#wither writes

[witherbythesword]

thinking about unspeakable violence dished out like a soft caress. No sudden force, no screams of "no, no please stop" but just two people completly wrapped up in each other.

Embrasing the pain they give willingly and eagerly. Even as it gets more intense. Why act like you don't want it, you both you want it. To be hit and choked and cut with whinces and controlled breathing through the pain and tears but always a soft smile at the end.

Them being allowed to completly tire themself out, flex their muscles as much as they want. Feeling completly accepted and loved in their sadism. I want to be so good they get into a dom rush. Getting more and more intense and violent until they can't help themself and fold me in two to fuck me to pieces.

thinking about the calmness and the pain. The slow pressing of throats and forming bruises. Smiling into kisses as a pain that was almost unbearable subsides, ready to take more.

Being cut and it hurts so bad, your pupils blown wide, your whole focus on them. You look like a dear ready to be slaughtered under them so cute.

and then they take a lemon to squeeze the juice over to make you whimper some more.

[witheredtoashes]

hold on just have to say

I love this even more because one, plague doctors had masks like that because they stuffed herbs and FLOWERS into the beaks of the mask to well,, mask the scent of disease and rotting bodies. Cause listen, the bodies don't just start to stink once they're dead, all those weeping sores and sweat and disease will build up and REEK long before they're dead. Also why it was good then AND good now to open the windows for someone who's sick to keep the air fresh, and get rid of pathogens hanging in the air too, instead of recycling into the sick person. And BATHING, it cools the body, or at least washes away that sweat and grime and all that dead pathogen shit you sweat out, and it gives your body less to worry about fighting so it can spend energy on the important stuff. Same with changing sheets and clothes- sitting in your own infection cesspool will NOT help.

Get yourself clean, and not constantly reinfecting yourself via your environment, and shit goes a lot easier.

TWO, this is great, because it insinuates that while Aziraphale is granting last rites and forgiveness, crowley is trying to help. Sure, he can tell his superiors that he's working on spreading it more, BUT

Plague doctors were the doctors that tended to those sick with the plague. its in the name. Either they had it and survived so were unlikely to get sick again, or just.. hadnt gotten it yet. They tended to the sick because in some way, they were protected or better faced against the plague, and were less likely to die than the average joe. It saved people, because they didn't have to replace doctors as often and expose more, y'know?

BUT, because they're specifically for the plague, they go house to house of those infected with the plague and specifically care for them. Not those that were healthy, as far as I know. It isolated the disease and limited the spread.

So CROWLEY doing this, seeing as he can't get sick or maybe even spread it, is actively saving some other person's life who'd be a doctor in his place. And he's tending to the sick- trying to alleviate pain, diagnosing those with the plague and isolating them, even ensuring the bodies were handled with proper precautions and burned to limit the spread further.

He's trying to address the root cause of the problem and stop it, vs dealing with the aftermath and making the afterlife better. He's trying to keep them ALIVE. And honestly I love that concept very much

two very mysterious fellas talking about pestilence in hushed voices

tweeter rq for plague doctor crowley and priest aziraphale <333

[rapidhighway]

my love for him is stronger than any other force in the universe

[woof-squiggles]

nitten adoption day!

(psst, you can fill out an adoption form here)

[bluerose5]

Don't mind me. I'm constantly thinking of an au where Mr. Astarion "You're only the first person who I truly care for" Ancunín actually shows more emotion at durge's death than what we get in-game. I can understand why the limitations, but that doesn't mean I have to accept them at such a crucial point of durge's story. I mean, it doesn't even have to be overly sappy, but I want that Dorian Pavus "I knew you would break my heart, you bloody bastard" type of energy. I want that cold chill of realization to be felt the second Astarion hears durge's heart stop. Give me that moment where he's on his knees, shaking durge's lifeless body, cradling them against him as he rocks them back and forth, shaking his head in denial as each sob grows more intense until it's just a constant scream of "noNoNO!!!" Because the gods never dared to help him before. Of course it would be a god that robs him of his love now.

Give me that point when the Emperor tries to command Astarion to take the Netherstones and leave, only for Astarion to tell it to shut the fuck up because he's not leaving without them.

Give me that broken whisper of, "We were supposed to be free. Together." as he is faced with the fact that they're not coming back.

[a03heralding]

Bg3 blunt rotation headcanons:

Karlach: does not stop fucking laughing. She’s def wheezing at a joke she overheard in a lesbian bar three and a half years ago while in the middle of a sentence. The type who starts a story and ends up laughing so hard she can’t finish it.

Halsin: mellow as hell, is always encouraging the group to go for a nice walk somewhere while stoned to shit. Will he pass out or will he be caressing the flowers in his backyard? No one knows.

Shadowheart: Sis is asleep after a joint or a few hits from the bong. Is likely sleeping on Lae’zel’s shoulder with a blanket around her. We love her for that tho bc she looks so cute.

Jaheira: she is forreal trying to tell you that we’re all living in someone’s sims save or how aliens made the pyramids. Also always pulls up to the session at the most random times.

Lae’zel: when she does smoke she usually ends up tripping the fuck out and is staring at the wall like a dog that’s accidentally eaten an edible. Doesn’t partake anymore but will come and chill and act as Shart’s personal resting post.

Astarion: the one who is chatting the most shit, probably has the joint in a cigarette holder like curella de’vil. The main source of Karlach’s laughter. Is also constantly asking for Nicki Minaj songs to be added to the Spotify queue.

Wyll: straight up vibes, is probably hogging the snacks to himself tho but he’s busting jokes and laughing with Karlach about stupid shit

Gale: the person in charge of the playlist and the only one who can actually roll. He is very particular about the music bc he believes it sets the mood for the high. Is constantly denying Astarion’s request to play Chun li but puts on random shit like khazakstani jazz

Minthara: enabling Astarion’s shit talking and spilling the piping hot tea. The least faded out of all of them (except lae). Has a screenshot folder that she shows astarion so they can be shady.

Aylin: she’s productive when she’s stoned, is likely cooking something or has gone for a jog/ doing a task while wearing her socks/ Birkenstock combo

Isobel: the mom friend who is making sure everyone is drinking water and is getting fresh air while fried.

Withers: the za dealer. You have to go to his house and he only sells a min of 6gs at a time. Usually chilling and trying to hide his weed plants from the cops bc his neighbours are snitches ngl

Minsc and boo (sry I be forgetting): Brings his hamster to the function bc he doesn't want him to be lonely and believes that his best bud deserves a toke as well. Boo is a literal fucking menace and bites those who object to giving him any. There is literally always an argument bc of this but Minsc is ready to fight for his child.

[racke7]

Ectoplasm and Jason Todd

Danny is wandering around Gotham (visiting, chasing a ghost, running from GIW, attending college, etc) and stumbles across Jason.

Jason who is flaring his ecto-signature like a madman (is he trying to get into trouble?).

Danny drags the guy into a nearby alley to give the guy some kind of crash-course on how not to do that.

Jason isn't sure why this guy grabbed him and dragged him into an alley, but if it's a fight he wants, Jason would be able to fight more freely in an alley, so he doesn't struggle. (Does he know that Jason is Red Hood? Does he think that Jason is a random civilian? Is it just him, or does this guy have really cold hands?)

Jason isn't sure why this guy is now trying to... ask him to meditate? The fuck is going on? But if it's not a fight, then... maybe it's fine to just listen to the weirdo? Taking a few deep breaths isn't going to hurt him.

Danny is very proud of himself for guiding the ecto-flaring guy through how to not flare his ecto-signature. He's such a good teacher.

And then Jason collapses.

Turns out, Jason has been using his anger to create a feedback-loop that artificially raises his ectoplasm-levels.

Ghosts need ectoplasm to live, but they'll also produce ectoplasm when feeling strong emotions. For most ghosts, this a bit like saying "everyone needs a good cry every now and then". For Jason, he's been basically aiming a gun at his own face for the adrenaline-rush. Constantly.

So, Danny is now holding onto a barely-conscious person who desperately needs more ectoplasm. As in, this is a medical emergency, and every second probably counts.

Danny, being that he wasn't planning on needing to carry around some kind of ectoplasm-container at all times (who the fuck does that? His parents, that's who), is now desperately trying to problem-solve this.

Danny realizes that, actually, even in his human form? Danny has a lot of ectoplasm in his body. Enough that he could probably save this guy by... feeding him his blood.

Cue intimately sexy reverse-vampire scene.

And oh boy, if Danny's blood doesn't taste fantastic to Jason's ecto-starved self.

[nikomedes]

astarion saying “this is why your father doesn’t love you ❤️” whenever durge does something considerate/romantic. aaand send tweet

[winterspiderpurrs]

Okay but all I can think about is how if say Tony and Peter always met up at this one diner.

After giving Peter back the suit they make it a biweekly thing unless there was a business trip that kept Tony away.

I'm pretending there was a 1 yr or 2 year gap between that and the snap. So they become regulars and always get the same booth in the back.

And after the snap, once Tony is back in NY and recovered?

He shows back up to the diner. Sits in the same booth, staring at the empty seat across from him.

The same old waiter as always comes over, asks him if Peter is late.

And Tony cries on the spot. It's the 1st time he has cried since he felt Peter turned to dust in his arms.

[slow-reader-reads-books]

Lesbingyuan au where it’s the normal set up of post extras Bingge dimension traveling into another universe to find his own Shen Yuan. Except the world he arrives in (and is stuck in, can’t opt out of this gender journey) is a slightly genderbent one.

(hidden under a read more bc this turned basically into a wonkily grammatically tensed mini-fic)

Our darling Peerless Cucumber is a 20 something self-proclaimed straight girl with untapped soft butch potential, and is currently recovering from the harrowing trauma of the sunk cost fallacy. She’s spent a lot of time spending money on, reading, and participating in the online fandom of Proud Immortal Demon Way, and she’s currently also dealing with the fact that all her hard work in making herself heard to Great Master Airplane was seemingly for nothing. You see, Shen Yuan had the brilliant idea to create an account that appeared to be a perfectly demographically targeted straight male fan of YY novels who could critique Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky as his fellow but also his better and be listened to and receive great accolades from all frequenters of Zhongdian Literature and be validated for her hate of his writing.

“Airplane’s stupid pen name is a dick joke, I guess I gotta make mine one too… Just to, you know, seem legit and like we have common ground.”

What this charade accomplished was very little, but Peerless Cucumber did become very infamous for three things. One, his nitpicking (“It’s hardly nitpicking if it harms the integrity of the whole story1!!”). Two: his Luo Binghe fanboying (“As a protagonist he’s clearly just a cut above the rest when it comes to soul and wit, the story just rarely ever shows it off”). And three: his skipping of the steamy scenes (“I highly doubt this near identical scenario that also happened twenty chapters back but with a different wife of the week with this exact same cliffside flower giving off the same aphrodisiac mist to Bingge and new wife below will now suddenly be of any plot consequence for the next arc. It didn’t last time either, SKIP!”).

His fervent online activity garnered him the reputation of being an Airplane anti-fan, but also the assumed personality of a submissive simp who hates the easily dominated women that populate Luo Bingge’s harem. 

“lol thats why he must like mingyan so much. she never let bingge push her down. cucumber-bro must want a girlfriend who’ll chain him up and whip him! hes a pervert just like the rest of us, just a worse type kek.” 

Shen Yuan, when looking at such reply comments, gets shiver-inducing flashbacks to when her meimei left her BL comics out for everyone and the Buddha to see. She accidentally witnessed frightening scenes of thin, long-limbed men pushing each other down, tying each other to beds and cracking whips on skin until they shed blood, tears and semen, the shou begging for the gong to stop and the gong never listening. 

Shen Yuan tries to put such things out of her mind if only to preserve in amber the precious, innocent image of her meimei she knows to be true, but also secondarily to focus on the insulted male pride she’s supposed to be feeling after being accused of being a wussy submissive deviant in bed. That sort of accusation requires an in-depth 10,000 character response in order to remain in character as a straight male YY novel connoisseur.

Shen Yuan, as Peerless Cucumber but also as her true self, was undoubtedly straight. Staying in character, Peerless Cucumber made sure to extol the beauty of characters like Liu Mingyan— “She’s an intelligent and cold beauty and is written with a clear and vivid personality! A true equal for our Bingge on the battlefield and in matters of the heart!” As well as occasionally Ning Yingying— “She’s not the boring choice, you all just don’t know the special value a loyal shijie character brings, even if she does lose 99% of her personality to that one singular trait…”

But don’t get it twisted! This is a part of her performance! In real life, logged off and touching grass and breathing fresh outdoor air, she’s your run-of-the-mill average girl who is just a part of the pack. 

Her goals in life are simply not ambitious, is all. If there was a competition with ten available spots to win, she’d have no qualms placing tenth and simply feel honored to have participated. If there are ten girls and nine of them bag a good boyfriend, Shen Yuan doesn’t mind being the tenth who gets unlucky. She’s just kind to her meimeis and jiejies like that! As if she’d take that away from them! They'd probably been wanted those boyfriends for a long time! 

Shen Yuan is hardly a sore loser, and she knows the great importance of girl code and female friendship.

So, Shen Yuan being the normal average and totally straight and cisgender girl that she is decides to wallow in her Airplane-induced misery by going to a con, donning her homemade Mobei-jun cosplay. She worked hours of her life learning how to sew just for this project to the point her family thought she was finally thinking about settling down and learning wifely skills. 

Unfortunately for her ignorant family she’s actually just investing in a really elaborate excuse to cross dress. Well, it’s not really crossdressing, it’s just cosplay! Cosplay is totally different and not about taking on the gender of a character, but their larger identity! She didn’t want to explain this to them, and internally felt afraid and hesitant about it, as if they’d view her as weird for wanting to do this, so she didn’t bother to try at all.

So, Shen Yuan in her 160 centimeter/5 foot 3 inch glory decked out in dark blues and blacks, fur lining the shoulders of her outfit for style points, and wearing a long white wig styled mostly loose but with a few thin braids, chances upon a particularly striking Luo Binghe cosplayer. Not just any Luo Binghe cosplayer, but the best one! He’s tall, must be over 180cm/6 foot but also svelte and willowy in surprising ways. His hair is long and flows down his back from a ponytail ornamented at the base with a thin metal guan. Parts of his cosplay seem very benign, but others seem meticulously crafted and exquisite in quality, especially that sword at his hip! Just looking at it intimidated her, yikes! Job well done, cosplayer!

This Luo Binghe also had the most beautiful and delicately boned face she’d ever seen, eyes dark and deep and highly reflective like that of a lake on a dark and starry night. The cosplayer’s voice was also deeply melodic and enchanting.

This cosplayer… is also a woman! Shen Yuan nodded to herself internally, yes that must be it! No man looks like this in reality, this is a fellow female sufferer of Proud Immortal Demon Way impersonating a fictional man for similar psychological reasons as her. A surge of female loyalty spawns in Shen Yuan’s chest, and she doesn't even bother resisting the urge to walk over and strike up a conversation with this Luo Binghe.

She spat out her name in quick order and immediately started on the topic of female character writing in the novel. The Luo Binghe cosplayer was looking at her quietly and with a heavy amount of gravity, ink-brush eyebrows sitting elegantly low above her eyes in attentive focus. What a good listener this lady is, Shen Yuan thought. She can’t remember when someone last listened to her this closely. She hypocritically chooses to not pay attention to that train of thought any further. “In a world like Proud Immortal Demon Way,” Shen Yuan began with slight smarm, “who would choose to be a woman? I certainly wouldn’t if I wanted to see the interesting parts of the world that drew me into the story in the first place. A male protagonist can explore it freely, but the female characters are all locked away in either the marriage bedroom or the highly isolated harem palaces. Great Master Airplane clearly didn’t eat enough walnuts as a child, he must have some sort of brain deficiency when it comes to writing proper characters— ” 

The tall Luo Binghe cosplayer suddenly spoke up. “Choose?” “Hm? Yeah, I mean, in a world like that, there’s basically no choice, yeah? Gotta serve the narrative and readers and all. But the real world doesn’t have a narrative, we only have ourselves and each other to guide us. So we just do what we want, figure it out as we go. Like us two! We wanted to dress up as these male characters from this asinine story and attend this con and we figured out how to do it! We’re kindred spirits, you and I, we’re zhiyin!” “So when you leave this con, you will also choose to take this manner of dress off and wear something else?” “Obviously. Though, my go-to outfit is just a big t-shirt and sweatpants, or athletic shorts. This kind of thing is the extent of me dressing up.” Shen Yuan didn’t notice, but the Luo Binghe cosplayer’s eyes mildly glazed over in irritated confusion at the unfamiliar terms. Nor did she notice the slight expression of planning that developed in that gaze, as if they were imagining a future shopping expedition to find an outfit Shen Yuan would want to dress up in that wasn’t a facsimile of Luo Binghe’s right hand man.

“I… also want to leave this con and wear something else.” “The busyness getting to you, huh jiejie? You must have gotten here a lot earlier than I did, you poor thing. I guess this is it, it was nice talking to you—” “I don’t have any other clothes with me, and am unable to go back home. Can you help this poor one, jiejie?” “Jiejie—” Shen Yuan coughed. “Am I… wait you can’t go back home? Did your ride ditch you or something, aiyah what a scummy thing to do! I do have extra clothes on me, though I don’t think they’ll fit you. But let’s go find out. I guess if I have to take care of you like this, it does make me feel like a jiejie. Your height made me assume you were older than me, haha.”

Shen Yuan laughed, and the Luo Binghe cosplayer rapidly relaxed and took on an easy smile. “An innocent mistake. Jiejie must often be assumed to be younger than her actual age.” Shen Yuan hummed absent-mindedly. “Eh, not really. I’m only 22, and I think I look it. It’s you who looks like a jade immortal, uh, meimei.” She stuttered when she realized she hadn’t yet caught the other cosplayer’s name, and for some reason it felt weird to just call her Luo Binghe without her also LARPing along as Mobei-jun. Shen Yuan by this point had taken the tall meimei’s hand, it pale and slender much like the rest of her, and had been pulling her along towards the public bathroom to make use of her backpack’s change of clothes, walking along the wall to avoid foot traffic. However, the moment she had finished her sentence and called the other one meimei, the Luo Binghe cosplayer suddenly slammed her free hand on the wall and yanked hard on the one Shen Yuan was holding, pulling her in close to herself, caging her in from behind. Shen Yuan squeaked and found herself crowded against the wall. Her back was encased in a warm and dark heat and she could see above her that jade-white hand curled tightly in on itself, heel practically grinding against the wall. It looked like it was trembling slightly. An earth-shatteringly tight grip squeezed the fingers of her still held hand to the point of hurting slightly. Shen Yuan winced at the sensation.

Shen Yuan heard sharp, heavy breathing above her. Not knowing what to do nor quite what was going on, she squeezed back the hand that was keeping hers hostage and leaned back slightly. Comfort is what she’s doing this for, right? Feels like the reason she’s doing it. 

Shen Yuan felt the other cosplayer jolt behind her. After a tense beat, a forehead slowly dropped onto her shoulder. Shen Yuan was wearing fur along the top half of her outfit as a part of her Mobei-jun cosplay, but nonetheless she could feel the vague contour of the other’s nose through it, burrowing deeper into its warmth. Shen Yuan now felt awkward for only bothering with faux-fur for her cosplay. But with that face resting upon her shoulder and an odd sense of vulnerability wafting off of her, a sharp sense of broad awareness filled Shen Yuan's mind mysteriously. Her mind filled up with sensory information on the one behind her, naturally taking note of every detail with ease.

“Meimei…” the Luo Binghe cosplayer trailed off, muffled slightly by Shen Yuan’s cosplay, but also seemingly by her own emotions being stuck in her throat. “Can I really be jiejie’s meimei?” Shen Yuan didn’t really know what to do or how to respond, so she simply continued to lean her weight back onto the other. She then pulled on the elbow that led to the hand positioned above her until it was brought down far enough for her to grab properly. Shen Yuan took both hands in hers and placed them in front of her in a comfortable position. They were slightly cold, so she rubbed at them with her thumbs.

The Luo Binghe cosplayer picked her head up and looked down at the sight with watery eyes and a warbling lip. Both of her hands were cradled in that grip, gently held in front of the shorter’s stomach in a tender and intimate fashion. Their arms were bent parallel and their front and back slotted together in a way that, to the taller one, felt predestined.

“Can you, what kind of question is that, of course you can. But, I’d like to have your name too, if you don’t mind? Only calling you meimei sounds like I’m calling out to my real little sister.” Shen Yuan laughed and looked up over her shoulder nonchalantly. 

Somewhere in the distance, she can hear people giggling and snapping pictures of the two. She felt a twinge of embarrassment. Of course this moment looks compromising from the outside, they’re cosplaying Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun!

Shen Yuan was suddenly working very hard to maintain a cool poker face in front of her very tall and newly minted meimei.

Bringing up her real little sister and then suddenly being thrust into this type of self-aware of cringe violently and nonconsensually summoned forth invented images of a dog blooded BL scenario that wouldn’t be out of place in her real meimei’s leisure literature.

Fellow con goers, please have mercy on us two women and don't be thinking of what I'm thinking! We’re merely having a pure hearted, early friendship bonding moment! Skinship is very much common and normal between people like us, disregard the kabedon! Totally normal female friendship is blossoming here, get your homoerotic dog blood tropes out of our personal lives!

“This one is called… Qiu Bingbing.” Her voice hitched and quavered with some sort of ineffable, delicate emotion. “Bingbing, ah? Written with the same character as Binghe, meaning ice? And Qiu, is that with the character meaning the autumn season or the character meaning a grave mound?”

Qiu Bingbing hummed and nodded lethargically to the first question and spoke up for the second, hesitating slightly. “Qiu as in autumn.” “What a pretty name, “autumn ice”. You fit the bill of Luo Binghe perfectly, but with a name like that it’s nearly a pity to go by something else. You’re a miraculous find in a place like this, Bing-mei.” Shen Yuan complimented with abandon, eager to make her new friend feel good, and turned around. Still holding one hand, she impulsively took the chance Qiu Bingbing’s still bowed head offered and patted it softly.

She did that for a while, not paying attention to anything else. A euphoric smile opened on Qiu Bingbing’s lips. She was lost in the moment too. 

The rest of the world fell away. As long as Luo Binghe, no, as long as Qiu Bingbing can worm her way into every crevice of Shen Yuan, she’ll be fine. He before was always grasping at any semblance of peace and security only for it to slip through his grasp like sand, but she’s found it. She’ll nestle in and hibernate inside Shen Yuan’s veins and she’ll never let go. She will never.

“Let’s go get you those clothes. Good thing I like them oversized, they should be mildly presentable on you, even if they aren’t anything girly.”

“I can live without anything girly, anything of yours will do.”

“That’s good to hear, let’s go then.”

[scuttlingcrab]

Fiendish Rewards

Summary: Raphael appears at Withers' party, hoping to finally collect the Crown of Karsus from Tav. However, an unexpected turn of events causes Raphael to re-think his plans.

Notes: Featuring growing tensions and light angst. I always wondered what would happen when Raphael wore the Crown for the first time. This might be a wee bit too long but I initially intended this to be another submission for @dmagedgoods Raphael romance collection.

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

(Image via raphael-ancunin)

Raphael knew he was intruding. He had no business attending Withers' party, yet he arrived fashionably late all the same. He would never show his face, grace the companions with his presence, merely to exchange pleasantries. As tempting as their tadpole-free souls were, the simple minded mortals had no meaning to him now that the Elder Brain was defeated. That evening Raphael’s only desire was to collect the Crown of Karsus. And perhaps, converse with that little mouse, if time allowed. 

Thus, the Devil did what he knew best: lurked from the shadows of the wings and listened for his cue. 

Raphael had abided for over a millennium after he lost the Crown to Mephistopheles, lashing out with such violent anger in the first century that he nearly eradicated an entire plane. That initial taste of defeat never left his memory; the bitterness, that rotting feeling he felt deep within his core still haunted him. It was his first introduction to failure and the last. 

He eventually learned how to forge that frothing hatred for his father, his revulsion at the cursed cards he had been dealt with, into a far more superior weapon: knowledge, his greatest strength. Raphael researched, manipulated, and opened up the recesses of his mind to devour the ins-and-outs of the Hells. He painstakingly plotted, weaving his schemes into the very fabric of fate itself, planting the seeds of prosperity for what he hoped would eventually gain him a win.

Despite all Raphael had endured since the collapse of Netheril, the last 6 months had been the most excruciating. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. There was no longer an Archdevil in his path, but a mere mortal. His hunger for power grew rampant as he watched Tav continue to elude him, to harbour the final piece of his victory as she tried to reclaim what was left of her old life. That selfish creature. 

To Tav’s credit, she had been quite remarkable on the battlefield, showcasing her strength and resolve as she smited enemies and climbed through the carnage to her destiny. She left a sea of corpses in her wake, the mortal rubble alone was unlike anything Raphael had ever seen. Out of all the calamities he had been fortunate enough to craft and witness, being a spectator during the fight against the Netherbrain would forever be a highlight.

When the Crown fell into the River Chionthar, Raphael eagerly watched as Tav spent weeks fishing it out, taking her precious time as she retrieved each broken piece of his future. He restlessly stormed the halls of his domain, cursing the woman for attempting such an arduous task alone. He could have aided her, sent in Korrilla as a last resort, but he refused. He would not give Tav the satisfaction, she would have to work just a little more to complete her end of the bargain. Besides, there was something endearing about watching Tav work so diligently, the determination in those eyes reminded Raphael of himself.

The little mouse was Raphael’s greatest investment and he’d be damned if she failed him now, or if he let his sudden affinity for her overtake his true purpose. Raphael’s ambitions for the Crown had somehow intertwined with his infatuation for the woman, and he was just as much to blame.

He had let this farce go on for long enough. Raphael would not stoop so low in his final moments before he rose to glory. Once Tav crowned him, these foolish emotions would cease and he would continue with his grand plan. He was a Devil and he would not let these cursed mortal emotions falter his intentions any longer; he would never allow anything, anyone, to destroy his work. Raphael’s blood, sweat, and tears would not be in vain. 

Cheering suddenly came from the camp as Tav and her companions raised their chalices in celebration. Withers' speech had finally ended, much to Raphael’s delight. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could’ve listened to the monotonous dribble. The monologue was indeed rousing, but Raphael could’ve done better, if given the opportunity. 

One by one, the group of heroes slowly disbanded, until only Tav remained. She made her way around the camp, stopping by each empty tent. It was as if the little mouse was paying her respects, bidding farewell to the ghosts of her past.

When Tav was done she wandered to the lakefront and sat down on a mossy rock, staring into the sparkling evening sky. The light in her own eyes vanished, leaving a dark cloud looming above her. 

Raphael took that as his signal. He quietly removed himself from the cover of the treeline and began his entrance, approaching Tav with a swagger. 

“If it isn’t the hero of Baldur’s Gate. My, how far we’ve come! It feels like only yesterday you fell from the skies, tadpole and all, and began your little adventure; slowly scurrying your way to triumph.”

Tav smiled at the sound of Raphael’s voice, turning to greet him. They locked eyes, her expression brightening. That look pierced through Raphael’s defences with such ease, a slight chill crawling up from the base of his spine. He stopped in his tracks, quickly recovering by placing a hand on his hip. It had been too long since they were alone, when he had last gazed into those cursed eyes. Careful now. 

“Raphael, always the poet.”

“The little mouse is no longer, but now a ferocious lion. Congratulations are in order.”

Raphael gifted Tav with his most flourishing bow, hoping the gesture would distract from his earlier misstep.  

“Now do tell, how does it feel to be the victor? To have saved the world? Is it as the bards have sung?” Raphael rose, taking another step towards Tav. 

Tav merely shrugged, her lips quickly returning to a frown. 

“Dunno.”

“I would have thought a hero to be more eloquent.”

“I'm still waiting for that ‘ah-ha!’ moment, but if we’re being honest tonight, I’m not really sure what it means to be a hero.”

“You will come to understand eventually. It’s the very nature of your existence.”

Tav remained silent, pulling her eyes away from Raphael. She stared down at her hands, studying her scarred palms.

“May I?” Raphael inquired, gesturing towards the available space on the rock. 

Tav nodded and Raphael sat himself beside her, intentionally leaving a minimal amount of space between them.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

“There it is,” Tav said, through a faint laugh, “You know, I was expecting you to come sooner.”

“I’ve often found the best persuasions are the ones that aren't forced.”

Tav looked up at Raphael, her eyes moving over every inch of his guise, stopping briefly near his lips. He was close now, so close. To the Crown. To his objectives. And to that damned woman.  

“May I see the Crown, please?”

Tav smiled, moving towards Raphael. For a split second, Raphael expected a kiss. It was only natural for mortals to attempt such a distraction in times of distress. Infuriating as it was, he wouldn’t have been opposed to such a notion. Tav instead reached down for her backpack lying in the sand, placing it on her lap. 

She pulled open the straps and yanked out the Crown, handling it as if it was but a petty trinket. Raphael suppressed a sigh, he would not let the significance of this moment be soiled due to the mortal’s lack of formality. 

“I managed to reforge it, to the best of my abilities, thanks to the Annals of Karsus. Though I haven't tried it on yet to see if it worked.”

“A wise choice.” 

Tav held the Crown out towards Raphael, but he raised his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the Crown floated out of Tav’s grasp, slowly moving towards him. It was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so. It glistened under the moonlight, calling to him. Soon. Very soon. He let the Crown hover, spinning delicately, for a few more seconds.

“Do you need me to remind you of our terms? The deal was that you are to crown me. I would’ve come to you long ago if I could simply put it on myself.”

“Gods. Really, Raphael?” 

“Truly.” Raphael donned his notorious smirk in response.

“Fine, are we to do this here then?”

“I couldn't think of a more fitting location.” 

Raphael rose, walking towards the middle of the lakefront. He snapped his fingers, and a luscious red silk pillow appeared. He shifted it slightly in the sand and bent a knee, preparing himself for the crowning. 

“Come, it is time.” 

Tav stood intending to grab the Crown, but before she could reach it, Raphael beckoned it towards him. Tav quickly followed, positioning herself above Raphael. He raised his head to gaze at the magnificent sight in front of him. The moonlight framed Tav perfectly, she was silhouetted against the dark sky, glowing. The Crown and the little mouse, side-by-side, as it was always destined to be. 

Raphael took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He absorbed the scents and sounds around him; earthy tones, a hint of wetness, mixed with the fresh woodland air. Faint chirping from various insects called out to him, the leaves rustled slightly against the warm summer wind. His heartbeat intensified, growing more rapid, adding an extra drum beat to the night’s symphony. 

“Let’s get on with it then.” Tav spoke. 

Raphael opened his eyes and watched Tav grab the Crown, lowering it on top of his head. 

When the Crown touched his forehead, it reformed itself to accommodate his size, shrinking to provide a snugger fit. It hissed into place and then in an instant, everything changed. 

Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, confusion; every possible emotion tore through his very being. He was ripped in two, three, four… millions of tiny little pieces. His head throbbed with information, so many secrets, so much… he saw and felt everything, what could’ve been, what might come to pass… it was too much. Too much! Too fast! 

He fell forwards, his hands digging, ripping through sand. He was alone, always alone, darkness surrounded him. No. There was light, light flooded in from the top of his skull, projecting into every possible direction. He was the light. He was the dark. He was all-encompassing. 

Raphael screamed, his voice echoing into the abyss around him. He had never read about such a reaction, in all his years of researching, how could he have missed… could it be because… NO. He will tame this. He will persist. He will… 

The sand beneath Raphael turned to liquid as the newfound power continued to surge through his limbs, burning his veins. He tore at his own flesh and bones to rid himself of the agony, but it wouldn’t come to an end. 

“Raphael!” He heard a voice shout, such a familiar tune. But who? He couldn’t quite place it.

Raphael erupted, his devilish wings tearing through the skin in his back. There were flames all around him, growing hotter, thicker. His chest melted, his ears ached from the thunderous explosions. Whispers, whispers everywhere. He heard so many, and the cries, the screams. Would they never cease? 

Something tore at his head, pulling the Crown away from him. The Crown. NO! He cannot lose it again. Raphael raised his hands attempting to fight back, but he was grasping at nothing. It was over as fast as it had begun. There was now silence. 

Raphael’s vision cleared. He was on his back, looking up at the stars. Tav stood over him, holding the Crown in her hands. She eyed him with concern, tears flooding down her cheeks. He raised his own hands, his claws trembling. Raphael tried to think but his mind was vacant, every thought achingly bounced back. His skin burned, bones ached. There were deep lacerations all over his body, his own hands were covered in blood. He gasped, looking at Tav’s body but found no abrasions. He let out a disgruntled sigh. If he had harmed her in his rage, in those brief seconds of failure… would he ever forgive himself? 

Tav threw the Crown aside and helped Raphael to his feet. His eyes followed the artefact as it landed on top of the sand, taunting him still. How?

As if reading Raphael’s mind, Withers' voice cut through the silence as he appeared before them.

“Thou hast succeeded but are not yet ready. Take care that thou are not too hasty, thine pursuits will lead to plights.” There was a long pause as Withers continued staring at Raphael, looking straight through him. He met Withers’ expressionless gaze, waiting for him to continue. “The pattern has been woven and all circumstances interlaced are as fate decided.” 

Raphael never imagined the consequences of his premature investiture. He was always going to reforge the Crown himself, in his own image. How could he possibly trust a mortal to handle such a relic successfully? But in the heat of the moment, and in the fine print of the very deal he crafted, he had opened himself up to carelessness, becoming the very thing he despised.

His eyes darted to Tav, searching the woman for any excuse against his actions but he could only look at her with veneration. He would not blame her for everything. His vanity, eagerness… his obsession for the Crown and that cursed woman nearly brought him to his untimely demise. Let this be a lesson to Raphael to heed his own warnings. The Devil would need to cool his heels in preparation for the battles looming ahead.

Raphael turned to face Withers, but the curious being had vanished. Instead he hummed thoughtfully, looking at Tav. 

She stood next to him, her body trembling. Tav's eyes were fixed on Raphael, still full of worry but there was something else present, another emotion he thought he’d never see from a mortal again.

Tav’s expression sent a sudden stabbing pain through his chest as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. There was another mortal who had once looked at him with the same kindness and understanding. He had buried it deep within his subconscious, but it was rising back to the surface, like a blooming flower. He would NOT allow himself anymore turmoil this evening.

“I owe you my thanks.” Raphael whispered, his voice on the verge of cracking.

“Raphael, I don’t understand, you were nea…” 

“If you value your life, you will hold your tongue. There will be no talk of this moment again. Ever. Have I made myself clear?”

Tav’s eyes widened at his sudden change of tone, but she nodded nonetheless. 

“I must return to my House of Hope. For healing and reflection. There is work yet to be done, as you have borne witness to this evening.” Raphael snapped his fingers, a raging portal materialised behind him. “You may join me, if you so wish.”

Raphael extended his arm, welcoming her acceptance. 

“Would you consider our deal completed then?” Tav asked, apprehensively. 

“You have upheld your end of the agreement, exceptionally well, might I add, bar this evening's hiccup. Now please, let me show you my appreciation.” 

A dash of colour appeared on Tav’s cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears. She grabbed her backpack, placing the Crown inside. She swiftly reached for Raphael’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Raphael nodded in acknowledgment and led Tav through the portal. 

Indeed, their deal was complete, but Raphael wasn’t done with Tav yet. She would continue to prove a valuable ally and more in the months to come.

[made-nondescript]

s1 fwhip and sausage. gay. thank you (for the “tell me what to draw” post)

have some fic fanart for "to be there to be loved" by one of the authors ever @anonymousacres! i did not set OUT to draw fic fanart. but i started doodling for this one and apparently that fic was bouncing around in my brain like crazy so now here we are. very good fic!!!!! read it perhaps ;O

more fic specific art i dont like as much below cut

^ for some baffling reason all the color is one layer. whyd i do that? like really why.

[blood-orange-juice]

Help, I'm writing childesplaining but not the kind I need for my current fic. I guess this won't fit into any of my wips so it can just go here.

Also, I think, we all can agree that the Traveler's hydro abilities are shit and I needed an explanation for this.

*

A tiny fish made out of Hydro circles around Lumine, sun glistening on its scales. She's seen Childe conjure these before when he needed to entertain kids. It seemed easy when he did it.

She summons another ball of water, pulling it from air and failing to force it to take shape. She could go with something round, a pufferfish perhaps. Ripples go along the surface, but still… nothing. It falls apart, drenching the grass. Lumine hisses.

Childe watches her with the usual still intensity. "You're trying to control too many things at once," he tilts his head. "It's like pouring water into a glass, you need to set boundaries, not force it to take shape. It's not stone." Somehow he sounds like this is personally important to him, not just a technique. "Focus on what matters, the rest takes care of itself."

"And what is it that matters?" "I don't know," he shrugs. "What are the defining properties of a fish?"

The tiny phantom moves closer to bite at her fingers and scutters away.

An important property of a fish is not being a water phantasm. And maybe she just wants to hit people with it.

"Maybe I just want to hit people with it." He raises his hands. "I will not object to that."

[daytaker]

Dear fanfic readers who worry you're going to annoy the writer if you leave multiple comments:

No you're not.

[oddsconvert]

There's something so vulnerable that I love about Whumpers who do the necessities to take care of Whumpee.

Holding a fork to Whumpee's lips so they can eat without taking off their restraints. Hands that usually inflict pain and misery, gently massaging shampoo into Whumpee's hair, and shielding their eyes from the shower hose.

[nataliesscatorccio]

this line in the description for Yellowjackets really gets to me. "25 years later, they discover that what began in the wild is far from over." time and time again im just struck by how effective this show is at saying exactly what it feels like to go through life as a woman. you still have this girl inside you who is wild and childish and scared. she doesn't know how to move her body she doesn't know how to ask for what she wants she's a freak she's an idol she's a mess she's a messiah she's a witch and a wicked little beast she's the best friend a girl could have. but it's time to be an Adult Woman now! congratulations, you're out of the woods! we know that was confusing and traumatic for you but rest assured thats all done. maybe you'll have a husband and a teenager of your own maybe you'll be a politician maybe you're going to run a mlm. it doesnt matter, just make sure you're unrecognizable from the wild animal you were. you're supposed to be unrecognizable. you're supposed to have it together, you're supposed to be boring. strawberry lube is for bisexuals and goths. and teenagers. Please be more boring. this Whole Thing this whole charade of adulthood doesn't work if you don't keep it together. grow up! so you do. for a while it sticks. your family is doing fine, your career is doing fine, your meds are working fine, maybe you've been to a few rehabs but this last one was going fine. and 25 years later you look around at the not-real life you're supposed to want to be a part of, the one you put together exactly as per the instructions, and you realize... it doesnt end. you aren't out of the woods you're just stranded in a different part of them. you probably have another 25 years to go, minimum. "I think shit is gonna get a lot worse out here." your life is far from over but you can't keep living it like this. numbing yourself with substances to make it tolerable, or going full speed ahead toward something you don't even really want just to prove you're Doing It you're Assimilating, or feeling insane for still being haunted by 'ancient' history that really didn't happen that long ago, or cooking a fucking meatloaf for the husband that doesn't get you and the daughter that doesn't want to. if you're going to survive the monotony of adulthood the way you survived the chaos of adolescence, you're going to have to get wild again. you're going to have to go back. because the wilderness can be terrifying with its harsh elements its cruel indifference its lurking predators and blah blah blah but do you want to know what's even scarier? that endless stretch in all directions of sameness. stump, tree, stream, moss. stump, tree, stream, moss. have we passed this way already, have we taken this route before? tree tree tree tree tree for miles and miles and miles. that is the wild, too. unending. repetitive. barren. where it ends, so do you. it lasts your whole life, and it's far from over. you've got to find a way to survive it. again.