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pengychan · 11 months ago

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[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 2

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

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

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

*** Wyll and Karlach will be in the next chapter I promise.

***

Haarlep did not know much about the business of building towers - or rebuilding, the way things looked from up there - but they had a fairly good idea of what kind of people it would take. Laborers, stonemasons, and the like. What it probably did not take was healers.

So, if Raphael was to find any help, it wouldn’t be at Moonrise Towers.

They flew past the towers, through a convenient cloud to avoid being seen, and kept looking. In their arms, in his human shape - perfect to be held, Haarlep would often say, to Raphael’s utter annoyance - his former master was still asleep. Or maybe, more likely, unconscious. He was trembling; Haarlep felt that easily through the sheets he was wrapped into. His body was no longer giving off the heat that was usually typical of fiends; Mephistopheles had taken more than just his wings and horns before he tried to devour him.

Raphael would be none too pleased about it when he woke up. Haarlep couldn’t tell if they were relieved or sorry they wouldn’t be there to witness the temper tantrum.

Below them, they saw a settlement - or at least the beginnings of one. Homes, small roads… and just north of it all, a larger building. An inn, its courtyard teeming with activity and life; it was no guarantee of a healer, but it seemed the safest bet. It wasn’t like Haarlep could be picky, and being picky was not something they could ever be accused of, either way. So they made the decision to land, hidden behind some trees, and changed shape while still holding onto Raphael.

Taking the form of what Raphael had dubbed his little mouse before said mouse obliterated him in his own home was not something they had planned, but it was the first shape that occurred to them. However, they hadn’t accounted for Raphael’s reaction.

“You…!”

The guttural noise, something like an attempt at a growl that quickly turned into a pained groan, caused Haarlep to look down.

“Oh,” they said. “You’re awake.”

Raphael glared, ground his teeth, and tried to struggle. But he was wrapped in sheets, with more broken bones than was probably healthy, and weak as a kitten compared to Haarlep. They just held him a little more firmly, the solid Dragonborn body serving the purpose perfectly well. “Calm down, my little brat,” they said, and Raphael’s struggle ceased at once. The fury on his face turned to confusion, then into a scowl.

“Haarlep. You-- how-- ah, of course you had them,” he seethed, causing the incubus to raise an eyebrow.

“An interesting detail to get fixated on, given your current predicament. But yes, of course. No other way to get this body. I was using your form, by the way. They specifically asked me to use that one over the Archduchess’. I’m surprised you didn’t feel that right away, come to think of it.”

“You-- insatiable-- harlot.”

“I’m an incubus, darling. There’s no reason to be surprised,” they said. “Now, while I’d love to tell you all about the experience, there are more pressing matters to concern yourself about. Finding a healer, mostly, now that Mephistopheles’ willpower is no longer playing a role in keeping you alive. Believe me when I say you’re a right mess.”

“Wh--” Raphael blinked, and finally seemed to take stock of everything else around him aside for Haarlep’s-- well, the little mouse’s face. The greenery, the clear sky, the sun, the frankly aggravating distant sound of children playing. “The material plane,” he rasped. “How…?”

“Come now, you’re usually smarter than this. I took you here.”

“Why…?” Raphael managed, but that was about it. He was already slipping back into unconsciousness, whatever strength he’d gained by seeing that face leaving him. Haarlep sighed.

“Asked myself that a few times,” they muttered, and stepped out from the cover of trees in plain sight, heading for the inn. They were ready to make up a name, a cover story, claiming they had found Raphael wounded on the road. They were ready to hand him over, and promptly rush back to Cania.

It took them approximately ten seconds to realize they had fucked up.

“You’re back!”

“One of the heroes is back!”

“Tonight we celebrate!”

Ah. Yes. Little mouse just so happened to be a hero now. That was something Haarlep probably should have taken into account before taking their likeness.

“Er-- yes, of course. It’s me. The hero. Being back. Happy to celebrate my dear - always happy to celebrate, don’t get me wrong - but at the moment, there’s something more urgent. Is there a healer here? A cleric? I found this man on the road, and he seems in need of one.”

“Of course, Lady Isobel will be glad to help--”

“Wonderful!” Haarlep shoved Raphael’s limp form in the hands of a strapping half-orc and stepped back. “If you could please get her to have a look at him, it would be perfect.”

“Are you not coming in…?”

“In a minute. I’ll be right back. You get him help, yes?”

There would be no going back, of course, as much as Haarlep would have loved a little party among mortals and a few more bodies to add to their repertoire. It simply wasn’t safe to stay away from Cania too long: someone might notice their absence and, while it was unlikely anyone would put two and two together - all the Hells believed Raphael was dead and to be honest, most of them had believed he’d been for a long time before the announcement Mephistopheles would devour him publicly - it was always better be safe than sorry.

Especially in Mephistar, where being sorry meant being very, very sorry.

After taking flight, Haarlep spared a moment to glance at the inn below. Raphael had been brought inside, and now they could see a woman rushing to the door, carrying a staff - perhaps the Isobel they had mentioned. Well, that was it then, the end of Haarlep’s role. Whether or not Raphael survived was up to him. Haarlep didn’t know what powers he still had, if any at all, but they knew one thing. Two, actually.

The first was that, if he was half as smart as he thought himself to be, Raphael would never even attempt to return to the Hells again. The second was that, unfortunately, Raphael really wasn’t half as smart as he thought.

***

Something was not right about those wounds.

Isobel had never been one to brag, but it was a plain fact that, as a cleric, she knew her business. She’d healed countless people from horrifying wounds, taking them from death’s door to full consciousness and health in a matter of minutes, sometimes moments.

The wounds on the man lying unconscious on the bed looked bad: both legs shattered, spine broken in two different places, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, and deep gashes across the entire body, one of which had very nearly disemboweled him. He even had a hole through his tongue, for some reason Isobel couldn’t begin to fathom.

However, sad to say, they were not the worst she had ever seen. The thing about them was that they would not heal the way they should when she cast her healing spells, or when she administered the most powerful health potions in her possession. The bones did not set, the wounds did not close; not as quickly as they usually did, at least. With intense concentration and effort, she was able to at least heal the man’s spine, and close up the hole in his tongue; but it was all she could do before she reached her limit.

For all the rest, she was only able to kickstart the healing process. Once that was done, she went about it the traditional way with disinfectants, bandages, salves, and splints. They would help the healing, while she cast more spells in the days to come.

I’ve seen this face here before, haven’t I?, she thought. Maybe he sought refuge here, too. But what happened to him? What creature may have mauled him this way? If something is lurking out there, Aylin needs to know.

A lot of questions, but answers could wait until she was done there. She had just finished dressing the wounds when a voice came from the doorway.

“Lady Isobel, have you called for more firewood?”

“Yes, thank you. And more blankets, if possible,” she added, placing what blankets she did have on the man. Even though the room was warm, he was shivering as though caught in an ice storm; it had made tending to his injuries even more difficult. As more wood was added to the fireplace, she placed a hand on the man’s forehead. No fever; his temperature seemed perfectly normal to her. He was simply feeling cold due to the blood loss, no doubt; she could think of no other explanation.

She’d keep him warm, keep caring for his wounds, and hopefully he’d wake up soo--

“Nnngh…”

Ah. There he was. “Sir, can you hear me? No, don’t try to move-- stay down.” A hand on his forehead, and the man ceased his attempt at sitting up with a groan. He opened his eyes, looking up at her.

“Where…?” he managed, and shuddered once more.

“You’re in the Last Light Inn. You’re safe, don’t worry. You can stay until you’re healed.”

“Un-- unhand me.”

“Only if you stop trying to move. You’re badly hurt. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

A groan. “What is it-- with mortals-- asking if I understand?” he grunted, but he did not try to get up. Another shiver. “What is this?” he managed through chattering teeth.

“I know you’re cold, but don’t worry. I’ll have more blankets brought in.”

“No. No. I’m not-- supposed to be cold.”

“Please, stay calm.”

“Never-- been cold.”

“We’ll warm you up again in no time.”

A choking sound that sounded almost like a laugh. “No. No, you can’t. Not unless you have-- hellfire-- in a bottle.” Another shudder, a groan through clenched teeth. “What has he done-- what has he done to me?”

Isobel frowned. “Do you know who it was? To harm you?” she asked, and the response he got was another, grim laugh that soon died down in a pained noise. She leaned down, expecting to hear a name, or at least a description. She was not sure what she expected, but a rhyme was not it.

“In shadows deep where whispers coil, a devil's snare’s a treacherous foil,” he rasped, looking up at the ceiling with glassy eyes. Isobel blinked.

“All… right?” she muttered, rather hoping for some more information, but that was it. The man shivered, closed his eyes, and was out again. Isobel stared, taken aback, then sighed. One of the man’s hands had slipped off the bed, and she placed it back on it. There were deep marks around both wrists, which she’d dabbed with salve; obvious signs of tight, chafing manacles. Maybe he hadn’t been attacked by a monster or beast, after all. Maybe he’d been held captive, somewhere, and she really needed to get to the bottom of it. But first, she’d add more wood to the fire.

The sooner he stopped trembling like a newborn calf, the better.

***

“That was… a lot of children.”

Halsin laughed at the somewhat shocked note in Durge’s voice. Maybe a bit too shocked, considering the far more daunting things they had faced, but it wasn’t everyday that they were positively swarmed by children. “Oh, you’ve barely met half of them. And you’ll meet the rest tonight. You promised them a story, and you don’t get to back out now.”

“I’m certain Astarion would make a better storyteller than I do,” Durge replied, gaining themself a huff.

“While I agree that I am a far superior storyteller, you couldn’t pay me enough to take the stage this evening.”

“Astarion, I am shocked,” Halsin declared. “Shying away from attention?”

Astarion scoffed. His entire face save the eyes were obscured by his old Shadow of Menzoberranzan hood - the only way for him to walk in daylight, until a more permanent solution was found - but it wasn’t hard to imagine his expression. “I enjoy adult attention, thank you very much. Incidentally, I hope you’re aware we’re not open to adopt. Just bringing it up in case you get odd ideas, my love. Last time you were in charge we had an owlbear, a dog, a cat, and two children at camp.”

Durge chuckled. “In my defense, the children were there at different times.”

“But they were there and I hated it.”

“Those were-- special circumstances. I have no plans to take children with us. Particularly as they’re doing so well here with Halsin.”

“Ah, I have plenty of help. And a healed land besides,” Halsin added, gesturing around them. That was true: looking around, it was hard to believe they were in the same lands that had been cloaked in cursed shadows only half a year prior. Back then, the trek to the Last Light Inn had been perilous, near deadly; now, it was a pleasant stroll. The welcome they received was quite different, too.

And… well. Puzzling.

“You’re back!”

“We couldn’t figure out where you’d gone!”

“Lady Isobel is with the man you brought in just now.”

“He seems in a bad way, but have faith in her, she’s the best healer you’ll meet.”

Durge blinked. “The… man I brought in?”

Several heads nodded. “Yes, the man you brought in, not one hour ago? Badly wounded? We got him some help right away, and then we couldn’t find you.”

Well. Considering that Durge was fairly certain they had not found a wounded man, had not taken him there, and had not subsequently pulled a disappearing act, that left two possibilities: either everyone present had too much wyvern whiskey and the same exact hallucination, or someone had indeed been there, carrying a wounded man, wearing their likeness.

“... A shapeshifter?” Astarion suggested, taking the hood off as soon as they were in. Durge’s mind went to Orin for a moment, and a shiver went up their spine, but they quickly dismissed the thought. No, it couldn’t be. Orin was dead, out of her misery. But then, who…?

“Perhaps,” Halsin spoke up, “we should see how the man you… brought in is doing, no?”

Right. A good idea, that. “And… this man I found, where is he now?”

“Upstairs, three doors left - Lady Isobel is with him. Actually, would you mind taking some blankets to her? She asked--”

“Of course!” Durge snatched the blankets without looking and went up the stairs, three steps at a time, Halsin and Astarion right behind them. They had no idea what was going on, but if a shapeshifter was involved there may be trouble and the Gods knew, Isobel had had enough trouble to last her a lifetime or two or twenty. Durge got to the door and kicked it open, sending it crashing against the wall, blankets under one arm and their free hand raised to cast should it be needed… only to be met with Isobel’s perplexed gaze, as she sat by a bed where someone was laying.

“Oh. You’re back,” she said, then, “... The door was open.”

Ah. Well. At least she was not in immediate danger. “I, uh… I brought the blankets,” Durge found themself saying. Behind them, Astarion waved.

“Terribly sorry about that. I swear I’ve been trying to teach them to do the polite thing and knock. We’re slowly getting there.”

A chuckle. “Well, no harm done. Thank you for the blankets. Our guest seems to need plenty of warmth--” she began, walking up to them, and in doing so she gave them the first, real look at the man on the bed. She trailed off, taken aback, when all three took a step back and reached for a weapon.

“What…?”

“Lady Isobel,” Halsin spoke, quietly, shortsword in hand. “Step away from that creature.”

“I assure you, he is no threat. He was barely clinging to life when--”

“Please, trust me. He is not what he seems,” Halsin insisted, and this time she took heed. She slowly stepped back as well, picking up her staff, and looked back at Durge.

“... It wasn’t you, was it? To bring him here?”

Gaze still fixed on Raphael’s still form, Durge slowly shook their head. “No,” they replied. There was a lot they did not know - how Raphael was still alive, why was he there - but at that point, they could make a safe guess as to who had brought him there while wearing their likeness. “It was an incubus, I’d wager, masquerading as me. One called Haarlep.”

“An incubus stole your likeness?”

Ah. That. Durge cleared their throat. “They didn’t steal it, precisely,” they muttered. Isobel flushed a little.

“Oh,” she said, but was kind enough to ask nothing more. “Well-- if an incubus brought him here-- who is he? What happened to him? His wounds are unlike anything I have seen before. They will not heal, not like all others. It’s like they’re…”

“Infernal,” Durge replied, and took a step towards the bed. Beneath several blankets, despite the warmth in the room, Raphael was shivering in an uncomfortable slumber. His human form was paler than they recalled, cheeks hollow and eyes sunken in. The closed eyelids looked livid, his hair matted.

They recalled him as they had seen him last, in the Orb of Infernal Envisioning - a broken, bloody mess, dangling above the maw of the archdevil Mephistopheles. By all accounts, that should have been the end of him. And yet, there he was.

“... He’s a devil, isn’t he?” Isobel asked, quietly, and Halsin nodded.

“Indeed. His name is Raphael. I thought we’d seen the last of him.”

“Was he working with the Dead Three?”

“Oh, not at all,” Astarion said, all sweetness and light. “He had something we needed, so we broke into his house to steal it. He caught us, we killed him. You know how these things go.”

“Ah.”

“We also rescued someone he was holding prisoner,” Durge hurried to point out, giving Astarion a look that told him, without words, that they’d really appreciate it if he at least tried not to make them come across as unhinged menaces. Astarion replied with an equally eloquent look that reminded them, also without words, that they sort of were unhinged menaces and good thing they were, as it had saved the world.

With a sigh, Durge had to silently concede that point.

“We needed the artifact and he wanted the Crown of Karsus for it,” Halsin, who thank the Gods was somewhat less of an unhinged menace than the two of them, told Isobel. “You understand, we simply could not leave that Crown in the hands of a devil. We had no choice.”

“... I see,” Isobel said, then took in a breath, and picked up the blankets Durge had dropped. “He still needs these.”

Astarion tilted his head. “Have you heard the part where he’s a devil?”

“He’s cold.”

“Yes, I understand that sounds like an oxymoron, but a cold devil is still a devil.”

“He was left in my care.”

Halsin shifted. “If he tries to harm you--”

“If he tries to harm anyone, he dies,” Isobel cut him off, her voice harsher now. Ah, not difficult to see the influence of Aylin there. And maybe, just maybe, something of Ketheric Thorm. “I’d appreciate one of you staying to help me, and explain to me exactly what happened,” she added, and well, not much choice there. Durge sighed and put Crimson Mischief back in its sheath.

“You two go have a drink, and tell everybody to keep away from the upper floor,” they told Astarion and Halsin. “I’ll stay here.”

“All right. If he causes any trouble, just yell.”

“Trust me, you’ll hear me loud and clear.”

“By having a drink, you mean I can taste someone other than you, right?”

“Someone willing.”

An offended gasp, a theatrical clutching of his chest. “Of course! Who do you take me for?” A pause, eyes shifting to the bed. “... Actually, I was wondering if our favorite devil’s blood really does burn hotter than wyvern whiskey.”

“Biting him might not be your best idea yet.”

“I was voicing my curiosity, that is all. To be honest, I think he was bluffing. It cannot possibly be hotter than Karlach’s - that nearly burned my tongue off.”

“... You bit Karlach?”

“We’d had a bit too much to drink. Well, I was high on blood, she had too much ale, we made a bet.” A pause. “Which I lost. Not my proudest moment.”

Halsin laughed. “Well, I can promise you mine doesn’t burn, and that I’m willing,” he said, causing Astarion to grin before heading outside with him.

“Ah,” he said as the door closed behind them, “here’s a man after my own heart.”

It didn’t take Durge too long to fill Isobel in on what exactly had transpired between them and the devil she was currently covering in blankets, and it took Isobel even less to detail all the injuries she had found on him, and how difficult they were to heal. She did not uncover Raphael to show them, but she did pull out one of his arms so that Durge could have a look at the chafed wrist, the obvious mark of a manacle.

“The other wrist is the same. He’s been chained for a long time,” she said, and put the arm back beneath the blankets, gently as she could manage. “If what you saw in the Orb was true, he must have been a prisoner in Cania for at least half a year. How could he possibly escape it?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, I’m afraid. Haarlep had something to do with it, but that’s all I can guess. Did he say anything when he woke up?”

“Just some kind of… rhyme, I think?”

“Sounds like him all right,” Durge sighed, sitting on the chair beside the bed while Isobel leaned against the windowsill. There were a few minutes of silence, only broken by the crackling of fire. A comfortable silence, the kind only people who have fought side by side can share; when Isobel spoke again, she was just as comfortable asking the loaded, probably obvious question.

“You thought you’d killed him, but you haven’t suggested doing so now.”

“... It wouldn’t be right, I think. Not while he’s this weak, and not without provocation.”

“Some would find him being a devil reason enough. He must have done horrible things, as devils are wont to do.”

“Yes. Devils, and bhaalspawn. The Gods alone know how many I must have butchered in my lifetime.”

“You chose something different, in the end.”

“After I had my skull cracked, my brain scrambled, and my memories destroyed. I am not certain I can take the merit for that particular change in my ways.”

“You shouldn’t downplay your choices afterwards. But,” Isobel added, looking over at Raphael, “I do understand where you’re coming from.”

“I’m under no delusion he’ll change his, so rest assured I will kill him if need be. I won’t let anyone in this inn come to harm.” A pause, and Durge reached inside their satchel for a scroll. “We cannot trust any answer he gives us to be truthful, but there is something I could do. Does the healer approve?”

A nod. “As long as it doesn’t make his wounds any worse.”

“It won’t. I have just the scroll to make sure he doesn’t move.”

The scroll of Hold Monster would take hold of Raphael’s unconscious form easily, and Durge cast it with utmost confidence - only to realize, a moment too late, that they’d picked the wrong scroll: Hold Person would absolutely not do. They rolled their eyes, a little annoyed with themself for the waste of a perfectly good scroll, and made to reach in their satchel again… except that it worked.

Magical bindings appeared over Raphael’s body, translucent but perfectly visible. Durge stilled, staring, and so did Isobel. She turned to look at them with a sharp breath.

“That shouldn’t have worked on a devil.”

“... No,” Durge agreed, still stunned. “It’s only meant for humanoids. It would never work on a devil.”

“Maybe this is… not a devil, after all?”

Durge narrowed their eyes. “One way to find out,” they finally said, and cast Detect Thoughts.

***

Even without the tadpole in their brain, slipping into the thoughts and dreams of somebody else was easy, eerily so. With the target unconscious, it was easy to sift through his dreams, fragmented and confused as they were. For a moment, Durge saw Avernus, the grand hall in the House of Hope, and even themself as they dealt the final blow - all through Raphael’s eyes.

He felt fury, desperation, the sheer terror or realizing a life he’d believed eternal was coming to an abrupt and violent end before his goals could be realized, before he’d achieved anything worthwhile. And then he was in Mephistopheles’ grasp, gurgling and choking on his own blood, screaming over shards of shrieking bone; the wings were torn away, the horns snapped off… and something else was snatched from him, part of his very essence sucked into Mephistopheles’ maw, leaving behind only half of what he’d been.

Then he was falling and he was in chains, time crawling by as he grew weaker, not allowed to die until his Lord father-- by the Gods, the archdevil Mephistopheles is his father? -- willed it. The sound of his cell door being unlocked, then…

Then the dream changed. A door opened, but he was no longer in a cell, no longer chained. He was sitting in a room, all stone walls and iron furniture, a couple of walls scorched by flames. A small window high up, rows upon rows of neatly arranged books; he sat amongst them, a tome in his hands and ah, they were the crimson hands of a devil indeed, and yet so small. When his voice rang out, that too sounded small. Petulant. Childish.

“I’ve finished this one, too.”

The woman who’d stepped in was very much human. She looked ancient, and smiled with a mouth that was almost entirely toothless. She probably had a name, but she insisted he only call her Nan, and so he did. “Oh dear, already?” she spoke, closing the door behind herself. “You go through books faster than I can hope to source them, my boy. I’m afraid I have but a few left to give you. I shall ask the master to send word for more.”

He knew that Nan would have to argue for it, because the master of the house would gladly leave him with no books at all - he had killed his wife when he came into the world, and he hated him for it - but in the end he always got him books, threw them his way like one would throw meat at a caged beast. He found the comparison insulting. He was no beast, wasn’t even caged. He was well-read, Nan said so, and perfectly civil. He didn’t even throw tantrums with fire anymore, so that he wouldn’t burn his books.

“I want more ink and parchment,” the childish voice rang out again. “I want to write, too.”

A chuckle. “That will be easier, and it’s always good to put one’s thoughts down on paper. But for now, here.” A heavy, richly decorated tome was handed to him, and he took it. “You’re perhaps a bit young for it, but you are a precocious reader. It’s a collection of plays. It was a favorite of your--” a pause, a brief hesitation. “... A favorite of the master’s late wife.”

It was a rare slip, one that he would usually ignore because it was known, understood, how inappropriate bringing up the circumstances surrounding his existence was. This time, however, he couldn’t bite back the question.

“Do you think my Father will come take me, when I come of age?”

A tense exhale. “... Nobody knows. Perhaps. Why do you ask?”

“Maybe I should learn to read Infernal. If he comes to take me home with him. ”

“Do you want him to?”

“... I hope he does. I shouldn’t be here, I don’t think.”

“I can’t see why not. You pass off well enough as a tiefling, with that nice silk cloak over your wings.”

He frowned, and tilted his horned head towards a bookshelf. “I read this story about the scorpion and the desert beetles. You know the one? Where the scorpion wants to live with the beetles and cuts off its stinger, so they cannot tell it’s a scorpion. But it’s still not a beetle. And when the snake comes, it can’t sting and it’s eaten.”

A brief silence, then a wrinkled hand went to smooth back his hair. She never hesitated to reach out, even though she hurt her hand on his horns a few times, and he never burned her like he did with other caretakers. “Well, last I checked we’re no beetles, you’re no scorpion, and nobody is going to eat you. Come now, to sleep. How about I tell you a story you have never heard before?”

It worked, of course.

Israfel had always liked stories.

***

Raphael let out a faint groan as the power of the spell waned. Durge pulled away from his mind, shook their head to dispel the lingering dizziness, and watched Raphael stir for a few moments before his head fell back and his eyelids, which barely fluttered open, closed again. He fell back into a slumber, no longer shivering.

Durge kept staring, a memory pounding in their skull, from the moment they’d been awakened to life anew by the being they only knew as Withers.

"Bhaal tried to extinguish thee, but his wrath is imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew."

That was not what Mephistopheles had done to Raphael, precisely, but he had taken something all the same from his own offspring - the part of him that had come from his loins. Durge had been a child of Bhaal only, molded from his dead flesh, but it clearly was not the case for Raphael. Unlike them, he’d had a mother who had not lived past his birth. And that meant…

“He wasn’t a full-blooded devil,” Durge finally spoke, eyes shifting from Raphael to Isobel. “He was a cambion. The offspring of a devil and a mortal.”

Isobel raised an eyebrow. “I’m picking up a past tense, yet he’s still alive. Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“I could be wrong, but while I was in his mind… I think I felt it happen. Part of him being torn away.” They looked back at Raphael. “It would make sense, after all, to render him powerless before keeping him imprisoned in Cania. It would explain why he cannot heal himself, and why that scroll was enough to chain him down. I suppose we’ll know for sure when he wakes up and tries to raise hell in the most literal sense of the word.”

“Any chance he’ll just be thankful to be alive?” Isobel asked, but it was more of a joke than a serious question. Durge laughed.

“Oh, unless someone scrambled his brain as badly as mine was, he’s going to be spitting mad. The good news is, he’s not going to be much of a threat.” Another chuckle, and they leaned back on the chair. “Ah, Astarion is going to love this.”

“What am I going to love, love?”

Well, speak of the vampire. Astarion sauntered in, two kegs of ale held in one hand and a glass of what probably wasn’t red wine in the other. He held the kegs over to them, and grinned as they each took one.

“Well then, dear,” he said. “What did I miss?”

***

[Back to Chapter 1]

[On to Chapter 3]

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #isobel thorm #the dark urge #halsin bg3 #astarion ancunin #haarlep #bg3 astarion #bg3 raphael #hell to pay

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certkidwhocantdomath · 10 months ago

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Back from Beyond: Johnny Cage's Return

Additional tags: Blind Character, Blindfolds, Referenced Character Injury, Referenced Character Death, Healing, Resurrection, Johnny Cage-centric, OP Johnny Cage(I mean- he defeated a fallen elder god and destroyed a cityscape!)

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Johnny had woken up alone and warm.

Alone?

Warm?

Sure, Bi-Han was an early riser but they usually get up together so they can walk around the academy, enjoy the sun rise and talk to eachother.

And warm? Bi-Han was practically a human air conditioner so he kept the bed nice and cold.

He heard a quiet gasp come from his right.

"Oh, oh dear. You've woken up quite early.." Said a shy, quiet and feminine voice.

It was a voice he did not recognize.

"Where am I?"

"Oh uh... You are in the infirmary."

"Infirmary of?"

"Of the Order of Light.."

Order of Light? He heard Ashrah mention that clan before.. It was the one she joined after she left the Brotherhood of Shadow.

"Who are you?" Johnny asked the girl.

"Meditrina.."

"Okay, Meditrina, can you tell what happened and why I'm here?"

"Well my boss, Raphael, found you while she was out for a walk. You were grievously injuries so we struggled to get you back alive."

Johnny stayed silent.

"It was at that point we drew several sigils around your body to keep the healing magic stable."

"Trina, who are you talking to?" Another voice, feminine but deeper than Meditrina's.

"I.. Uhm... Mr. Cage meet my boss, Raphael." She quietly introduced.

"You are up quite early, Mr. Cage."

"Yeah, I guess.."

"I may have a spell that can restore your eye sight. To an extent."

"To an extent?"

"Yes. You will be able to see that outline of something of something but you will not be able to see color as everything else will be pitch black."

"Hey, outlines is better than seeing nothing."

"Very well then. Lay down."

Johnny lies back down on the bed.

Meditrina held his hair back as Raphael started drawing a sigil with ash. She mumble a quick chant and the sigil glowed gold before turning black and is tattooed to his forehead.

Now, Johnny saw a lot.

He finally saw what Raphael and Meditrina looked like.

Raphael has tight twin Dutch braids and is wearing something both an adventurer and healer would. She stood poised with confidence, arms crossed.

Meditrina has a loose French braid and is wearing something mainly a healer would. She stood slouched with shyness, arms wrapped around a pieces of paper that are clutched to her chest.

Johnny sat up and noticed something. His blindfold is gone, the one Kenshi wrapped so tenderly and so gently around his head.

"My blindfold, where is it?"

"Ah, it was ripped in your battle"

"Battle? What battle?"

"You.. Do not remember?"

"Uh, no. What battle?"

"Oh! Uhh, I sewed a purple blindfold for you as a replacement! Let me go get it!" Meditrina changed the subject and scurried off to an ornate box.

There she pulled a, assumingly, purple blindfold with a dragon scale design.

"It's purple with a black dragon scale design, by the way." Meditrina explained as she walked back to him and gently tied the blindfold over his scarred sockets.

"Good? Not that tight?"

"Nope, all good."

Johnny attempted to get up but his back hurt like hell. He groaned and was eventually helped by the ladies.

"Ugh.. Damn, my body hurts like hell. I feel like an old man with full gray hair..."

"Probably because you do...." Meditrina mumble under her breath.

"What?"

"Uhhh..."

"Mr. Cage, most of your hair has turned gray. Most likely from your incident." Raphael answered for her assistant.

"What incident?"

"Nevermind..

"I will admit, Mr. Cage, you look quite dashing with gray hair." Meditrina admitted.

"I have sent for our best chiropractor. He will help with the ache in your bones." Raphael butted in.

"Okay, thanks."

The ladies eventually left and a few minutes later the outline of a man made itself known.

"Good morning, Mr. Cage. I am Galen."

(Pronunciation: Gay-len)

"Good morning, it's nice to meet you, Galen."

"Likewise, Mr. Cage. Ms. Raphael and Lady Meditrina said you are feeling sore, so they sent for me."

"Yeah, my bones have been hurting for quite a while now."

"I can help with that. Please lay down on your stomach."

Johnny does as he is told and he feels a satin cloth drape over his legs and ass.

Galen started off with simple massages, adding several times of ointments and amenities to skins. Then he started cracking the knots in bones away.

After, Johnny felt anew.

"Wow, I feel like refreshed. Thank you, Galen."

"No problem, Mr. Cage." Just as Galen was about to walk out, he suddenly remembered something and turned back to him.

"Ah! Ms. Raphael said that you may go to the library if you wish. It is the next room to the next"

"Okay. Thanks for telling me."

Galen nodded and walked out.

Johnny stretched once more and cracked his knuckles. The star just then noticed he was wearing just shorts.

He looked at his legs and he saw more sigils. And scars.

How'd he get those?

Johnny shook his head and looked around. He saw a pair of black casual baggy drawstring boho pants. He grabbed it and put it on, it fit him perfectly.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Johnny walked to the library and entered and then he realized another thing. What the fuck is he gonna do here?

Outworld doesn't have the Titanic or Twilight. Not even Green Eggs and Ham!

So Johnny simply looked around the shelves, hoping to find something interesting.

And so he.

THE KARLATUN CLAN: DEFENDERS GREEK AND SCANDINAVIA

That's promising.

The cover was of a woman in a toga with long hair, wings, a bow and arrow with the quiver on her back. The woman was seemingly flying in the clouds

Johnny pulled out the generally small book and opened to the first page.

ORIGINS OF THE KARLATUN

The Karlatun initially started off as a small village in Greece, located in the outskirts of Edenia. Though poor in money, they were rich in luck; they have been loyally devoted to their goddess, Bia, for several years through their devotion came fortune.

When they asked rain for their crops, Bia gave rain, when they asked for warmth in the cold hard winter, Bia gave them warmth. They had a large shrine built just for her in the middle of their small village, the statue smelt of incense and different types of grasses, roots, cereal grains, fruits, cheese, oils, honeys and milk surrounded it.

Unknowingly to Johnny, as he continued reading, two magical objects incased in strong glass was shaking and glowing purple.

CREATION OF THE KARLATUN

The tyrant king of Edenia, KING ARGUS, heard about this and he grew envious. "How could such a small village with no gold or jewels be so blessed?!" Argus thought. Having had enough of this blasphemy, King Argus sent his army to kill the villagers, destroy the village and their statue. Zeus, the god the Edenians were loyal to, heard of this and told his loyal companion, Bia. She was not happy.

Bia went down to Edenia herself and spoke to her loyal devotees by possessing the very statue they created. Argus had planned to attack them at their weakest, as the Karlatun were having a supper.

As she possessed the statue, the eyes glowed white. "My children. The King of Edenia plans to eradicate you all. Hide your children and elder hide them within the farthest cave you can find, for they cannot know what shall happen". The Karlatun were afraid but they listened their goddess' instructions. They hid their children and elders within a cave returned to the village.

The magical objects were now shaking violently and glowing brighter.

BLESSING OF THE KARLATUN

As the rest of villagers returned they got their knees and bowed before Bia. "O great goddess of force, what shall we do to protect our village?" A villager asked.

Bia took some bread, blessed it and said; "take it, for this my body which is given to you." Bia said as she watched her loyal devotees take apart the bread and share it among themselves.

Bia took glass of wine, blessed it and said; "this is my blood, it is poured out as a sacrifice to forgive the sins of many." Bia said she watched her loyal soldiers take one small sip each to give to the next.

She watched as the eyes of her loyal warriors glowed different colors. Though different colors, every color represented battle and courage.

They heard the sounds of footsteps and horses galloping hearing them but the villagers stood tall as the color their eyes glow now covered their body.

As King Argus' army arrived at the village, several beats went by the soldiers silently stared down at the villagers, underestimating them because they are outnumbered. Then a green orb hit the captain straight in the chest, sending him back several miles. Everyone looked in pure shock as they saw a woman in fighting stance, clearly having sent the orb. The villagers knew this woman as Adira Karlatun.

Then, brutal battle was fought. Many were lost but the casualties to the Karlatun was minimal thanks to Adira's leadership, the true damage was caused on the army. But the damage to their homes, was too much.

The surviving villagers returned to the cave and led their people to a safe haven where they can live in peace, unbothered by the tyranny of King Argus.

The magical objects shook aggressively and glowed even brighter

HOME OF THE KARLATUN

The Karlatun sought refuge in the very edge of Greece, near the Mediterranean Sea.

There, they built yet another shrine for Bia. Now, every year Bia would bless a child when they are the right age and after they are blessed, they trained how to use their new found powers to protect their god and their home.

They lived there for centuries now going by the name "Karlatun Clan" after the woman who started the battle in village meaning "free man" and settlement". And over the centuries, they have made several alliances with other clans in Earthrealm- the Taira Clan of Japan being their most prominent ally.

But... Everything went awry when King Argus' great-grest grandson, Daegon, found them once more and sought revenge.

The magical objects shook and the glass started to crack.

DESTRUCTION OF THE KARLATUN

Emperor Daegon ambushed them and managed to destroy the statue of Bia.

Many of the Karlatun were killed, mainly children and elders, but many still managed to escape Daegon's wrath. They scattered all over Earthrealm; some escaped for America and some for the Czech Republic.

THE END

(Damn, would anyone believe me if I said all that came from the top off my head?)

"Wha- that's it? Where's the rest of it?" Johnny asked as he tried looking for the rest.

That when Johnny finally noticed. The magical artifacts.

The sound of glass breaking echoed through the library. Then two flying... Somethings.. Went straight to Johnny, nearly hitting him if he hadn't dodged.

Then the objects stopped and Johnny got a clearer view of whatever the hell it is.

It was a pair of brass knuckles.

(Pretend the blue is purple)

"What the..."

"Johnny Cage," he heard something call out, "son of Karlatun, descendant of Scandinavia and Greece. You have done well for this timeline's Lord. You are worthy of my blessing."

Then, everything burned.

It felt like he was being cooked from the inside.

"AGH!" Johnny groaned and clutched his chest, suddenly memories started flashing.

Pain in his chest.

Killing a good portion of Shao's army.

Fighting Reiko and winning.

General Shao stabbing him again and snapping his neck.

Now Johnny knew.

Raphael said he had gray hair was because of an 'incident'. That 'incident' being his fucking death. His hair turned gray because it lacked melanin.

Then the brass knuckles floated closer to him, closer to his hands. And when he removed his hands from the floor, the brass knuckles inserted itself into his fingers.

Johnny felt... Powerful, renewed.

"Finally, you realize your true potential." He turned to the library's entrance and the outline of Raphael.

"When I saw you fight. I knew who you are. What you are."

"Why resurrect me?"

"Because you are too powerful to let die. Come, my sister is waiting for you. She will be the one to monitor your training."

As they walked to the exit of the temple, Meditrina had given him a black tank top to cover his scars.

"Ah, Mr. Cage! It is quite an honor to meet you."

"Like wise, Miss?..."

"Alala."

"Ms. Alala."

"Please, call me Alala. After all, we will be spending quite some time together."

"If you say so."

"Has my sister told about your situation?"

"I guess. I just found out I'm a defendant of the Karlatun Clan and Raphael said you would be training me."

"Yes, that is correct." Alala created a portal using a magic symbol. "Come along now, we have a lot to fulfill!"

#blind character #blindfolds #johnny cage #background coldstar

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aithusarosekiller · 1 year ago

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Hi Archie! How’s your day going?

The Crowley was Raphael theory? Tell me more Archie! I need to know more..

Hiiii

I'm pretty good actually :D how are you?

It's really late rn and I'm so tired sleeping this so ignore any mistakes haha!

I've rambled about this theory too much lately so I'm just gonna say random stuff and tag the theory tag so you can indulge in everyone else's thoughts but basically

Based on all the teasing in s2, I think we're getting a reveal in s3 and I think that either

1) Crowley will be revealed to have been the previously missing Raphael (which seems to line up well with a lot: the snake thing, the 'I think I understand better than you do' thing, the everyone knows him thing, the knows god personally thing, the 'Raphael seems to be conveniently not mentioned...maybe to hide heaven's institutional problems?' thing, the 'walks on earth and helps protect humans' thing, the 'is Lucifer Satan in this universe? And he says 'Lucifer and the guys at one point but who knows how he meant it' thing, the 'how do you know it wasn't me?' In reference to archangel power thing, the 'close enough to god to think he's safe asking questions' thing, the whole 'his bitterness towards Gabriel feeling distinctly sibling-y even if it was rooted in love for aziraphale' thing, something about the fact he keeps houseplants and terrifies them into submission while trying to keep them alive and 'perfect' feels like he can't deal with smth not being perfect or 'healed' as a lingering thing from his past- he pushes them to be healthy and perfect...can he not do that for them anymore?, the 'knowing when somebody is too far gone to heal' thing and the acceptance of human passing (that feels very important in s2 for some reason) thing, the 'are they making Lucifer a prince of heaven or were they on about someone else, how is this working?' Thing, the 'we know he was powerful so there's a small chance could be Raph thing, smth about the metatron wanting him back and as an Angel...is he luring him using Azi? Does he want Raph back to replace Gabriel?, the 'his cute prefall self gives off both Raph and Lucifer energy and it's so strong it is suffocating' thing, the way he didn't even hesitate when opening the file which suggests that he was RIGHT at the top bc if he was only just high enough he may have hesitated or considered other precautions put in place to stop him from spying, the SARAQAEL TRUSTED HIM SO QUICKLY??? Thing...they really hoped he remembered them???? That's weird..., something about the job story that I cannot articulate, the fact Raphael is MISSING (possibly thought to have just DISAPPEARED) in relation to the number of times Crowley suggests running away, he hates the idea of earth and human life ending for the start...does he want an endless cycle of growing and...gradual healing? Something something he protects people from before the beginning something something, etc)

2) Aziraphale will get his position as head archangel and BECOME the Raphael of the series bc of the name similarity, the healing thing, and the fact the name Raphael hasn't even been mentioned thus far, while Crowley is revealed to have been another angel, likely either Lucifer or Barachiel (both of which would be pretty cool)

I personally prefer option 1 but option two is looking prettyyyyy likely I will admit. I'd be happy with either but...Raph Crowley has a special spot in my heart

#good omens season two #good omens spoilers #crowley was raphael #technically he could be a lot of angels #but with the amount of focus he's gotta be a big name #likely Raph or Luci #idk 🤷‍♂️#we shall see

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little-tyrant-gortash · 10 months ago

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Oathbreaker

Pairing: fem!Tav x Enver Gortash, fem!Tav/Astarion

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Paladin Tav (Baldur's Gate), Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Drunk Sex, Unrequited Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Scars, Blood and Injury, Injury, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture

Word count: 2,303

Ao3 here.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9.

Chapter 10.

Chapter 11.

Chapter 12.

Chapter 13.

Chapter 14.

Chapter 15.

Chapter 16.

Chapter 17.

Chapter 18.

Chapter 19.

Chapter 20.

Chapter 21.

Chapter 22.

Chapter 23.

Chapter 24.

Chapter 25.

Chapter 26.

Chapter 27.

Chapter 28.

Chapter 29.

Chapter 30.

Chapter 31.

Chapter 32.

Chapter 33.

Chapter 34.

Chapter 35. ⬇

Chapter 35: The House of Hope

If he wanted to be honest, it was all too good to be true. To find someone he could feel vulnerable with – to allow her to lift his black mask and see the real him under it. She'd seen him at his best, at his worst, making her the one and only he could trust in the long run.

And what a glorious long run that'd be!

He'd checked their room in a few hours, but she wasn't back yet. At first, he didn't think much of it; he'd let this go for now, he'd… allow her to have time with her friends. Maybe they were just having a little catch up.

But as soon as the evening rolled around and she still wasn't in the bed where she should've been, he started to worry. And it wasn't like a worry he was familiar with; this cut deeper than any other emotion up until then. Not even his heavily enchanted gear could keep it at bay, and that was quite alarming.

He walked down in his basement where he checked a small, round, black gem first. It fit in his palm, and hummed with a certain energy that made him feel calmer. Her energy. The warmth of her hand, in his palm, against his skin. She was alive and well. He could feel her heartbeat through the stone – as the ring around her middle finger picked up all signs from her body, it was all transferred to the orb in his hand.

She was fine. His worry was childish. Perhaps he should uncork a wine, get a book, get himself distracted until she returned.

At least that was what he was thinking until he glanced down at the orb, which was not black anymore. It was illuminated on the inside with colours he hoped he'd never, ever see on this gem. Red, orange and yellow; fire.

She left Toril.

She was somewhere in the Hells.

His instinct was to rush over to his desk to pick up the slate as he kept the orb in his other hand. Despite the disguise on Tav, the armour was still on her; just hidden from plain sight. He could keep his eyes on her, and what was happening to her. And seeing the Archive in the House of Hope had his stomach twist with anxiety. What was she doing there? Unless… of course, the Orphic Hammer. Lae'zel and her request. Tav was fool enough to keep her word, and her companions allowed her, even though all of them knew… his anger rose and rose to yet unknown heights, the anxiety building along with the fear, surpassing the enchantment on his gear. Nothing could shield him from this. Nothing.

He could only half listen to her conversation with Hope – by Bane, Hope was still there. His own promises came back to haunt him. He'd promised he'd get back for her, that he'd free her, but he never really felt himself strong enough to face Raphael and the horrors of those years. People went mad in the House of Hope and he was barely hanging on by a thread when he made it out. It was so much easier to give up control and the self entirely; death was impossible, obedience was a temporary refuge, madness was the only choice to be free. He couldn't even bear the thought of going back. Not yet. Not until he had an army of illithids under his command. He would've ran the House of Hope over, would've tadpoled Raphael in order to rule over a segment of the Hells. He would've been a powerful puppet.

But it truly seemed Tav had different ideas.

And in that moment, the Archivist stopped giving her instructions about waiting in the Budoir.

"That sounds inviting", she mused, "too inviting."

"I've always wanted to know what he had in here; so many secrets to learn", replied Astarion with a way too cheerful voice.

"I'd rather not visit that place", Gale chimed in as they walked down the corridors.

They've reached the door, but as soon as Tav wanted to enter, Astarion's arm stopped her.

"Wait. I… know this scent."

"What are you talking about?"

Astarion glanced down at Tav with a frown. He couldn't let her meet a creature like that… not in her state, anyway.

"Incubus." He stated simply. "There's an incubus in here."

"How do you know?"

"I can smell him. You shouldn't go in." He huffed as he straightened himself, lowering his arm. "I'll go and talk to him."

"Why?"

"Because none of you would be strong enough to resist him." Astarion raised a brow as he glanced down at her. "And I don't think your fiancée would like the thought that we've let an incubus had his way with you."

"No", Tav smiled. Fiancée. Her poor fiancée had no idea what she'd do here today. If she survived, she'd have a lot of things to explain. Or perhaps… it'd be better to keep it a secret. "He sure wouldn't." A short pause. "Astarion–"

"Hmm?"

Tav hesitated again. Looking in those crimson eyes, she recalled all the pain and humiliation the vampire had to go through. All that resentment, desire for revenge, to break free once and for all – everything that fueled his desire to become the Ascendant, so he wouldn't need to fear anything ever again, not even the sun… only to change into something that wasn't him anymore.

But now… now she only saw the rogue in him. The spawn. The man who sacrificed his well–being to keep her safe. Over and over again. They've fought countless battles together, and he always had her back. He could always shoot down enemies that came too close to her, and if she took way too many blows, he always appeared beside her to shield her from further damage. If she swept that one single night under the rug when he caused their relationship irreperable harm… if she could forget it for a moment…

But what was done was done. He was not the man she loved anymore. Perhaps there was an ulterior motive behind this all; she couldn't know. She knew that he was mostly just going with the flow, but she could never be certain if he changed in this regard as well.

"You don't have to do this", she finally said, making him smile.

"I'm not going to break, Tav. I've survived everything so far, didn't I?"

She reached up with her right hand to touch his cheek. Astarion closed his eyes at the contact, and placed his left hand over the back of hers. He missed this, and he wished it'd never end.

"I know. But you don't have to."

"Allow me." His voice was so gentle, so quiet, almost pleading. "For you."

Their eyes met again, and Astarion lowered his hand. And just as he did, so did she.

"Very well", she agreed. "We'll discover the rest of the place.

"Good. Busy yourself with sizing up the threats", Astarion half smiled and booped her nose. "I'll catch up."

The rest of the team turned and walked outside. In the sudden silence, Karlach joined Tav's side.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I think. I don't like this, but he knows what he does."

"Do you ever miss him?"

Tav frowned slightly.

"I miss the old him. But he's changed. And so did I." Tav shook her head. "I'm happy with Enver, and Astarion is an old, dead flame. He can't burn me again."

Even though he felt a small amount of relief, Gortash kept watching as she was heading down the corridor. They've entered a room he was familiar with; the portals leading to different places visibly intrigued her. As she was checking them out, a familiar voice called out to her. A familiar voice that made Gortash flinch on the inside. He'd thought that after he escaped, Nubaldin would be dead or chased to madness as the rest of those who had to live in that thrice cursed place. But he was still alive. And Tav had no idea who he was.

He had to get moving. And fast. Keeping the slate in his hand, he placed the orb on his desk, then got up and headed for the stairs as he kept listening.

"Stay out of my way, don't touch anything, and keep quiet. I've had enough pests bothering me today, I don't need another."

Tav observed the gnome.

"What are you doing here?"

"I used to work in the prison, ensuring no desirable people left the House of Hope." Nubaldin paused with a grimace. "Now, I guard the portals to ensure that no undesirable people enter."

Tav frowned slightly.

"Why don't you work in the prison anymore?"

"I made a mistake. Raphael doesn't tolerate mistakes. We had one houseguest by the name of Gortash, a mischievous little blot of a boy, and he slipped through my fingers."

Tav felt like her heart stopped when she heard the name. Enver was here? As a boy? In the House of Hope, and what's worse, in the prison? She had to raise her hand and touch her stomach as a sudden urge of nausea washed over her.

"Gortash was here?" She could hear herself ask, although, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Lord Enver Gortash?"

"Lord? Is that what he calls himself these days? The snivelling little shit." Tav flinched at the malice in Nubaldin's words. Every inch of her was screaming for explanation, her limbs went cold. "He was the son of a cobbler or somesuch meagre tradesman, sold to Raphael by his loving parents to pay off a petty debt." The room started to spin. She felt so many things at once that she was sure she'd faint in the next second. "Lord indeed", Nubaldin mocked with a little laugh, "I used to bruise my knuckles on his whimpering little face. I'd like to have snapped his neck!"

Her heart was beating in her throat as she pieced everything together. Nubaldin didn't care about her anymore, he resumed scrubbing the floor, for him, the conversation was over. Tav could almost see the scene Nubaldin growled her way. Tears filled her eyes. He was just a child. Her hands lowered to her sides, her fingers were twitching, every cell in her body filled with one and only thought. Revenge. Hot, red, rightful revenge. He was a child. He was a child and he was sold to a devil to pay off a debt. He was here where adults went mad, where hope died and death was the one and only salvation.

She saw nothing but red.

"Soldier?" Karlach muttered behind her.

Tav didn't hear her.

"No", Gortash groaned as he finished running up the last set of stairs, and he glanced down at the slate in his hands. His sides ached from the effort as he set down the road, straight to Devil's Fee, but he didn't slow down. "Walk… walk away… Tav, please… just this once…"

Tav reached behind her back to grab the Blood of Lathander.

A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. The coldness of them knocked some sense into Tav, but all she could feel was rage.

"No!" She suddenly screamed and fought against the unwanted embrace. But Astarion held her tightly against himself, careful not to press her lower stomach. "Let me go! Let me go!!"

"Think", Astarion whispered in her ear as Nubaldin gave them an unfriendly look and turned away. "Tav, stop and think. If you do anything, our cover is blown, we'll die."

In that moment, halfway to Devil's Fee, Gortash was incredibly thankful that Astarion was there. Tav struggled for a few minutes, straining and screaming until she calmed down.

"Good. Let's go. I have what we need", Astarion slowly let her go, and gave her a piece of paper. "There's a password we need to use. Let's get the hammer and let's get out of here."

Tav inhaled deeply, glancing at the parchment. Her vision slowly cleared, the rage gently ebbed. She nodded. The others, seeing her agreeing with Astarion's plan, turned away and started to walk outside.

Tav took two steps.

And then she remembered that his nose was a bit crooked, and she always wondered if it had been broken. Now, she knew that it had been. She remembered those times when Enver flinched at her sudden touches. When she cupped his face and he – only slightly – pulled away, then leaned against her palms. She remembered the nights when she'd wake up to him clutching the blanket hard in his hands, reliving nightmares she knew nothing about, always calming down when she drew closer to him and ran her fingers in his hair to soothe him, keeping his bad dreams at bay. He didn't even know.

But she did.

And she was standing in the presence of one of those who caused his nightmares.

He was a child, he deserved to feel loved, he deserved to feel safe, and all of that was taken from him.

Tav stopped walking.

Astarion glanced back at her over his shoulder, as he noticed that he couldn't hear her footsteps.

She was looking directly in his eyes, but she didn't see him.

Her hand reached back for the Blood of Lathander again, and as soon as she touched it, she immediately charged it with a smite spell.

Astarion pushed past Gale and leapt towards her, but the distance was too much, even for him.

Tav spun, much faster than anyone expected, and she fixed Nubaldin with eyes of wrath. The Blood of Lathander roared through the air, empowered with her smite spell, to crush Nubaldin's head in.

And it did.

In the next moment, their disguise vanished.

#Oathbreaker #little tyrant [enver gortash]#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg 3 #enver gortash #archduke enver gortash #lord enver gortash #fanfic #Oathbreaker fanfic

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bathomet-writes · 2 years ago

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fic request/rules masterpost!!

i figure i should probably list out what i will/won't write and other guidelines, as well as organize all my fics so check them out under the cut ⬇⬇

requests: CLOSED

ALSO i think i've decided to write mostly sfw...just bc it's tumblr lol so if you want to check out more of my nsfw fics, head over to my ao3!!

‘leave the door open’ is my fic series on there that gets more 18+ around part 6 so if ur a minor pls use caution, and i would prefer not to interact with minors on here about it?? i’m usually p good about tagging stuff on tumblr and ao3 so just be aware..

if u feel uncomfortable interacting with me bc of my age (26) and the fact that i write nsfw sometimes (all the characters are adults in those fics) feel free to block/unfollow/etc…i want this to be as safe a space as possible!

i'm still figuring out everything so these may change/be updated periodically...

WILL DO:

romance, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, etc.

x reader fics (human, mutant, yokai, etc.)

headcanons/imagines (shorter and easier to write than full-length fics lol)

i prefer to do GN!reader (for the sake of keeping it gender neutral and also for my own comfort)

fic exchanges/gift fics...👀👀

rottmnt, 2012 tmnt, bayverse

i’m pretty comfortable writing most characters (the turts, april, etc.) but feel free to ask abt others!

WON'T DO:

AUs (this is a soft no, i’d be fine doing future/kraang invasion timeline stuff tho)

familial readers (sorry, this is just a personal preference thing…🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️)

OC or canon x canon

intense angst/whump fics

tc3st

if u send me a fic request, please be as detailed/specific as possible (what kind of fic, plot, character traits, personalities, etc.)

it might take me anywhere from a couple of days to a few weeks to complete a request (depending on the length and how busy i am) 🥴🤙

if for whatever reason i don’t think ur fic request aligns with my rules/guidelines, i probably just won’t do it. i unfortunately can’t write every request i get…sorry!!

also if anybody makes fanart i think i would die from happiness

FICS:

raphael:

stakeout (part 1 of 'leave the door open') 2 fast 2 furriest (part 2 of 'leave the door open') prom (red edition) a view to a thrill relax

mikey:

candy hearts and paper flowers prom (orange edition) it's so easy

donnie:

prom (purple edition) stayin' alive science, baby! confessions (2012!donnie)

leo:

prom (blue edition) ba-dum-tss

HEADCANONS:

siblings!! (platonic turtles x younger sibling reader) plus-size reader headcanons (separate romantic 2012!turtles x GN! reader) cereal headcanons (not 'x reader' just stupid hcs about how the turtles eat cereal lol)

feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any questions about these rules!! i love writing and interacting with u guys 💖💖💖💖

#masterpost #pinned post #tmnt x reader

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forestwhisper3 · 1 year ago

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...One more thing before I head to work.

Boop!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

[Excerpt from Dragon of the Sun, chapter 4]

Still, it was something for him to think about, at least. The timelines were splitting, but they were still close enough for Donnie to end up in this future like his own had. So if the Michelangelo that this Donnie knew had tapped into abilities he'd never shown signs of before...

Did that mean he could too?

The question lingered in his mind throughout the trip to the Shredder's palace. It lingered throughout the ensuing fight, where he stood back to back with Leonardo and Raphael for the first time in ages, urging them to keep going so they could buy Donnie the time he needed.

It lingered up until he was surrounded by a swarm of Karai Legion bots, at which point he knew he'd reached the end of the line.

"Donnie!" he called out.

I love you.

"Donnie, I-!"

I'm sorry. For not telling you directly. For being a jerk. For breaking my own promise to protect you.

He closed his eyes and breathed in, feeling how the air filled his lungs. How his heart beat within his chest. How full of life he was in the seconds before his death.

It was...peaceful.

Thank you...for saving me anyway.

He felt the way the blades stabbed and cut into his flesh, a brief moment of pain overtaking him, and then...

He stepped into warm, golden light...

"My son."

...and grinned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX [???]

"Oh, Michelangelo," Master Splinter sighed before bringing him close, the warm fur and the claws gently scratching at the back of his shell enough to make tears well up in his eyes.

He'd forgotten what it felt like.

"Dad-" he began, quickly cutting off.

What could he even say to him? After failing again and again? He wasn't the Michelangelo he had left behind. He was broody and angry and broken and-

"Hurt," his father murmured, tightening his hold as if he would slip away the first chance he got. "You were hurt, my son. That does not place you at fault. It never did."

His eyes clenched shut, the ache in his throat turning into a tight knot, pressing against the walls of it until he thought he would choke.

"I-…"

His father began to hum. A low, gentle melody that Mikey remembered being prominent in their youth when the world felt too big and the shadows too dark. Hearing it again made the tears begin to fall in earnest, and he felt his knees give as he sunk to the floor and finally let go.

The anger. The grief. The loneliness. Everything.

Splinter took it all, shouldering the burdens of his life and replacing them with tender words and affectionate touches that almost burned with how foreign they felt now. Not completely- Shadow and April had made it their goal to "smother him in love" whenever possible -but…it was different, coming from him. The only time anything had come close was with-

"Donnie!" he gasped, eyes widening as he straightened in his father's arms.

If he was dead now, then that meant-

"Dad, where's Donnie?!"

He needed to see him. The brother who'd vanished, not the one lost in time. He needed to hold him close. To yell at him for being stupid- because that was the only explanation for how he'd managed to disappear in the first place. He needed-

He just needed him.

But…his father didn't answer. Instead, there was a strange look in his eyes. Knowing, almost.

"…Dad?"

"He is not here," he finally answered.

"What d'you mean he's not here?" he asked, confusion and anger and fear churning in his stomach as the implication began to sink in. "Why-?…Why wouldn't he be?"

"Because he is still alive, Michelangelo."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

@joyfuladorable

You are tagged now :D

#Teaser time!#Title pending buuut #It's about the SAINW bros after Donnie leaves in DotS #I've been jokingly referring to it as Finding Donnie in my head lol #Huehuehue #This is yet another fic I have planned for the future/in the works #Hope you liked this sneak peek!

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remmushound · 3 years ago

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Beyond the Bay Chapter 18, Flooded Tunnels

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @ilo-artistry @selfindulgenz

Summary: The brothers encounter a dead end— and a near-dead rat

Content warning: medical treatment, swears

Eight sets of feet sloshed through the cesspools, the red and blue leaders heading their designated team. Leaders in the front, Raphael and Leo, and navigators, the Donatello’s, right behind them. Donatello and Donnie, with their quickness of mind and hand, had created in less than ten minutes a device they said could track the most minuet of electric life pulses; at first, there had been the plan to use Donatello’s mutant tracker, but it had quickly proven to not be effective at tracking in such a mutagen-tainted sewer. Donnie was the designated holder of the new device, while Donatello had his goggles flicked down over his eyes scanning and searching the tunnels for any abnormality. Directly behind them wereMikey and Leonardo, and at the back of the group were Raph and Michelangelo, watching the flank.

Leo kept finding himself looking just to make sure Mikey was keeping up; that was why Raph was there at the back, making sure Mikey didn't fall behind, but the anxiety tickling at Leo’s chest refused to let him just accept that. He was still seething bitterly at being outvoted with the vote of Donatello, and more than anything he wanted to order Mikey to go home where he was safe, but he didn't. He had made a promise and he intended to keep it. The vote had spoken, even if it had spoken against him. He had to ignore the sick, clawing feeling in his gut that told him to go back on his word. Not this time. No more dictatorship…

“You know.” Leonardo’s vice was a saving grace from Leo’s darkening thoughts, “Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to go after a giant dinosaur head-on without, I don’t know, a tank?”

“We have a tank!” Raphael declared with a proud pat to his chest, “Besides, if he’s got their dad, then we don’t got the time to spare.”

“But we have a… literal tank also.” Donatello pointed out, immediately talked over by Leonardo.

“If, that’s a big if.” Leonardo scoffed, “I’m not saying we don’t need to find their dad, but I am saying we need a plan.”

Leo found himself agreeing with Leonardo. His dad was strong, but that didn't mean he couldn’t get hurt, especially when he was alone. He’d been gone at least a few hours, and a lot could happen in a few hours…

“I can’t help but agree with Leo.” Leo admitted, “At the very least some of us could have stayed behind to watch your father, or went searching for Honeycutt.”

“April’s at home.” Raphael commented with a shrug, “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Leonardo gave a long sigh and shook his head. “Listen, Raph, I love April and everything, but she’s not exactly… mutant.”

Raphael paused, and there was a few seconds of processing before he turned to look at Leonardo. Raphael stopping was enough to cause a chain reaction that backed up the narrow tunnel.

“What?”

“I mean, she’s soft and squishy.” Leonardo tried to reason, “And even with her bat, I’m not sure she’d stand a chance. I’m not even sure we stand a chance!”

“It’s fine!” Raphael snorted, “She has us and Casey on speed dial if anything goes wrong, which it won’t.”

“No offense Raph, but you didn't see the size of those ��triceratons’ or whatever they are.” Donnie said, “They’re massive! Your Leon’s right to be concerned.”

“We’ll handle it. We’re on the move.” Raphael set them in motion once more. They didn't get very far at all in the stressed silence.

“I’m getting some strange readings.” Donnie reported.

“And it’s nothing mystic.” Donatello followed up, “So I’ve got the slightest inkling we’re close.”

“Well it’s the end of the road.” Leonardo pointed out the stagnant water that filled the tunnel ahead of them. “Unless dinosaurs can swim, I think we took a wrong turn.”

“Actually, triceratops’ were probably very prolific swimmers—“ Donnie started.

“Again with the dinosaur facts, Don?” Raph threw his head back and groaned.

“I love dinosaurs and you will not shame me for it!”

“I’ll shame you for every damn thing your tree-looking ass does.”

“Say that again, Shrek, I dare you--”

“Guys…” Mikey’s voice cut through the argument. He didn't answer the questioning gazes passed his way as he pushed through the crowd at a brisk walk that quickly turned into a sprint until he fell to his knees in the muck.

His hands groped around the gray water until they found something solid and furry. He yanked Splinter up and held the sodden rat tightly to his chest, feeling his fathers heartbeat against his chest. He was alive. Mikey had been expecting the swarm of turtles, so when they came he wasn’t caught off guard; their shouts of ‘father’ and ‘sensei’ and ‘Splinter’ fell deaf on his ears as he blocked out the shouts for the sake of his own sanity; within seconds, Splinter had been snatched from Mikey by Leo, and then snatched away from Leo by Donnie, and then ushered to be laid on dry stone; Leonardo was there in an instant to help, moving the rat’s head to the side while Donnie took his vitals.

 “He’s breathing, but he’s so cold.” Donnie said in a quick, soft voice, “Potential for hyperthermic shock. Pulse is thready…”

“What’s going on, Don?” Leo demanded.

“No obvious trauma. Evidence of water aspiration, wet breath sounds…”

“Is he alright?!” Raph was pacing as he grabbed at his head.

“If he doesn’t start coughing soon we’ll have to suction lungs of excess fluid…”

“Talk to me, Donnie?!”

“Potential for infection…” Donnie’s rambling just kept going on and on and on. He and Leonardo seemed to be working with the same hivemind, the older assessing the state of his father while the younger worked to dry and stabilize.

Without a word passed between the two medics, Donnie lifted Splinter up so his back was pressed to the wall. Leonardo held his hands over Splinter’s stomach so they formed a butterfly, and once Donnie had provided Splinter with four big breaths, Leonardo pumped firmly on the space. Splinter immediately coughed, and once he started coughing he didn't stop. Water spilled out of his mouth and was quickly wiped away by Donnie’s tender touch, and though the rat’s eyes were open they were hardly seeing.

Raphael pulled off his torn coat and offered it to Donnie, who took it without even having to look. He used it to cover Splinter before taking off the rat’s wet robes and discarding them. He then scooped Splinter up in his arms while still vigorously rubbing the coughing rat’s chest.

“What the hell happened?” Raph’s soft words held none of the normal, brutish anger as he laid a hand over his father.

“The entire lower level of sewer is completely flooded.” Leonardo offered, “Has been since we were born. There’s a section of it that opens up into our lair, In the zen room— we never let dad in there by himself. Maybe he fell in?”

“Or was pulled in…” Leo muttered.

“Well whatever the case, it’s a miracle he’s still breathing.” Donnie said, and his hand went from rubbing Splinter’s chest to rubbing his hair. “Nice spot, Mike.”

“I didn't even see him there.” Raph sighed and shook his head.

“Uh, fellas?” It felt wrong invading such a private moment between father and sons and medics, so Michelangelo and Donatello had slowly been drifting away from the group to give them their space. Now, they were backtracking to return to the safety of their numbers, eyes locked Beyond the rescue scene.

The stagnant and still water was no longer still. Bubbles were rippling at the surface, rising through the water and bursting to make room for more to form in rapid succession. The water started to swell, like something - something big - was about to break through.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bay turtles

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poetpony6890 · 2 months ago

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Raphael Santiago moodboard <3

#shadowhunters #the shadowhuter chronicles #raphael santiago #the mortal instruments #keeping the raphael tag alive #keeping the raphael tag alive and well #moodboard #made by: poetpony6890 #yay!!! yippee!!!

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still-a-morosexual-help · 3 years ago

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OBEY ME! LESSON 55 DETAILED SUMMARY AND DISCUSSION/THEORIES

*I wrote this days after the lesson was first posted and never bothered to go back and edit it so meaning there will be me theorizing about the next lesson as well

*I write a small para for each chapter and I write it immediately after finishing that chapter so there’ll be theorizing about the next chapter too

*I swear more than usual here

*Some of the dialogue is heavily plagiarized and a few is lifted directly from the story, the game is to figure which is which.

*Summaries and Discussions/theories for all the other lessons can be found on this blog under #obey me spoilers or #my theories or #my headcanons

OKAY! So first off the background for this is absolutely gorgeous and shows a real demon. You know the kind you’d imagine an actual demon to look like and everything’s dark (black, grey, brown) there’s a castle on a mountain like area with a narrow suspended pathway leading to it, there are crows flying around and a person in a robe pointing what looks like a lit wand at a snarling attacking demon, there are skulls and what looks like weapons on the ground and my favourite part: a person in a long robe, kneeling on the ground, covering the top of their face with their hands and wailing to the sky. It’s all tailor made to my taste and I love it! There’s one locked lesson.

It’s breakfast time and Asmo & Beel are heading to an all you can eat global sweet sampler, MC questions it and Asmo says you can get desserts from all over the world there and Asmo’s hoping to live stream it. Asmo invites MC but Mammon interjects asking them to come see “cute horsies” with him. “’Horsies.’ He’s so pretentious. Shut up, it’s the fucking horse race. ‘Horsies.’” Says Levi. Levi invites MC to a real life TSL themed escape room (that sounds really fun tbh), Satan invites them to come watch the sci-fi movie they were talking about, in their home theatre. (he’s actually watched it 3 times already but he read online theories about it and now he wants to see if he can catch the basis for those theories in the movie). They all start arguing about it (except Beel who’s just eating) when MC gets a text from Diavolo congratulating them on their 5th star and wishing them luck for the other 2 and inviting them to an amusement park date. Everyone – MC included – is kind of baffled by the one on one date with Diavolo. They ask any of the others if they want to tag along but they all refuse but Beel asks if MC can take Belphie along since he hasn’t really left the house in a while and Beel’s worried. MC texts asking if they can bring Belphie along too and Diavolo says the more the merrier and I just know this is gonna end in disaster like did Belphie ever even resolve all the problems he had with Diavolo back in S1?

Beel drags Asmo along to wake Belphie up because a.) he doesn’t want Asmo to leave to the sweets thing without him b.) they need all the help they can get to wake him up. MC suggests using force and Asmo happily volunteers to grab Belphie, turn him over and drop him on the ground, Beel says they can’t do this to poor Belphie cause Beel’s a sweetheart, and says the most force he’ll allow them to use is by tickling Belphie, which Asmo then does. It doesn’t work so Asmo says if they’re gonna use force they should do something like this right before he screams “ASMO DIIIIIIVE!!!” and jumps on top of Belphie as Beel protests and I love that despite what you’d assume from his aesthetic and despite what Asmo would like you to believe he’s a lot more rough and tumble and violent (I just really love the sweet with hidden edges trope as much as I love the jerk with a gooey centre trope). Belphie says ow and Asmo brightly and sweetly cheers that he woke up as if just seconds ago he hadn’t used a wrestling move on his sleeping baby brother. Beel says that though Belphie’s body is awake his mind isn’t (relatable), Beel fixes Belphie’s bedhead and Asmo complains that Belphie’s a stereotypical spoilt brat youngest child and says that Diavolo obviously would’ve wanted a one on one day with MC. Beel says he knows and it’s another reason he wanted Belphie to go. Asmo agrees saying that after everything if MC chooses their boss over any one of the seven guys MC actually lives with it’d feel wrong. Asmo tells Belphie to keep an eye on them and not let it turn into a “whirlwind romance”, Belphie just asks for his pillow and Asmo’s upset cause he doesn’t feel confident about the plan now. Poor Diavolo being constantly cockblocked

On the way Belphie complains about being forced to do this when his schedule is just as busy but MC says all he does is sleep and he says because naps are important to him and he takes them seriously. He wishes he could go back home and asks why of all the demons he had to be stuck with Diavolo (so guess those issues are still around good to know). MC asks if he still dislikes Diavolo cause of his fondness for humans and Belphie says he’s fully gotten over that whole human genocide phase which is great to have confirmed. They ask why he dislikes Diavolo – lots of reasons. He always thinks he’s right and expects to get his way about anything and everything and never listens to anyone’s opinions. He hadn’t bothered to listen to Belphie back when the exchange program had been proposed and Belphie was against it (and I mean to be fair back then Belphie was 100% okay with killing the entire human race for no reason other than the fact that he blamed them for Lilith’s death when really they had nothing to do with it and it was definitely the angels’ fault. I mean I don’t think I would have listened to him either and he really does have the spoilt youngest kid personality. I think out of all the brother’s Belphie’s the one who has the fondest memories of the Celestial Realm – probably helped by the fact that Lilith was still alive then – which is why he never blamed them for what happened and instead directed all his anger at the humans) Lucifer hadn’t let Belphie plead his case (what case Belphie!? That all humans should die!?) and that Diavolo’s surrounded by demons like Barbatos and Lucifer who shield him from criticism (and yeah I agree that this is true and that it’s a bad thing but Lucifer wasn’t shielding Diavolo from criticism when he refused to let Belphie plead his case, he was protecting Belphie cause if Diavolo found out Belphie wanted to kill humans he would have thrown him in jail like he did back at the end of S1 and MC you dumb fuck can you pls tell all this to Belphie) and that Diavolo doesn’t understand that he’s been saved from criticism and Belphie hates that about him and he shudders at the thought of spending the day with Diavolo. On the way they run into Simeon and tell him where they’re going, he says Luke’s been wanting to go there since he saw a ad for it and MC says they could take Luke along with them but he says Luke’s at a cooking class today but that he’d probably love to hear about it when he gets back. Simeon then takes off saying he has a meeting. Belphie goes to call after Simeon to tell him something and catches a glimpse of the person Simeon was supposed to meet. He’s surprised and says “Is that…” and when MC asks what’s wrong he said he must have just imagined it and that the person Simeon was meeting just looked really familiar and HOLY SHITTTTTTT GUYSSS rfhiefjoSJKWDLDADJSJ was I right are we really gonna get to see angels???? That’s the only explanation, right? It would have had to be Michael or even Raphael and there’s only a few lessons left and this and the next lesson are probably gonna focus on Diavolo and Belphie’s relationship and following the patter MC should get their 6th star next lesson, then the two lessons after that will be their final exam for the 7th star and then the last two lessons will focus on saying goodbye as the brothers go back to the Devildom and all that’s gonna have a lot going on but if they’re teasing the angels being here now could they manage to slip them in or will that be too much? I mean they’ll be introducing a whole new (or two whole new) character(s) and ahhh I’m rambling but pls I need the tension and angst between them and the brothers ok I’m done.

When they get there Belphie complains about how crowded it is and MC tries to look for Diavolo to which Belphie points to a group of fangirls surrounding Diavolo. Diavolo answers them sweetly and one of them says he’s even better looking irl and another shyly asks if he wants to walk around with them. Belphie cuts that short by barging in and asking Diavolo what’s going on, Diavolo happily greets Diavolo and one of the girls realises that Belphie called Diavolo ‘lord’. Diavolo apologises to them and said he’s already made plans with friends (and ugh he’s so sweet I love him just wanna give him a big hug I bet he gives great hugs), the girls are very understanding and sweet about it and they leave. Belphie’s a lil shit and says “Aww, too bad, Lord Diavolo. I’d hate to interrupt just as they were hitting on you…” and Diavolo laughs it off saying it wasn’t like that (and can Diavolo not understand sarcasm or does he just ignore it? Both seem highly likely) Belphie disagrees and says they were clearly hitting on him and Diavolo changes the subject and says he can’t believe Belphie actually came, MC explains why and Diavolo says it’s understandable that Beel was worried after Belphie hadn’t left the house in a week (Me, who hasn’t left the house in almost a year: :’) ) Belphie says he knows Diavolo wanted a date with MC but too bad cause now Belphie’s gonna third wheel them. Diavolo tells Belphie not to be ridiculous and that he’s happy that Belphie came (and the thing is other than a small twinge of disappointment this is probably the truth). Belphie says that it probably won’t be a good idea to go around calling him “Lord” Diavolo given the way the girls reacted, Diavolo says he can just call him by his name since he wouldn’t mind but Belphie says he himself would mind and anyway if Lucifer or Barbatos found out Belphie wasn’t using his proper title they’d kill him. So Belphie suggests a nickname which Diavolo’s really happy about and MC suggests DD (they can also suggest John or Cap’n), Diavolo adores it and asks them to call him it all the time hereafter (I want to give him a hug so badly). Diavolo then happily and with lots of exclamation points goes on to say that it’s time to let their hair down and that Barbatos had made minute to minute schedule for them to follow so that they could enjoy the park to the fullest and Belphie says he wants to go home

Diavolo keeps unsuccessfully trying to get Belphie to wear a themed headband and take a group photo, saying he also wants to wear the headband on a boat ride and the ferris wheel. Diavolo gives MC sad puppy dog eyes (which I’m sure he uses successfully on Lucifer regularly, but that don’t affect Barbatos at all) and MC can’t refuse, asking Belphie if there’s anything that’ll get him to change his mind. He says no but he’s not stopping the others from doing it, Diavolo says since they’re here as a group they all should do it, Belphie snaps saying he doesn’t like how Diavolo’s using MC as a tool to bend Belphie to his will and he says he’s going home. Diavolo tries to stop him but he marches off and Diavolo drags MC off to chase after Belphie. Diavolo grabs Belphie by the arm outside the park and begs for a chance to apologize, Belphie denies it and tries to free his arm. Diavolo refuses to let him go saying he should have listened to and considered Belphie’s opinions now as well as in the past, Belphie’s shocked and MC asks Belphie to just hear Diavolo out. He agrees but tells them not to have any expectations of what this’ll accomplish.

Belphie says he doesn’t want to wear the headband or take pics and that he’s only gonna ride what he wants to, Diavolo agrees with all that. He asks if Belphie will stay with them and Belphie agrees and Diavolo is just so brightly stupidly happy and I can completely understand how he was able to make Lucifer question his entire world view. Diavolo’s so happy he starts waving Belphie’s arm around unconsciously and then asks Belphie what rides he wants to go on as they make their way back inside, Belphie doesn’t answer instead he’s blushing and annoyed and asks Diavolo to let go of his hand. Belphie wants to ride ‘The Twisting Freefall of Death II’, MC & Diavolo would like to not freefall to their death thank you very much. Belphie quotes the ride as being, “the single most terrifying experience in the world where you’ll scream for mercy and receive none” Diavolo says, “Did you say scream for mercy…” Belphie happily agrees. Diavolo turns to his last hope, MC, and asks how they feel about this. I like to imagine that even MC has a line where their lacking self-preservation will kick in. Belphie just smiles saying it won’t actually kill them (this would have been more reassuring coming from someone who didn’t once murder MC but whatever.) They can also ask Diavolo how feels about it. After the ride Belphie’s cackling loudly and gushing about how great it was. He’s especially happy about the look on Diavolo’s face during the ride, saying he’s never seen it before (probably the look of a demon praying to God for mercy). MC can say that Belphie seemed to be having a lot of fun, cheer how the ride was the best or say they thought they were going to die. For the 3rd option Belphie very cheerfully says MC’s alive and ok. Belphie asks Diavolo how it was only to realise Diavolo’s missing. He fell off the ride at its highest peak. He’s dead.

They’ve tried texting Diavolo but he doesn’t read them. Belphie wonders what kind of person actually gets lost in an amusement park unless they’re 5. Then he says “…is that what it is? Is he actually 5 yrs old?” He remembers that mammon got lost in a park once too and says the only thing the two of them have in common is that they’re both basically children, They then run into my favourite character in the entire game – the butcher (is2g this man needs to become a recurring side character) who is here with his wife and daughter. He asks them if the rest of the harem is here too and Belphie lets him know that unfortunately they’re here with a new inductee who got lost. The butcher offers to help and asks for a description. MC says he’s the owner of the corvo hotel chain and the butcher wonders who the fuck are these people in the first place to know someone like that and then because the butcher’s the sweetest person alive he too starts worrying about diavolo, scared that he might have gotten kidnapped. Belphie says “there’s no one in the human world oh shit I mean THE WORLD. THE NORMAL WORLD ALL US HUMANS - BECAUSE WE ALL ARE HUMANS - LIVE IN” the butcher now probably used to how weird this cult is (because they definitely are a satanic cult with their extremely obvious demon names, how weird and unused to normal life they are, 7 of them being obviously infatuated by the eighth one but the butcher’s not gonna bring this up cause with the amount of meat they buy from him he could keep his family afloat for years AND pay for his daughters college tuition) ignores this and says he hasn’t seen Diavolo but advices them to check the information desk and ask them to page Diavolo over the loudspeakers. They thank him and Belphie promises to stop by with Beel later, the butcher says he’ll see him then and tells them to take care (I love this man). Barbatos text MC asking how they’re doing and which itinerary of his they’re following cause yes apparently he made more than one and telling them he trusts them to take care of diavolo (and I can’t believe it took me this long to realise Barbatos is a helicopter parent). MC leaves him on read. Lucifer then texts them saying Satan told him where they’d gone and telling them that since the two of them are with Diavolo he assumes he’s okay but just to clarify make sure nothing happens to Diavolo. MC leaves him on read. Belphie says that Barbatos and Lucifer are way too overprotective. Barbatos and MC then realise how fucked they are if either of them find out that they’ve lost diavolo and so decide to skip the whole loudspeaker thing.

They can decide if they want to check by the lake, the ferris wheel or the last ride they went in. He’s not at the lake and they choose to take a boat across the lake to get to the ferris wheel cause it’s faster than going around it. Belphie actually enjoys the boat ride and asks if the two of them can just enjoy themselves together for a bit instead of looking for Diavolo, MC says “I’m worried about Diavolo also can you not remember how fucked we are if we don’t find him”. Belphie gets jealous that MC seems to care more about Diavolo than him (they’re just been practical! If the roles were reversed they’d have shut Diavolo down to look for you!) and says that even they have a real soft spot for Diavolo (He’s like a giant golden retriever!!). There’s an announcement over the loudspeaker for MC and ‘Snoozy’ saying that DD’s waiting for them at the info desk. Belphie’s not happy about ‘snoozy’ (understandable)

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electronictimetravelmoose · 4 years ago

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Chapter 3, The Attack

Series Masterlist: The Prophet and the Angel

Pairing: Michael x Prophet!Reader

Warnings: none

Wordcount: ~1.4k

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Time passed like it always does, bright green trees slowly turned colourful browns and reds and soon enough almost half a year had passed since ‘the second incident' as you called it. It still bothered you sometimes, thoughts swirling around who may have helped you that day and if he was really watching you, but those thoughts were pushed to the back of your head most times. You knew thinking about it too much would make you paranoid again. It was probably just one of your neighbors. That idea came to your mind three months after and since then you just accepted that as a reasonable answer to what happened, but still... Something deep inside you just didn't believe it as you would have liked it too. A small sighed escaped your lips as you sat in the last lesson of your day, staring out of the big clear window of the classroom. It was a usual Thursday religion class. Talking about God, Jesus and the Angels as you often did lately. It was actually a quite interesting topic if you thought about it in detail. Especially interesting were the different types of angels there are, normal Angels, Seraphim, Grigori, Archangels... The latest one always gives you goosebumps when you were thinking or talking about the subject. They are the most powerful and dangerous of all of the angels and certainly heaven's most terrifying weapons, as angels are indeed described as Warriors of God. Your thoughts were now swirling around the topic of the archangels. There were four archangels in total. Michael, the prince of heaven, a protector and defender of the faith, the first archangel there was. Lucifer, the lightbringer, also known as the morningstar, the first angel that fell and Satan. Raphael, the healer and the angel of truth. And the last one... Gabriel, the messenger, the strength of God, the youngest of the four. If they worked together no one could stop them, you thought, probably not even God himself. Before you could think about anything else the bell rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. Packing up your stuff didn't take long and soon enough you were out of school heading to the bus stop with your best friend, Belle. She was walking beside you, talking about the new girl in her english class who she thought was extremely cute. You really tried to listen to what she was saying but you couldn’t focus on the words coming out of her mouth. The Nightmares were getting worse again and the blackouts were increasing by the week. It didn’t make sense anymore but then again it didn’t since the beginning. You couldn’t help but sigh and try to focus back on your friend. “...and then she asked me if I wanted to hang out with her this weekend! Can you believe that? I was so nervous but I tried to play it cool and said ‘sure’ and now we will be hanging out on Saturday!” The words coming out of Belle’s mouth were like a never ending waterfall. “Jesus Belle breath” ,you sighed, “I am happy that you can spend time with your new crush but you can’t do that if you choke on your own words.” You gave her a tired smile. The last time she had a crush it didn’t end so well and you were really hoping it would finally work out for her. “You’re right. I mean it’s not even a date, we are just hanging out. It’s totally normal.” You nodded and the both of you stepped onto the bus that was waiting at the bus stop. You took a seat near the front and continued to talk. “What about you? Is there someone catching your eye?” Belle was wiggling with her eyebrows and you let out a mix between a laugh and a groan. “Besides the boys haunting my dreams, no, there is no one.” “Boring.” You let out a snort and rolled your eyes. Belle was the only one who knew about your nightmares and the things that have happened over the course of the last few months. You knew she would never judge you for the things you see that probably aren’t even real and you were true. She didn’t, she actually believed you. Especially after you told her the story with your sister and the vision you had beforehand. “Is it getting worse?” The only answer you gave her was a nod. Belle already saw how tired you were that morning and she had given you a pitiful look because of it. She always wished she knew how to help you but there was nothing she could do. The lack of sleep, the nightmare and the stress of your last school year were all resting heavily on your shoulders and only time would tell how long you were going to stand the pressure. Tiredly you rested your head on her shoulder and closed your eyes, focussing on the noises around you to keep you awake and away from the bloodshed. “Hey your mom and brother aren’t home over the weekend right? I could come over tomorrow after school and we could make a movie marathon! We haven’t done that in ages!” Even without looking you knew Belle was beaming, not only because of her suggestion but because she knew it always made you feel better. You smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah I’d like that.” Back at home you were once again alone. You dropped your backpack on the kitchen table and began rummaging through the fridge in search of something to eat. You took out the leftovers of the lasagne your mother had made the previous day for dinner. You took a piece of it and put it on a plate and which you heated in the microwave. You yawned and looked up at the clock hanging over the door frame, 2:14pm. You were thinking about what to do before your mom came home when the ring of the doorbell pulled you out of it. You walked out into the hall and over to the front door. You didn’t even think about looking through the peephole before opening the door as your mind was way too clouded with the lack of sleep to even notice if an elephant was in the room with you or not. “Yeah?” You asked as you looked at the person in front of you. It was a man in his late 40s with blond hair that was slowly graying who seemed to be wearing a really expensive suit. You immediately noted that he didn’t seem to fit in with the neighborhood but he could be visiting someone. A few moments passed in which the guy didn’t say anything. “Can I help you?” “Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” The man’s voice sounded weird to you but you couldn’t pinpoint how so and you leaned slightly back. You cautiously took a step back and looked closely at him. Something was off about him, but what? “I am, why are you asking?” After that sentence left your mouth everything happened too fast for you to comprehend. Maybe your alarm bells should have rung earlier but a sudden wave of dread washed over you and you tried to slam the door shut in the man’s face. In the last second he put his foot between the door and the frame, blocking it from closing. Your body and mind were suddenly wide awake and filled with adrenaline. He pushed the door back open and you stumbled a few steps back before your survival instinct kicked in and you bolted for the knife block in your kitchen. The man followed right behind, angrily muttering under his breath as he reached for you, you just took a hold of the biggest knife of the bunch. You whirled around and slammed the knife to the hilt into his chest. You breathed heavily and a wave of shock washed over you. I just stabbed someone! You let go of the knife which was still sunken into the man's chest and took a few steps back. The shock was replaced very quickly with a sense of fear you have never felt before. Without even flinching the man grabbed the hilt and slowly pulled the knife out while holding eye contact you the whole time. He pointed the knife and you and his eyes turned completely black. Oh no… “You shouldn’t have done that little girl. I was tasked to bring you in alive but he didn’t say anything about you being unharmed.” The moment he was about to stab you a white blinding light and high pitched noise filled the kitchen.

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Tagging: @satans-bae-and-queen, @hippogreif-joana

#supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural michael #supernatural michael x reader #spn michael #spn michael x reader #michael x reader

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pengychan · 7 months ago

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[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 10

Illustration (and the art in the chapter!) by @raphaels-little-beast

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

*** Raphael is not very happy about the new and improved House of Hope. Karlach is not terribly excited about Raphael's continued existence either. Durge is still projecting like a cinema. This is fine. ***

“What the fuck do you mean, Raphael is here??”

“In the foyer--”

“If he so much looks at Hope, I’ll--”

“They’re keeping him there, don’t worry! Halsin got him entangled in vines the second he began yelling about the decor--”

“Why is the fucker alive and why is he with you? What’s going on? Oh gods, you didn’t pledge your soul to a devil again, did you?” Karlach groaned and grasped Wyll by the shoulders, so frantic she didn’t even seem to realize she’d pulled him off his feet to look him in the eye. “Tell me you didn’t give him your soul!”

“No, no! I couldn’t even if I wanted to, Mizora still holds it--”

“Good! Shit, no, still not good, but-- why is he here?”

“We sort of…” Wyll bit his tongue before he could say ‘made a deal’. It wasn’t too far off, but it was bound to make Karlach frantic. “We sort of came to an understanding--”

“An understanding!”

“I realize it sounds bad, but--”

“It sounds bad because it is bad! All the understanding you got to have about devils is that they’re bad news!”

“I am aware. More than most, really. But--”

“But it’s not all of him there, is it?” Hope spoke suddenly, causing Wyll to trail off and Karlach to look over, still holding Wyll a good couple of inches above the floor. Hope had seemed startled when Wyll had mentioned Raphael’s presence but not, he realized now, scared at all. “There is no devil in the House now. I’d feel it.”

Karlach blinked. “... All right, I’ll bite. What does that mean? Is he here, or is he not?”

Hope looked up, and joined her hands. “He is,” she said, and separated her hands, holding them apart. “And he is not. Not all of him. There is no devil here.”

“... Right,” Karlach said, in the tone of someone who had no clue what in the literal Hells was going on. She turned back to give Wyll a long, very clear look.

Please tell me you know what’s going on.

“Raphael has ran afoul of Mephistopheles--”

“Yeah, Durge saw it in the ball, I remember. I thought daddy dearest had eaten him?”

“Well, he-- tried. But to make a long story short, his soul was split in two halves. One remained in Cania, and the other found its way to the Material Plane. As things stand now, he’s human. Well, the half of him we’ve got is, at least.”

“... So if I split his skull, he’ll stay down?”

“It would be best if you didn’t split his skull, though."

"Not hearing a no."

"No, Karlach. He knows where we can find something that can kill Zariel.”

“He claims he knows where we can find something--”

“If he’s lying, I’ll make sure to look the other way,” Wyll cut her off, and smiled. “In case your axe slips.”

Karlach seemed to consider it for a moment, then she smiled. No, she grinned. “That sounds good, really. Oh I can’t wait for the moment my axe slips. What does he even want in exchange? He’s got to want something if he’s to help us kill Zariel.”

“... The other half of his soul.”

This time, Karlach laughed - long and loud, putting Wyll down so that she could wrap her hands around her stomach and then laugh some more. “HAH! Good one! Fucker must be desperate if he thinks we’re gonna face off Mephistopheles to get half of his rotten soul back.” One last laugh, and she wiped a tear of mirth from her eye. “Ah, I can’t wait to see his face when he tries to hold us to it and we tell him to fuck off.”

The others may be of a different mind about that - specifically, Durge may be of a different mind - but there was no reason to bring it up now. They’d cross that bridge when they got to it, Wyll decided. “First thing, we need to focus on taking Zariel down.”

“Ah, yes. I’ll enjoy that too.” Karlach grinned, reaching back to stroke the handle of her greataxe. “I’ve been so bored here, you have no idea. No offense, Hope! It’s really nice here now that you run the place. And I’m grateful you let me stay. It’s just-- well-- uneventful,” she added. Hope made a vague gesture with her hand.

“None taken. I like uneventful, as it turns out. I hope things stay uneventful here for a very very very veeeery long time. But I have a favor to ask you. Two, really.”

“Anything!”

“Please don’t split Raphael’s skull with an axe.”

Karlach blinked, the smile fading like she’d been told that her birthday was canceled. “But--”

“I still don’t know where my sister’s soul is and, technically, he owns it. So the information I need to get her back is in that skull and I don’t think it will drop out as a helpful little note if you split it. I mean, it would be really nice if it did, but I don’t think it would happen. It would be really really great if you could leave it in one piece at least until you can get some answers about Korrilla’s soul. And where it may be. And how to get it back. You know?”

“I…” Karlach worked her jaw a moment, and finally sighed. “Fine, no splitting his skull until I get him to fess up about that. Only because it’s you asking, Hope.”

A bright smile. “Thank you! Oh, and the other favor-- you know that box? The sad one?”

Wyll had no idea what box she was talking about, but Karlach clearly did. She nodded. “Yes, the one you wouldn’t touch? With the lyre and the pendant and all that?”

“Yes, that. Would you give it to Raphael?”

“Why? I get it that you’re nice, Hope, but everything here is yours now.”

“Not that. It’s his sadness. I don’t want to bear it for him, so he should have it back.” A shrug. “Maybe he can make something of it. Maybe it will just make him sad. He kind of deserves that anyway.”

“... I have no idea what all the rest means, but you’ll hear no objections from me on that point,” Karlach said. “Wait just a second, Wyll. I’ll pick the box up, say bye to the souls while I’m at it, and be right back.”

“Sure.” Wyll fell quiet a moment, watching her leave - what a relief to find her safe and well, even if bored half out of her mind! - then turned to Hope. “Thank you again, for keeping her safe. And-- sorry we took Raphael under this roof again. We know you’ve had enough of him for the next several lifetimes.”

A shrug, a wave of her hand. “I’ve had enough of him for the rest of eternity and a bit beyond that, but if I don’t have to see him, it’s fine.” A pause, then, “I’m sorry I can’t come to help, though. I thought I should, but the souls here kinda need me, and with Raphael involved--”

“You have done more than enough, Hope. We’d ask nothing more of you.”

“Will you tell the others I said hi? And that I’m sorry I’m not coming over to say hi myself. You know. Half of Raphael is still too much Raphael for me.” A pause. “Will you do it? Get that other half of him back?”

Ah. Wyll cleared his throat. “Well… I suppose it would be best if we didn’t, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes. Possibly. Maybe. Likely, really. He’d be dangerous again.” A pause, a frown. “... But if it helps get my sister back, you know, I wouldn’t oppose it. I trust your judgment. I just want her back.”

She rejected you at every turn, Wyll almost said, but what right did he have to say as much? He'd sold his soul twice over for the father who cast him out, and would do it a third time if he had to. In the end, he just nodded. “I understand,” he said. He did, he really did.

He never had a sister, but if he ever did, he knew he’d stop at nothing to have her back, too. *** “... You know, I could use that organ now. To compose music. As it would be my task as the High Cantor and all that.”

“Five more minutes and I’ll give it back.”

“Ah-ha. Say it in Infernal, little duke. It’s about time you practiced that, too.”

“Ugh.” Raphael wrinkled his nose, pulling his hands away from the keys, and spoke again, more slowly. The words did not come as naturally, didn’t slide off his tongue quite as easily, but they did come. And in time, Antilia had told him, they would come effortlessly. “I’d like to practice a little longer, if you please, Lady Antilia.”

That brief, oddly musical laugh again. “Since you asked so politely, I shall allow it while Ionger while I look over my other compositions. Ten minutes, not one more.”

“Thank you, Lady Antilia.”

“Less talking and more playing. If you’re to bar me from using my own organ, you may as well make it worth it,” she said. In the end, however, she let him practice for more than ten minutes. Lady Antilia always allowed for more time, as long as he answered her questions correctly and in Infernal, even if a lot of them were not worded like questions. “Phlegethos,” was all she said now, not lifting her eyes from the music sheets.

“The fourth layer of the Nine Hells of Baator,” Raphael replied, without missing a beat. His fingers did not lose track of the music, either, and he kept playing even as he spoke. “Ruled jointly by Lord Belial and Lady Fierna.”

“Belial’s task?”

“Lord Belial supervises the Diabolical Court on behalf of Asmodeus. Any and all devils can be promoted and demoted there, or sent to the Pit of Flames for more serious crimes.”

“And what makes the Pit of Flames so terrible? Are we not immune to fire?”

That was such an easy question, Raphael may have almost found it insulting if not for the fact it gave him more time at the organ. He grinned, fingers still flying over the keys. The music was somewhat muted now, through some mechanism or maybe magic, to allow them to hear each other over it. “To fire, yes. But that in the Pit is Hellfire, created by Lord Mephistopheles, unbearable even for the mightiest baatezu.”

A chuckle. “Correct. And who--”

“I used it, once.”

“... What?”

Raphael turned, still grinning. He didn’t have many impressive things to talk about, compared to the intricate histories of the Hells Lady Antilia could tell him all about, so it was nice to have at least something to share now. “Hellfire. This one time we were attacked by perytons while traveling through the Starspire Mountains, and--”

“You used Hellfire? Back in the Material Plane?” Lady Antilia’s voice was suddenly sharp, her expression tense. It made the smile fade from Raphael’s face, and he got a wrong note that rang out like a graceless clang before he pulled his hands away from the organ keys. He found himself stammering, a sudden knot somewhere in his stomach. Was something wrong? Had he done something wrong? Raphael stumbled over his reply, wishing he could take that statement back. “I mean-- I think? It burned white-hot, the peryton pretty much melted and died in moments. And one of the guides said it looked like hellfire to hi--”

Lady Antilia stood, and walked up to Raphael’s seat. She crouched, grasping his shoulders hard, and looked at him in the eye. Something about the intensity of her gaze made Raphael want to shift back, but her grip was too firm. “Who trained you to use it?”

“No one. I’d never even seen--”

“You were attacked, and you summoned hellfire entirely out of instinct?”

“I-- I think it was hellfire, but only once. I couldn’t do it again. I only summoned normal fire when I tried. Am I--”

Am I in trouble, he wanted to ask, but never got to. The heavy door leading to the music room opened, and a voice rang out. It was a woman’s voice, almost as musical as Antilia, but lower, all soft notes.

“Ah, here you are. It seems I missed the latest arrival. My apologies for failing to welcome you until now, little one. I have only now returned to Cania.”

Both Raphael and Antilia turned to the source of the voice. Raphael had thought Antilia beautiful, and she was, but the devil standing in the doorway, dressed in fine silks of black and deep reds, could eclipse even her the way the sun hides distant stars. She was small - shorter than him, it seemed to Raphael - with long thin horns curling in a corkscrew shape and sharp, striking features. Her skin was the color of cinnamon, her eyes red as her hair, which fell over her shoulders in loose curls.

Her smile was warm as she walked in; still, Antilia quickly pulled away and bowed. “Lady Baalphegor,” she greeted her, and Raphael’s mouth went dry.

He knew that name: Duchess Baalphegor, his father’s Consort. It seemed some sort of curse, really, that he’d meet each of his parents’ consort while knowing his actual parent through tales only. He’d failed to make a good first impression once before, squalling next to his dying mother; he surely hoped he could make a better impression now.

So he stood, quickly, and bowed deep, following Antilia’s example. “Lady Baalphegor--”

“Oh, no need for that. Let me look at you, little one.” A warm hand under his chin, lifting up his face. He met her gaze to see her smiling. If she was in any way put off by the fact her consort had sired children with mortals, it did not show. “A handsome young devil if I’ve ever seen one. You look quite a lot like your father.”

The words were spoken kindly, but they opened up a pit somewhere in Raphel’s chest, heart skipping a beat. In the back of his mind he saw Rahirek Starspire gazing at his human form, truly looking at him for the first time. You look like your mother, he’d said.

He knew from the portraits that his devil form looked like his father, or at least one of the faces he wore - but hearing it from his Consort was… different. “I do?” he found himself asking, half bashful and half hopeful. She blinked.

“Surely, you noticed-- oh.” A pause, a long-suffering sigh. “Lady Antilia, please do not tell me Lord Mephistopheles has yet to meet his son. This boy has been here for weeks, I am told.”

Antilia nodded, her gaze still held respectfully low. “Lord Mephistopheles has been very busy in your absence, it seems,” she said. “Hardly anyone has seen him.”

“Those silly experiments of his again.” Another sigh, while Antilia stiffened in a way that very much suggested no one else in all of Cania, or in all of the Hells save perhaps Asmodeus, would ever refer to Mephistopheles’ work with arcane magic as silly experiments. Ignoring her clear discomfort, Duchess Baalphegor looked back at Raphael. A thumb brushed over his cheek. “What is your name, little one?”

“Lord Mephistopheles named me Raphael, Lady Baalphegor.”

A huff. “If he named you, he should be bothered to properly meet you. Do not worry, Raphael, I’ll ensure that he does soon.” A pause, another smile before she let go of his face. “Your Infernal is excellent, for someone who’s been here so short a time.”

Raphael’s face grew warm, and he was once again thankful blushing did not show on his skin. “Thank you, Duchess.”

A brief, soft laugh. “I’ll take no thanks for stating a fact. I see you’re escaping the lessons with your preceptor to learn music from the High Cantor herself.”

“I have been ensuring he knows what he ought to know about Cania and Baator,” Antilia said, tilting her head. “He’s a bright pupil in both aspects.”

A chuckle. “Of course he is. I doubt a single soul in or outside the Hells could blame you for coming here, Raphael. I’d pick Lady Antilia over the preceptor myself. He is a uniquely unpleasant being.” Another smile, and she took a step back. “Ah, but I’ve interrupted a lesson. Do carry on - I am in need of rest from my travels. Expect your father to see you soon, child.”

“I-- thank you, Lady Baalphegor.”

“No need to thank me. Welcome home,” she replied, and that was it. A smile, a nod at Antilia and she was gone, closing the doors behind her. Raphael looked up, still reeling a little, to see the High Cantor let out a long breath. Something in her rigid posture seemed to relax, but her lips were still pulled in a tight line as she glanced down to meet his gaze.

“... Until you are certain of your affinity with Hellfire,” she said, “do not speak of it. Not Lord Mephistopheles, not her - no one. And don’t ever tell them you used it entirely by accident.”

“I thought it was something all devils can--”

“You thought wrong,” she cut him off, her voice suddenly sharp. “Archedevils and very few others may hope to wield it. Go boasting about it, and you’ll be seen as too much a threat.”

Raphael frowned. “I wasn’t boasting, and-- I'm not planning to be a threat at all," he protested.

Antilia laughed. Only this time it didn’t sound like music anymore. "But you are, little duke," she said, tilting up his chin, a smile now playing on her lips. "Listen and listen well. You have mortal blood in you, as do I. But we are devils as much as anybody else here, and dangerous by virtue of our existence. As long as you live and breathe, you will be a threat to somebody. We all are. And we all must be. If you cease being a danger to anyone, little duke - if you make yourself harmless and toothless - that is the day you die. But if you show all your teeth, someone will take the chance and strike first. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Raphael thought back of the old story he had read when he was little, the scorpion tearing off its stinger to try and live like a beetle, and of what Lord Starspire had told him over the crackling fire in the hearth, looking at him across a lanceboard set-- You were too quick to get on the defense. Retreat begets regret. Remember that. -- and suddenly he knew what his existence would be, what it had to be, in the Nine Hells of Baator. An endless game with the highest stakes, with every other devil - be it pit fiends or gelugons, his own sire or his own siblings, everyone - a potential opponent. Every possible move, his own or others', would have to be calculated, predicted, accounted for in advance. All of Cania was a lanceboard with infinite pieces, each of them wearing a smile and hiding a dagger under their robes.

“Raphael. Do you understand ?"

He swallowed, and nodded. "I have to be a threat. But not so much a threat that my destruction becomes someone's priority."

Antilia stared a moment, and chuckled. "You learn fast. You may live well, after all, as long as you trust no one.”

“Not even you?” Raphael hadn't meant to sound like he wanted to, but the pleading note made it in his voice all the same. There he was, in his father's court, surrounded by others of his kind, learning music from the High Cantor, welcomed by Lord Mephistopheles’ own consort… and yet he had never felt so alone before. “I thought-- I hoped--”

For a moment, her smile dampened. "You ought to forget all about that hope, for your own good,” she murmured. “And you will.”

“I don’t want--”

“What you want is very human of you, little duke. But do not worry. In time you'll grow out of it, or you won't grow much older. Until then, don't let it show again - to anyone. Not even me," she added, and let go of his face. "You’d do well to mistrust me, and most of all mistrust anyone who tells you that you may trust them." She did not name Baalphegor, but she may as well have. “... Now go. I’ll be needing the organ,” she added with a sharp nod to the door.

And that, love, was that. *** “Release me at once!”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s for your own good. Hope would absolutely destroy you as you are now. And we wouldn’t try too hard to stop her, either.”

Still struggling against the vines Halsin had cast the moment he’d started screaming and trying to storm in, damn near foaming at the mouth, Raphael didn’t seem to even register Astarion’s words. “What has she done to my--”

“ Her house now. I mean, really, if you wanted to claim ownership, you shouldn’t have named it House of Hope. I will concede, however, that the new decor is positively ghastly,” Astarion said, looking around. The flower beds and birds had to be some sort of illusion, surely, but the scattered art supplies and half-finished paintings looked very much real.

None of them looked good - someone was trying to build some kind of statue out of broken pottery it seemed - but Astarion supposed everyone had a right to do whatever they wanted with relative, newfound freedom. Even when it meant questionable attempts at art therapy.

The thought of turning Cazador’s castle into some sort of resort for his victims had never so much crossed his mind, but to be fair he could leave that place, while the souls there… well, the only thing outside the House of Hope was Avernus, so it made sense to stay there with the new management and make the best of it.

Unless you were Raphael, who both wanted to storm in and very much looked like he’d gladly take on Zariel and Mephistopheles at once with his bare hands rather than having to keep looking at Hope’s redecorations. All things considered, they were probably doing him a favor by not letting him see anything past the foyer. Astarion had once joked he’d probably have a stroke if he saw the changes Hope made to the place, but now it didn’t seem that far-fetched anymore.

Unaware of Astarion’s thoughts, Raphael made another useless attempt to break free from the vines and snarled. “I’m going to kill her. I’ll skin her alive and--”

“No, you won’t,” Durge replied, almost conversationally, just as Halsin lifted a hand. Yet another vine emerged from the ground, wrapping itself around Raphael’s neck, tight enough to make him trail off, the growl turning into a startled intake of breath.

“I suggest you pick your battles,” Halsin said, voice grave. He didn’t threaten often but when he meant business, he did mean business. “And I highly suggest you do not pick this one.”

Raphael’s mouth snapped shut, but only for a moment. He glowered at Halsin before turning to Durge. “This is my House of--”

“Not anymore it’s not, fucker.”

“Karlach!”

Raphael and his whining were forgotten very quickly when Karlach burst in and began pulling each of them into a near spine-breaking hug. It had been only weeks since they’d last seen each other, but it clearly had felt like a lot more to her. Honestly, Astarion thought, they were lucky she hadn’t grown bored enough to decide she’d rather brave Avernus on her own.

“Oh I’m so sorry for dragging you back to the Hells, but I’m so happy to see you guys.”

“You didn’t drag us anywhere, Karlach. We were happy to help.”

“I was so fucking bored, Durge, you have no idea.”

“I can imagine. Coming here took a while more than we thought it would--”

“Doesn’t matter though! You’re here and we’re ready to kick Zariel’s ass!”

Astarion cleared his throat. “Almost ready, I’d say. There just is a sword we’re supposed to pick up, but luckily,” he added, gesturing to Raphael, “we have a very convenient guide.”

Still tangled in Halsin’s vines, the very convenient guide glared at Karlach. “I’ve seen dogs greet long-lost masters with more dignity,” he snapped. “If you’re quite done with the moving reunion--”

“Ah, I almost forgot. Hey, Raphael! Catch!”

“Wha--”

A box Karlach had been keeping under her arm sailed through the air and hit Raphael’s forehead with remarkable aim. It got a rather undignified yelp out of him, which turned into a growl when the same vines that had kept him from catching anything kept him from touching his head. “Agh! What manner of joke is--” he snapped, only to trail off when his gaze fell on the box. He stared at it as though he couldn’t understand what he was even looking at.

Karlach shrugged. “A little something that Hope wanted you to have. She said it’s yours. Consider it a goodbye gift, cause she’s never going to have to see your mug in this place. Now, ready to head out? Cause Zariel isn’t gonna off herself…”

They did leave, and it didn’t escape Astarion how, the vines removed, Raphael did pick up the box and stared at it for several moments, eyes blank, saying nothing. *** Dalah was almost out of the vault, her duty for the day done, when she felt those eyes on her again. No guards were in sight, but she was still wary to risk being spotted together, as they would soon enough realize one of their own was missing and go looking for him. So she turned, and gestured for Israfel to leave.

But he did not leave. He approached her in a curious gait, as though trying to make himself non-threatening if that was even possible, his flames burning low. He came to pause so close to her the heat almost singed her hair anyway, and made those chirring noises again. Dalah hesitated, suddenly reminded of what she’d been saying before they were interrupted.

You were tiny, then.

She remembered it as though it had only just happened, even after so many centuries. She remembered the pain and blood, the smell of the scorched mattress and her own seared flesh; the pain had been so unbearable she��d thought a fully grown devil would burst from her, scattering her entrails across the room like those of a gutted deer.

Instead, it had been small. The worst of it had passed and she found herself sharing the mattress with the squirming, wailing thing she had brought forth entirely on her own after ordering the servants away with an excuse. He was covered in her blood, but it was barely noticeable on crimson skin. A male, she’d noted in the same detached fashion she’d noted the sharp nubs on his head that would grow into horns, the crinkled membrane of tiny wings, and the tail.

A devil. The price she’d paid so her husband may live, her death sentence. He had killed her for his first breath and yet he used that breath to wail and wail and wail like he was the one bleeding out, small limbs flailing, half tangled in the umbilical cord and his own tail.

Part of her had expected his sire to appear in a cloud of sulfur and take his accursed offspring to the Hells with him, but no such thing happened. The sky outside began to darken, she kept bleeding, and the child kept screaming. What right did a devil have, she’d thought, to seek comfort the way a baby would? Yet she had wanted those cries to stop.

She’d reached out, so weak she could barely pull the squalling creature up against her chest, in the crook of her arm. “Demanding, aren’t we?” she’d heard herself murmuring, her own voice barely audible.

She felt cold all over and yet she must have been warmer than the rest of the room, because the child grew a little quieter now, pressed against her. A tiny, bloodied hand had curled around her finger. Even this small, he had claws.

Almost delirious with blood loss, not knowing that her husband was just now crossing the threshold of their home bearing gifts for her that he would soon place on her grave, Dalah had smiled. Her head rolled against her shoulder, dark hair spilling on the newborn’s brow. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there was the first lullaby she’d ever learned. Half a rhyme, half a warning she’d failed to heed in the end.

“Then down came the claw,” she’d whispered. “And that…”

“... And that, love, was that.”

Her words sounded even fainter now, amidst the icy walls of Mephistopheles’ vault, than they had on her deathbed that day. Still, Israfel heard, and made a high-pitched, metallic sound in response. Not the same shriek he’d let out when she’d uttered his name last, but a sound of distress nonetheless. Dalah swallowed.

It was on me, all of it. I turned to a devil, offered him the souls of every servant in the household for my husband’s life. I’d have bought half a city’s worth of slaves to sell him, if he asked. Even if Rahirek would have hated me for it, it wouldn’t have mattered as long as he lived. But all Mephistopheles wanted that day was my womb for his spawn and I saw it too late. He got his due and I got mine. Only one innocent party in all of it, and here he stands.

“Do you know?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you know who I am now?”

For a few moments, there was no response. He just looked at her, that thing that was her son or at least part of him. Then he made a low clacking noise and lowered himself once more, and that clawed hand once again left long deliberate marks in the ice, like-- like--

Down came the claw.

Dalah swallowed, feeling as though something was stuck in her throat. She could almost smell it again for a moment, so many mortal lifetimes later - the scorched mattress and seared flesh, and her own blood.

“How?” she whispered. “How do you-- you were only just born, you cannot remember--”

There were steps, and her voice trailed off. One last look, and she turned away to hurry back before they had another incident on their hands they may not be able to cover up, steps as quick as her pounding heart.

It did not matter either way, she told herself. Any questions she may have asked would go unanswered: Israfel could not answer her, words beyond him. She’d had her chance to speak to him, all of him, when he’d first been brought to Mephistar and in all the years he'd lived at court. Several occasions, and she’d taken none. Each time she tried to look upon him, she’d turned away.

Her doom, her folly, a price to pay - never her child. There had been no joy in his birth, much less in his conception; she could only remember the agony of it all, the icy touch of his sire on her skin.

This, too, I claim as mine.

Mephistopheles’ son, one of many. He’d claimed him as he’d claimed her womb and her soul, yet none of it had meant a thing for him. Something to claim and cast aside, like the many artifacts in his vaults, experiments started and interrupted and never looked at again.

But Rahirek had kept him, she was sure of it now. He raised him, looked after him, and even now this mutilated half of him still remembered the star-and-spire sigil of a long-extinct family. She did not recall her husband’s face as well as she wished she could, time and grief eroding her memories like water on stone, but she remembered he was kind. She remembered he had loved her. Of course he’d kept the boy, because he was hers.

Mephistopheles had claimed so much - he’d been claiming and claiming and claiming for time immemorial - and she’d let him take what he would because there was no other choice she could make, then. She stood no chance to change things… until Lady Baalphegor gave her a ring, and told her to save her son.

Dalah did not know what Baalphegor’s plans for him were; she could only hope it would not end with his death. At the very least, she hoped - what an odd thing, hope, after all those centuries - she may meet the rest of him, perhaps see him whole one more time. Maybe they could talk, then, if only once. She could make it be enough.

This, at least, I claim as mine. *** “Here, this is yours. Lord Sunspear--”

“Starspire.”

“Whatever it may be. The mortal humbly requested this was delivered in your hands personally when we came to collect your possessions.”

Chamberlain Barbas was none too pleased to have been asked to run such an errand for a half-fiend spawn of Mephistopheles, and he had no qualms letting it show. Surrounded by piles of his old possessions plucked from the Material Realm - books, mostly, left carelessly in piles across the floor - Raphael bit back an insult and took the box.

A wooden box, with the spear-and-star sigil on it. Unlike everything else that had been delivered to his room, he couldn’t recall seeing it before.

“I trust you won’t be needing anything else, little duke,” Barbas said, voice dripping with sarcasm at the title, and Raphael found he couldn’t muster the will to look back at him. He just shook his head, barely listening to the footsteps and the sound of a door closing, leaving him alone again amidst relics of a past life he could never go back to.

Of all his things, he’d asked that box to be handed to him personally. Raphael swallowed, sat on the ground against the wall, and opened it.

Most things inside, he recognized. There was his mother’s lyre, the one he’d learned to play with, all black wood and ivory details; a book titled Rhymes from the Land of the Purple Dragon which too had belonged to her, and which he'd read cover to cover more than once. The black king from the lanceboard set back home, too, he recognized. There were two things in there he had never seen before: a pendant - a locket, decorated with the star-and-spire motif, and a letter.

He reached in to pick up the locket, but then his gaze fell on the letter, penned in the familiar handwriting of Lord Starspire, and on the very first words on the upper left corner.

Dearest Israfel.

And it was all wrong, because there was no Israfel and there would never be again. His sire had named him Raphael and his will was unstoppable as the tide. He was to be Raphael, and Lady Antilia had made very clear who that would be. A fiend and a threat, mistrustful and untrustworthy and no one’s dearest ever again.

Raphael’s vision blurred, and he dropped the unopened locket back in the box as though it burned him. He slammed the box shut and pushed it away from him, to slide across the floor. He held his knees against his chest and closed his eyes, trying to make himself small.

If they suspect they have something on you, you must not turn that suspicion into certainty. That’s inviting them to strike. Do you understand?

If you make yourself harmless and toothless - that is the day you die.

He’d understood then and he understood now, but tears still spilled and he pressed his face against his knees to muffle all noise, so that no one would hear. *** Camping in Avernus wasn’t all that different from camping in the Material Plane. As long as one ignored the bare rocky ground, the rivers of boiling magma, the sulfur forcing itself in the lungs with each breath, the unnatural flaming yet sunless sky, the screams and hisses and shrieks and clangs that rang out at all times in the distance, from fights and skirmishes somewhere out of sight.

… All right, so camping in Avernus was very different from camping in the Material Plane, but they had found a cave that looked as close to safe as it could get, and could finally take turns resting before heading off again. There was also something to be said for the magma taking away the need of starting a fire to cook, really. Durge finished the last of their meal, and looked away from their companions to the only person who was not, at the moment, sitting down to eat. Raphael had taken the first turn to watch out for dangers at the mouth of the cave unprompted, but of course he was not looking outside at all.

On the floor, the wooden box was open, and he held an open locket in his hand.

There was laughter over something that Wyll had said, but Durge’s attention was already elsewhere. They gave Astarion’s hand a brief squeeze, which he returned, and they stood to walk up to the cave entrance; Raphael did not look up from the portrait in the locket, or acknowledge them in any way as they sat by him. Durge chose to allow a few more moments of silence before they spoke.

“... The same woman we saw in the orb.”

“How very perceptive,” was the dry reply.

“The same debtor who helped you escape, you said.”

“Are you here to ensure your short term memory at least is still working?” Raphael replied, but his voice was too distant for his words to carry any bite. He was running his thumb over the miniature, his brow furrowed. Durge smiled weakly.

“Had you never seen her before?”

“No.”

“I can see the resemblance.”

This time the corners of Raphael’s lips seemed to curl upwards, faintly, if just for a moment. “I was told as much, a very long time ago. In this form, clearly. The other one is all Mephistopheles, I suppose.”

“Well, I’d say it’s better than nothing. There is no part of me that did not come from Bhaal.”

“Had Mephistopheles had the power or chance to carve a son from his own flesh, I doubt I’m what he’d have chosen.”

Durge laughed. “He’s slowly melting his own kingdom from the inside out. I’d hesitate to consider him a paragon of wisdom. And besides, I didn’t work out too well as a Chosen of Bhaal either. Even his best laid plans did not account for an improvised lobotomy by a scorned sister.”

This time, the sound that left Raphael more closely resembled a chuckle, and he looked up from the portrait to glance at them. “I wouldn’t blame the lobotomy. If I were a betting man, I’d bet you always had a penchant to wreck any kind of plan.”

A fanged grin. “May very well be. We each have our talents,” Durge said, then, “Your mother was bold indeed, risking the ire of the Lord of the Eighth to save you.”

A scoff, and Raphael snapped the locked shut. “I am under no delusion it was her plan, or even what she wanted to do. She was following orders, that's all. Whose, I do not know.”

“I suppose you’ll have the chance to ask her once we get to Cania.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps she is already gone.” A shrug. “Debtors are of no consequence. Whoever used her as their chess piece may have sacrificed her immediately afterwards.”

“One can always hope for the best, no?”

“... Your other talent, it seems, is finding all the wrong words.”

“Yes, that’s usually why I let Astarion do the talking. Still pisses off a lot of people.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Raphael replied in a tone which suggested he could imagine it vividly.

A brief pause followed. Durge glanced at the burning sky for a few moments, the House of Hope now merely a dot in the distance now, before they spoke. “... Halsin is keeping a bowl for you.”

“If the tiefling doesn’t put poison in it, I may consider the offer.”

“Not her style. She only needs-- well, can you blame her, given her history with your kind?”

A roll of his eyes, and he reached for something else in the box - a letter, it seemed. “She is perhaps three or four generations removed from being one of my kind,” Raphael pointed out. “Still, point taken. Now, you don’t need to stay and guard the entrance. I can do as much just fine.”

Durge may not always be the best at picking up social cues, but they could tell they were being dismissed. They nodded without a further word and went back to join the others inside the cave, leaving him to read the letter in peace.

*** [Back to Chapter 9]

[On to Chapter 11]

[Back to Start]

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #raphael bg3 #astarion ancunin #halsin bg3 #wyll ravengard #karlach bg3 #haarlep bg3 #bg3 raphael #bg3 astarion #antilia dnd #mephistopheles dnd #raphael the cambion #hope bg3 #baalphegor dnd #hell to pay

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verobatto · 4 years ago

Text

Destiel Chronicles

It was a love story from the very beginning

Vol. LXXI

Don't You Love Me?

(11x19)

Hi everyone! How are you? This is another piece from this adventure, it has more than one year and we reached and passed volume 70th!! I'm so glad you are still reading my nonsenses, and keep sharing my ramblings. Thank you! So much hard work rewatching and taking notes is worth it if you are reading this on the other side! 💕💕

Are you ready for the angst? Let's do this!

Worried about Cas

After seeing with his own eyes that Castiel didn't want to be rescued, that he really wanted to be used by Lucifer so they could defeat Amara, Dean stays all night long awake, trying to find a way to rescue him now from Amara, who has Casifer prisoner.

With a heart broken again, and worried because Amara could kill Cas anytime, Dean can't sleep. First if all, the pain in his heart for being rejected again, is too big, and the idea of loosing Cas for ever, to see the man he loves die, terrifies him.

So the first dialogue between Dean and Sam shows us all of that.

Gif credit @subcas

Sam: Dude, you even move since last night?

Is the first words we heard from Sam, and is showing to the audience a very important point: why Dean didn't moved the whole time? It means that when Sam went to bed, he was in the same spot. Is saying Dean didn't slept that night. He didn't move from that chair, trying to find Cas. A very important point to show how much Dean cares about Cas.

Dean: [tiredly] Sleeping is the new smoking.

Sam: What? No, it’s not. It’s sitting. Sitting is the new smoking.

Dean: That’s can’t be right.

Okay, this could be an innocent quote, Dean mistaking the famous phrase, but is not. Dean is relating the quote to DEPRESSION, that's why he names SLEEPING to SMOKING, because he's talking about depression. But when Sam relates this with SITTING, which we know is talking about other kind of diseases, Diabetes, hypertension, etc, Dean says 'THAT'S CAN'T RIGHT' because those are not meanings he was looking for, he wasn't talking about those diseases, that's why he didn't talk about sitting/sedentariness, but sleeping/depression. Because he was feeling that way.

Sam: Dean, we’ll find Cas, okay? He’s stronger that he looks.

And because Sammy knows, he knows why Dean is in that shape: Cas.

Dean: You know, we gambled with Cas, and now Amara has him.

Sam: For a reason, which means he’s still alive.

Dean is spitting out his fears right there, but not all the fears he was ruminating the whole night, and Sam is trying to give to each depressing thought a light of hopes, to make his brother to feel better.

Dean: [shakes his head] I’ve been with Amara. Her beef is with the big guys … with God, with Lucifer. The small fries, even an angel like Cas, doesn’t even register. And if it meant hurting Lucifer, killing Cas would mean nothing to her.

Another thought flying in his mind, he is afraid Amara could kill Cas.

Sam: It’s been a week. We’ve still got no leads.

Dean: You think I don’t know that? [rises from the chair]

So we just had three thoughts that kept Dean awake the whole night: HE DIDN'T NOTICED CAS WOULD SAY YES TO LUCIFER, HE KNOWS AMARA COULD KILL HIM ANYTIME, AND IT'S BEEN A WEEK! It's been a week, which means, Dean had been an entire week in this shape, without sleeping and worried about him.

Knowing this, let's jump to the other point.

Worrisome+heart broken

Repressing all the feelings again

I just want you to recall a timeline about Dean's perceptions of Cas feelings for him. If you read my previous metas From season 5+6, 8, 9 and 10, you would be aware of the following facts:

- Finale S5: Cas flew away from the car without saying goodbye to Dean. Dean went to Lisa and never contacted Cas (feeling kind of offended) until Sam said Cas wasn't answering to his prayers.

-S8: After the crypt scene, Dean felt rejected.

-S9: Road Trip episode: Castiel comforted Dean as a lover, with devoted words and supportive looks.

-s10: After Dean came back from being a demon, Castiel names a female in his car waiting for him, and Dean reacts like a jilted lover, and the episode after that is using OOC a blind dates app.

And now... We have a rejected Dean, because Cas didn't want to be rescued by him. Again. Like in Purgatory. So... Time to repress the feeling even more... And we had 11x19 'The Chitters' talking about that.

This is gonna be a very huge mis if symbolism in just one monster. First of all, we have the description of the eyes...

Cori: [hesitates] The thing that took Libby was naked and pale. Except for the eyes. I swear to God, they flashed green for a second.

Okay, I'm the crazy old lady of colors, so you know what I'm gonna point here: GREEN is DEAN. Keep that in mind...

Cori: It was shaped like a man. Or was it a woman?

Dean: [curiously] Was it a man or a woman?

Cori: It didn’t have a … [points downward with her fingers]

Dean: A penis?

Cori: [wide-eyed] It didn’t have anything.

Dean: What you’re saying it was junkless?

Cori: Completely.

Second thing I want you to recall is... This monster has not genre, first thing Dean thought about angels, remember? But we learned, same angel can take different genres of vessels. Because they are utterly indifferent to sexuality. Just pointing here that this characteristic is related to angels, in Dean's mind junkless, and in canon with Raphael and even Castiel taking male and female vessel. Keep this facts in mind too...

This monster took a vessel too to copulate, into a very huge orgy. Lest's take a piece of the dialogue between the Winchester and one of the residents who lost his husband.

Etta: Oh, yeah [nods]. Gran said that if you got the chitters, you get so revved up with lust that your eyes would shine like emeralds

So, time to convey all these facts...

This is representing two important things: Green eyes talks about Dean, so, this junkless monster that search's for a vessel to copulate represents angels. They are presenting this chitter as something filthy, and people doing insane, sinful things (the orgies) Is something BAD AND FILTHY, as we will see in the next scene, but pay attention to these two conclusions: Dean thinks he doesn't deserve Cas, he thinks Cas is not interested romantically on him. So he repressed his feelings (including lust and shame of daring to love a celestial and pure creature, and passion too because is part of being in love). Second, we have the angels and their Sacred Oath, they can't bond with humans physically, we talked about this in season 8 with the tests Castiel had to achieve to close Heaven and we will talk about this in s12 too. If angels have sex with humans, both deserve to die because IS DEFINITELY NOT ALLOWED. So the cause of those forbidden feelings in Castiel has GREEN EYES.

Last thing i want to point is one of Cochrane's quote, when he was talking about her daughter and the people that had died 30 years ago...

Cochran: Yeah, better to bury it. [voice cracks] All of it.

The angst from this scene is huge, but the phrase I marked here, plus all the things we were talking about SHAME/REPRESSED FEELINGS, is showing us how finally Dean, brokenhearted as he is right now, were thinking all of this things these nights he was awake, plus the depression of not seeing Cas in bad shape saying yes to Lucy, plus the fear of lose him for ever.

And finally, to show you this entire "Chitters'" thing was about and angel and a human in love... I will turn this scene into a Destiel one...

Gif credit @spacedudeee

Because who's the sinner? And who's the rebel?

Do I have to answer that? Okay, DEAN AND CAS. Sinner and Rebel. Can a sinner, with shame inside, feel that he deserves a love of an angel? And can a rebel angel allow himself to love a human with such passion?

Again, this episode was a huge Dean's POV...

I think I explained my point here... Let's jump to the easy part 🤣🤣

Jesse and Cesar: What we want for Destiel

This is a canon fact very well known for the fandom, Jesse as Dean mirror and Cesar as Castiel.

Both men were a reflection of what Dean really wants in his heart, his curiosity spoke by itself when he asked

Gif credit @mooseleys

Dean: What’s it like, settling down with a hunter?

Is expressing perfectly his deep desires. And seeing them both together, supporting each other, and being a real couple, was very important to his self discovering. Two badass Manly men that fell in love with each other.

It wasn't casual writers decided to team up Cesar with Dean and Jesse with Sam, it was like a picture of Dean talking with Cas about himself, and Sam talking with Dean about their childhood traumas.

It was a very beautiful gesture of Dean to not disturb them asking them for help with Amara, because he knew about their plans of retirement. And this is talking about another wish in Dean's heart: retirement with his beloved.

Gif credit @thejabberwock

To Conclude:

Episode 11x19 was about everything Dean has playing in his mind: Fears of loosing Cas, shame for loving him and feeling he doesn't deserve him. His fantasies about what Cas thinks about him, or worst, about him being in love with him. And how he decided to repress all of it again, because he felt rejected again by the angel, and that's why he will start saying We and not I.

It also presents Sacred Oath for angels, a very important topic for the next season.

And we had Jesse and Cesar, Destiel beautiful mirror, talking about Dean's deep desire. And what we want for Destiel.

Hope you like this meta! See you in the next one!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @tenshilover20 @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@imjustkipping @destielle @agusvedder @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas From s11, here you have the links:

Vol. LXII, LXIII, LXIV, LXV, LXVI, LXVII, LXVIII, LXIX. LXX.

Buenos Aires July 21th 2020 6:34 PM

#destiel #destiel chronicles #destiel meta #supernatural meta #season 11 meta #vol LXX

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