#i stopped working on my zine piece for this??

[smallishzine]

Just a small heads up, if you include shipping you may wanna make it clear that there are ships and what ships are there. A lot of people aren’t comfortable with shipping, especially since I’ve seen people say Joel thinks it’s a bit weird to be shipped with anyone other than Lizzie (needs to be fact checked, this is just what I’m seeing in boat boys comment sections). Maybe consider making the ship stuff a separate section or just telling people in advance (pinned post, bio, anywhere clear works) that it includes shipping so those who don’t like it can walk away.

important info about the zine plz read even if you didn’t send the ask:

thank you for the heads up! We’re about to get super rambly and vaguely off topic but we promise all your points get addressed. This is actually a great opportunity to clarify, because I realized I didn’t explain myself particularly clearly, if some one does choose to include shipping, its all going to have to be subtext (as always except for shadowbeans whose alternate ship name I still refuse to use), but that is for non-canon ships. Regardless of how people feel about it, c!Joel and c!Jimmy did in fact kiss in Real Life smp, and c!Joel and c!Sausage did in fact have a child together in esmp2, so we’re not gonna rewrite events. Basically when I say shipping in the context of this zine I mean taking relationships the c!Joel had with other people and creating moments that didn’t necessarily happen but feel plausible for the characters that are able to be interpreted as romantic as well as platonic. Also, everyone’s definition of ship art is different, so the level that I was thinking is pretty mild (and btw I’d like to interject here that this is not me dissing on shipping or ship art love shipping so much that I found a ship called the relation and I never left it, but I also know that people have all sorts of comfort levels with different things so this zine is going to be dry docked but I assure you that out there on my super secret personal blog we are very much lost at sea). Like, to give some examples of what would be okay versus not okay for the zine: kissing is pretty much off limits, honestly mostly because that’s a pretty boring zine piece, there’s nothing going on except the ship, but anything where any sort of romance is up to the interpretation, such as hugging, handholding, spending time with, these are all normal things, but also this can’t be the focus of the piece. Please no one just draw like Joel and someone hugging and call it a day. Implied shipping is allowed to feature in your piece, not be the main focus of it. That’s just not an interesting zine piece. Valid art/writing, still amazing stuff keep sharing it on the internet it’s very interesting, just not in the context of this zine. Anyway, you are correct about not everyone being comfortable with that stuff, so if any piece comes off as really shippy without violating the guidelines we’ll make sure to label it correctly, but also, I should make it clear, I’m really hoping that shipping doesn’t become the focus of this zine. It is a Joel zine, so Joel should remain the focus, and any shipping would be subtextual and not central to the zine. There are many great Joel ships out there with lovely content to consume, but that’s not really the focus of this zine. Also, that aside, if Joel doesn’t want his character (because we are talking about shipping cs here. Cc!Joel is a lovely person, but this zine is going to be in-character. Also while cc!Joel should absolutely be respected in what sort of fan content he wants people making about him, his character is, well, just that: a character. Its like saying you can’t ship two characters from an animated tv show because their irl voice actors aren’t comfortable being shipped. It’s just two different things) shipped with characters who don’t belong to his wife, he should probably stop making his c! kiss all those men. And have children with them. And send them love hearts in the mail. And call them babe. If he did it in canon it’s probably safe to say we’re good having them do it in fan content. But again shipping should be an extremely small part of the zine if it’s there at all and should be subtextual enough that even people who don’t ship can still positively engage with the zine!!! If it needs a warning, it’s probably too shippy.

also all this aside if I’m handling this wrong guys I’m sorry I’m only one person and it’s really stressful trying to please everybody I promise I’m trying my best but I just wanna get together with a bunch of other people who share this strange fascination with the bean man and make art and writing about it I don’t wanna get canceled or something I promise I’m trying my best. I’m really struggling to balance my love of creating shipping fan content and realizing that not everyone is comfortable with that and it’s really difficult and stressful I just can’t we all just draw and write what makes us happy I just want this to be a fun experience and being yelled at on the internet for drawing two characters who’s ccs aren’t in an irl relationship being something other than friends is not my definition of a good time. I’m not accusing you anon of doing anything like that the ask was very respectful but I’m worried this post will prompt less polite people to come and yell at me.

-mod Dinn

[ying-doodles]

// webtoon spoilers (ep 149)

... what the fck did I just read-

javier thinking to himself that lloyd is the protagonist of this world... like what do I even say about that at this point,,

and then as he realizes this fact, he starts to.. glitch out?? like the system or novel or whatever is starting to erase him cause (novel spoilers) there can only be one protagonist?? WHAT.

ah there's the repercussions of using the time freeze- not pictured cause I'm tired of the ass jokes but lloyd then asks the heart of winter why this is happening but it doesn't know and just says to ask its creator instead...

incoming tyrannus! aww, javier pushing lloyd behind him is cute-

oh my fcking god those big puppy eyes??

of course that didn't work, you idiot- XD

... (°ロ°) ... ARE YOU FCKING SERIOUS??? THAT'S WHAT YOU GO WITH??? YOU SAY YOU'RE MARRIED TO ALICIA???

another alilloyd moment getting shoehorned in and this time it's for a fake marriage... I need to be put down immediately,, OTL

[surreal-duck]

these things again

[chenziee]

OPKisstober: Straw Hats

Day 6 for OPKisstober: Law/Luffy (HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAW!!)

[ Masterpost | Series on AO3 | Ko-Fi ]

When Law had proposed his alliance with the Straw Hats, it was a thing of opportunity for him. They appeared out of nowhere in front of him right as he was starting to think about how to put his plans against Doflamingo to motion, almost like a sign from the heavens. The helping hand in a moment of need that the Sister from his school in Flevance had told him about.

He had expected it to end in maybe 24 hours, the moment he actually faced Doflamingo. He tried to make it end there. But, unfortunately for him, Straw Hat Luffy was much more stubborn, much more selfish, and much more caring than Law had given him credit for.

And now, here he fucking was.

“Torao!! Where are you?!”

Law groaned. Can’t have peace for five fucking minutes…

“Up here!” he called back—after all, he had learned the hard way that if he pretended he wasn’t there, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A second later, a hand appeared on the railing circling the roof of the Sunny’s bathroom. Law sighed as the entire Straw Hat hauled himself up, a wide grin on his lips and a plate full of meat in his free hand. “There you are. Why are you hiding? It’s your party today!”

Law rolled his eyes, muttering, “You guys are too loud. I needed a break.”

“You never change,” Straw Hat snickered, finally jumping off the railing he had perched himself on earlier to join Law in his hiding spot. He would have to find a new one. Again.

“You expected me to change in the two weeks we didn’t see each other?” Law asked, a small, teasing smirk finding its way on his lips.

“Who knows? You’re officially old now!” 

“I’m turning thirty, not fucking eighty, Straw Hat-ya. And we’re still only six years apart.” Law deadpanned.

Luffy shrugged, plopping himself on the floor next to Law, placing the plate of meat on Law’s lap.

Raising an eyebrow, Law looked at Straw Hat questioningly, but Luffy only grinned. “Sanji’s special BBQ meat you missed! I’ll eat it if you don’t want it tho.”

With a huff, Law grabbed the fork that was on the plate—no doubt thanks to Black Leg; there was no way Luffy would think to grab one—, bringing a piece of the meat to his mouth. He could feel Luffy’s eyes glued to the juicy bite, clearly having to physically hold himself back from stealing everything for himself.

And honestly, Law couldn’t blame him; he shouldn’t be surprised by Black Leg’s cooking at this point, but the way the meat melted in his mouth, the flavour exploding on his tongue, the spices perfectly complementing the particular type of sea king… It was simply incredible.

“It’s good, right? Right?” Straw Hat asked eagerly, and when Law glanced at him, he was momentarily blinded by the excited, proud smile on his face and the stars dancing in his eyes.

It took Law a second to recover, but then he sighed, nodding. “It’s amazing. Although,”—he paused as he gestured towards the plate, giving Luffy a look—”I could swear there was more when you brought it here.”

Luffy blinked, his blinding smile melting into one so innocent and so awkward that Law was actually amazed by how unconvincing he looked. “It—It must be your imagination…”

Law couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing at the sight, a bubble of warmth growing in his chest. How was this guy so ridiculous? A Supernova, an Emperor, or the Pirate King, it didn’t matter. He was still just as dumb, just as selfish, just as reckless, and just as cute as he was when they first met at that auction house on Sabaody.

And Law just seemed to love him more every day.

“Don’t laugh,” Straw Hat muttered, a large pout replacing his fake grin.

Shaking his head, Law reached out with his hand, touching Luffy’s cheek, letting his fingers slide over that soft skin until they buried in Luffy’s messy hair, pulling him closer.

Luffy didn’t fight the guiding touch; instead, he shuffled a little closer, leaning forward eagerly. A moment later, their lips finally connected.

The touch was familiar, their lips moulding together with practised ease even as Luffy grinned into the kiss, a small snicker escaping him when Law ran tongue over Luffy’s bottom lip—tasting meat and spice, an unnecessary confirmation of Luffy’s crime of stealing Law’s food.

Not that Law really cared. He was used to it at this point, even expecting it. Honestly, he never truly minded sharing his food with Luffy—a fact that shocked both him, and everyone who knew him. Penguin still hadn’t let it go, teasing Law over it every fucking time Luffy grabs something off of Law’s plate with no repercussions, a feat that no one else would get away with.

Law simply didn’t share things, food especially. It made him feel weird and uncomfortable—just like the thought of kissing someone, caring for someone romantically, loving someone always made him feel weird and uncomfortable.

But Luffy always somehow found a way past Law’s barriers, defying logic and Law’s own convictions.

And Law was past wondering why or how.

As they finally pulled away from each other, Law raised an eyebrow at the unhappy look on Luffy’s face. “What?”

“You can’t just kiss me and expect me to forget you laughed at me! You didn’t even say sorry,” Luffy whined.

Law snorted, leaning in to press another kiss to Luffy’s mouth. Not saying anything.

“You’re a jerk. I hate you,” Luffy muttered, stealing all of the remaining meat on the plate, gulping it down in one go.

Shaking his head, Law reached out to ruffle Luffy’s hair. “Thanks. I hate you, too.”

When Luffy’s only response was to stick his tongue out, Law chuckled, kissing Luffy one last time before he grabbed the now-empty plate and got up, offering his hand to Luffy. “Should we go back?”

His annoyance obviously forgotten, a wide grin spread on Luffy’s face as he grabbed Law’s hand, letting himself be pulled up to his feet—only Luffy didn’t let go. Instead, he followed the momentum, crashing into Law, wrapping his free arm around his waist.

“Happy birthday. I love you,” he said, his grin widening.

The corners of Law’s mouth twitched in response. Pushing Luffy’s hair away from his face, Law leaned down, giving Luffy one final, small kiss. “I love you too, Pirate King,” Law muttered.

With a snicker, Luffy stepped away, never letting go of Law’s hand when he jumped off the roof, dragging Law down with him.

As the both of them rejoined the birthday party the Straw Hats had insisted on throwing him—a completely separate party from the one his own crew was throwing on his actual birthday in two days—, Law couldn’t help but marvel at how much his life had changed in the past four years.

Four years ago, he was still fighting against Doflamingo’s strings, attached to him like he was a puppet. Since then, everything had changed. He lost his ship, almost lost his entire crew—everything he had, for the third time. He experienced freedom, crushing defeat, crawling his way up again… and the Straw Hats were there for all of it. Law wouldn’t be where he was now without this crew of idiots, and their complete menace of a captain.

His ally, his partner, his king, the absolute bane of Law’s entire existence… 

The love of his miserable fucking life.

Four years ago, he didn’t think he’d see his 30th birthday but here he was, happier than he’d ever been.

[jaggededges123]

no more typpy typing for fic for the next few days XD my wrists, they cry

[mintjeru]

targeted advertising (it's working)

[areyousanta]

I've got so many drawing ideas and no time to do them I'm dying

[zillychu]

designs for a zine piece! enjoy some background story my illustration never needed under the read more (fair warning I did NOT edit this at all):

newbie mage apprentices Sam and Tucker who became friends bc they're kinda… the ones at the bottom of their class and struggle the most, for different reasons. they become besties over time and practice together!

except one night, something goes terribly wrong. they spent the last few nights preparing for a project, a bigger spell that needs an intricate circle with precise measurements to work. but when they try to activate it, well… 

oops. they summoned a demon.

which is, for one, extremely illegal. only certified demonologists are allowed to summon demons because they're so dangerous. anything less than a perfect binding circle and thoroughly researched info on the demon, including their true name, is even remotely safe.

but, weirdly enough… the demon seems just as surprised as they are. as Sam and Tuck frantically try to figure out how to dispel the demon, they realize–oh god, did their circle actually sufficiently bind the demon? it can't leave. they watch the demon tentatively poke it's claws into the air around the boundary, and watch it fizzle, retreating back with a strained hiss.

okay. okay, they can do this. without death looming over their heads, they can figure out how to send the demon back. it's cool, it's fine. except while they leaf through their books, they notice the demon watching them. it looks kind of… curious. timid. interested in what they're doing. it catches them noticing his staring, and it. apologizes? it seems flustered?

weird, okay. they keep looking, and the demon starts talking. at first, little comments to itself. mumbles that soon get just loud enough to hear. little “ooh, is that a telescope?" and “is that what fire looks like up here?" and “that must be for making charcoal…”

Sam is the one brave enough to be like "are all demons as chatty as you??” and the demon gets flustered again, apologizing. says he's just never been topside before, he's only read about humans in tomes. oh wow is that the moon outside? it really IS blue up here! is it always blue? what are you doing up? I thought humans slept at night?

Sam and Tuck can't help getting pulled in with the demon's genuine curiosity. they're wary though, since they know demons can be clever, conniving. there's a number of ways a demon can get the upper hand on a summoner who has them bound. if he gets their full names, gets them to smudge and break the circle… there could also be ways they aren't aware of. so they consider their words carefully, but engage in some chatter while they research.

it's almost morning by the time they find a way to send the demon back–but as they prepare the spell, the demon says WAIT WAIT and they stop, uncertain. the demon starts stammering out how this is weird but like… he really had fun tonight. he doesn't get to just hang out much, especially with anyone his age.

Tuck is like ���how do you know our ages??" and the demon points out "oh, you said something about Paulie’s 18th birthday party, so I thought…” and they're both like oh shit we didn't even notice we did that?

“Paulina" Sam corrects in her dumbfounded stupor. 

“Right, Paulina!" the demon snaps his fingers, but quickly loses his confidence when Sam and Tuck continue to stare at him like they're not sure what's going on. he coughs and fidgets and says “um, well, I was just wondering, I guess… if you wanted to summon me another time, I wouldn't mind. you see those circles there? yeah, that's what summoned me. the candles helped too I think. oh, it doesn't need all those runes though, probably don't want to redraw all those.”

Sam and Tuck are practically gawking, but… for some reason, this demon looks so sincere. so much like them, awkward and lonely and genuinely curious.

it's a bad idea. a terrible one, even. the demon probably noticed they're newbies and not demonologists. it could be hoping they make an error in their circle, or mess up a candle, or reveal their names on accident. 

But, well. They're stupid. they're also eager for anything to help them in school, and too empathetic for their own good. they send the demon off with a yeah, no. they then think about it for a week, and end up summoning the demon against their better judgment.

the demon is shocked and so happy, they can't help but be a little endeared. they lay down some ground rules, take care to be as safe as possible… and soon, this demon that introduces himself as “Phantom" becomes a nightly visitor. they talk about their worlds, find out they share a lot of common interests, and help each other in their studies. which, hello, demons also study? bro are you serious??

they play games, laugh till their ribs hurt, and open up to each other on a far deeper level than anyone expected. over time, Phantom becomes a true friend.

Sam and Tuck quietly begin to lament the fact Phantom is stuck in that damn circle. they want to take him places, let him see the human world he seems so interested in. they want to paint his stupid claws and noogie him between his dumb horns and hug him.

but it's an astronomical risk. it's legal for a demonologist with a proper permit, but it's still considered a grave taboo to grant access to a demon outside a circle. there's just too much at risk. demons can be dangerous enough to lay waste to entire towns, take multiple teams of military-rank mages to take down.

they wouldn't risk it… if they hadn't snuck into the library’s restricted section and copy a page from a demonologist book that gives them good framework for a contract. they make some edits to it though, giving Phantom at least a little wiggle room to protect himself if need be. and allow him use of transformation magic so he can hide somehow. but they spend weeks making sure they have airtight wording to ensure Phantom can't cause anyone or anything any substantial harm. 

when they finally bring the contract to Phantom, he's stunned. he cries. nothing needs to be said, they all know the gravity of their proposal. even if they ask for proof of Phantom's trust in turn, first. they ask for his full name, so they can bind him. just temporarily. but in that moment, they'll have full control over him. they could instead tell Phantom to serve them, force him to obey their every order. even if it's just for a moment, giving them his full name with the proper circle and incantation, is putting his life in their hands. 

Phantom, with tears still in his eyes, smiles warmly and nods. with only a breath to steel himself, he gives them his full name. Daniel James Fenton.

magic sparks in the circle, and Sam and Tuck finish the incantation. ethereal chains sprout up to wrap around Phantom's arms and legs, which makes him jump–but the unwavering trust in his eyes makes the two humans choke up.

they release the binding. all that's left is to break the containment barrier in the circle, so Phantom can walk free.

“Uh, about that…” Phantom laughs sheepishly… then proceeds to step outside of the circle, merely wincing when the barrier zaps around him.

Sam and Tucker gawk. Phantom scratches his neck. “Y-yeah, so… your barrier circle was already broken that first night. It's, uh… right over there. You missed a spot.”

abject horror overcomes them because this entire time Phantom's been visiting, he could have broken out? EASILY?? THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD.

Tucker falls to his knees, but soon starts to laugh. it's kind of hysterical at first but slowly, he and Sam are genuinely laughing. they're so STUPID, and Phantom is the most un-demonlike demon they've ever HEARD of. Phantom is still flustered, stammering out apologies because he wasn't trying to deceive them or anything! he just didn't want to scare them! without a proper containment circle they technically couldn't send him back either, so he just… went back using his own magic each time they “dispelled" him. 

once they've calmed down, Phantom morphs his body into a human form–which shock Sam and Tuck, because uh, only elite demons are capable of that. they were expecting an animal, or straight up going invisible. Phantom laughs it off, says he just, spent a lot of time practicing bc he's so interested in the human world (not a lie, but). he proceeds to adopt the nickname Danny, and they all have FUN WONDERFUL SHENANIGANS

(and sometime in the near future, when faced with something truly threatening he needs to protect them from, Danny reveals that. well. their contract also had some holes in it. and he's had access to his full demon power this whole time. whoopsie! it's a good thing he genuinely loves them and doesn't want to hurt anyone, or their asses would be SO dead lol)

they're about as normal about his full demon form as you'd expect from me btw:

[artbysconnor]

RenDog x Louis Vuitton

18/18 of LifeStyle: A Life Series Fashion Zine!!

-

Last, but most certainly not least, we have the Red King Mr. RenDiggityDog himself. I knew the instant I saw the reference for this pose that it would be what I use for Ren - the model had the perfect amount of charisma and attitude, and I think it fits him just perfectly. And before anyone asks, no, I didn't draw the pattern on his shirt by hand! I pulled it, and most of the repeating patterns for this whole series, directly from the item or brand site I was working with, to save time and my wrist (and my sanity).

-

(Click through for my Sappy Conclusions under the cut)

And with that (except for a special little bonus illustration vis a vis the unused Bdubs piece), we are finished with the LifeStyle zine. All 18 of the official pieces have been posted, almost exactly a year after I first saw a red shirt in the window display of an Armani store and started to compile a list of designers and brands on my phone notes app. The pieces are laid out here before you on my socials. A print copy of the zine sits on my bedroom shelf.

I really, truly could not have imagined the amount of love and support this community has poured out for these pieces. I am being 100% honest when I say I thought I'd be posting these into the void. Every single effusive tag, ever positive comment, and every single like means so much to me, from the bottom of my heart, especially for a project that was as passion driven as this one was for me.

This is the first time I can say that I've truly finished a long term project of mine, despite having ups and downs and stops and starts in between, and it feels surreal to be stepping away and calling it complete. But I also know that the community loved it just as much as I did, and it's made me even more passionate about wanting to make and do more moving ahead both for the MCYT and Life Series fandoms and far beyond, into my own original stories and crafts.

So here's to many more, for me and for all of you! Thank you so much for all your amazing support!!!!

[alicenpai]

my piece for the Hemisphere: a Witch Hat Atelier seasons themed zine! thank you for having me! they're having a leftovers sale until stock runs out 🖋🍀🌷🍁❄🌧 WIPs + inspiration board + symbolism under the cut! got some requests to put this on my inprnt! the site has sales very often & you can grab it as a small or big size print.

I had a pretty good idea of the composition from the get-go. I took inspiration from art nouveau (primarily Alphonse Mucha), German fairy tales, and some 1920s perfume ads. I wanted the girls to look like fairies, akin to The Root Children by Sibylle von Olfers.

Olly just didn't work out in this drawing due to time restraints. I do love him very much though.

I actually kinda stopped making illustrations like these (including the TGAA/DGS tarot card + TGAA/DGS zine pieces a while back) because they were starting to get very hard on my arm, as I had an RSI (repetitive strain injury) a few years back during school. (Not putting the onus on the zines at all ofc! I genuinely love working with zine projects! it's def a me thing WAHAHAHA. my style was getting too anime and too detailed for my liking and everything was just taking forever to finish ngl. but I didn't have time to experiment with a more simple style outside of all of my deadlines)

I think that realizing you need to stop is okay. It's something that Shirahama teaches us in her story and I want to learn to take it to heart.

---

MILD SPOILERS AHEAD (for those who havent read the story I guess)

each character's symbolism:

- Coco - spring, clovers - Coco is the quintessential spring girl, and I wanted her to symbolize new beginnings, and oh boy did Coco bring a big one. The four leaf clover in particular symbolizes luck and good fortune - to some characters, Coco may have brought fortune, to others her presence brings misfortune, take that as you will.

- Tetia - summer, gladiolus - the name "gladiolus" comes from the Latin word "gladius", meaning "sword", based on the shape of the flower. you can interpret it as "you pierce my heart", perfect for a girl like Tetia, who has a contagious energy, with a romantic and grandiose nature.

- Agott - autumn, marigold - I read somewhere marigolds symbolize strength and power, perfect for our little magical powerhouse Agott. They can also symbolize jealousy (yellow flowers in particular have this association), which reflects on her rivalry with Coco in the beginning.

- Riche - winter, snowdrop - The white color of snowdrops has a strong connotation to innocence, which reflects on Riche's wish to stay a child forever. It can also symbolize rebirth and new beginnings (like Coco's clovers), as the snowdrop is the first flower to bloom in the spring, when the snow has not yet melted. I wanted the concept of "rebirth" to associate with Riche's friendship with Euini, and of his sort of "rebirth" into a new being.

- Qifrey - he does not have a flower per se, but as the caregiver and educator of the four girls, he represents the rainy season - precipitation being the one thing that binds all of these seasons together. (Note some areas of the world do not have a rainy season like where I live). I think somewhere along the line I wanted to put hydrangeas behind him, to really bring out the "rainy" theme, but the thought probably got lost somewhere in translation...

- bg flowers - honestly I just picked whatever. white lily, daffodil, hydrangea, zinnia, tulip

[trafficblrpositivityproject]

The queue is empty right now! After several hundred asks, I am all out! (✨0✨)

I would like to send out a thank you from me to all of you. Thank you all for helping me out with this project and uplifting other members of the fan base. Thank you for sharing this blog’s introductory post and helping me on my mission. Thanks to everyone who has sent in asks about me and this project. This blog literally cannot function without the help and love from all of you, so I thank you for helping me keep it running so far!

This project will continue for as long as you are willing to send in asks to it! If you have been thinking of submitting an ask, now is the time!

If you want some ideas, here are things you can send asks about.

• Your favorite artists and writers, of course! You are all very good at this so far. If you want to specifically highlight certain pieces or art or writing, go ahead! I will not take links or imbedded images—I do not want to be reposting or accidentally open the door for people to send me spam links—but if you want to describe them, that would be fine.

• Creators of less “popular” types of media like cosplay, songs, collages and web weaves, textiles, and anything else I’m missing! These art forms do not always get as much attention, so all the more reason to send them love!

• Your favorite theorists and analysts! Share about your favorite theories as well, and why you like them!

• Your friends! “My friend [URL] is really cool” is a very good ask! Not everyone submitted here needs to be a creator, or be here because they’re a creator. I do not want people to think that this blog is just for people who are “famous,” anyone can submit asks about anyone for any reason.

• Similar, people who have supported you. Friends who brought you into the series, people who regularly leave nice tags and engage with your work. Send some love back to the people who have been cheering you on!

• Events and zines! The fandom could not survive without the work of event weeks/months and zines. And I definitely do not mind being free advertising for the events and zines you all are in ;)

• Former members of the fandom who are no longer active or have moved fandoms. If they used to enjoy life series and have since moved on, they still count.

And I will remind you I am perfectly happy to take submissions on people with a degree or two of separation from trafficblr. Hermitblr and Empiresblr accounts, or bloggers posting about other overlapping SMPs and series like POW and MCC. Or participants in fan made Life Series. As long as there is some sort of overlap, I will not be fact checking.

Repeating the same person who has already been submitted is also fine. If you wanted to send me the same person every single day for a month I would not stop you. Just keep your ask positive and include fewer than 5 people, and we are golden.

All I want is to make this fandom a little more positive. I thank you all again so much for helping me so far, and if this is as far as I go, I will feel very satisfied with how we have done.

Thank you again, everyone, from the ferryman! <3

[bioethicists]

The only good therapist I ever had told me that it was my choice to commit suicide, and that he had no say in my decision. It was incredible. Anything else would have made me worse. But this made me feel so much safer, and I was actually able to keep working because I knew my rights were not going to be taken away from me. That's why I think therapy cannot exist in an ethical way within the psychiatric, institutional & carceral system, because I know this guy would have gotten into a thousand problems if this interaction had been recorded or heard by anyone else.

i agree completely! there is a tremendous peace in being trusted with that- being told "i love u + i'm glad that you're here + this is your decision to make". i rlly do have empathy for ppl who can't bring themselves to offer this to loved ones who are suicidal but this should be an expectation of providers!!! of course, a person skilled at emotional healing would be able to read whether someone needs to hear this or instead hear something like "i value u. i want u here. i would miss u greatly. u are loved." for ppl who feel disposable or unwanted, this may be the better approach- but i do believe most if not all suicidality can be addressed through consensual compassion.

i wrote in my piece for the psych survivor's zine "you are no longer permitted to be anything but safe". this is how i experienced psychiatry. "safety" was them using coercion + lies + threats to Make Me be safe. i was suicidal bcuz i felt trapped in my life, my body, my family. i wanted freedom. continuing to restrict that freedom only made me thrash more.

it's more helpful, i think, to look at suicide as a thing with many possible causes (feeling trapped, feeling afraid of your own mind, wanting to stop experiencing pain, feeling there is no path forward for u, anticipating a future devastating event, feeling overwhelmed) rather than a Symptom which must immediately be dealt with via incarceration + medication.

not to quote nietzsche on main but "The thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of it one gets through many a dark night." has always hit a chord within me

[antariies]

how to build a chair........... director's cut ∠( ᐛ 」∠)__ this is about to be a very long very self-indulgent post where i just talk about my own writing. i also doodled on all the pages i think it makes the whole thing more fun to go thru. welcome to my ted talk

SIKE before i begin. credit where credit is due, this post was the start of it all. it changed my brain chemistry my jaw was dropped i was in awe i was obsessed and before i even finished it i knew that i would eventually have to make something similar for the commander or else i would be cursed to think about it for the rest of my life. and i Was cursed for like two years every day i would just be like........ is today the day i sit down and draft the commander chair fic of my dreams....... maybe tomorrow......

and then i got accepted as a writer for the gw2 zine ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ the chair idea was actually my backup option in case my first idea didn't pan out, and thank god it didn't, bc this one worked so much better. (still working on my initial idea, just turning it into a full fic! it was wayyy too long to be a zine submission.)

this is the chair i used. i downloaded the assembly instructions and tried out a bunch of different free pdf editors until i found one i liked, which ended up being sedja. if anyone's interested in doing something like this, i recommend printing out the pdf and writing directly on it! it was a lot easier for me to just figure out everything on paper first and then digitalize it after :P here's a picture of my physical copy

okay actually getting into it for real this time !!!!!

1. yeah i could've just erased the ikea logo and left a blank space but then i realized i could turn it into an in-universe joke. and then i ran with it.

2. i ripped this straight from the product description on the website. thanks ikea

3. i'm not sure if anyone went and looked it up, but it's a real item code!

hehe :3c

4. if your commander willingly goes to therapy i'm happy for them but TO ME? you'd have to drag the commander kicking and screaming. it's not that they don't know that something is wrong with them, they know, and they know YOU know. you're just never supposed to talk about it. they don't look at their own psych eval results bc that's none of their business.

5. i normally avoid specifying the commander's race when i write them bc i enjoy the challenge, but for the zine i was assigned to write about a norn commander! as a human main i was uhhhh very ill-equipped. but that just meant i had to study up on my norn lore (•̀ᴗ•́)و i spent hours on the wiki, then went around interviewing norn mains for their opinions, which was great fun :D it all helped me narrow the focus of my piece: joining the war on commander objectification on the side of commander objectification (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ and no one self-aggrandizes quite like the norn commander!

and to balance that i knew my narrator had to be patronizing as shitttt. they've clearly been following the commander since the beginning and seem to know a lot of intimate details about their life, despite not thinking very highly of them. wonder who that could be :3c

6. i can't stop making references. so the original part number is actually #122620 in the manual but i've changed it here (and on the previous page!) to #082812, as in 08/28/12, the date gw2 was released! no real reason for it, @dalennaugw suggested it for funsies and i liked it. if you're my pal and i show you a wip and you have a cool idea for it, chances are i Will put that shit in. hi dale if you're reading this

7. another thing about me. i loveeee repetition. here the word "over" is repeated four times to match the picture. honestly a lot of the creative process for this piece was just staring at the pages and figuring out how to tie the pictures to the commander in ways that weren't extremely corny or trite. idk why i enjoy writing like this when i could be frolicking in the beautiful prosaic meadows of a word doc instead but. it's like i see a tiny little restrictive box and i'm like OH BOY can't wait to think inside of that thing!!! i like when the format matters just as much as the content and in some cases informs the content. am i making any sense here. well all you need to know is that i'm a virgo and my favorite book is house of leaves

7. aw fuck just realized i wrote 7 twice. whatever i'm not changing it this is 7 part two now. the theme of my piece is glory, what it means to the norn commander, and how far they're willing to go for it.

8. does norn culture place emphasis on seeking individual glory Yes are norn also very community-oriented Also Yes. i think it's common to see norn kids napping together in a big pile, usually after they've worn themselves out playing games outside. it makes sense practically (apes together warm) and socially (pack bonding good) but that's just my hc. growing up i used to share a bed with my cousins all the time so it's normal to me.

a young, naive not-yet-commander, with no real combat experience, has no point of reference to compare a "blaze of glory" to. but the way everyone talks about it, it must be a good thing. a wonderful thing. a reward fit for a life well-fought and a legend hard-earned. so they imagine it must feel like falling asleep surrounded by the people they love, who love them in turn.

9. .........i was playing a lot of ace attorney when i wrote this page. i wish i was joking 👍🏼

10. ohhh shit the truth come OUT this whole chair thing was all a ploy just so i could write about the departing. again.

will i ever stop thinking about her. reply hazy, try again later.

11. out of all the pages, this one has the most emphasis on text placement, like comparing the enlarged picture of the screw to a sword, the numbers counting the screws, and "up up up" being arranged to mimic a wisp of smoke.

i also wanted to lean into the viking/norse mythology influences with my word choice.

12. more nods to norn culture. i didn't know they referred to the six human gods as "spirits of action" until i was doing the research for this piece :O

and the domain of the lost is called a hall of ghosts....... cause valhalla.....

13.

i'm sorry this so funnyyy. SAYS the guy who literally clawed their way back to life for a rematch.

me when i'm in a sore loser competition and my opponent is the COMMANDER!!!

14. arms as in "limbs" and also arms as in "armaments" :•]

15. haha get it because the picture makes it look like there are two mirrored speech bubbles while the text paints two opposing interpretations of the norn commander. one that's selfless and humble versus one that's selfish and vainglorious.

16. and the best part is IT DOESN'T MATTER which one is true bc at the end of the day no matter what their motivation, balthazar is dead by their hand. ofc i'm of the opinion that the most compelling interpretation of the commander is both, simultaneously. contradictions are good for the soul.

17. i could've name-dropped kas, the only person present that would do something like that, but i felt it was better to leave it ambiguous.

18. low-hanging fruit. the metaphor was so obvious here but i had to do it. for the culture

19. the alternate title for this piece was "THIS COULD BE GLORY". "how to build a chair" was only supposed to be a placeholder title til i figured out a better one, but the innocuousness of it grew on me. also i came up with the other one too late and had already advertised under the chair title lol

20. my first instinct was to end it with something more reassuring, like "what you have built so far is enough" but that would've been an ooc switch-up for a narrator who has been nothing but snide and detached this whole time. gotta stick to my guns

21.

obligatory chair joke as the last line. for realsies though it’s meant to be an earnest appeal to the commander to take a break, to have a seat, but it’s also a challenge. are they willing to lean on their friends? are the bonds they’ve forged strong enough to hold their weight? are they willing to put their faith in someone else’s hands? are they brave enough to try? well. only one way to find out.

also guess what that wasn’t even the real last page of the manual. it's THIS

but no way i was letting this be the image we ended on. IT LOOKS LIKE A DICK AND BALLS!!!

and on that note, THANK YOU if you made it this far!! a very special shout-out to @hawkepockets, my lovely boyfriend and beta reader, without whom this piece would not be nearly as polished. i would bring him pages to look over and he would say Scrap half of those lines you can do better than that. kill your darlings. i would complain and argue for a few minutes then we would revise. rinse and repeat until we had honed this thing to perfection. i can't stress enough the importance of having a second pair of eyes on your work throughout your creative process, even better if it's someone who challenges you. i don't even pay him 🫶🏼

and if there was anything i didn't cover that you still have questions about, please feel free to shoot me an ask! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ thanks for reading! see u later dudes ;P

[shuploc]

WAIT, is it true we're getting more miguel art? Don't get me wrong, I love Astarion, but my atsv fixation is coming back hard and it would just be so perfect! <33 Thanks for all the work you do!

Well, short answer is yes! It's a little silly actually, but to you guys it seems like I just randomly stopped drawing him and moved on, but I've actually been working on multiple Miguel drawings since like, October, for different zines. Those pieces will eventually get posted too, but it'll be a while, ngl.

But yes, ya'll will get a completely different Miggy thing soon, hopefully in time for Christmas! 😊 I'm SO glad you like my Astarion stuff too, thank you so much for the kind words!

[scuttlingcrab]

Flowers for a Devil

This is one of two fics I wrote for the Raphael fan zine @silkandsulphur! You can find it here. I hope you guys enjoy, always wanted to write something about a blind flower girl a la the film City Lights.

The second piece I wrote is called A Devilish Mentor.

Summary: Raphael meets a blind flower girl named Vera, convinced claiming her soul will be an easy win. However, the Devil soon finds out this mortal in particular does not fall so easily for his lavish deals.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via keylana-dragon)

The Devil sat against a large oak tree, resting his head on the trunk as he fought off sleep. He found solace under its canopy, his body draped in shadows, cool in comparison to the scorching rays of the afternoon sun. Raphael’s doublet stuck to his chest from the humidity, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. It was refreshing, tamer than what he experienced in Avernus. 

He stared into the vast fields of daffodils before him, a dense blanket of bright yellow spanning for miles in all directions. The flowers disappeared into the horizon, giving the illusion this was the only world that existed. The only world that mattered.  

Despite being so close to the chaos of Baldur’s Gate, to the interminable noise of mortals he grew to despise, the world stood still under the tree. Only silence enveloped Raphael. It was his patch of serenity, an escape from the demands of being a Devil. 

He yawned, absorbing the sweet scents of vanilla and honey wafting up from the flowers. He rode a wave of nostalgia, the smells guiding him through a sea of fleeting memories. It had been over a decade since Raphael was first introduced to these fields, led astray by a woman who left a lasting impression on him. 

Vera.

As unlikely as it seemed to Raphael, each flower, every individual petal, those brief memories of her, were too precious to him. 

He leaned back, shutting his eyes. He pushed away his current trepidations about Tav and the mess awaiting him in the Hells. Raphael allowed his muscles to soften with each exhale, helping him to finally relax. 

Soon the Devil dozed off, escaping into a memory... 

---

Raphael was perched atop his balcony outside the Devil’s Den, overlooking Wyrm's Crossing. He had taken a brief respite from the day’s work, deciding to step outside for some fresh air and perhaps some inspiration. He leaned against the wooden railings, observing the ongoing flood of mortals below him. Creatures of all shapes and sizes moved about their own volition, progressing through the day completely oblivious of their impending dooms. 

Something was brewing, something delicious. 

The change in the atmosphere was tangible. Raphael’s skin twitched at the scent of blood that lingered in the air, the buzzing of gossip dancing around at the news of another murder. A corpse was discovered near Sharess’ Caress that very morning, the body disposed of just like the others. A real bonafide serial killer they said! But Raphael knew otherwise. The murders stunk of Bhaalists. 

Either way, it was all good for business. It meant more panic, more deals, and ultimately more power for the Devil.

Other varied scents drifted up from the muddy streets, distracting Raphael from his thoughts of murder and mayhem. Metallic whiffs of money hungry merchants, warm earthy odours of farm workers… Raphael wrinkled his nose, noticing one aroma that stood out to him amidst the rising sea of mediocrity. Something new. A curious scent, an aura both sweet and rich that came from somewhere beneath him. 

Raphael inhaled, following his nose as he proceeded to walk along the length of the upper balcony. He stopped about midway, narrowing his eyes as he searched through the rabble. He immediately found the irregularity, planted firmly against the fast moving current of bodies.

A young woman sat near the entrance of Sharess’ Caress, sitting comfortably on a wooden chair. From that distance, he could just about distinguish her plain features. She had a simple face and dark chestnut hair. Her short sleeved dress hung over her small figure. The woman’s pose was regal, her back so straight she could have been a Queen in disguise. 

In front of her was a handmade stall filled to the brim with flowers. From daffodils to bluebells, she had them all. Much to Raphael’s surprise, her little bespoke shop was quite popular. Despite being so close to the murder scene, long queues snaked well into the alley surrounding the pleasure house.

Why was this woman selling flowers so close to death? Mortals typically fled such sights in horror or goggled with grim curiosity. But she carried on as if nothing happened. Could she really be that innocent? That oblivious?  

Raphael wet his lips, running his fingers through his hair as he prepared for this impromptu performance. Without a second to spare, he snapped his fingers, teleporting down below. He stood on the opposite side of the brothel’s entrance, hiding behind the corner.

Now that the Devil was closer, he spotted the sharp contrast between the beauty of the flowers and the woman’s appearance. The flowers were vibrant and fresh, as if plucked from the heavens. Yet her body told a different story. Although she wasn’t dishevelled, her hands were covered in dirt and her dress crusted over at the hem. 

Raphael gasped, his heart skipping a beat as he noticed the woman’s eyes. They were white, her irises a thick milky blue. She was blind. Her mannerisms weren’t as swift as he thought watching from his balcony, but clunky and slow. She used her hands as a way to guide herself, identifying each flower by delicately petting the tip of the petals. 

He glided towards her as if in a trance, placing himself in front of her stall. The noise of the bustling street faded as Raphael focused on the blind woman. His own eyes widened in excitement. The blind made such easy targets, always willing to give up anything for their sight, for a chance to see even the most mundane backdrops. 

The crowd parted for only a moment but it was enough time for Raphael to discover the woman was staring directly at him, her cloudy eyes meeting his. The Devil stiffened, a sharp chill running up his spine. He wanted to look away as his cheeks burned unexpectedly, yet he carried on staring, pulled to her by an unseen force. Could she be…? He waited, expecting her to approach him. He readied his defences for a fight of some kind, but she remained positioned behind her stall, her gaze unmoving. 

Raphael shook off the uneasiness and took a step closer. The blind woman wrinkled her nose, an act the Devil was used to amongst mortals. 

“Are you planning on buying flowers, sir?” The woman asked. She moved her hands to graze the tips of her bouquets, showing them off in her usual manner. “Or will you continue gaping? I can only assume that’s what you’ve been doing.”

Words escaped Raphael, probably for the first time in his entire existence. He closed his mouth, realising it still hung open in astonishment. He squinted, studying the woman, trying to see if this performance was some sort of ruse. She looked right through Raphael, her face not reacting to his movements. 

“Very good.” Raphael cleared his throat, “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Raphael.” 

He bowed, out of habit, feeling a tinge of embarrassment start to flood his cheeks again before he shoved the feelings away. He immediately stood back up, straightening his doublet. 

“Allow me to purchase a bouquet of your finest arrangements.”

“Of course, sir. For your beloved?”

“Merely for my own enjoyment.”

Raphael flicked his wrist, coins appearing in his hand. He leaned in closer, placing them in the woman’s open palms. 

“What a curious smell.” The woman said, cupping her fingers around Raphael’s hand. She held him there for longer than necessary. “Palmarosa, pepper…” She raised her head slightly, inhaling. “Hmm, yes, notes of cherries… and is that a hint of sulphur?” The woman’s face distorted at the word.

Raphael nodded his head in approval, impressed despite himself at the woman’s sense of smell. She released her grip but he left his hand lingering above her, his fingers tingling.  

 “One might wonder how a woman of such talent remains on the streets of Wyrm's Crossing instead of in a shop of her own. My dear, the city would go mad with a gift like yours.”

“I would hardly call it a gift, sir. Your scent is quite peculiar, however.”

“How so?”

“The sulphur. That’s what I couldn’t place. I personally wouldn’t mix that with the others, but then again, it somehow works. What is your profession?”

“I am an opportunist, through and through.”

Raphael was tempted to touch the woman’s face, curious if she might sense his movements. Perhaps he would test just how far her perception went…

“Is this man bothering you?” A gruff voice came from behind Raphael.

The woman chuckled, her laugh light and airy. Raphael pulled his hand away from her, massaging his palms in contemplation.

“What have you done this time, Baldwin? Is poor Mrs. Fenwick angry at you again ?” A tiny smile grew on her lips, as delicate as the very flowers in front of her.

Raphael turned towards the aggravating voice, smiling politely. Baldwin didn’t return the smile, but glared back at Raphael. The man was short and stocky, with a massive beard that covered more than half of his chunky face.

“Afraid so, Miss Vera, made a mess of things, I did. In real hot water if I don’t get her some of those famous flowers of yours.”

Vera. So that was the creature's name. 

Raphael took that as his cue to leave and slinked back into the crowd. As Vera continued her conversation with Baldwin, her nose lifted, her head following Raphael as he moved further away.

---

The next day Raphael returned to Wyrm's Crossing, watching Vera from his balcony. The crippling weight of his never-ending to-do list grew heavier the more time he wasted watching her, yet he kept avoiding his real responsibilities. He spent the rest of yesterday, and all morning, observing how she worked, how she moved; afraid if he looked away, this budding opportunity would vanish forever.

With a snap of his fingers, he was once again in front of Vera’s stall. 

Her nose twitched as he made his appearance, her head tilting not in alarm, but in curiosity.

“Back again, sir?”

“For some more flowers… and to perhaps ask you to dinner.”

Vera’s visage remained expressionless.

“Which flowers would you like, sir? I’ve only got roses and daffodils left.”

“Hmm… some daffodils, if you would be so kind.” 

The woman nodded, reaching towards the wicker basket on her left. The tips of her fingers delicately brushed the petals, her way of confirming they were indeed the right ones. She scooped up the bouquet with one hand, the other patting the side to ensure the flowers were properly secured. She then extended her arm out to Raphael, offering him the bundle.

“And the dinner?” Raphael inquired, taking the bouquet. 

“I have my work cut out for me today, I’m afraid.”

“If I purchased all your flowers, ridding you of the day’s responsibilities, would you at least consider the proposition?”

Vera hesitated. 

“‘That would be… most generous, sir, but it is not needed.”

“I insist. And please, call me Raphael.”

Vera sighed, her hands gripping one of the empty baskets in front of her, twisting the handle as she considered Raphael’s proposal.

”If you were to buy the rest of my goods, then I might allow you to walk me home, Raphael. ”  

“Then we’ll consider it a deal.”

Raphael clapped his hands, and a pouch of gold fell onto the table with a loud thunk. 

“Let me package these up for at—“

”No need, my dear. I’ll have someone collect them on my behalf. Now, let us walk…” 

---

Raphael and Vera strode in silence through the dirt laden streets towards Rivington. They walked side-by-side, Vera using a wooden cane to lead the way. Long shadows crept from the crooked buildings, growing larger as the sun made its descent.  

As they moved further away from Wyrm's Crossing, the crowds worsened, making it near impossible to navigate without shoving up against strangers. Children cried for their mothers, men lay sleeping on the streets, and families begged for food; pulling on Raphael's garments as he walked past them. These creatures were what Raphael liked to call the lowest of the low; the desperate and needy, his least favourite meals. All the begging and pleading made their souls cheap and sour. He rarely travelled to this side of town unless it was absolutely necessary.

“What do you hope to gain from this?” Vera asked eventually, breaking the stillness as she paused in front of the Open Hand Temple. “No one has been this nice to me without wanting something in return.”

“You wound me to think I would stoop so low, I am not a barbarian but a gentleman. I am here to help.”

“With what, pray tell?”

Vera began walking again, Raphael following suit.

“What if your sight could be restored? Your life begun anew? Filled with so many riches you’d be swimming in gold and luxury?”

“I’d say no.” Vera responded without hesitation. 

“No? Just like that?”

“My condition is incurable. Do not give me hope with this talk of fancy, Raphael. I have been crushed by hope in the past, discarded, left to die from its repercussions.” 

“I am not here on behalf of hope. I have solutions, answers . I am a purveyor of possibilities. Just give me the word and I can fix your sight and if need be, make you so rich you’d never have to sell flowers again.”

Vera laughed. 

“You find this funny?”

“I find it foolish! A bedtime story for children. And how do you suppose you’d fix my sight? Hmm? Magic? Don’t think I haven’t tried that before.” 

 “I have my own means, tried and true. I can discuss them in more detail, with a proper agreement, if you are–”

“No, thank you.”

Vera came to a halt, stopping in front of a large makeshift shack. It was constructed from mismatched wood and random materials, as if it was put up in haste with whatever seemed convenient at the time. It had small windows and a jagged metal chimney that stuck out the side.

“Many thanks for the walk and the thought provoking conversation.” Vera turned away from Raphael, searching the pockets of her dress for a key.

Raphael’s face contorted as he watched her, out of annoyance at the sudden dismissal and from pity. A key? For that sorry excuse of a house? If anyone coughed, or sneezed, it would’ve caused the very foundation to topple.

“May I have the honour of calling upon you again?” Raphael asked, keeping his voice flat to avoid sounding too desperate. Or too peeved.

“If you choose to stop by my stall again,” Vera said, as she unlocked her door, “that is your business. But I will not turn you away.”

And with that, Vera disappeared inside, slamming the door in Raphael’s face. 

Although the door did not hit Raphael, he felt the full force of its impact as the wind slapped his cheeks. The rickey wood only inches from his nose. He immediately retracted his ill thoughts towards the stability of Vera’s home, if it could handle that slam, then it could handle anything . 

Raphael scoffed, turning on his heels as he walked away, quickly disappearing into a fiery inferno. 

---

Day after day Raphael returned to Vera, buying out her flowers, and asking her to dinner. 

The more Vera refused him, the more his obsession grew, turning into an uncontrollable yearning for her submission, to hear only one word from her lips: yes. Raphael wanted her, craved her company. He dreamed of the day he’d finally wipe that smug smirk off her face. Raphael would restore Vera’s sight just to spite her. He would claim her eventually, as he did all mortals who refused him. He just needed time.  

However it wasn’t all torture for Raphael. He had gotten to know Vera as he waited, finding unexpected comfort in the banality of their conversations and in the silence they shared. He watched her every move and knew her entire routine. He observed her as she picked flowers ceremoniously in fields so big they swallowed her whole, often joining in. His thoughts calmed when he was around her, allowing himself to escape in the moment, to savour the present, rather than break from the crippling pressures of his growing ambitions.

The days turned to weeks, and soon months passed, until one day, Vera obliged Raphael and agreed to his invitation.  

The Devil appeared at sundown, as he had often promised, knocking on Vera’s door with the back of his knuckles.

Vera answered almost immediately. Despite not bothering to change her dress or clean-up from the day’s labour, she was beautiful, glowing in the twilight.

The pair began their walk in the warm summer evening, the streets were quiet save for the random insect chirps and occasional gusts of wind that blew in from the sea. They did not make it far before Raphael stopped Vera, the Devil checking over his shoulder to ensure they were alone. 

“Where is this house of yours located?” Vera asked. 

“Quite far. Do you trust me?” 

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Yes.”

“I do not.” Vera said. 

Raphael smiled broadly, snapping his fingers. A portal materialised in front of them, hot air blasting through it like a raging kiln. Vera scrunched her face, sniffing the air rapidly as the heat brushed up against her. 

“Allow me,” Raphael placed his hand on Vera’s forearm and she accepted his lead. 

They began to walk through the portal together. 

---

The House of Hope was serene, Raphael had forced the debtors to clean every single inch of his domain before banishing them all for the evening. He wanted everything to be perfect, spotless, on the off chance Vera would agree to his deal. 

The silence was rife with unasked questions as Raphael led Vera through his halls, her forehead lightly sweating from the stifling heat of Avernus. She held onto his arms, nearly tripping over herself as Raphael led her deeper into his House. Her face grew long as they passed one open window after another.

“Where have you taken me, really?”

“To my House of Hope, in Avernus.”

Vera nodded, mumbling something to herself. 

“Are you afraid?” Raphael went on, eager for what her answer would be.

There was another pause as Vera frowned.

“Yes, but not as scared as I thought.”

They reached a spiral staircase at the far end of his House, leading up to his atelier. It was a room only he had access to, a place no living being had ever entered save for the Devil himself. With a flick of the wrist, Raphael teleported them to the top of the stairs. He waved his hand, dismissing a ward and simultaneously opening the ornate doors to his workshop.

The room was an organised mess. Half finished paintings occupied most of the space, statues sat discarded in the corners, and stacks of books were piled high, nearly reaching the ceiling. 

As Raphael stepped forward, Vera froze, becoming an anchor. 

“You are a Devil.” 

Vera’s words were more of a statement, a confirmation to herself, than a question.  

“In the flesh.”

Vera pulled Raphael towards her, placing her hands on his face. He jumped at the unexpected action, his heart picking up speed, at the feeling of her hands on his skin so freely. 

“Yet you have the face of a normal man.” Vera frowned.

“A guise. Do you wish to know my true form?”

She nodded. 

In a rush of sparks and embers, Raphael shed his mortal skin. She backed away from the heat of his transformation, nearly tripping over backwards. Vera’s hands trembled as she gained composure, reaching for his face again. She gasped, moving over his horns, his sharp cheeks, even touching his wings. Her hands intertwined with his as she traced his claws. 

Raphael desperately wanted to probe her mind, to peek behind the curtain, but he stopped himself. He would not violate her. Not now. When he was so close.

“So it’s true, you are real.” 

There was no fear in her voice, only a hint of wonder. And affection. Raphael melted into her touch, not an inch of his form went unexplored. He swallowed, his mouth becoming drier than the deadliest wastelands. He had never felt such tender, mortal hands, against his infernal flesh.  

“And you’d still deny me the honour of helping you?”

“If it is a soul you’re after, Raphael, then I’m sorry to disappoint you. My soul belongs to me.”

“Even when you could have everything?”

“You must understand, some people are content with life’s simplicities.”

“In poverty? And in darkness?”

“I don’t need my eyes to see. I know you are a Devil. But I can also feel you are honourable. Gentle. You have an appreciation for things that are cracked, imperfect. You care so much about your appearance, and yet… you hide the one thing that makes you the most attractive, the most alluring, your true form. The sulphur. Why do you mask it with other scents?”

“Don’t be a fool. It’s unwise for Devils to parade amongst the mortals so blatantly.” 

“Why?”

“Were you not afraid of me moments ago?”

Vera paused, considering Raphael’s question. 

“I quite prefer this version of you, Raphael. It’s a shame you must hide it.”

Vera looked directly at Raphael like the day they first met. Those milky eyes stared into his very existence, burning a hole through his heart. His foundation crumbled. Yes, the Devil had his ambitions. His longing for the Crown of Karsus, his dreams of conquering the Hells… yet he wanted nothing more than to restore Vera’s sight at that moment. For her to see him truly. All he had to do was snap his fingers… 

Raphael’s temperature rose as he bit the side of his cheek, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth. His limbs shook as he restrained himself, using all his power to keep from fully ascending. Years ago Raphael would’ve laughed in Vera’s face, denying her everything until he was the only option she had left. He would’ve taken her soul where she stood and ate it for supper… but now, all those inclinations evaporated. 

That damned woman had cursed him. And he, worst of all, had allowed it.  

“Do you wish to leave?” Raphael asked, preparing to create a portal back to Baldur’s Gate. 

“No, I am happy to stay. This is the furthest I think I’ve ever travelled. And you promised a meal.” 

Vera smiled, that devious smirk crawling up her lips. Raphael snapped his fingers and a small table and chairs materialised in front of them.

“So I did. You’ll come to find out a Devil always keeps their word.”  

---

Raphael had disappeared for nearly a week. He never intended to stay away for so long, but his work finally caught up with him. Their dinner had been interrupted when Korrilla summoned him, rather rudely, to an urgent meeting in Dis. Raphael had ignored his warlock for so long, pushing her away like an unwanted child, that he had forced her hand. Korrilla’s act of insolence would not go unpunished… 

His thoughts ended abruptly when he arrived near Vera’s home, teleporting himself into sheer havoc.

A massive crowd surrounded her shack, circling it like rabid wolves. Mortals gawked, some pointing their fingers and laughing at the home like it was some sort of circus attraction. Investigators lined the entranceway, pushing people back who tried to sneak through. The air was heavy, thick with humidity and the smell of rotting meat. Raphael’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he pushed through the throng.  

“Shame… another attack…” One woman said.

“Apparently she put up a fight…” A man whispered. 

“A Dragonborn… lurking about, but who knows…” Another woman remarked.

Raphael barely made it to the front of the crowd when he stopped, noticing he was standing in a puddle of blood. The liquid sparkled in the morning sun as it seeped through his boots. 

“She was barely breathing when they pulled her–” A woman behind Raphael began. 

His ears rang at those words, at the possibility of her still being alive, and he instantly spun around, grabbing hold of the woman’s shoulders. 

“Where did they take her?” 

“Sir-I beg your pardon–”

Raphael shook the woman as she stared dumbfoundedly back at him, squeezing her shoulders tighter as she refused to give an answer. Others in the crowd backed away from Raphael, some even starting to scream.

“Where is she?!”  

---

Raphael charged through the hallways of the hospital. Kicking down one door after another until he found Vera. She was in a room no larger than a closet, her body haphazardly thrown onto a metal bed. Her dress was torn to shreds, body barely recognisable, save for those pale eyes, her beautiful eyes, that now stared fixedly at the ceiling. She had been cut open, gutted like a farm animal. They didn’t even have the audacity to cover her body. 

Raphael collapsed, a numbness growing in his chest, spreading through his entire body as the realisation of Vera’s death hit him like a tsunami. It was strange, he had never felt anything over a mortal's death, not until Vera. He grabbed the frame of the bed, the metal warping at his fiery touch, as he attempted to lift himself to his feet.

He picked up Vera’s body, his hands trembling as he held her, searching through her very being for any leftover traces of her soul, something he could latch on to, bring back… but she was hollow. Lost to him forever. Without warning, Raphael erupted into flames, turning the entire room into an inferno. The fire grew bigger and angrier, licking its way across the ceiling as it travelled outside the hallway, slowly moving throughout the rest of the hospital. 

The Devil paid no attention to the screams or to the damage he caused. It all became part of the same noise. Let the flames consume them all, let the flames destroy everything. He had lost something precious to him, and they would all pay for it in turn. These mortals will suffer for their stupidity, their chaos, their violence! 

And Vera…  

Raphael howled, the flames around him turning blue in his grief. He should’ve taken her soul when he had the chance and dealt with the repercussions later. She would’ve forgiven him eventually. Then she would’ve been his. Forever. She would’ve been safe.

Raphael brought his arms to his chest in an attempt to hug Vera, to hold her close and never let go, but the only thing that remained were her ashes. 

---

Raphael woke up from his nightmare. He screamed into the darkness, gasping for air, choking on the tears that streamed down his cheeks. The full moon lit up the field before him, covering the flowers in an eerie luminescent glow. 

Thoughts of Vera stung like fresh wounds. The pain served as a reminder for his failings, his eternal punishment for going against the very nature of his existence, all for one mortal. 

Raphael’s chest unexpectedly grew tighter, an uneasy feeling rising like bile in his throat. He shut his eyes, attempting to restrain the intrusive emotions. These damned mortal inclinations never ceased to torment him, a sense of dread creeping through the cracks of his composure like rampant weeds. 

All at once a torrent of different thoughts overtook him, flooding his mind as he was snapped back to reality. Tav’s failings with the Hammer, his cursed pursuit of the Crown, tasks that piled up the more he sat there, and worst of all, the echoes of Vera, lingering still… He tried to destroy each thought, but more grew in their place.

Raphael took a deep breath, attempting to reclaim his presence of mind. He coughed, his nostrils filling with the abrasive scent of burning. His eyes shot open and he was met with thick black smoke trailing up from his hands. 

The daffodils within his proximity were on fire, the petals curling up around the edges and withering away. His fists dug deeper into the soil, the ground bubbling, threatening to erupt at any moment. He watched as the flames grew, slowly eating the field, destroying its beauty and everything it stood for.

“YOU FOOL!” Raphael screamed. His voice rippled through the burning field, the leaves above him trembling in his rage.

Snap!  

The fire reversed itself, the flames crawling back into Raphael’s fingertips as the world around him went back to normal. He let out a pained sigh, his rage extinguishing. 

He had been so close to destroying everything. 

Again. 

They never found Vera’s murderer, but Raphal saw through the facade, he knew who did it. That Bhaalspawn. The same creature who painted the streets red in murderous glee, later claiming the responsibility for Bhaal’s re-birth. That vile Dragonborn haunted Raphael’s dreams, taunting him with Vera’s death as he hid away in the shadows of his subconscious, evading his capture. 

In the decade since Vera’s slaughter, Raphael ensured all his schemes led to the path of revenge one way or another. When he caught wind of the Dark Gods’ plot to steal the Crown of Karsus, he knew then it was his destiny. Once the Crown was his, he would unite the Hells and eradicate every single Bhaalist from the face of the earth. He would make that coward Bhaal suffer as he did. Then he would find Vera’s soul. Somehow. 

Raphael’s thoughts quickly flickered to Tav and their pending negotiations. The Crown for a Hammer. To the last few scenes left to play out before his grand finale. 

He would not make the same mistake again. 

He would not be denied.  

The Devil would get his vengeance.

[flutefemme]

Happy 7th Birthday, Breath of the Wild!

Your story pulled me in during a very, very difficult time in my life and taught me how to care about myself outside of who I am at work, to prioritize my own health over performance, and to introduce me to a community that has made my life infinitely more joyful.

These two fictional kids have changed my life for the better, and I will never stop loving them! This is a piece I drew a while back for The Journey of Remembrance free digital zine.