and im fine with that. i can deal with it for the most part. it makes me jealous when she interacts with others so casually, but she obviously has the right to have other friends and care about other people and i absolutely know im not allowed to interfere with that no matter how i feel.

enter our other classmate (14F), who i'll call flower for this ask. she was fine at first and had noticed my jealous stares and made jokes about it, saying she had no intentions of "taking my wife from me" and often jokes about being scared of me. we're on good terms and we chat often at school like normal friends.

but recently, flower has started being extremely touchy-feely with vick, taking vick's hand and putting it on her thigh, leaning towards her, making extremely suggestive jokes... and this is a special treatment to vick, too, flower doesn't do this with anyone else in the world. i love vick much more than she ever could and not even i have such confidence with her. beyond that, vick's pretty uncomfortable with physical touch too, so i never risk making her uncomfortable and do my best to not touch her unless she touches me first despite being a very physically affectionate person myself. and there's flower, being all willy-nilly with vick like it's all fine and i feel kind of betrayed seeing flower be like that when i try so hard to accomodate vick's preferences.

you can guess that flower's intimate treatment for vick, who i love with all my heart, has caused me to hate flower with a burning passion. she's like a physical roadblock in my relationship with vick and im tired of it.

so i had an idea.

this merely started the last day of school before the break, and i can't continue it now because i don't have any oppurtunities to see flower, but what i started doing was i would be very affectionate with flower myself.

i would compliment her, make jokes, initiate conversation, it even came to the point flower joked about falling in love with me. i feel scummy doing this because i will never return whatever affection she'll develop for me, but im genuinely tired of flower and this is the most ethical thing i can think of.

by doing this, im hoping flower will see me as the person to pull all her joking advances on. this way, i won't feel like she's taking vick away from me, and i can be sure vick won't abandon me for flower. i also know i sure as hell won't be abandoning vick for flower, so this way my relationship with vick will basically be secured and flower will just be a nuisance that comes and goes and i'll just have to pretend i like it, which will be much easier than pretending to be fine with flower being affectionate with vick.

now i don't even have to type out all the ways i could be the asshole here but this is the most ethical thing i can think of, like i said. it's a win/win situation. vick pays more attention to me so im happy, flower's advances are redirected to me so flower's happy and im not in danger of losing my relationship with vick. i know vick doesn't care much about flower either so she'll be fine too. so everyone's happy! and flower's never gonna know her close friend from highschool actually hated her guts, so she won't ever be sad either.

but um. you know. the whole manipulating out of envy part of it and all.

just talking with vick about it isn't an option because vick already knows how much i hate it, but i guess she's only ever seen it in a joking environment where i was making light of it so she doesn't really know how much i hate it. i also can't just tell her to stop talking with someone because it makes me sad. i guess im being hypocritical because this also means i shouldn't manipulate someone away from her just because it makes me sad but i actually can't stand it it genuinely makes me suicidal and homicidal in many ways and this is the only thinng in my power that i feel like is okay-est to do

therapy is not an option my dad has a degree in psychology so he'd say "just talk to me instead" and he would think im crazy if i actually said anything about all this to him + he's extremely homophobic

ok that was a lot. um.

aita for manipulating flower away from vick just to have peace of mind?

What are these acronyms?

[pinkydevil16]

Eric Northman x reader

Eric stared at Sookie, his annoyance peaking as he waited for her to get to the point, his eyes darting to Pam as she reapplied her lipstick with a sneer at the small blonde. 

"Bill is missing and i think he's taken Y/n with him." Eric's attention instantly snapped to her, Y/n was a friend of Sookie's that Eric had taken an interest in but she was firm in her stance that she didn't want the 6 foot viking to claim her as he had asked. 

"He has Y/n. Why was this not raised to me the second she went missing?" Eric's voice came out bitter as Sookie folded her arms with an annoyed huff, she was there to find Bill, Y/n tended to go missing from time to time but something Bill had said made her believe he had taken her with him. 

"She tends to drop off the face of the earth from time to time, but Bill had mentioned that apparently another vampire had been coming to Merlow's and asking about me and Y/n. Then he's gone and so is she, Y/n hadn't mentioned anything and normally she would tell Sam if she was going to be off. I don't know anything else, i need to find Bill." Eric didn't care about Bill, he was a nuisance at the best of time but normally he was causing Eric extreme annoyance and making his relationship with Y/n a thousand times harder. 

"I will reach out to some contacts, i do not care to find Bill but whoever has taken Y/n will meet the true death." Sookie didn't get a chance to respond before Eric was gone, Pam smirking as she walked towards the door waiting for the short blonde to follow her. 

"You should have called him the second she was gone, you don't use your resources." Pam waited until Sookie was out the door, giving her a smirk before slamming the door in her face, the club opening in an hour but now she had to find out what Eric planned to do. Her heels clicking against the ground as she entered the office, Eric swearing in his native tongue down the phone before slamming it down, Pam giving him an odd look as he grabbed his jacket. 

"It appears one of Bill's old next friends decided to pay him a visit and thought he would take Y/n as collateral. I will be back soon." Eric left before Pam could speak, rolling her eyes as she muttered out about humans. 

Y/n laid on the dirty ground, her legs chained to the ground as she turned her head to look at Bill, his fangs popped as he looked at her. Y/n scowled at him, pulling her body further away from him, he hadn't fed in nearly a week and the vampire who took them had been teasing him with Y/n's blood.

"Put those away before i rip them out." Y/n sneered, she had been chained up for 4 days now and was becoming more and more annoyed with Bill's behaviour.

"I cannot help it Miss Y/n." Y/n rolled her eyes, she didn't mind Bill normally but he and Sookie seemed to be constantly dragging her into vampire related messes which were getting on her last nerve.

"And i can't help being held against my will so if you even think about putting those little needles near me, so help me god i will stake you." Y/n turned her head away from him, staring at the ceiling as Bill forced his fangs back inside trying not to concentrate on the sweet smell of her blood that was tempting him almost as much as Sookie's did. Y/n brought her hand to her face rubbing her eyes, she'd been given food and drink once a day, barely enough to keep someone alive but it was better than being drained dry. The basement door creaked open, the creepy vampire walking down the stairs as he smirked at Y/n and Bill, inhaling loudly as he stood over Y/n. 

"It appears you are on Eric Northman's radar Miss L/N, i just had a very frantic phone call from a friend of mine warning me about him." Y/n didn't react, she hadn't thought of Eric but now she actually wanted him to annoy her, she usually hated when he would come and see her but now she wished he would. 

"She is his." Bill said the words quickly, Y/n snapping her head to him ready to shout and curse at him for even insinuating she would touch him with a 5 foot pole. Bill's eyes begging her not to say anything, the creepy vampire seeming to shiver and took a step away from Y/n as he looked her over. Y/n stared back at the vampire her eyebrow raised to challenge him before she was suddenly dragged from the ground, the chains on her snapped off as the vampire tossed her over his shoulder. Y/n made a grunt in pain as she landed, the vampire glaring at Bill before he rushed Y/n out the basement, reaching the porch just as Eric waltzed out the woods. The vampire froze, his eyes darting between Eric and the house, rushing inside as Eric ran forward. The doorway stopping Eric from getting in as he flashed his fangs, the younger vampire positioning Y/n in front of him, holding her throat as he dropped his fangs.

"Give her to me now." Eric's voice had dropped an octave, his gaze heated on the vampire as Y/n grasped the vampire's hand trying to loosen the grip on her throat.

"You really should listen to him, i mean he's a viking." Y/n wheezed out, the vampire tightening his grip slightly, just enough that Y/n squeezed her eyes closed in pain, Eric moving away from the door to break off wooden stakes.

"You have 5 seconds to let her go before i start throwing stakes." Eric's threat made the vampire loosen his grip, Y/n taking a deep breath as she felt herself be thrown over the doorway, Eric catching her before she hit the floor. The vampire speeding i to the basement, Eric holding Y/n close to him as she got her breath back.

"Let go of the human." Y/n said, Eric chuckling as he picked her up, running to a safer location before allowing her sit stand on her own, Y/n pushing his hands off her as she did a wiggle shaking her legs as she tried to get the feeling of the chains and other vampire off her.

"Are you okay?" Eric asked watching her oddly as she seemed possessed, Y/n stopping and looking at him with a wide grin.

"Thank you, i just needed to get the feeling of that vampire touching me gone." Eric nodded, taking Y/n's hand and pulling her closer to him, Y/n looking oddly at where their hands touched.

"So...how come you knew we were gone...WAIT! Bill is still in there!" Y/n went from awkward to concerned as she turned running back towards the house, Eric rolling his eyes as he ran pulling her back to him with a head shake.

"I have people retrieving him. You were the one i cared about." Y/n stared at him for a moment before punching his shoulder, her hand instantly aching as she bent over in pain clutching her hand. Eric looking at her oddly as she yelped.

"Shit, that was meant to hurt you not me." Eric smirked at Y/n as she held her wounded hand, he could see they weren't broken but he wondered if she would accept his blood if he said it was.

"What was that for?" He asked, Y/n blowing on her knuckles to cool the skin as she glared at him.

"Stop telling everyone i belong to you, it's weird." Eric let out a chuckle as he watched Y/n, her face serious as she crossed her arms and glared at him waiting for him to say he wouldn't do it again.

"I do believe you said people should listen to me, i am a viking. We are not known for letting what is ours be let loose." Y/n groaned rolling her eyes and pushing him, Eric staying still as she tried putting her whole body into it.

"You're a bastard you know that? I am not yours, i am mine." Eric moved her hand off his chest, pulling her into him as she looked up at him with a scowl. 

"You are cute." Y/n felt her face turn red as he spoke, his voice so innocent she wouldn't believe he'd said it if anyone else was present. 

"You need to read signals." Y/n retorted, rolling her eyes as Eric smirked down at her, his fangs out. 

"Hmm, maybe." Eric replied, Y/n lifting her finger up to poke his fang, Eric letting her as he grinned widely, his hand catching hers and forcing her finger to his lips, a small kiss on the tip of her pointer finger. Y/n coughed, Eric allowing her to take her hand back, he enjoyed the cat and mouse.

"Anyway...can we go? I need a really good shower." Eric smirked at her, bending down to pick her up as she squeaked, her stomach landing on his shoulder gently as he held the back of her thighs.

"What a tempting offer Y/n." Y/n smacked his back, before she felt the harsh winds around her as he flew them back to fangtasia, only taking minutes although Y/n was ready to hurl as soon as he placed her on solid ground.

"I hate that." Y/n complained, Eric opening the door to let her through, the night club already packed as she looked at Eric with confusion, his hand taking hers to pull her through the crowd. Vampires parting and dragging humans with them as they nodded to the sheriff, Y/n ignoring everyone as she got pulled along, Eric closing the door behind them as she stood in his office.

"This isn't my house." Y/n stated looking at Eric expectantly.

"I saved you, you can shower here and stay until tomorrow." Y/n raised an eyebrow, it wasn't a request it was an order, weighing her options she tilted her head side to side.

"Fine but i don't want any strippers clothes." Eric smirked before leading her to the bathroom and leaving her to have privacy. Eric left some clothes folded up outside the door before going back to sit on his throne with a nod to Pam. Y/n scrubbed at her skin, the small cuts and puncture marks had luckily been hidden from Eric before but she knew he probably smelt the dried blood on her skin, stepping out she wrapped a towel around herself and another small one around her hair. Towel drying her hair Y/n poked her head out grabbing the bundle of clothes, her eyebrow raising as she looked at the men's shirt, boxers and bra. Sighing she threw on the clothes, the shirt reaching her upper thighs with the boxers covering her butt, the bra oddly the right size as she tied her hair up. Exiting the bathroom she placed her clothes in the bag, a pair of slippers by the door which she slipped on quickly. Walking through the office she found Pam at the door with a grin, the door wide open and Eric looking at her from the throne, frowning she began walking towards him. Standing in front of the throne she crossed her arms with a cocked hip, Eric smirking at her from where he sat aware of the eyes on them. His hand outstretching to her, Y/n staring at it for a moment before seeing the slight warning in his eyes, he tolerated a lot but not infront of those beneath him and she knew not to risk it. Sighing she took his hand, Eric pulling her so she sat across his lap, her feet dangling over the side of the seat and butt between his legs as he felt her relax against him. 

"How much did he hurt you?" Eric spoke softly but Y/n could hear the strain, the want to sneer it out as he looked over her uncovered legs seeing a puncture wound on her calf. Y/n shrugged relaxing more into him as she crossed her arms, her eyes closing as she let out a small shiver, she could feel Eric's heated stare as he ran a finger over the wound.

"Couple of bites, cuts, nothing i can't handle...do you always keep it so cold in here?" Eric let a small smile crack as he kept running his hands along her legs, his fingers catching on the cuts as he resisted the urge to force his blood down her throat, the wounds almost healed so he couldn't drop his blood onto them. 

"I can warm you up?" Eric ran his hands along her upper thighs, the tips of his fingers running under the boxers until her hand came down on his. 

"Don't ruin this." Eric gave her a smile although she didn't see. Her eyes still closed as she enjoyed the comfort he brought, being chained up in a basement had not been her ideal way to sleep for the last few days. Eric waited until she was half asleep, the noise in the room still loud but her body was so exhausted she didn't mind, her breathing evening as she relaxed fully into half consciousness. Looking at Pam he watched her bring over a small glass with a straw, biting his wrist he dropped a good amount of his blood into the glass before dipping the straw into it and placing it against Y/n's lips.

"Drink." Y/n didn't think twice, didn't even open her eyes, completely trusting him as she took a sip before the cold liquid hit her lips and her eyes snapped open, her hand coming to smack the glass out his hand. The glass shattered nearby, her body now sat up and hands wiping angrily at her lips, Pam cleaning the blood quickly as fang bangers ran to it, others mumbling about the ungrateful human on the powerful vampires lap. 

"You bas-" Eric placed his hand on her mouth pushing her back to her laying position, the shirt she wore riding up as she squirmed under his hold, his other hand holding her thighs as he watched all her wounds heal and the puncture marks disappear. Eric smirked as he watched the punctures disappear, no sign of another touching her or claiming her, turning his head back to her he saw the dark glare she gave him as she kept fighting against his hold. 

"You cannot be marked by others." Y/n shouted into the palm against her mouth, desperately trying to get out of the hold as she tried to bite him, anything to get him to let go of her. Eric leant down, staring deep into her eyes as she tried to close them but she could feel the hold he had over her now.

"Calm down. You don't remember me giving you my blood. You're thankful i saved you." Y/n instantly stopped squirming, nodding to Eric as her eyes dropped back to half asleep as he removed his hand, placing his arm behind her head as she curled into him. 

"Thank you for saving me." Eric grinned as she spoke, he knew she had been thankful, it was the reason she'd indulged him so much but he wanted to hear it. 

"You're welcome, now go back to sleep." Y/n nodded closing her eyes as she relaxed back against him again, his hand rubbing up and down her thigh as he looked at the skin where the cuts and bites had been, perfectly unscarred now, perfect for him to mark one day. She'd be his one day, she already was but one day she would tell him to claim her, he just needed to wait it out.

[lazaruswitch]

Guy Gardner: sometimes nuisance, often great friend, forever ginger, former social worker and teacher, current Green Lantern and... father.

"What the fuck," says Kyle. He was pretty exhausted from his latest assignment, and hadn't even hit the showers or went to bed yet, so he probably misheard. Or was hallucinating.

"What, Jane?" says Hal, like that's a normal fucking thing to say when John suddenly starts talking about running into Guy's daughter.

"What."

"Jane, or RJ, whichever she says. You haven't met her yet?" he continues as he digs through a bag. "You're missing out Kyle, she's a killer cook. Smart girl too, got a massive scholarship when she got into NYU. Might've been top of her class? Aha!"

Here, Hal pulls out a bag of brownies and crows in victory. Kyle's headache only intensifies.

"Oh, life is so good to me sometimes. Kyle, I'd offer, but I value these more than my life, so you're going to have to do all the hard work yourself."

Whatever that means. Hal starts eating the brownies like he's reenacting a vaguely pornographic food commercial. Kyle grimaces and turns away to look at John.

"Since when did Guy have a daughter? I've never heard anything about her," he asks.

"I'm not too sure myself, but I imagine it's been a couple years now. She was about 16 when he took her in, if I'm remembering right," John answers mildly.

Kyle blanches at that because, well, again, what the fuck. It sounded like she was already out of college, or at least finished a degree. That was probably at least 5 years of her being around somewhere.

John must see something on his face, because he says, "We didn't find out ourselves for a while, and only by accident."

"Yeah," Hal adds, slightly muffled. "He'd gone radio silent after a mission, and we were worried 'cause he got pretty roughed up. So we show up at his place and whaddya know! Some teenage girl, and a redhead at that, answers the door with the nastiest look on her face. Thought she'd deck us, honestly. And then Guy rushes out - totally fine for the record - and nearly flips his shit at us."

John gives Hal an unimpressed look.

"Get cleaned up and rest, Kyle," he says. "You'll see Guy in a few days, you can ask him then. It's high time you met her anyway, considering her ring."

"Her what?"

[kitkatt0430]

Twilight Princess question - do you think Midna always intended to shatter the Mirror of Twilight or was that a decision she came to during/after the final battle?

I think it's something that she probably started considering before the final battle.

At first, she and Link are looking for the remaining three Fused Shadows and she has to see that it's not just Zant's magic that has a negative affect on Hyrule. One of the Fused Shadows mutated a dekubaba from a minor nuisance into the boss level Diababa. Another mutated Darbus from a regular Goron into a monster who threatened the welfare of his kin. And the last mutated some kind of eel-like creature into the dangerous, Morpheel.

It's likely sheer luck that they're able to save Darbus from the effects of the Fused Shadow, as certainly nothing of Diababa or Morpheel's original selves are saved. So while Midna is growing closer to Link and having to see that though the Land of Light isn't some awful place but deserving of saving too... she's having to witness the destructive power of her ancestors and what it does to those who are not of her clan.

And then the Fused Shadows are stolen from her and Zelda seemingly gives her life to save Midna's. And Midna's respect for the people of the Light world grows further.

Then they head on their quest to find the Mirror of Twilight and Midna has to see the coliseum grounds alongside Link. Seeing the worst of Hyrule's history there, leading to the portal to her home being treated as a method of execution. And that had to hurt to see.

Of course, that starts the new fetch quest and the fresh horror as the shards of the Mirror of Twilight prove to be as dangerous to the unaware as the Fused Shadows were.

Yeto and Yeta are kind and sweet yeti but the mirror shard in their home makes Yeta ill and eventually transforms her into the monstrous Blizzeta. The spiders of the Temple of Time are corrupted by the mirror's presence, creating the unnaturally large and cursed armaghoma and her children. And while Argarock's origin is unclear, he clearly only became a source of terror for the Occa recently, caused by the arrival of the mirror shard.

The Fused Shadows, the Mirror of Twilight... these are the magics of her people in the Light world and they cause horrific destruction when left to their own devices. Even when whole, the Mirror of Twilight was used to 'execute' prisoners like Ganondorf who were too powerful for normal means of death. But it didn't actually kill him. Instead it inflicted him and his own dangerous magic upon Midna's world of Shadow.

She's the princess. Future leader of her people. And she has to think of what's best for her people. And because of Zelda's sacrifice, Midna likely felt obligated to consider what was best for the people of Hyrule too.

I do think it's possible that Midna reached that decision before the final battle. I don't remember if there's foreshadowing for it or not since it's been a while since I last played the game, but it would make a lot of sense that she'd start putting her observations together before the final battle regardless of when she made the final choice. She knew their worlds were dangerous to each other and severing the link between them - by shattering the Mirror of Twilight - was the safest option out of however many she considered. Sure, it may have been the final battle that decided her, when she felt the overwhelming power of the Fused Shadows for herself. Or maybe it was decision she made beforehand that further complicated the final battle for her, as she wasn't just fighting Ganondorf, but her own grief over knowing she would lose Link and Zelda regardless of the battle's outcome.

I'm not sure which answer I like better, honestly. But both make sense given the bittersweet conclusion the game leaves us with.

[negative-speedforce]

Sorry I'm late in sending this I was running some errands

How does (canon character) feel about your OC? [Barry and Cisco]

Which canon character annoys your OC?

Which canon character does your OC not respect at all? Why?

Who has your OC made cry?

What is your OC’s redemption moment?

For Siv and Onnie please? (I love putting these two together so I can compare them >:) )

How does (canon character) feel about your OC? [Barry and Cisco]

Siv: Cisco trusts Siv a lot more than Barry does, since Siv kinda grew up in STAR Labs, hanging around and doing homework while their dad was working, and he was almost like an uncle to her. He knows them a lot better than some of the others.

Barry, on the other hand? His strict moral code and her playing fast and loose with the law don't mix well, and he sees them as being volatile and dangerous (which tbh is kinda true). She doesn't like him much either. Plus, they barely even know each other.

Onnie: Cisco has trouble differentiating the Onnie who he met when she was a sweet kid, and the jaded metahuman mobster who now rules part of Central City's criminal underworld. He hopes to encounter them someday, to try to talk some sense into them (it probably won't work).

Barry, on the other hand? Eobard framed him for Gina's death, and even if Onnie logically knows that Barry is innocent and Eobard is the real killer, it feels good to have someone to direct that rage at who won't beat you to the brink of death at the slightest provocation. He's honestly kinda scared of her.

Which canon character annoys your OC?

Siv: By far, Barry Allen. His strict "No Killing" rule has been the cause of so many of her problems, at least in their opinion, since after he lets villains escape and gives them second chances (especially Eobard), they often become Siv's problem. She'd like to be able to grab his shoulders and give him a good shaking, but unfortunately, they're too short.

Onnie: General Wade Eiling. He's a manipulative bastard who's tried to partner with her father multiple times, and they see that as a threat to their power. He's not dangerous to her, not with their level of power, but he's definitely a nuisance.

Which canon character does your OC not respect at all? Why?

Siv: Eobard. He may be her father, but she doesn't give a shit about that. He's also a superpowered serial killer, and while Siv isn't above a little killing of their own, they see their kills as mostly justified (except for the accidental ones), while Eobard's are random and often petty. He has no respect for human life.

Onnie: Barry Allen. She blames him for Gina's murder, and while years before they uncovered the truth, that Eobard was behind the killing, she's too scared of her dad to do anything about it, and prefers to direct her anger towards Barry. She also sees him as a useless goodie-two-shoes, who doesn't do much other than get in their way.

Who has your OC made cry?

Siv: Eobard, mostly. Siv doesn't cry much- most of her tears are tears of frustration or anger.

Onnie: See above. Eobard is an asshole.

What is your OC’s redemption moment?

Siv: When they hit rock bottom, and not even Jay is willing to help her anymore. Essentially, Siv dives deeper and deeper into cynicism, misanthropy, and self-destruction, slowly pushing away everyone she loves while committing worse and worse crimes, until finally, Jay has to realize that at this point in time, Siv's a bad friend and being around her is actively hurting him. They make up eventually, but it's at that point that she realizes that she's hit rock bottom, and the only way out is up.

Onnie: The imminent destruction of the multiverse. Though it's more a "Because I'm one of the idiots who lives in it!" moment, it leads into Onnie's greater domestication arc (is it a redemption arc? idk, but she definitely gets less feral so we're gonna call it the domestication arc). She figures out a way to trap her earth in a pocket dimension, and though using herself as a power conduit to do so almost kills her, it works in the end, and E-2002 is saved.

[kryptickurrency]

Epithet erased theory: Bliss Ocean's fourth Officer.

I remember watching the seventh episode one day and hearing Percy say that Zora was the 3rd highest ranking officer in its organization (and everyone else knows who the other two are so I won't talk about them) but she said 4 but I think I might have a clue on who the 4th one might be.

Who is it you might ask? Well, I think it's Howie.

Reason #1. His attitude towards epithets

The guys got what Bliss Ocean's recruitin'. Yeah, a strong dislike towards epithets (and sometimes, the owners), but his thoughts are about how the world isn't fair (quite literally) because companies/employers prefer Inscribed people over Mundies, even if said Inscribed weren't qualified for the job. A good example is Gorou. A man who isn't even fit for the position of sheriff because he's extremely naive but got it because he was the only Inscribed person in all of Redwood Run. Not to mention the fact that Zora mentioned how Mundies have to work TWICE as hard just to get something. So that might also explain why Howie is so tied to his work, he literally has to work extra hard just to receive some kind of recognition even if it's a very small amount. Not to mention that a majority of the world's population are Mundies and in every 5 people are Inscribed. ( Talk about tipping the scales of society in others favor)

Reason #2: His interactions with Zora

This was one of the first things that caught my eye. And it's his behavior around Zora. When the pair first meet, she's at the train station he's renovating, standing on top of his work. Howie is annoyed at this, not just because Redwood Run pisses him off with really dumb jobs that aren't even real, and the one person who does have a real one doesn't even fit the requirements for it, but also because a nuisance just showed up and ruined the last good moment of his day. Top it off with the 'Zora develops an onsight relationship with everything (and everyone) 8ft around her' thing. So Zora just pissed off Howie and made him lunge at her, jumping off the scaffolding he was sitting on. And keep in mind that a typical scaffolding tier is 5'7 and he was sitting on at least 3 tiers (I'll get to this soon).

See now this is the part that caught my eye...With its dialogue. Howie falls and braces for impact but he's left floating in the air. And if I remember correctly he said that he should've seen this coming, leading to Zora saying yup. Just yup. I mean yes, Percy DID explain her epithet out loud but Howie probably (and I mean probably) didn't know that her epithet worked on people.

Or did he?

To add onto the scaffolding, a fall from the height he was sitting at, which would usually range from 17 feet or higher depending on the type of scaffolding, would result in a serious injury (like numerous broken and/or fractured bones) or death. So Zora probably wouldn't have caught him if he fell. If I'm going to be honest, I don't think Zora would have even bothered catching him, I think Howie would've been viewed as a minor obstacle in her path and might've used some sort of way to get him out of her path, like how she treated Bugsy when she saw that he was with the amulet: Shooting him with a barrage of bullets and the De-aging him (I think that's the term?)

But if he WAS part of Bliss Ocean then I have a feeling that Zora would have to care about his safety in this situation. Now that wouldn't mean she'd have to be nice to him, she could still be an ass but care for his physical well-being. And if he were to get injured in any way, Bliss Ocean won't have an operating top officer for weeks, and Zora would probably get in trouble for said injuries.

Now the next thing I'm about to say is what started this whole theory. And these are two lines of dialogue.

When Zora was on Howie's back, she shoots a clock, shattering the glass and causing it to fall off the wall that was holding it. Then this exchange happens.

Howie, begrudgingly: I'm going to let you get away with that. One. Time.

Zora, inconsiderately: Duly noted. Starts shooting more stuff.

These lines caught my attention, mainly because of Howie's line. Right before that exchange, she used her epithet to turn one of the scaffolding into rust, causing a leg to collapse. Now why did this line pique my interest? Well, you usually don't say that to a stranger, only a person you've known for a couple days, months, years or so. But the main point of this paragraph is that

Howie, wouldn't have known she was going to do that again if she was a stranger.

His tone also plays a small part in this. The guy sounds like he's ready to commit third degree murder. Zora's line is also very interesting to me because of her tone and choice of words. Zora's tone is careless, she doesn't seem to mind Howie obviously minacious tone. Her words are dismissive but fully aware of what he might do, but she does it anyway. And with that, Zora leaving him spinning in the air just so that she can chase Ramsey and Percy.

Though there is a part I'm trying to wrap my head around and it's when Howie scoffs and grumbles that Zora has an epithet.

Reason #3: The "opposite" diagram

So in EE, everyone's supposed to have an enemy. Molly has Lorelai. Giovanni has the Bliss Ocean leader. Percy has Ramsey. And Zora has Moot. This applies to all major characters. Why didn't I put Indus, Mera, and Sylvie? Because I don't know who their 'opposite' is. But for Howie I think I might have an idea. All the Bliss Ocean officers are paired with each other, with some traits that are similar and others that are different. Moot and Zora both have insanely strong epithets that affect them in a way. Most fans speculate that Zora is a cowboy from the past, so she has to use her epithet on herself to stay young and not crumble to dust. And Moot, from what @jelloapocalypse has said in a stream as a starter (since she's still in workshop), Moot can basically delete stuff with her hands. Which might mean she can't really do anything with them or else she'll delete something. Now who am I thinking for Howie? Yoomtah. Think about it, both are Mundies, have well paying jobs (Architecture rated 2 in t

NOTE: this is currently being edited, So excuse it for looking incomplete.

[ifyougochasingrabbits]

TW: Drug mention, addiction mention, child suffering mention. Feat. Seig Takes place after this scene and before this scene. 

Dropping by Sieg's apartment, White shares the usual gossip about the recent rumors going around Ul'dah, leading into that she heard several fences have been murdered, sending others into hiding assumingly not to share the same fate. She shares the snowball the murders have caused— without fences, people can't pawn off things, because they can't pawn off things they can't make gil, because they can't make gil they can't feed their addiction.

To put salt in the underground's wounds, several drug dealers can't afford to get the drugs to sell in Ul'dah, and those who can raise the prices through the roof. Supply and demand.

During their conversation, White mentions hearing about 'some folks' have started to get withdrawals making them unable to properly care for their 'family'. Though he doesn't know who she is talking about, he believes whoever she these 'folks' are aren't some random people, but those she has some degree of care about.

Using his knowledge that she honestly cares for the well-being of children, he offers to introduce her to a close friend in Limsa who can point her in the direction of dealers with clean products. She takes him up on this offer, the manipulator being manipulated(affectionate).

After a brief correspondence, Sieg arranges a meeting with his friend at his office in Limsa, having the two arrive at his doorstep a few days later...

Salty sea air breathed in through White’s nose and filled her lungs. It was a strange smell, not unwelcomed, but still strange. She was used to the dusty kind that blew over Ul'dah's walls, dropping sand into the streets to be swept up and tossed out into the desert only for it to become a nuisance again. Even if it took days, it was going to happen no matter how much merchants, street rats, or nobels complained.

She briefly wondered if the marine city ever dealt with salt, what it'd looked like covered in the white crystal that seasoned so many free meals she filled her face with. The thought got knocked out by the knocking of her knuckles against the office door that kept her and Sieg separated from the man he had mentioned could help the families. A family. As they waited in silence, no matter how little or long it stuck around for, she wondered again, this time if the gazer of the stars considered them to be family. Not her. The stars. She didn't think she'd get a straight answer if she asked point blank. Or not. Besides, she already assumed he did in the way he talked to them. How he talked to her about them, asking her for a favor to check in on them. She could do so much more.

"Come in," a voice called from within. Even. Tempered. 

Sieg reached past White to open the door for her. The office was modest but cozy. A handsome Miqo’te with deep grey skin and black and purple hair sat behind the desk, in front of which there were two chairs. There were many papers and files stacked neatly on the desk, and his pen rasped over the paper in front of him as he scribbled something down before setting it aside. Then, and only then, did he look up to the two of them with eyes a vivid, deep violet shade. One of those eyes had scars that looked like claw marks around it. 

"Mr. Selig. Please, sit," he said, his face remaining rather emotionless even as he gestured to the chairs across from him. "And this must be the one you've brought to see me, miss...?"

"White," Sieg replied. "White Rabbit." 

"I see..."

From the door to the desk White followed alongside Sieg who she looked up at with a slight smirk, half-whispering out, "I have my own tongue, you know." Which is exactly what she stuck out at him before she swung her head and voice up adding, "I can introduce myself."

She had done her usual note-taking— first of how he spoke and the scars around his eye. The papers and files were added, his pen and how he held it too, and how he didn't look at them until he was done writing.

Smiling at the man she did what she said she could and introduced herself, giving a small bow, sweeping her arm towards her torso as she did. "I'm White Rabbit." Standing up she offered, "You can call me White. Or miss White if you're feelin' fancy."

"I was trying to be polite," Sieg said with a lopsided grin at her. 

"Prince Charming as usual, I see," the Miqo'te said to him, one side of his mouth curling up into a small, almost playful smile.

"Yare yare," Sieg laughed.

"I'm Mume'a Rhanyatta. It's good to meet you. Or I assume it will be, as Prince Charming here rarely calls in favours, much less on the behalf of others." He laced his fingers and rested his hands on his desk. "So then, how can I help you, Miss White?" he asked, seeming once again quite serious.

"You're always polite. When are you not?" White teased, tilting her head slightly in the way as if you say 'really?'.

As the man's introduction filled her horns she turned to face him. He could stay serious all he wanted, but she lifted her two fingers on each hand, wiggling the little quotes around, " "Prince Charimin" here—" then dropped them, letting them swing as she took a step forward. "said you know could point me where to get clean treats er– drugs."

White had the feeling she'd want some of those drugs for herself. She wouldn't take any, they were too strong, much too dangerous for her to get involved in those too. Drink and the lighter stuff was good enough. The thrill of people above those.

She paused, holding that tongue she stuck out at Sieg behind her teeth, pressing it against the roof of her mouth like it wanted to pry it open to ramble on about some bullshit reason that most would believe. Or they'd tell her want she wanted to get her out of their hair. Both worked. "You must have heard? About the fences gettin' off in Ul'dah. Nasty shite, you think they'd have gone about it a smarter way." One that left her skin scar-free. She'd have to change that fact for the next time she plays two truths and a lie.

She swallowed her ramblings, freeing her mouth to bluntly state that, "They're not for me."

Mume'a's hands moved, fingers laced and elbows propped on his desk, covering the lower half of his face. His expression remained inscrutable, seeming to bear little emotion at all. But his brow did furrow the tiniest bit, and he inclined his head.

"Go on," he said, waiting for the rest of her explanation.

A pause that lingered a little too long or the end of a sentence getting a little too personal with the start of another could tell people who were perceptive enough what White really meant. She couldn't have that. "They're for the families, you see?" Her pauses were measured, following a normal conversational beat. "You'd know, wouldn't you. Users have family too."

So she was giving him some bullshit, but only a little! A thin layer smeared over parts of a painting that gave the whole picture. Ew. "The little ones— their kids. They can't take care of them. Not when they're sufferin'." From withdrawals.

Clawed fingers tapped at Mume'a's chin as he listened to her. And he was listening, yes. But was he buying what she was selling? That was the question. While what she said was of course true, that didn't tell him what her stake in such a matter was.

"And why, pray tell, do you care about such a thing?" he asked.

Did White really have to spell it out for him? In some way that didn't give him too many details. The stars's gazer said he'd cut out her tongue and she needed that!

"Kids shouldn't have to suffer." She did believe in it, even if it wasn't the exact reason why she was there. It was spelled similarly. "I can help. You. Can help me help them."

Mume'a tapped his chin again, clearly deciding whether he should believe in her supposedly altruistic motives. Clearly, there was someone in her life, probably with kids, who needed help. 

Well, that was enough for him, in the end. After all, he agreed with her.

"In a perfect world, no, children wouldn't have to suffer. And this world may be imperfect but if we can make it a little bit better we ought to, I suppose. Very well. I'll help you."

If White was the type to thank folks, those two words would of gratitude would have quickly filled his ears she wanted to touch, but she wasn't. Relief that followed alongside the ones she did say, telling him his choice was, "Good. Good! That's great. It is." was what he got. Sieg could translate later on. She'd rather he did, there were details to discuss.

Her first question almost crashed into the second that almost ran into the third, asking, "Where do I go? Who do I see? I'm goin' to assume I can take prince charmin' with me." She pressed splayed fingers against the flat of her chest.

A sort of half-amused, half-resigned smile captured Mume'a's features and those violet eyes that seemed to peer into her soul closed for a moment. His head inclined slightly, drawing a small laugh from Sieg. He gave Sieg a look that seemed to say, 'You sure know how to pick 'em,' which caused him to wave one hand back and forth with a sheepish, "Maa, maa..."

"I'll write you a list, but first I'll need to know exactly what you're looking for. It'd probably be better if you take Prince Charming, he's rather imposing and most don't tend to want to try things with him there unless they're particularly bold, or stupid..."

White slapped her hands on the edge of his desk, grinning wide. She whirled it back at Sieg, giggling at the poor pirate who seemed to be wearing wool? For a flash.

Swinging her head back around, she quickly nodded sending her plush ears jerking about. "I need. They need—" That scrunkly starstruck bastard, "somus." The greedy woman kept diversity down, adding only one more so the man could make his little mix, it'd spread out the stronger stuff. Make it last longer. "And fogsweed. Yes. Even that's been low in supply."

Mume'a nodded, and took a piece of paper from the stack on his desk and began to write, with the most perfect penmanship -- perfect to the point of obviously being heavily practiced. The pen scratched across the paper, in two columns -- names, and likely places to find them, with the name of the drug written on top of each column.

"Here. These are all the people I know who reliably deal in clean stuff, for both. Hope you can find what you're looking for." he rolled up the paper and handed it to her.

Reaching out White's dainty little fingers wrapped around the list, freeing Mume'a from it. Her's now. "I don't need hope when I have sooo much luck~!" she joked, taking a half-a-hop back into a step, swinging her arms behind her. "I bet I'll see you again." To some, they'd take that as a threat. "Since you're such good friends with him. The prince."

A chuckle fell out from her mouth as she tap, tap, hopped herself back over to Sieg, lifting up onto the toes, grinning like a child showing off her prize— the rolled of list she moved around, holding it in front of her chest.

"Somehow I feel you're right," Mume'a chuckled lowly. "We're few and far between. His friends. So I'd imagine we'll see each again in the future. Good hunting, then," he said.

Sieg nodded to Mume'a. "Thanks for your time, Mume'a." 

"It's no trouble," he said. "Something to break up the tedium of all of this paperwork," he said with a lopsided grin.

"We will!" she loudly agreed as she turned around, bumping back into Sieg, still grinning. "If you're so bored over all that paperwork. You could drink with us. Sometimes. Another time. In the distant future~!" An awe-filled gaze stared up where her hand wiped through the air. "I don't think the prince here would want you collectin' dust. It wouldn't look good on you." she winked.

Mume'a gave her an amused smile that bore a touch of softness. "No. I'm sure he wouldn't want that."

Sieg gave him a playful grin. "Don't work too late, Mume'a. Teya will want you home in time for dinner," he teased.

"Yeah, yeah," the Miqo'te chuckled, shaking his head. "Go on, get outta here."

Sieg turned to open the door for White, tossing a wave over his shoulder as they walked out.

"No. He wouldn't! Not one bit." The two could tease the pirate prince a bit. As a treat.

While joined in waving, giving Mume'a that little fingery farewell White gave practically everyone she called back before slipping out the door, "I'll see you! We'll. See you!"

Heading towards no particular place, she would ramble to Sieg, telling him they should find a place to eat, his treat, and see who was first on the list. It was going to be a long week.

[pengychan]

[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 24

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: E Status: In progress

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

*** One last chance to take a break and spend a few pleasant nights before a big fight. Also one more chance for Raphael to be a complete idiot but what else is new. ***

“Inform his erinyes - is that exactly what Bel said?”

“Yes. He said he can help us infiltrate the Flying Fortress - covertly, that is. You can use the horn to call them now, little duke. We have not used it today. By the way, I did some target practice, did you notice--”

“I don’t think we should do it. You can’t trust a fiend,” Lulu spoke up, throwing a glare in Haarlep’s direction. Doubly rude, with how she'd cut them off. “Not them, and not Bel.”

Her objection was met with a scoff by Raphael. “To redeem Zariel is to get her out of the way, and Bel is free to reclaim his old throne once that happens. Our interests align.”

“A devil will go against their own interests as long as it’s to cause pain!”

“I suspect you’re getting us mixed up with demons,” Raphael replied, his voice dry, and the hollyphant paused in obvious confusion.

“Us? But you’re human. I can tell.”

“Oh, a temporary inconvenience,” Haarlep muttered, putting an arm around Raphael’s shoulders with a grin. He scoffed, but he did not pull away. On the contrary, he seemed to lean into the touch a bit more than necessary. An interesting little detail Haarlep was rather happy to note. “He’s half-fiend, you see, and an unfortunate incident saw his soul torn in two. This is the human half, on his way to reclaim the rest.”

That seemed to confuse the hollyphant even more. “Reclaim it? Why? You’ve been cured--”

“I have been mutilated,” Raphael cut her off. “That’s half of my soul, and I never willingly surrendered it. I fully intend to take it back.”

“Aren’t you better off without--”

“No, he is not,” Halsin spoke, not unkindly. He seemed to have more patience for the little celestial nuisance than most of them combined. “It is not right, for two halves of the same being to be torn apart. Neither is complete, and both suffer - no matter what kind of being it is. He wants to be whole again, and we intend to help him.”

The hollyphant didn't seem convinced, but at least she didn't argue the point further. She did not, however, drop her argument against turning to Bel. “What if he steals the Sword?”

“To do what, use it as a toothpick?” Astarion muttered. The dragonborn had rushed to him the moment they'd returned, and had yet to let go of his hand - a detail the vampire spawn did not seem to mind. Raphael, too, had gone straight to Haarlep… although he did not take their hand, or indeed touch them at all. “From what you've told us, there's no way he can actually attune to that sword. It's virtually useless to him. And we're going to need help.”

“But-- a devil!”

“Look, you don't have to like the guy,” Karlach muttered. “But you'll find there's a shortage of non-fiends to turn to for help in the Hells. Sometimes you gotta take the leap and trust someone wants what you can give them more than they want to stab you in the back.”

The hollyphant looked back, hesitating. For all her hostility, Haarlep couldn't really blame her. They wouldn't be much happier to rely on the advice and goodwill of a celestial, either.

“... And what if you judge it wrong?” she finally asked. Karlach glanced over at Raphael before she sighed and crossed her arms. 

“If Raphael thinks we should hear him out, then we should hear him out,” she finally said, and that was about the end of the argument. Haarlep held the horn out to Raphael, who blew in it to call for Bel’s personal guard. Granted, Haarlep would think later, the introductions with the hollyphant could have gone just a touch better. However, it could have also gone worse.

Erinyes were fallen celestials just like Zariel, after all, and Lulu probably needed to believe there was some good in them too, however delusional that may be. At the very least, she didn't try to blast them to pieces. Once the glares and insults died down, the erinyes turned their attention to the one thing which truly mattered - the fact that they finally had the Sword.

 “Lord Bel will be happy to grant you an audience,” Oreasha said. Her gaze ran over each of them, but ultimately paused on Raphael. For the briefest moment, her lips seemed to quirk upwards. “He’s particularly keen to see his old steward again.”

Raphael gave a brief bow. “And I am keen to discuss our next move with Lord Bel.”

“Oh gods, tell me we're not to trek all the way back to that volcano!” Astarion groaned, only for Oreasha to shake her head. 

“We shall bring you there right away. It will only take a few instants.”

“... You could have spared us this entire journey or almost, is what I'm hearing.”

“You're hearing wrong. That was not what we were charged to do.”

“We'll gratefully take your offer now,” Raphael spoke quickly before Astarion could say anything else or, worse, before the obviously unhappy hollyphant could have second thoughts. He turned back to the dragonborn, saying nothing, but his message was plain enough: trust me.

Trusting a devil was never wise, but Raphael was technically no devil anymore and they were obviously not very wise, so trust him they did. They nodded, just once, and that was that. Haarlep felt one of the erinyes put a hand on their shoulder, felt a pull not unlike that of blinking into the Ethereal Plane - and then the dank darkness of the scab was replaced by the glow of glowing magma as they stood in the volcano Bel had turned into his home, on roughly carved stone steps.

“Lord Bel - Raphael has the Sword,” Oreasha spoke.

There was a deep, throaty chuckle that Haarlep recognized immediately. “Ah, I knew he could pull it off. The hollyphant is a surprise, though.” 

Sitting on his stone throne carved out of the volcano’s own wall, Lord Bel leaned forward. His bestial face opened in a grin, baring sharp fangs. It made him look vicious and dangerous but, within the limits of a pit fiend’s definition, not unfriendly. 

“Lord Bel,” Raphael greeted him, and sank to one knee. “It has been some time.”

Bel wasn’t lord of anything anymore, but did not correct him. “So it has. You look well enough, Raphael, for someone who was supposedly digested by Lord Mephistopheles long ago.” 

“You know as well as I do, my lord, that my father could never quite stomach me,” Raphael replied, and the laugh that followed boomed through the chamber - not quite as loud as the one Haarlep had gotten out of him, but almost.

“Hah! A too delicate constitution, I'd say - a common affliction among wizards, no matter who they are.” A chortle, and he gestured for Raphael to stand. “It is good to see you, truly. I see your allies forgot to kneel, but it's a transgression I'm willing to ignore. The lot of you must be impressive indeed, to foil a scheme by the Dead Three. And you barely had need of my erinyes while traversing Avernus, too.”

Probably realizing that standing there and staring wordlessly at an archdevil - or at the slow-flowing magma coming down the walls into the pools on both sides of the throne room - was making them look rather stupid, Durge cleared their throat and bowed their head.

“That is kind of you to say, Lord Bel, but we succeeded partly thanks to the help we received from our allies. We’d be glad to count you as one, if you’re inclined to help.”

“Be careful, be careful, be careful,” the hollyphant muttered, obviously distressed.

Bel chuckled again. “Under most other circumstances your warning would be warranted, celestial, but not now. I want your old mistress off my throne; if giving her a halo back is what it takes, so be it.” 

Raphael tilted back his head. “A most brazen plan, I have to say. It would not only free your throne, but remove her from the picture entirely. Does the Lord Below will it?”

“Whether or not he wills it, I am not at liberty to tell you.”

It was as close to a yes as he could go, and they all knew it. “Surely, he is aware.”

“You are too clever not to know that nothing goes on in the Hells which the Lord Below does not know or imagine. But he has ways to make his displeasure known, and he has not thus far. We all must take risks, after all, the same you did when you revealed and thwarted your own father’s deal with a vampire lord. Seven thousand souls, it cost him. I wouldn’t be surprised to know that was his true gripe with you, rather than a scheme to get your hands on a crown no devil worth their salt wouldn’t want to obtain,” Bel added. 

Raphael paused, and gave Haarlep a decidedly annoyed look. “I see that my incubus has been loose of tongue,” he seethed. Haarlep grinned. 

“You can hardly blame me, lordling. You boasted about yanking those souls out of his grasp so loudly, how could I not think you’d want Lord Bel to know of the accomplishment?”

With a look that promised a punishment Raphael had frankly disappointingly never delivered, he clearly decided to drop the matter. “... Yes, we do all take our risks, and I have never known you to be rash, Lord Bel. My question was not meant as an impertinence.”

A chuckle, a vague gesture of his hand. “No offense taken,” he said. Then his eyes paused on Karlach, and he smiled. “Ah, I know you. I’ve seen you fight, if from afar. Impressive, truly.”

Karlach nodded, stiffly. “I never wanted to fight in the Blood War for Zariel,” she spoke, obviously wary. It was no surprise: last time a devil had appreciated her resilience and fighting skills, Haarlep was told, she had found herself with an infernal engine in her chest.

“Ah, so I have been told. No chance, then, that you may be inclined to remain and fight among my host once your engine has been fixed up?”

She pressed her lips together. “Not a single one.”

A sigh. “Had to ask, you understand. But I also understand you were promised something in exchange for your help - the freedom to leave Avernus. I have no intention to change that.” A gesture to the magma around them. “This place is not called Bel’s Forge for nothing. Bring here the schematics for your new heart once Zariel is no more, and it will be built.”

“With a full warranty, I imagine,” Raphael spoke, and Bel laughed again.

“Of course, but it won't be needed. Anything made here is made to last well beyond a mortal lifetime. Now, you must be tired. We will have time to discuss the finer details - a tenday.”

“A tenday?” Durge repeated, more than a little wary. “Why a tenday?”

“That is when the Flying Fortress will next dock, to refill its engines with souls from the Styx so that it may remain airborne. It will be your best chance to infiltrate it, with inside help.”

“That's true,” Karlach conceded with a nod. “The Flying Fortress moves all the damn time. If we're ever going to get a chance to get in, it will be while it's docked for a soul refill.”

“And this inside help would include my patron, I suppose? She gave me the mission to ensure the archdevil Zariel would be no more,” Wyll spoke, gaining himself a smile from Bel. 

“I see no reason to name names. But you will have help, once you're inside. How precisely you'll bypass the guards is something we'll have to discuss. Until then,” Bel added, “you'll be my esteemed guests. Oreasha, see that they're shown their rooms, so they may rest. You may roam this place at will, as long as you're mindful not to fall in magma. I'm told it's unpleasant, for mortals. My forgemaster too is at your disposal.”

Raphael bowed his head one more time. “It seems I owe you once again, Lord Bel.”

“That you do, but not for long. You always had a way of repaying your debts.”

“That has not changed, let me assure you,” he replied, to another flash of those sharp fangs. 

“Then I hope that once you're whole again, we'll have more chances to talk. Mephisto won't be able to get his claws on you here, once I am Lord of the First again. Do keep it in mind.”

One last bow. “I will,” Raphael said, and as they retired to rest, he seemed to be breathing a little more easily.

***

“You know, love, I should make you fear for my life a little more often, if this is the result.”

Laying with their head on Halsin’s stomach and Astarion resting across their own chest, Durge let out a noise that was sort of a scoff, sort of a groan, sort of a laugh. “You shouldn’t say it even as a joke. I thought my heart was going to stop.”

“Beats perfectly fine, from what I can hear. Besides, you have to admit that sex has a different flavor after a near death experience.”

“That it does, but I’d hesitate to say it’s worth it,” Halsin muttered, his voice a pleasant rumble beneath Durge’s head. “I do not need to be terrified to enjoy the bodies nature has gifted us.”

Astarion’s subsequent groan was not too far away from a laugh. “You’re never not going to bring up nature, are you?”

Another low, pleasant rumble of a chuckle. “Ah, my apologies. I’ve felt so disconnected from nature lately, it was… nice, to be reminded.”

“Oooh, I see. Heard that, love? I’m a reminder of nature.”

Durge chuckled, tangling their fingers through Astarion’s hair, and for a time they enjoyed a peaceful silence. As much as they’d missed making camp with their companions in the half year which had followed the fall of the Netherbrain, there was something to be said for the ability to enjoy a good romp without the risk of being interrupted and making things… well, rather awkward. Now, in a room they shared with only Halsin and Astarion, basking in the afterglow, Durge was starting to think that a tenday there wasn’t too long a wait. 

There would need time to plan and prepare, after all. 

They had barely glimpsed the rooms given to their other companions - two other rooms aside from their own, each of them opening up in a common space. Raphael and Haarlep had settled in one, and the third… well…

“Do you think Wyll and Karlach are finally going to get down to business?” Astarion asked, as though reading their mind, and Durge laughed. 

“I’m doubtful.”

“Oh, come now. He may be the pure and polite boy every girl wants to introduce to her parents, but I’m sure that now that they’ve got their own--”

“The hollyphant is there with them.”

“Ah, that. Yes, I can see how it would kill the mood, unless Karlach kills it first.”

“Surely she wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know. If the celestial little menace doesn’t take a break from singing Zariel’s praises, she may get an axe through the head before we’re even halfway through our stay here.”

They shared another chuckle before falling quiet again. In the end, it was Halsin to speak again. “Do you think she will be all right? If we succeed and Zariel is a celestial once more?”

Durge sighed. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

“She’ll be fine,” Astarion spoke, and shrugged, not turning to look at either of them. He was staring at a wall, cheek still resting on Durge’s chest. “Or fine as she can be. The alternative is worse. Wyll would be too steep a price to pay for some revenge.”

“... I truly hope you’re right.”

“Oh, but I am. Take it from your local vengeful bastard, she won’t regret it. If Cazador was somehow back and alive, and I was told I could kill him for good by sacrificing either of you, then I’d have to let the bastard walk. I wouldn’t like it, but the choice would be too obvious. I’d sooner live with that and-- agh! My spine! Warn me before you squeeze me like that-- Halsin, not you too! Ugh, I take it all back! The hells can have you both!”

There was laughter and some more cursing, but none of it was any more real than Astarion’s half-hearted attempts at pulling away. 

For all his grumling he remained where he was, holding onto them just as tight.

***

“Oh, come now, my little brat. If I didn't know better, I'd start to suspect you're angry at me.”

“You never know better. As a matter of fact, my current state of mind is best described as livid. ” 

Haarlep sighed, rolling their eyes. “Ah, there is no need to be dramatic. I answered a few of lord Bel’s questions, that is all.” They made a vague gesture with their hand, splashing hot water. The tub looked ridiculously inviting, particularly with Haarlep in it, but Raphael made an effort to ignore it. He retained some resistance to heat, but he suspected his mortal body would not handle the near-boiling water particularly that well. 

The volcano was not luxurious, particularly compared to the House of Hope, but after weeks on end spent sleeping in tents or caves, it would certainly do. Raphael scoffed, but didn’t retort. He looked over more closely instead, searching for any marks left by the near miss with the holy light. He found none, but he couldn’t get the vision out of his mind - the burned skin and seared flesh. And the screams. Not the worst screams he’d heard in the Hells by far, yet they had sent him into a near senseless state of panic when they’d rang out.

And now they seemed to keep echoing into his mind. He had never heard Haarleep scream in such a way before, and he rather hoped he never would again. Unaware of his thoughts, Haarlep grinned. “Enjoy what you see?” they asked, spreading their arms and leaning back against the side of the tub. “Oh, of course you do. You always enjoy looking into the mirror.”

His own face, if younger, burned by-- hellfire --holy light. His own voice screaming, his own features twisting in pain. Through the mirror darkly, the picture of his own demise.

I didn’t know, he’d said, and it was true, but it was not all he’d meant to say. More words had remained unsaid, stuck painfully in his throat. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“... Raphael?” Haarlep called out, the smug tone giving way to mild confusion. 

Raphael cleared his throat, and shook his head. “No,” he found himself saying. “I don’t enjoy what I’m seeing.”

A perfect copy, Haarlep had boasted the first time they’d taken his form, and it had been true then, but not anymore. He had aged, while Haarlep’s mimicry of him never did. A glamor of himself frozen in time, a man grown by mortal standards but still so very young by hellish ones. Young and foolish and destined to fail.

Haarlep blinked, and looked down at their chest. “What is it? Did it leave scars?” they asked, somewhat alarmed. “Is it unsightly? Where--”

“... No scarring that I can see.”

“Huh. Then what--”

“Change form.”

“Oh.” A pause, then the perplexed expression faded in a grin. “Oooh, I see. A little change, then? That’s very welcomed indeed. Whose form? I’m afraid I did promise not to use the dragonborn’s, in case you changed your mind about that. And I have not had the chance to try adding lord Bel to my glamors - don’t tell me you haven’t at least thought about it, who wouldn’t? But, I have collected a few--”

Any form, I don’t care, Raphael thought, but that was not what left his mouth. “Yours.”

The grin on Haarlep’s - his - face seemed to freeze, then faded into yet more confusion. “Mine?” they repeated, tilting their head. “Why? You never once asked for my true form, not since I took yours.”

He hadn’t, had he? Haarlep had bedded him while wearing their own form once, on their first night, and then never again. Raphael had never asked to see any face above him but his own; he could not recall, he realized now, what Haarlep’s own form even looked like. 

“I am asking now,” he found himself replying, not quite knowing why he was asking in the first place. Another long look, their expression uncharacteristically serious, before Haarlep spoke. 

“You don’t own me anymore.”

“I am aware.”

“You can’t demand any form of me.”

“... I won’t. It is a request.”

Another pause, and Haarlep rose from the tub. Their every movement was always effortlessly sensual, but this time there was a sense of purpose as they strode to the bed where Raphael sat, as they crouched to meet his eyes. Water ran down their body in rivulets, and their-- his -- face was so close, their lips almost touched. Raphael did not close that space between them, and neither did Haarlep. Instead, they spoke in a whisper. 

“Say please,” they demanded, and even though they had no reason to keep their voices down Raphael found himself whispering his response as well. 

“Please.”

This was not precisely how they usually made him plead, but getting that word out of him never failed to get a wide, satisfied grin out of the incubus. This time, they did not grin: they just closed their eyes, leaned back, and shed Raphael’s glamor with a long breath. Within moments the crimson skin had turned cinnamon, their frame shorter and leaner. The horns were smaller, the hair long and wine-red. When they opened their eyes, their pupils were red. Their mouth was smaller, more delicate than Raphael's. Haarlep’s lips curled, just barely, before they stood and took a couple of steps back. 

“Well then,” they said, spreading their arms and wings. “Enjoy what you see?”

The smugness was there once again, but it felt uncharacteristically forced, as though Haarlep was not certain of the response they’d get. As though they were not stunning, with delicate features and a lithe body, hair catching the light like threads of red silk. 

Raphael found himself staring, mouth dry. The first and only time he’d seen them like that he’d been angry over the perceived slight from a father he’d yet hoped to impress, unable to think of anything but his wounded pride. Now, he was thinking two things: that he could have been having this all along, and that he was an idiot.

“Yes.” Raphael’s voice was still only a whisper, and something about it made Haarlep’s grin waver, if only for a moment. Then they leaned back against the tub, and licked their lips. 

“Then you should show your appreciation, shouldn’t you, my little brat?”

That was familiar, an invitation they’d uttered more times than could be counted. Getting on his knees, too, was familiar - but the hand in his hair was smaller, the thighs he held onto not as muscled. Between those thighs Haarlep’s cock was still soft, nestled in curly red hair. Beneath it was the pink opening of a cunt - that, too, he’d forgotten about.

Raphael swallowed, and looked up. Haarlep met his gaze with a hungry look, and their hand clenched in his hair. “And I haven’t even kissed you,” they muttered, the half-smile playing on their lips again. They pressed a bare foot on his groin, on the erection straining against the trousers, and laughed at the resulting groan. “This is all you. How very naughty. What should I do with you, I wonder?”

Anything you want, Raphael would usually say at that point, staring at his own sneering face. Archduke, he’d call them. But he had no time to say either thing before Haarlep pulled him closer by the hair, to press his face against their groin. Their voice - their voice entirely, not a version of his own - was a little hoarse when they spoke again.

“You’ll make me come first, pet, if it takes you all night. Make me come and then I’ll fuck you.” 

A shiver, and Raphael pulled back enough to take their cock in his mouth, eyes slipping shut--

“No.” The pull on his hair was sharp, merciless. Raphael let out a pained yelp around them, and looked up. Haarlep's eyes caught his; they seemed to burn. “You wanted my true form, so now you'll look at it. Look at me. You won't stop looking for a single moment, my little brat. That's an order.”

Raphael whined deep in his throat, nodding as much as he could manage without letting them slip out of his mouth. His eyes watered by the time he'd taken most of it down his throat, by the time he reached up between Haarlep's thighs blindly to push his fingers in the tight heat of their cunt, but he did not look away. 

It was far from the first time he pleasured them with his mouth, but this was the first time the sensation did not extend to him. He was painfully hard, but the fact he was not feeling both ends of the action, taking and being taken, allowed him to last… longer than he otherwise would have. There was less to feel, but more time to feel it.

He was vaguely aware of his own rushing blood in his ears, the heat in his groin, the uncomfortable tightness of trousers he was almost certainly going to soil soon enough. But all he could truly focus on was Haarlep's face, the way their features softened in pleasure, the way they parted their lips - and the grip in his hair, the growing hardness against his tongue, the slick wetness around his fingers. Haarlep groaned and arched their back, pushing their hips forward to go as deep down his throat as they could get.

He choked for a moment, the cock not as thick as his own but longer; he did not protest, though, did not pull away. When his vision blurred he blinked away tears and still looked up, lips stretched at the base. Haarlep stared a few instants before they laughed, delighted. 

“Good boy,” they crooned, and it undid him just like that, the orgasm sudden and harsh, tearing a near sob out of his lungs. Raphael shuddered, but did not pull back. His fingers slipped a moment out of Haarlep before his thumb found their clit, and pressed against it.

It was not enough to undo Haarlep in turn - incubi had a degree of control over their body no other devil, and certainly no mortal, could hope to match. But it got a moan out of them, and the laugh that followed was just a touch more breathless than before as they pulled back, leaving Raphael feeling empty and trembling.

“Ah, look at you, trying so hard.” Haarlep crouched in front of him, cupping his jaw. Their eyes were half-lidded, red as rubies. “And already finished? That won't do at all,” they chuckled, and finally - finally - leaned in to kiss him, their saliva sending a shudder down Raphael's spine. He groaned and clutched them without thinking, kissing back deeply, sucking on their tongue. By the time they pulled back he was hard again, his loins on fire. “There,” Haarlep crooned. “Much better. Maybe I won't make you wait to fuck you, after all, to reward a good attemp--”

Raphael kissed them again, without warning. Their true form was not much larger than his human one and they lost their balance, falling back on the floor with a noise of surprise, Raphael on top of them. When he pulled back to catch his breath, they laughed.

“Oh, I really don't mind this angle,” they purred, and lifted their head to nibble at his throat. Their hands reached down to unlace his trousers, pushing them down his thighs. Raphael bit back a groan when a hand closed around his cock, giving it a couple of firm strokes. “I might be starting to think you should have asked for this form a long time ago…”

Raphael may have agreed, if he'd been able to form words. Instead he shuddered and pulled back just enough to look down at Haarlep's erection, at the glistening wetness between their things. He almost voiced his question, but Haarlep got there first. They gripped his chin and turned his face so that he'd look them in the eyes.

“I'll have you inside, this time,” Haarlep spoke, in a clear order. 

Raphael swallowed. “I don't know if I--”

“If you don't last, you'll clean your mess with your tongue. And then you'll ride me until I'm done. Is that clear?”

The thought alone was nearly enough to undo him a second time. Raphael let out a long, shaky breath. “Yes.”

“And you won't look away, my little brat.” The grip on his face tightened. “Not one moment.”  

He didn't.

***

“I’m going to kill her.”

“We probably shouldn’t murder a celestial.”

“I’d kill her just a little. I mean, if she dies she goes back to the Citadel. No harm done.”

“We’ll probably need her to convince Zariel to attune to the sword instead of destroying it.”

“Ah, yeah. Guess that would kind of suck, dealing with a pissed off Zariel without the sword.”

To say it would kind of suck was the understatement of the decade as far as Wyll was concerned, but Karlach muttered those words with the same distant, tired tone of someone who just returned from a long trip to the nearest market only to realize she forgot to pick up the milk. In the middle of the room some distance away, Lulu was fluttering back and forth, muttering under her breath something that Wyll suspected was a small speech she was practicing for the moment she faced Zariel again. 

Good to be prepared, he supposed, but it made trying to sleep really, really difficult. 

In the end, Wyll opted to make another attempt at being convincing before he resorted to casting Silence on her, which Lulu would probably not appreciate. “Lulu? I was wondering if this could wait until tomorrow. I’m sure it’s very important, but we’re really very--”

Sleepy, he almost said, but Karlach chose that moment to yawn loudly and drop her head on his shoulder. She was clearly well beyond just sleepy, and the hollyphant caught that at last. 

“Oh-- oh! Right! You need to sleep and I’m keeping you up! I’m so sorry! There are just so many things I want to tell Zariel, if she’ll listen-- I mean, of course she’ll listen! She almost listened last time, I told you, didn’t I? When I was in the dungeons and I almost got through to her, and then that devil showed up with the dagger--”

“Please shut up,” Karlach groaned, another yawn making her words almost unintelligible. Wyll gave Lulu a smile. 

“I’m sure you’ll think of the right things to say, but we really do need some rest now. You could keep practicing outside, perhaps?”

“Oh! Of course, I’ll do that. And I’ll hold guard, too - I’ll blast real loud if some devil tries to sneak into any of your rooms!”

Wyll had no reason to think Bel would try anything underhanded, with their interests so clearly aligned, but then again it never hurt to have someone keeping an eye out for everyone else while in a devil’s den. So he nodded, the smile widening. 

“That would be excellent, actually.”

"Right! I’ll be just outside!” Lulu exclaimed, and fluttered out without another word. Wyll chuckled. 

“Well, that wasn’t too--”

“Srnnk…” 

As Karlach’s snoring rang out, only an inch from his right ear, Wyll held back a laugh - it wouldn’t do to awaken her now that she’d just settled - and leaned back more comfortably against the wall, resting his head against hers before he closed his eyes.

His last thought before he fell asleep was that he really, really hoped they wouldn’t wake up to hopelessly tangled horns.

***

The very first thing Haarlep saw when they opened their eyes was their own hand, resting against the side of Raphael’s sleeping face. It took them a moment to recognize it as their own, unused as they were to their form; as a matter of fact, they recognized the ring at their finger first. The gold band, the light blue stones.

It helps ward off death for a time, if you’re downed. It should give us more time to heal you, Raphael had said after pressing it against their palm, and Haarlep wondered if he’d had any idea just how close to death they would come less than a day later. 

Would they have survived the ordeal, if not for that ring? They may never know, but they had a distinct suspicion that they wouldn’t have. The pain had been excruciating as it had been unexpected; they remembered screaming for help, for Raphael’s help. And he did rush to them, pale-faced and even crying. An odd sight, that, surprising but not unwelcome.

They had made him weep many times in bed - that night included, truth he told - but that had been different. It had been fear and guilt, threatening to spill into grief. All from a being who was not meant to feel any, towards a creature who was not meant to elicit any either.

A human heart, with only half a soul to keep it in check. No wonder he's different. It will be gone, whatever this is, once he's whole again. Part human, mostly fiend, one complete bastard. 

But until that happened, Haarlep would do what they'd always done best: indulge. Raphael had not turned into a great lover overnight, but he did last longer than he ever did when feeling both ends at once… and most of all, he had wanted to pleasure them. Haarlep could appreciate the attempt, from someone who'd seemed to only ever want to fuck a mirror.

But he looked at me. Never stopped looking at me.

It was not something Haarlep could say they'd ever imagined happening, nor something they'd wished for. But then it happened, Raphael's eyes fixed on their face - theirs! - and suddenly they'd wanted him to keep looking, they'd wanted it like breathing. Such pretty eyes he had, and now they wanted to see them again. So they leaned in, stroked his cheek with their thumb, and kissed him on the bridge of his nose.

“Mmh…” Raphael frowned a moment, causing his nose to scrunch up in that delightful way it always did. When his eyes opened and he blinked a couple of times to put them into focus, Haarlep waited for the inevitable order-- request he can give me orders no more --to change back to his likeness again.

Instead, he groaned and dropped his forehead against their chest. “Everything hurts everywhere,” he muttered.

And a good morning to you too, brat.

Haarlep laughed perhaps a touch louder than it was warranted, a little lightheaded for reasons they should probably not wonder about too hard.  “Of course it does. You rode me for hours, you poor thing.” Their hand brushed back his hair, ran down his back. They pressed their fingers against sore muscles and Raphael arched into it with a groan. “But you have done so well.”

“You were holding back on purpose, weren't you?” he grumbled against their skin, only to hiss when Haarlep's hand slid further down, over his still sore hole, over the dried semen which had dripped out of him.

“Ah, can you blame me for wanting it to last?” Haarlep purred, and nibbled at his ear. “You were delightful, truly.”

“Mph.” Raphael grumbled, and pulled back just enough to look at them - truly look, again. His eyes were half-lidded, and he reached to take some of Haarlep's hair, running his fingers through it. He seemed about to say something, then he hesitated, and remained quiet. Unusual, that. Raphael was not one to keep silent when he had a chance to talk and listen to his own voice for hours on end.

“Shall I change form, my little lord?”

“It would be wise, before we step outside. An incubus’ true form ought to remain a private matter, I know.” 

“I don't think we need to step outside just yet.”

“We don't.”

Haarlep went to smooth back his hair, and Raphael took their hand before they could pull it back. His fingers found the ring and he looked at it, running his thumb over it. He knew, as well as Haarlep did, how that little trinket had likely played a part in keeping them alive. Without it… well. A devil slain in Baator is gone for good. 

Most of the time at least. Their little brat was always the exception to many rules, but Haarlep was a full devil; their own death would have been permanent.

“... A useful artifact,” Raphael spoke, still thumbing at it. “Make sure not to lose it.”

“I'll treasure it, my pet. Like you treasure your mother’s gift, I see,” they added, running their fingertips over Raphael’s ring finger, over the now useless ring on it. It caused Raphael to pause and stare at it for a few moments before he sat up-- well. Tried to sit up, winced, and leaned against the wall, still focused on the ring. Haarlep blinked. “... Raphael?”

He didn’t reply right away: just stared at the ring for a few more moments, turning it on his finger, before he smiled. “I need to see Bel now. I have an idea.”

“What you have is a sore backside and semen all over your thighs. I’ll draw you a bath first, little duke. Not too hot, so that it doesn’t redden that delicate skin,” Haarlep added, as though Raphael’s skin wasn’t already reddened from the previous night’s activities. It made him crinkle his nose in annoyance again. 

“Insolent as always,” he muttered, but all his crankiness seemed to vanish the moment he realized Haarlep was going to be in the tub, too. The simplest trick in the book, but it always worked.

Haarlep may have laughed at how easy that had been, had their mouth not been otherwise occupied as soon as Raphael joined them in the water.

***

The tenday as Bel's guests - well, actually nine days - flew by faster than Karlach had expected them to. And it wasn't all that bad, really: there was enough time to finally get all of their weapons and armor upgraded, for one. If their attempt with the Sword failed and it came to having to fight Zariel, they would definitely need it.

Dammon would have probably lost his entire mind in that forge; she'd have to tell him about it next time she stopped by at the Gate, to ask how it measured up to the one he'd visited.

And of course, as well as the weapons, the forgemaster and a mage had worked tirelessly to forge something else - rings.

“A teleposition spell? Ah, so that is how they got you out of Mephisto’s maw in the nick of time,” Bel had commented with Raphael’s ring in the palm of their hand, the day he'd explained his plan to infiltrate the Fortress. “Ingenious, I must admit, however little I trust magic. It is a sound enough plan, if we can get enough rings forged on time.”

They could, and they did. The day before the Flying Fortress was due to dock at the Styx, one of Bel’s envoys took off to meet it, carrying reports on the movement of troops on the ground… as well as seven rings. 

The other seven stayed with them, near exact copies of the one Raphael had been wearing. Well, except for the one that needed to be large enough to fit around a hollyphant's tusk.

“All right, let me see if I got this right,” Astarion was saying, toying with his ring. “Tomorrow we cast an illusion spell to make us look ugly, and get taken to the Styx. Once the Fortress docks close enough, we put these on.” He held up the ring. “And if Bel’s agents inside didn't fuck it up, we'll be in there in seconds without anyone noticing.”

“That's the gist of it,” Raphael replied. “Does it meet your approval?”

“Ah, I'm not a plans kind of guy,” Astarion replied with a shrug, pocketing the ring. “This sounds perfectly decent to me. Once we're in, we'll just wing it.”

“I am not certain I'm comfortable with the concept of winging it when fighting a devil in her own fortress.”

“Worked well enough against you,” Karlach pointed out, gaining herself a rather tired sigh.

“Fair enough.” Raphael pocketed his own ring. “Very well. That is all. We ought to rest and--”

“Where's mine?”

Haarlep's voice caused him to trail off, and everyone to pause and glance over. That was true, Karlach realized - with Lulu included, they needed eight pairs of rings. Why had Raphael only asked for seven?

“You don't have one,” Raphael replied, his voice dry. “You're going to remain here.”

A scoff. “Oh, come now. I always wondered what the Flying Fortress looks like.”

“I’ll make sure to tell you all when we return,” Raphael snapped, causing Haarlep to trail off and blink. It seemed to dawn in on them, quite suddenly, that Raphael was serious. And they didn't seem much like that, if the scowl on the face they were wearing was anything to go by. 

“I’m coming with you, my little brat.”

Raphael scoffed as though they had just said something so absurd, it hardly warranted acknowledgment. “You most certainly are not. You’ll wait for my-- for our return here, where it's safe.”

“Safe? I didn't come here to be safe!” Haarlep snapped, their voice harsh enough to catch Karlach by surprise. And everyone else, it seemed. “I was given a mission to make sure you had the best chance--”

“Well then, consider the mission fulfilled,” Raphael cut them off. He was scowling, but wasn't looking at them, or even in their general direction. Behind him, Durge and Astarion were exchanging a quick look. “I have as good a chance as I am ever going to get. I no longer have need--”

“You no longer own me, and you may no longer give me orders. I most certainly am coming,” Haarlep cut him off in turn. “Someone has to look after you--”

“I can look after myself well enough. If I did need anybody else to look after me, I’d pick someone capable of fighting.”

“I infiltrated the scab, didn't I?”

“And you almost died screaming.”

“There won't be any holy light where we're going. I can have a look around the Fortress and--”

“Fooling a few demons doesn't make you a master spy, you imbecile! If you're caught--”

“I won't be. If I can be an asset--”

“All you are is a distraction!”

For a few moments, Raphael's snarl was met with stunned silence. Karlach was faintly aware of Astarion's sharp intake of breath, of Halsin’s stunned expression, of Wyll stiffening by her side. Durge said nothing, either, but they did bring a hand up to their head as they always did when a headache began. 

Overall, the only reaction Karlach found surprising was Haarlep's. They had been called worse before; a toy, even, by one of Bel's guards, and they'd seemed entirely unbothered - even surprised by Astarion’s reaction to it. Now, however, their borrowed features shifted from annoyance to disbelief, before quickly settling into a stony, unsettling anger. 

“... Very well, then,” they spoke. “Far it be from me to distract you, master. I'll take my leave.”

Wyll stepped forward, lifting his hands as though to call for calm. “Let's not be rash--” he began, to absolutely no avail. Haarlep was out of the door before he could add another word, and the door slammed shut before he'd even lowered his hands. Several pairs of eyes turned to Raphael, and he looked back at none of them. 

“If it's all the same to you,” he ground out, picking up a crude map of the Flying Fortress Karlach had drawn at the best of her scarce artistic abilities, “I shall inform Bel--”

There was a noise halfway between a scoff and a trumpet before Lulu fluttered right up to Raphael's face, scowling. “I know why you did that,” she informed him.

Raphael glared back. “I highly doubt you do,” he muttered. “But pray tell, what is your point?”

“My point,” Lulu declared, pointing right at his face with her trunk, “is that it was really, really mean.”

A scoff. “I've been accused of worse things,” he muttered, and left the room before anyone could say a word, his lips pressed together in a thin line, meeting none of their gazes.

***

By the time Raphael returned to their quarters, after going over the plan with Bel one last time, the others had all retired to their rooms to rest for the day ahead. To be entirely honest, it was a relief: he'd rarely been less inclined to talk in his life.

There was little to talk about either way. Even the idiotic hollyphant could tell precisely what had happened and why. He’d let his control slip, as he had several times over the journey through Avernus - letting himself be reduced to a sniveling mess one night, waking up screaming one morning, all but begging the bhaalspawn to let him go to so he could heal Haarlep outside the Citadel. He’d heard those screams-- “Master! Help me! Please!” -- and rational thought had entirely left him. 

Running on half a soul had more than halved both his powers and self-control. He’d grown stronger since and he’d thought he could regain control too over time, but it had not been so. 

It only kept getting worse, and he shuddered to think of what may happen if Haarlep - the imbecile was no fighter, what did they think they could do in the first place? - came to harm during their mission. No, they had to stay behind, or else they would be a liability. A distraction indeed, precisely what Mephistopheles had intended them to be from the start. 

There would be no room for mistakes in the Flying Fortress; it was as simple as that. Looking back he should have led the explanation with that, instead of-- well, losing control. But then again, did he truly want to tell everybody - to say aloud - that those screams had replaced even Mephistopheles’ maw in his nightmares? Did he want to tell them why? 

No, he did not. He could not. It was foolishness which would be over once he was whole again, himself again - and that, love, was that.

The room he'd shared with Haarlep was empty, which did not surprise him: Oreasha had told him that the incubus had left Bel's Forge, saying that their mission was done and that Raphael was now their problem. What did surprise him was seeing something glinting on the pillow, a band of gold with light blue stones and the faint hum of magic about it. And it stung, like a sudden blow to the stomach… but it made sense, really, that they would leave it behind.

They had no more need for it, after all. No reason left to get into any sort of fight. They were back in Mephistar, most likely, back to the safety of a boudoir. Perhaps they would feel some vindication when selling his body out once again at his father's court, where he was loathed and desired in equal measures. The esteemed Justiciar Bele would be first in line, surely. 

If he did, he'd feel it soon enough. At the moment, he felt nothing.

Raphael sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the ring, and stared at it in silence for a long, long time.

***

[Back to Chapter 23]

[On to Chapter 25]

[Back to Start]

[jihyocentric]

kept thinking abt namo

-

momo should've suspected something was off when nayeon asked to join her at the gym. the time was convenient for them, as it was late at night and the gym was nearly empty, the time momo usually liked to workout. nayeon, despite not being the most active person, almost begged momo to join her and then momo found herself in a sticky situation, knowing she'd have take nayeon along, because she couldn't handle a sulky nayeon and sana would be mad if she knew momo was the one who made nayeon whiny.

what nayeon really wanted was right in front of her. to see momo handling heavy weights, sweating in the process, grunting as she worked on her perfect muscles, her shirt wet from sweat. momo's choice of wearing a sleeveless tank top caused nayeon the biggest nuisance yet. nayeon tried (not really) to focus on her set of exercises, but she kept glancing at momo, pressing her legs together to ignore the increasing build up between them, getting wetter with each grunt coming from momo and the way her muscles flexed when she lifted heavy weights.

nayeon had promised she would keep quiet and not disturb momo, but she couldn't help it. she wanted momo and she would get it, just like she managed to make momo bring her along.

"momo." nayeon called, stopping by the machine momo was about to start using. the trickles of sweat running down her neck made nayeon bite her lower lip, feeling hot although she hadn't done more than a couple squats. "can you show me where the bathroom is?"

"you know where it is." momo replied, not in the mood to stop her workout.

"i don't remember, it's been so long since i last came here," nayeon pushed. "just show me and i'll leave you alone. won't say a word until we're back home," nayeon tried to look cute, convincing, a small pout forming on her lips. "i promise." she adds.

momo huffs, getting up from the machine. "fine."

momo guides her with a hand over nayeon's hip, making the older walk faster because she wanted to go back quickly and finish her set properly. meanwhile nayeon smiles, wanting to laugh at how easy it was to get momo every single time. it's when they arrive at that secluded area that was the bathroom, that nayeon manages to pull momo inside and close the door.

"you're so silly," nayeon tells momo, the younger wanting to complain. nayeon pulls her shorts down, enough to free momo's cock, already hard in her boxers. "wow. were you hard all this time?"

"let go, nayeon," momo holds nayeon's wrist, but the older's free hand grabs her cock. "you're so annoying."

"you can't even defend yourself. why are you this hard, huh?" nayeon asks, pumping momo's shaft slowly, smiling when momo releases her wrist. "i thought so."

nayeon doesn't waste time and sinks down on her knees, taking momo in her mouth eagerly. for now, it's all she can do, and getting her throat stretched by momo always felt good. it took nayeon a couple of licks and a some seconds trying to relax her throat before she could take all of it in, momo doing her best to disturb her by grabbing nayeon's hair and pulling her down on her cock, as rough as always, uncaring of nayeon's struggles to take her big cock.

"fuck, suck it," momo mutters, both hands holding nayeon's hair, enjoying the way nayeon's warm, velvety tongue worked on her shaft.

nayeon pulls away, breathing heavily after being treated so roughly, but momo was still hard and she wasn't going to leave that bathroom without dumping her cum somewhere inside nayeon. not after being provoked that way. momo could be quiet and passive, but she never failed to put nayeon back in her place.

"stand up." momo asks, demanding, making nayeon gulp, knowing what came next.

momo pulls nayeon's pants down, just enough to expose her, and sinks in without a warning.

"hey!" nayeon yelps, holding onto the wall as momo's hips shook against hers. "f-fuck."

"your mouth is good but this is even better," momo says, taking off right away, in a fast pace that made nayeon whine at every deep thrust.

momo is fast and steady, holding nayeon so that her unnie wouldn't fall, knowing that nayeon was already carried away by the pleasure. however, momo didn't want nayeon to come, and so she made sure she relieved herself as soon as she could — because brats like nayeon didn't deserve to finish.

"momo, i'm so... fuck, so close," nayeon whimpers, attempting to bring a hand down and rub her clit, but momo trapped her wrists against the wall with a single hand, the other holding nayeon's hip as she bottomed out, feeling nayeon's tight pussy squeezing her so hard that it felt like an invitation for momo to come inside.

"you don't get to come," momo grunts, pushing every inch of her shaft inside and then unloading deep in nayeon, dangerously close to her womb. "take it!"

nayeon doesn't believe in momo's words, not until momo pulls out and lifts her shorts up, tucking her softening shaft back in her boxers. then momo opens the door, ready to leave.

"what about me?" nayeon holds momo's sweaty arm. "you can't just leave me here!"

"i think i can." momo laughs, stepping out of the bathroom. "ah, and unless you want to get punished when we get home, don't bother me again."

nayeon whines as she watches momo going back to the machine she was about to use before getting rudely interrupted. she eventually sucks it up and cleans herself, thinking that maybe now she should focus on the exercise and stop staring at momo.

[phoenixradiant]

OC Interaction Tag Game

My thanks to @tildeathiwillwrite for the tag! Sorry it took so long!

Rules: Provide a short description of your OC, then using the description given by the person who tagged you, describe how you think the two of them would interact.

Tagger's OC: Hector Epsilona is Caenum's resident Watcher (which is a detective/bodyguard/mercenary-type job). He knows the law (and its loopholes) very well, and uses both extensively, and enjoys a small amount of freedom to operate outside the law if he sees fit. He is extremely protective of and attached to those he cares about, especially his apprentice, Luc. He is generally polite, if a bit stern, and is always looking for a way to turn something into a lesson.

My OC: The Wheel has chosen...

Lutian!

Lutian is the 12-year-old crown princess of Knithren. She's good at pretty much everything, though she's not exceptional in any one field. For her age, though, she has a surprising grasp of wizardry, able to produce simple forces and temporarily create basic elements. She can be polite, but she prefers to be casual or mildly insulting, and loves playing tricks on people. She's only just begun to lay out a personal philosophy, but she practically idolizes her father and does her best not to do anything he seriously disapproves of, so she keeps her word and tries not to cause lasting harm to the people she nuisances. She abhors minders.

Their Interaction: Lutian would appreciate Hector's (or "Heck", as she's more likely to call him) deep knowledge of the law and the virtues he shares with her father, but she'd probably appreciate them from a distance. They wouldn't personally like each other all that much, as his stern nature and her hatred of being minded would clash almost immediately. The most surefire way to mend their relationship would be if Heck would let her "tag along to catch some criminals!" She'd let him lead the way and listen to what wisdom he has gladly so long as she can get a piece of the action.

NP tagging @pluppsauthor, @elizaellwrites, @aalinaaaaaa, and open tag!

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

Lamb the Mean Girl

I am going to say I find Lamb to be a pretty cool character. His backstory is cool, he's pretty charming and the vampire lore he offers is cool and although he's problematic I kind of put him closer to Fiona problematic than like Davys level of problematic.

That being said there's one moment in WS that I have a hard time reconciling. The scene where he turns to Baz after Simon is made uninvisible by Penny "Lamb takes in Simon's wings and tail, then turns to Baz and shakes his head. "Not just a magician, Baz, but a disfigured magician."

The word disfigured means "to mar the appearance or beauty of; deform; deface". He's saying this about Simon's wings and tail. He's basically saying that Simon's wings and tail make him ugly. And hes not saying it to Simon he's saying it to Baz. Now this was uncool of Lamb cause whatever other insult Simon's ever thought in his head about Lamb he's never gone after Lambs appearance, if anything he's super complimentary about it. Also the word disfigured is italized, we get this scene from Pennys perspective so we don't know what Simon's really thinking here but it's interesting that although he does not recount it in his thoughts his attitude towards his wings and tail significantly shifts.

Reading WS before this scene Simon's feelings towards his wings and tail are more exasperated than anything. He thinks of them as a nuisance and has moments when he really likes them like when he's at Ren Faire.

This scene guts me cause Simon was already feeling insecure enough that he went and got a haircut and was maybe starting to feel a bit better about his appearance. Then this mean girl moment happens and you can see in the next book Simon internalized it.

He had a year to remove his wings and all of a sudden now he wants to do it, he says its cause he wants to live as a Normal but he also becomes a lot more self consciousabout how he looks with his wings and tail. He even compares himself to a sideshow act when talking about them to Baz.

No one else insults Simon's wings, Baz and Ruth love them, even Agatha thinks that although if she were Simon she'd have them removed she thinks about how cool the wings were in the desert. I should point something out though, Baz never compliments Simon's wings or tail and that is because he doesn't want Simon to feel pressured to keep them just because he likes them. That being said in AWTWB Baz interacts intimately with them (kissing the wings and the infamous tail job) and we can sort of see this helping Simon a bit. Lambs insult like Simon's near death in the desert are things neither of them address outright, probably cause they are working through it still, but I think the tail job during their talk about Lamb was kind of meant to be assurance from Baz in some way.

I think for Simon it was a situation where a mean cool popular person cut down his appearance and it kind of stayed with him. I'm not saying Simon's sudden hatred for his wings and tail is entirely Lambs fault I just think that the timing is interesting enough for it to feel sort of connected. Also insulting peoples appearance is a low blow and a mean thing to do.

Here's what I think is going through Lambs head in that moment though. Margaret the Dragon makes it clear that in the past Dragons were used to execute vampires. And Lamb as we know is very opposed to Mage vampire hybrids. Can you imagine what a dragon Mage hybrid might mean to him? He doesn't know that Simon doesn't have his magic. So I think Simon Scares him. Penny says in her pov : "Merciful Morgana-Lamb's face when my spell finally wears off, and Simon appears out of thin air." I think Simon frightens Lamb and that's why he has to make a show of bravery in front of his minions and tries to undermine him to Baz. And like a classic mean girl bully move Lamb takes a shot at Simons appearance.

[originemesis]

@tempteve / @kugel-bitch from xxx

As the phrase ' ripping a new one' hung in the air, it seemed Eve was poised to do just that.

" Don’t — ! "

Her sudden movement conveyed a readiness to confront all in the name of defending the sanctity of Eden. It was more than a place to her; it was her origin, her love, her loss — her entire being intertwined with its existence. Despite the pain it had caused, Eden remained the one constant in her tumultuous existence, a tether to a past she couldn't bear to relinquish. Yet, even as she clung to its memory, a whisper from within echoed:

You need to let go.

" Jesus fucking Christ ! " Her reaction was immediate, instinctual, as she rushed to steady him, startled by the sudden outburst of pain. Was she exacerbating his agony without realizing it ? Or had her own inner turmoil clouded her perception ? In her moment of coming to his aid she failed to realise the positioning of her hand. Gaze drifts to see fingers almost intertwined over his scar. Hastily she pulls back.

“ J-just stay there. Don’t try and get up. ”

His bitterness, his frustration — it was all too familiar, a reflection of the turmoil that churned within her own self. Even as his anger flared, she couldn't help but understand where it came from. They had both been cast aside by the very place that was supposed to be their home, left to fend for themselves in a world that had turned its back on them.

But his words stung nonetheless.

“ Yeah, that’s kinda my thing, I’m afraid. ”

It was an acknowledgment of the rift that had formed between them, but she was starting to believe it to be true. The rose was gone, were thorns all that was left behind ? she had clung onto a version of the garden in her mind for so long that she began to lose herself in the process. Much like the state of Eden now, she too, had begun to wilt. Only she failed to recognize the damage already caused.

Eve runs a hand through tangled locks, letting out a heavy sigh.

“ I don’t want to start a fight, believe it or not. ”

@kugel-bitch

While all of this is going down one bemused lieutenant has perched in the window through which she had departed from the apartment earlier that morning. Like watching two animals of different species just barely managing to coexist in a too small enclosure, it all looks...a little bit unnatural, the way that they engage with one another—so much more strained than she had imagined, for creatures who were, in very literal terms, cut from the same cloth...flesh...clay? Whatever. The chemistry which she assumed would be there simply is nowhere to be seen.

Adam's mounting upset eventually puts her on such an edge that she cannot idle by any longer, but Eve swooping in to provide her aid stops her short in slinking over to wrangle him back into the nest where she'd made it very clear he was supposed to stay put. A not very happy sounding noise reverberates in the space between her nose and her throat in direct response to the display. It's not that she is distrustful of Eve and her intentions but he is vulnerable right now and she cannot help but be a touch territorial in turn. "Well...isn't this touching. I wasn't made aware that there would be a family reunion taking place today—I would've picked something up for you on the way, Eve." Cocking a hip, she idly swirls the ice around in her matcha lemonade, wing unfurling in front of Adam to set itself up as a makeshift barrier between him and the first woman, out of concern for his comfort more than anything else. She knows all too well how he abhors to be exposed.

It was beyond a nuisance having her show up like this-...well, having her show up in the state she was in since it always seemed to end poorly for him in the past- seeing her pain and doing all that he could to smooth it down just so he'd be able to relax. Regardless of her current mood being directly tied to his actions in the first place, he'd been used to their own balancing act out of Eden that required one to lean in to the other during times when their shared structure of a symbiotic relationship threatened to collapse and take the other with them. She had always been a lot more...charged in the emotional sense as if most of what dripped out of a bleeding heart had been awarded to her along with his rib like some unseen contract that determined she'd give him every benefit of the doubt and find any excuse not to walk away from him so that the hollow frame of his own emotions that relied on a companion's stalwart nature wouldn't crumble so long as he stood by her as the support beam to her worries of the world crashing in all around them. While he did hate to see it when chicks messed their pretty faces up with tears, it was one of many deep and swallowed apple seeds that reminded him the physical pain in his side would act up following her tears like an old wound that grew sore with the promise of rain.

"I bet somebody thought this would be a cute way to keep souls together...and they can frankly fuck themselves over it." He was huffing, hardly noticing her scramble until the familiar sting of having her pressed in close to his flank to help steady him from his own hasty decisions caused Adam to cock his head to the side and linger in the strange sensation of a past lived out yet not fully shaken in the molt known as death. Her nearly brushing the leathery tear in his side didn't exactly help the spasms, but they were on steady decline as she stepped back and reminded him he was laid bare under her judgement. Figuring a wince was worth the sad stretch of an attempt at dressing himself with a few feathers fanned to hide from naval to knee, he shot her a weary look under the glow of his halo.

"Least you got some sense, y'know- for a chick. Considering I'd win. " He added with a teasing twitch of a smirk, his talons digging into the wall plaster that was well past patchy from he and Lute's booming band sessions that oft caused pieces of the ceiling to pop off. Speaking of...or rather, rumbling- the unmistakable reverberations of Lute's watchful hiss from the window caused the first man's shoulders to slump forward ever so slightly. Aw hell- how long had she been there for? Well, not that it mattered since he was stood up and in clear violation of her 'ground' rules.

With a sheepish shift, he issued his own set of deeper warbles in her direction as a pre-emptive apology he likely wouldn't make aloud and certainly not in front of Eve, though the hint of affection was clear in the nervous titter. "Hey, babe- uh...we've got company?" He's cut off for a moment when her wing cracks out to help shield the rest of his humanity's shame from view, the beat of the action helping knock his slow attempt at sliding back down undetected instantaneous, emitting a soft 'hup' as he's dropped back into the mess of her nesting venture.

"...the unexpected kind." He added once settled and nursing at the taro milk bubble tea with extra whipped cream on top that she'd brought him and added to the selection of nest snacks.

[dumbassdep]

This is chapter 4! I haven't posted the rest on this blog and I deleted them off my main so over the next few days I'll queue them up and link them to each other.

You can read here on AO3!

It's a little under 5000 words so most of its under a cut.

Confessions.

Not traditionally a good time and confession time with John was trending the same way. Unfortunate. Melody had genuinely hoped this 5 day stay in the bunker would be a bit of fun at least some of the time.

At least there hadn't been torture!

It was the third day of the promised five and despite John's earlier promise that he'd take her to his ranch on the second day and the resistances promises to stand down until the allotted time was through there had been extra patrols on the roads and he'd decided they would stay underground.

It wasn't awful. A lie. Told to herself for no-ones benefit. It was gross down here. It was dingy, the fluorescent lighting didn't reach all the corners. There were constantly sermons being played quietly in the background. Melody hated that some of them made perfect sense. Hopefully that didn't come up during confession.

The first night she'd seduced herself a reprieve. The second day had been fairly casual. She was left in her room for most of it. Marched, with escort, to lunch where she felt eyes burning into her from every direction but every time she looked up no-one would meet her eye. Then after lunch it was confession but not for her. She was taken to a room full of pews with John at the front standing not quite at the centre of a stage. One by one the cultists approached and confessed their, mostly small, indiscretions. John listened and thanked them for their openness then send them on their way. A few confessed less minor sins and were sent into a corner to wait. Once the line of sinning sinners confessed their sins those in the corner were gathered and taken to John's definitely not a murder dungeon and tattooed. 2 greeds, 3 wraths (1 of which had been caused by her personally Melody had observed) and a singular envy.

It would have been dark outside by the time all that was done and Melody was feeling restless. Weeks of running through the county rescuing folks and being a nuisance had got her used to a much higher level of activity than she was getting here. And John insisted their "arrangement" be put on hold til she had confessed and atoned and there was apparently no time for that today so she was marched off to her room for bed.

But now it was her time to confess. She'd run through it in her head, what she could say, how she could spin this to her advantage but as she sat in the dungeon under the piercing gaze of the Baptist all her planning escaped her.

Melody tucked her foot up onto the chair trying to seem unbothered. Growing up with a strict religious mother and a rebellious streak a mile wide had made her a convincing liar in an interrogation but John had said nothing in what felt like an hour.

Calm. Collected. In control. This was my idea. My idea and if it goes wrong no-one will ever let me live it down.

She fixed his eyes with her own. If I live to never live it down.... Shut up.

His silence continues. Good fucking god, even knowing this is an interrogation tactic doesn't help.

"So. How exactly do we do this? How far back do we go? Cause I did a lot of confession in my teens and I don't think I should need to go back over that."

10/10! Great job silence keeping! Great job keeping silent? I think that's a better sentence structure. What the fuck why is he STILL not talking?

The silence stretched on for a small eternity before Melody broke, "I never wanted to be a cop. I didn't want to work for the Sheriff. I didn't even want to move to Montana. I was running away from my failed career and another failed relationship and this girl I hooked up with in Seattle had told me all about how she'd changed her life by moving to Leavenworth to be a cop with the county sheriffs department there and how nothing ever happened there and the quiet small town life was so fucking perfect and I was flailing in my life and quiet and perfect sounded perfect and applications had just opened so I applied and was accepted and then I did 6 months of training and then took a job out here and 3 days later all this," she waved her hands around the room like it explained anything, "this bullshit happened. 3 days. No-one in the fucking county even knows my name. You know they all just call me Deputy right? And they pretend it's a sign of, I dunno, respect? For my position? But I know. I know they don't know. I know they don't care who I am. About me. It's all just what I can do for them. What I can get for them or who I can save or even worse who I should fucking kill for them. I'd never killed anyone before this. I hadn't even shot an animal. You know I put an arrow right through some guys eye last week. It went right out the other side of his skull! And no-one says thank you or please or even asks if I'm okay? And I'm not fucking okay."

Her fingers drummed a manic rhythm on the arm of her chair, "It's absolutely insane. All of it. They demand this loyalty than they haven't earned. They're. So. Fucking. Self. Righteous!" She was yelling now, entirely unaware of herself, weeks of pent up frustrations rushing out. "On the other side are you and you brothers and your sister. Hunting me through the fucking scenery? 'oh but we don't want to hurt you, we just want to talk!' I have almost died a hundred times since this started! Have you picked up that I've lost track of time? I have to call this this cause I have. No. Idea. How long it's been. And I'm exhausted! The most rest I get is when I'm taking naps in houses with bullet holes in the walls! The worst part of all of this is that when I'm honest with myself it's not like you don't make a bit of sense! The world really is a giant ball of shit filled with shitty people and shitty governments and shitty fucking shit! But that doesn't give you all the right to act the way you are either!!! Kidnapping? Blissing up the rivers? The reaping? That's some fucking movie villain strategy naming. God, I'm so angry..."

"Wrath."

John had finally spoken and Melody had been so caught up by her own emotions she'd barely caught the word.

"What?"

"Your sin is wrath. It drives you. Every thought, every action."

It was Melodys turn to be silent. That almost never happens...

"Sin must be exposed so it can be absolved, if we hide our sin we hide ourselves. You will not hide any longer," John crossed the room to where Melody still sat in the chair with one leg tucked under her and the other hugged tight to her chest. "Feet on the floor."

"What?" Oh nice. I sound like a broken record.

"Put your feet on the floor." She obeyed.

"Confession is an admission of one’s sins Melody. Our souls need to confess. Now that you've confessed your sin I will etch it on to your flesh. You will carry its burden and display it for all to see and when you have endured, when you have truly begun to atone we will cut it out like a cancer."

He adjusted the light on the little table next to her then started setting up his tattoo machine, "Now, unbutton your shirt."

She obeyed again and shrugged it halfway down her shoulders. John buzzed the machine then set it down and grabbed a sponge. He didn't lift his eyes from her as he wiped then dried her chest.

"John... What are you doing?"

He looked up, "This was the agreement. 5 days here with me. You confess, you're marked, you go free."

"I. Uh. Remember agreeing to the time... I don't recall a tattoo being part of it."

"Are you reneging on the deal?" he took a step back looking... Peeved. He looks peeved.

She reached a hand out toward him, "Yes. No. I. Just wasn't fully prepared for this kind of commitment. Today."

John ignored the extended hand. "John. Please, I added an extra day down here, of my own free will, to keep the peace in the valley for longer. I'm doing what I can. I'm just scared."

"There's no need to be afraid, I'll talk you through it," he knelt and pulled Melodys still outstretched hand to his chest. "You just have to say yes."

Melody nodded.

"Out loud. Say it."

"Yes."

"Good." He kissed her hand before releasing to pick up his tattoo machine, "Just relax."

As the machine hummed to life and John settled into his work Melody tried to relax back in the chair as she listened to him speak.

"My parents were the first ones to teach me about the power of yes..."

[thessalian]

Faerun!Alisaie vs Gathering a Team

Shadowheart lies unconscious on a path, wreckage everywhere...

Alisaie: *sitting on a barrel; playing and singing to the tune of The Wellerman* There once was a bard from Baldur's Gate / A nautiloid ship near sealed her fate / The ship broke up / We all fell down / Onto the beach below... / Here does an Alisaie sit / WIth nice sharp rapier and sharper wit / Shadowheart, wake up a bit / So we can damn well go...

Shadowheart: *groans* What--?

Alisaie: Oh good; I really did not want to have to shake you. Didn't want to be too close when you woke up in case you were a bit shaky and thought I was something to smack. While you collect yourself ... I'm figuring from the messed-up corpses of locals that there's a settlement somewhere. Any clue where we are?

Shadowheart: Not a one. We need to find supplies and a cure. Probably in approximately that order. I ... assume your sitting around here means you're amenable to teaming up?

Alisaie: I pried you out of a mind flayer pod; I'm not abandoning you now. Any clue where Lae'zel ended up?

Shadowheart: To the hells with her.

Alisaie: Given all the imps and devils and shit we were fighting, at least she'd be going someplace familiar, I guess. Still, c'mon. Team Dangerous Company.

Shadowheart: *siiiiiiigh* If we run into her, I suppose. For now, supplies. That settlement you were talking about. And hopefully, a cure.

Alisaie: Yeah, okay, but quick thing - do you still have that crossbow I threw at you on the ship?

Shadowheart: *pats herself down* Seems so. Why?

Alisaie: Because there are a few intellect devourers kind of in the way of further exploration and I don't know how bad they're hurt but Us kind of wrecked shit up so I'd rather kill them from a distance for now.

Shadowheart: You're cunning. This team-up might be a better idea than I thought. Even if you still want to help the bloody gith.

Alisaie: Honestly, kind of don't want to, but githyanki spend all their time fighting illithids and they might actually know about a cure. So better to stay kind of on her good side.

Shadowheart: Do you think that's possible?

Alisaie: Provided I leave her in camp every time I want to do anything nice for anyone, ever? Yes.

Shadowheart: ...I hate that your logic actually works. Let's go shoot brains with feet.

After the summary murder of brains with feet, up a cliff with a badly-behaved waypoint rune

Alisaie; Shadowheart: Whaaaaaaaat the fuuuuuuuuuck...?

Gale: *sticking hand out of portal* Little help?

Alisaie: ...It's going to be one of those days, isn't it. *touches portal* Hush. Whatever mess he made of your spot in the Weave, he's very sorry and he won't do it again. Now unclench a little so we can stop him being a nuisance, okay?

Gale: ...That's ... a little hurtful but fair. And working. And yes, I am very sorry for the magical disruption I am causing. Now pull, please?

Alisaie: *yanks*

Alisaie; Gale: *both go flying*

Shadowheart: Is your life always like this?

Alisaie: I. Am. A. Bard.

Shadowheart: ...Fair.

Gale: *getting up* Right! Gale of Waterdeep, at your service! I saw you running around the nautiloid. We're in about the same boat as well as formerly the same ship, no?

Alisaie: Okay, I missed you entirely. Sorry about that. Big ship and we were kind of in a hurry. But yes. Want to join Team Dangerous Company? We're off hunting for the means of survival - short and long-term.

Shadowheart: You're just collecting us like fancy figurines, aren't you.

Alisaie: Like I told Lae'zel when I was going to rescue you - anyone remotely responsive and not necessarily trying to kill us. And this one seems personable. Also, given wilderness and those dead goblins over there, wouldn't it be nice to have someone who can chuck fire at problems?

Shadowheart: I can chuck fire at problems!

Gale: Two words: Magic. Missile.

Shadowheart: Oh, fine. I suppose it's better than just the two of us at any rate.

A little ways up the road, where a remarkably pale elf is rooting around in the bushes

Astarion: I have one of those brain-things cornered!

Alisaie: And you bothered to do that without a weapon?!?

Astarion: Oh, I have one. *jumps Alisaie*

Gale: I. Will. Set. You. On. FIRE.

Astarion: And you'd barbecue your little girlfriend right along with me--

Alisaie: *headbutts Astarion*

Astarion: OW! *lets go*

Alisaie: One - I am not anybody's 'little girlfriend'. Two - you drew a knife on me but didn't stab me; why? Is this your plane's way of saying hello?

Astarion: I saw you on the ship; what did you do to me?

Alisaie: Put the knife down and I will explain.

Astarion: I am not stupid.

Alisaie: Fine. Then stand there like an idiot clutching a knife like it's your dick and wait like three seconds.

Astarion: Excuse you; I--

Mind-Sharing Thing: *happens*

Astarion: Ah. I assume that was the answer to "why exactly should I wait". Right. Apologies.

Alisaie: *turns to Shadowheart* See why I didn't want to shake you awake before? I know I'd probably freak out if I woke up after that whole mess with someone in my face.

Shadowheart: ...You're inviting this one along too, aren't you.

Gale: What happened to, "and aren't trying to kill us"?

Alisaie: If he'd been trying to kill us, I'd at least be bleeding right now. Also, again, dead goblins. A straight-up non-magical combatant would do us good. Unless you want to wait and have us drag Lae'zel along...

Shadowheart: ...I suppose he's better than that, anyway. Fine.

Astarion: ...Thanks for the vote of confidence.

And, a little further into the wilderness

Lae'zel: *psychically shrieking anger*

Alisaie: ... *quietly singing* Despite all her rage, she is still just a gith in a cage...

Shadowheart: *snrk*

Alisaie: Thank you; I'll be here all week. Welp. If we let her out of there, she's going to want the tieflings dead for doing that to her. I don't want to just go around killing random tieflings. Just ... if you can't follow my lead, hang back.

Gale: What exactly are you--?

Alisaie: *apparently legitimate panic* Run! Run for your lives! The invasion force is here! They've come for their scout and your smallclothes and your cheese wheels! RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIIIIVES!

Shadowheart; Gale; Astarion: *staaaaaare*

Tieflings: ...Fuck a bunch of this. *leave in a relative hurry*

Gale: ...smallclothes?

Astarion: ......cheese wheels?!?

Alisaie: Say it fast enough, and with enough conviction, you could just be shouting random gnomish swear words and they'd get the idea. *lets Lae'zel down*

Lae'zel: It's about time! Now, from what I've seen, there's a creche nearby; they will have a cure!

Alisaie: Calm your tits, Lae'zel. We keep tripping over people with these tadpole things and while I know that killing anything illithid-related is your reason for living, we're not leaving illithids in-potentia wandering around the general population! We're also going to explore other avenues for a cure because frankly, I know what your culture's like and while they might expend resources on curing one of their own, the best cure we could hope for is a quick death. And I know you're not going to like this, so go back to where we've set up camp and ... recover, practice sword forms, practice all the swear words you're going to want to use on me.

Lae'zel: ...Don't keep me waiting. *leaves*

Alisaie; Shadowheart; Gale; Astarion: ..................................

Alisaie: ...So! Who's up for exploring those ruins over there; maybe find something we can use or at least trade for supplies?

Gale: What happened to "don't keep her waiting"?

Alisaie: Lady needs to learn she's not the centre of the universe, and that we're not her foot soldiers. Frankly, she can get fucked.

Astarion: I'd say "not really, since we're leaving her on her own", but I'm assuming she's got some imagination.

Alisaie: Thaaaaaat's the spirit! Let's go, Team Dangerous Company!

Gale: For all you've been through, you're ... remarkably cheerful.

Alisaie: Eh, inwardly I'm freaking out. But I'm a bard. My life is guided by whatever god or goddess is set over epic narrative so if I just ... be me at it, as hard as I can, it'll be okay. Let's go.