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bellaxgiornata · 11 months

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Falling For the Devil [Part eighty-two: "The Overload"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt has an incredibly frustrating day that is further made worse when you aren't at his apartment after work.

Or Matt realizes how important you really are to him.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.3k

a/n: This is a light angst (hurt/comfort) piece entirely in Matt's POV with some fluff at the end! Figured it would be fun to see roles reversed and Reader is the one who brings the much needed comfort in here! The list of installments for this series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @lina-mar @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705

Today was one of those days for Matt. Everything felt like it was going wrong. He didn't have days like these often, but when he did, everything felt like it was intensified–including his senses.

It had started off with him not being able to go out on patrol last night. He had been swamped with paperwork and he'd needed to stay in and get it done. But he'd needed that release scouring the streets for criminals last night to ease the tension that had already been building all day that day. Instead he'd had to ignore that part of himself and it had been absolutely frustrating.

On top of that, you had unfortunately been unavailable to stop by and stay the night because you were getting a headstart on packing some of your things. There were only a couple more weeks left of your lease before you moved in with him. You'd been trying to pack up things you wouldn't need at your place to move to his place ahead of time in the hopes to make the final move smoother.

The idea of you already packing your things had thrilled Matt–he wanted you at his apartment already, truthfully. He loved how excited you were becoming at the idea of being at his place with him–-of it becoming both of yours’ place. Your giddiness was beginning to overtake your nerves and that had excited him knowing how much you wanted to join your life with his. But he hated waking up alone this morning. It had only soured his mood not to feel your legs wrapped around his, or to hear the soft noises you made when you woke first thing with your face pressed into his chest. And he hadn't woken up with his nose buried in your hair like he often did, the scent of you being the first thing he smelled. Instead his bed had been noticeably colder, lacking the warmth of you in the sheets beside him, and the first thing he'd smelled was the burnt toast coming from the apartment below his.

It also meant he hadn't heard your voice at all today, which had for some reason only continued to worsen his mood. He'd had a terrible meeting this morning with a potential client who had been interested in hiring Nelson, Murdock, and Page, but they'd been very clearly hiding something about the case. Matt had picked up on the constant lies while he was talking to the man–over and over his heart had alerted him to something being off. The thought of representing him had Matt feeling sick to his stomach even as he politely refused to take the case. Afterwards he'd tried to call you during his lunch break to have your voice brighten his day, but all he'd gotten was your voicemail.

Frustrated yet again, he'd gone to grab lunch at the sandwich shop nearby by himself. Foggy had a meeting with a client of his own and Karen was in court today so he’d had no one else for company. It also didn't help that today had been an unnaturally warm day for late May. Matt had been sweating in his dress shirt as he walked to the shop, uncomfortable and overwhelmed as he felt every bead of sweat rolling down his back and his forehead. When he’d gotten there, he’d discovered the air conditioning hadn't been working at the sandwich shop either. Which meant he'd waited in line sweating even more while trying to tune out just how irritatingly loud all of the grumbling, angry customers were. And when he'd finally gotten his food back to his desk at work, he'd managed to spill mayonnaise somewhere on his dress shirt. The smell had only progressively gotten worse to his nose the hotter the day had become and thus the hotter the office had gotten–because all they had were a handful of fans to cool the place down. Which only managed to further circulate that disgusting smell around the office.

Now he was on his way back home from work, teeth grinding against each other to the point that his jaw was sore. He was he white knuckling his cane and sweating, a headache steadily growing worse from all of the sounds and scents around the city as he made his way back to his apartment. Even the repetitive noise of his cane on the sidewalk was getting under his skin and he found himself internally cursing the fact that he had to use it right now.

But you were coming over tonight. He’d reminded himself of that repeatedly throughout the day today. Every time something went wrong, every time he wanted to push everything off of his desk and scream, he just reminded himself that you were staying at his place tonight–soon to be both of yours’ home. You were going to be there after you’d finished work, meaning you would be there when he walked in the door. He’d been looking forward to that moment all day–hearing your heartbeat the moment he neared his building. Maybe you’d be typing on your laptop when he showed up, finishing up something for work. All he wanted to do was open the door, drop his things in the hall, and have you wrap your arms around him. Maybe you wouldn’t even mind if he curled up on your lap along the couch for a bit, just to let him relax and decompress from this whole irritatingly bad day.

Which apparently only seemed to be getting worse, because when Matt turned the corner towards his building he couldn’t hear your heartbeat. And he was trying very hard to find it. His chest began to tighten instantly and he felt close to snapping the moment he realized you really weren’t here yet. Probably because something had come up with work, something entirely not your fault and reasonable, but all Matt could focus on was the fact that you weren’t here . And he so desperately needed you right now.

When he pulled the door open for his building, he’d admittedly tugged it harder than necessary. And when he’d struggled a moment to find the call button for the elevator because it was always difficult for him to find without being able to actually see it, he’d pushed it quite forcefully. Afterwards, when he’d made it up onto his floor, he’d certainly annoyed even himself with how heavy his angered footfalls had become.

He knew he shouldn’t be mad at you even as he slammed his keys into the bowl on the table near his front door. It was ridiculous. You’d not actually done anything wrong, but somehow he was still so angry. He’d needed you to be here when he got back, he’d been expecting it all day. But you weren’t.

The scent of you had grown fainter in the apartment, too. It had been too many days since you’d last actually been here. That, too, irritated Matt.

With a frustrated grunt, he slipped out of his shoes and made his way towards his bedroom. He thought maybe a shower might help calm him down. At the very least, it would hopefully wash off the stench of pungent mayonnaise that he couldn’t seem to shake from his nose.

He’d gathered the most comfortable clothes he had from his bedroom, discarding his work clothes in the laundry bin, and then set about getting the shower ready in the bathroom. By the time steam was filling the room he finally stepped into it–and then was immediately irritated by the spray of water. It felt like he was being repeatedly pelted by a plethora of tiny pebbles over and over instead of droplets of water. His teeth only ground together harder in exasperation. He tried to wash himself quickly, the noise of the spray hitting the tiles of the shower around him and only causing his headache to pound even more painfully in his head.

Eventually it had all started to feel like too much. Matt exclaimed a curse that reverberated around the shower. Angry and overwhelmed, he slammed his fist into the shower wall in his frustration. The release had felt so good that he drew his fist back and hit the wall a second time, feeling his knuckles split open as he did. A faint trickle of blood spilled forth, Matt’s chest heaving as he contemplated releasing his frustration a third time, but then he heard the front door of the apartment open. His eyelids slowly lowered as he heard you call out his name. Some of the tension in his shoulders eased just a bit at the sound of your voice, his bleeding hand rising up and running down his face as he tried to take a calming breath.

You would be the solution. Of course you would be.

He turned off the shower quickly, the absence of the spray already lessening the pressure building in his head. Sliding the glass door back, he reached out and grabbed his towel from off the hook nearby. He dried off in a hurry, trying to wipe off every irritating bead of water before he slipped on his boxers and a pair of sweatpants. He’d swiped his tee-shirt off the bathroom counter in one hand, running his fingers through his wet hair with the other. Then he quickly stepped out of the bathroom and made his way down the hall.

“Sweetheart?” he called out, pausing just in the entrance of the living room.

Focusing his senses, he heard you in the kitchen. You’d been plating food–it smelled like Thai from the restaurant nearby–but he heard the way your head spun in his direction, your hands pausing what they’d been doing. You expelled a soft sigh, your shoulders dropping a little bit as you must’ve taken in the sight of him.

“Oh, Matt,” you whispered softly.

You were padding gently along the floor towards him, completely forgetting about the takeout you’d been getting ready as if the bad day was written plain across his face for you to see. And maybe it was.

"What's wrong, Matty?" you asked, feet still padding towards him.

"I've had a really shitty day," he confessed, his voice strained. "And it’s–it’s just all feeling like too much."

“Your senses?” you asked him.

He curiously noted the way you paused a few feet before him, the sound of your feet moving against the floor no longer hitting his ears. He nodded slowly, his head canting to the side as he tried to understand why you’d stopped.

“Mostly, yes,” he answered hesitantly.

“Hold on,” you replied.

Matt frowned, hearing the way you’d raised a hand, the air shifting around his apartment at the gesture. And then he listened as your feet hurried away from him and his frown only stretched further across his lips. Why were you heading towards the front door? Were you going to leave? That wasn’t what he’d wanted. He wanted you . To stay here with you. To lose himself in just you and drown out everything else.

Seconds later he heard your hands rustling around in that bowl by his front door, his keys clinking against the glass. The sound made him wince. Shortly after, your feet were rushing back towards him across the apartment. Matt’s brows drew further together. What were you doing ?

He heard the air shift as your hands reached up, your fingers gently placing something in both of his ears. The moment the outside world noises muted, everything dulling to him outside of just his apartment, he realized you’d gotten those noise-reducing earbuds and put them in for him. The pounding in his head along with the frown on his face lessened a little.

Your soft hands were lightly cradling his face soon after, your smooth, warm skin easing the tension in his stiff muscles even further. His eyelids dropped closed as he nuzzled further into your affectionate touch. Even with the earbuds in he could hear the way your lips curled into a smile, the muscles moving almost instantly.

“A little better?” you asked.

“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding.

“What else do you need, Matty?” you asked next.

His eyes opened, a small smile slipping onto his lips as he focused on you. He heard the way your heart fluttered in your chest instantly in response. That alone had his mood beginning to lift. Your body never failed to have a reaction to him and he would never grow tired of it.

“You?” he asked.

Matt heard the way you bit your lip, your blood beginning to rush in a particular direction. Your hands had tightened their hold on his face so infinitesimally that he was sure you weren’t even aware of it. A slow smirk drew onto his face as you began to nervously sputter before him.

“Oh, uh, that’s–that’s what you–”

“Not like that,” he said with a deep chuckle. “Not right now, at least. I mean…can we just take a moment? I’ve missed you,” he admitted, the smirk quickly falling from his lips.

Your body slowly began to relax, your hands releasing his face to instead grab both of his, the shirt he was still holding on to in one hand. He felt the reassuring squeeze of your hands against his before you began to finally draw him into the living room. You led the both of you around the coffee table and towards the couch, sinking down onto it and pulling him down with you. Matt didn’t even hesitate; he tossed his shirt onto the coffee table before he wrapped you in his arms. He held you tight to him, burying his face into your hair and breathing in the scent of your shampoo. It always smelled like peaches.

Your arms gradually wrapped around Matt’s back, your hands slowly rubbing soothing patterns onto his skin. His eyes closed, focusing on the feel of your gentle touch along his tired muscles. It felt so damn good that it was raising goosebumps along his torso, the prickling feeling of them pleasant because you were the cause of them. A moment later he felt your head shift against his chest, your lips coming to place a soft kiss against his collarbone. He shuddered at the feel of it, his arms squeezing you a bit tighter as your mouth lingered for a moment.

“I missed you, too, Matty,” you whispered. “It feels like it’s never a good day if I don’t get to at least talk to you, you know?”

Matt eased further into you on the couch, his face still buried into your hair. “I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart,” he answered. “This is all I’ve been needing. Just you.”

“I’m glad I could be of some help,” you whispered.

You giggled in his arms as he nuzzled your hair with his nose, the sound drawing a smile to his mouth. God, you were the best damn thing that ever happened to him.

Something hit Matt hard as he sat there holding onto you. It felt like it was coming out of nowhere, just a wave of emotions building in his chest and suddenly crashing into him, abruptly overwhelming him in this very moment.

Matt loved you. Loved everything about you. And while he’d been thinking about the prospect of marrying you off and on lately–the thought of it even having made him almost cry a handful of times now–the thought of having this with you was hitting him hard. There was just something about the idea of having your comforting touch in a quiet moment like this for the rest of his life–something so small and simple–that had him already wanting to sink to the floor on both of his knees and ask you to stay with him forever. To be his wife. To be his .

He never wanted another night of you sleeping away from him in another bed. He didn’t want another day where he didn’t hear the melodic sound of your voice at the very least just greeting him beside him in the mornings. He wanted to wake up with you wrapped around him every morning, every day, for forever. To hear the cute noises of discontent you always made when you stirred awake. To breathe you in first thing when he woke. To never kiss another mouth but yours, or feel the touch of anyone else on his skin.

Matt could feel his lips trembling at the thoughts in his head, the intensity of his realization drawing forth a physical reaction he didn’t want you to witness. The possibility of all of that being a reality had tears filling his eyes behind closed lids and he further buried his face into your hair. He’d never felt this way for someone before–not even Elektra.

You. You were it for him. He would fall on his knees at your feet and move the world for you if you only just asked him.

“You doing okay, baby?” you asked.

Your voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the moment. Matt cleared his throat a couple of times, trying to swallow down the lump of emotions that had formed.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled.

“I mean I’m content to cuddle with you half naked like this all night if you want,” you said, tone light and teasing, “but I didn’t know if you were hungry yet? Otherwise I can put away the food and we can heat it up later.”

“No,” he said, finally drawing away from you. “We can eat.”

“You sure?” you asked.

You unwrapped your arms from around him and it sounded like maybe your eyes had narrowed at him, as if you were studying him closely. He smiled back at you, a genuine smile on his lips, those thoughts still swirling in his mind.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answered. “I’m feeling much better now thanks to you.”

He heard the little snort as you laughed, his heart skipping at the sound. Matt knew you were still self-conscious about it, but goddamn he loved that sound every time he heard it.

“I didn’t really do anything, but I’m glad you’re feeling better,” you replied.

He heard you rise to your feet, reaching over and pulling his shirt from the coffee table. He accepted it when you handed it to him, a soft ‘thanks’ leaving him in response.

“I mean I’d much rather it stayed off, but I figured you wanted it,” you called back, already making your way into the kitchen.

He balled the shirt up in his hands and tossed it back onto the coffee table as he rose to his feet, a smug smile on his lips as he made his way to the kitchen to help you. “I don’t really need a shirt to eat dinner,” he mused. “And it is hot out today.”

Your head darted up, a grin sliding onto your own mouth as your heart sped up. Matt relished the sound of it.

“Oh? I wasn’t expecting to have dinner and a view tonight,” you teased playfully.

Matt came up behind you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your head instinctively turned to the side towards him, your lips finding his. It wasn’t a passionate, heated kiss, but something sweet and tender. And somehow it soothed the last bit of frustration right out of Matt.

You pulled away with a smile, your focus back on the plates before you. Matt still remained at the back of you, unable to just let you go.

“Alright, Mr. Murdock,” you said, picking up a takeout container and plating more food, “I hope you’re hungry because I may have went overboard with dinner tonight. I wasn’t sure what you’d be feeling so I just…sort of went nuts. Ordered a few things”

He chuckled, his forehead coming to rest against your shoulder. You were too damn good to him.

Maybe it was time he started thinking about engagement rings.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x reader #matt murdock #fftd

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discommunicator · 1 year

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Swamp Witch Nessie

She's an ecologist who preserves and studies the iridescent marsh of Wrongworld, but is better known as 'the fiend of the swamp' due to her mischievous and deceptive manners against outlanders. Setting aside her purpose to keep the marsh safe, she genuinely enjoys playing tricks on others. Such quirk applies even to peer witches and she gladly suffers due revenge

Although they share somewhat similar characteristics, she and the Wetland Witch are not in any relation and were total strangers to each other until they met on the coven meetings

While Vesihsi lives on the floating wetlands located above the sky and controls liquids, Nessie lives in the ground rainforest and controls wet solids

#Acenth draws #Acenth world #oc:Nessie #u:Wrognworld #u:Wrongworld Fermata #character design

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raeynbowboi · 7 months

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How to Play the Ultimate Dark Mage in DnD 5e

With Halloween right around the corner, I thought I'd delve into an idea I don't see talked about very much: building the ultimate black mage in DnD. For this build, we're not trying to be the best necromancer, or the best damage dealer. What we want is to find the build that grants us the widest arsenal of as many dark magical powers as possible. In order to give the Sorcerer a fair chance, we're going to homebrew to grant the Sorcerer 25 spells known instead of 15, otherwise there's no chance the Sorcerer is going to win.

DARK MAGIC SPELL LIST

NECROMANCY False Life (Artificer, Sorcerer, Warlock*, Wizard, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric) Animate Dead (Cleric, Warlock*, Wizard, Oathbreaker Paladin) Speak with Dead (Bard, Cleric, Wizard, Undead Warlock, Undying Warlock) Spirit Shroud (Cleric, Paladin, Warlock, Wizard) Summon Undead (Warlock, Wizard) Summon Warrior Spirit (sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Death Ward (Cleric, Paladin, Undead Warlock, Undying Warlock, Alchemist Artificer) Spirit of Death (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Antilife Shield (Druid, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric, Undead Warlock) Danse Macabre (Warlock, Wizard) Create Undead (Cleric, Warlock, Wizard) Soul Cage (Warlock, Wizard) Clone (Wizard)

NECROTIC DAMAGE Chill Touch (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Toll the Dead (Cleric, Warlock, Wizard) Inflict Wounds (Cleric, Oathbreaker Paladin) Wither and Bloom (Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard) Vampiric Touch (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric) Blight (Druid, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric, Oathbreaker Paladin, Alchemist Artificer) Destructive Wave (Paladin, Tempest Cleric) Enervation (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Negative Energy Flood (Warlock, Wizard) Circle of Death (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Finger of Death (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Symbol (Bard, Cleric, Druid, Wizard) Abi-Dalzim's Horrid Wilting (Sorcerer, Wizard) Power Word: Kill (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard)

SHADOW MAGIC Darkness (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Land (Swamp) Druid, Oathbreaker Paladin) Shadow Blade (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Summon Shadowspawn (Warlock, Wizard) Shadow of Moil (Warlock) Maddening Darkness (Warlock, Wizard)

PESTILENCE Acid Splash (Artificer, Sorcerer, Wizard) Poison Spray (Artificer, Druid, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Ray of Sickness (Sorcerer, Wizard, Death Cleric, Alchemist Artificer) Tasha's Caustic Brew (Artificer, Sorcerer, Wizard) Blindness/Deafness (Bard, Cleric, Sorcerer, Wizard, Spores Druid, Fiend Warlock, Undead Warlock, Undying Warlock) Melf's Acid Arrow (Wizard, Land (Swamp) Druid, Alchemist Artificer) Ray of Enfeeblement (Warlock, Wizard, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric) Stinking Cloud (Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard, Land (Swamp, Underdark) Druid, Fiend Warlock) Sickening Radiance (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Vitriolic Sphere (Sorcerer, Wizard) Cloudkill (Sorcerer, Wizard, Alchemist Artificer, Death Cleric, Land (Underdark) Druid, Spores Druid, Conquest Paladin, Undead Warlock) Contagion (Cleric, Druid, Oathbreaker Paladin, Undying Warlock) Disintegrate (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Harm (Cleric, Druid)

FIENDISH MAGIC Hellish Rebuke (Warlock, Oathbreaker Paladin) Spirit Guardians (Cleric, Crown Paladin) Summon Lesser Demons (Warlock, Wizard) Summon Greater Demon (Warlock, Wizard) Infernal Calling (Warlock, Wizard) Planar Binding (Bard, Cleric, Druid, Wizard) Summon Fiend (Warlock, Wizard) Planar Ally (Cleric) Tasha's Otherworldly Guise (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard)

ELDRITCH MAGIC Eldritch Blast (Warlock) Arms of Hadar (Warlock) Hunger of Hadar (Warlock) Edvard's Black Tentacles (Wizard, Great Old One Warlock)

CURSES & EVIL Infestation (Druid, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Bane (Bard, Cleric, Warlock*, Vengeance Paladin) Hex (Warlock) Tasha's Hideous Laughter (Bard, Wizard, Great Old One Warlock) Bestow Curse (Bard, Cleric, Wizard, Conquest Paladin, Oathbreaker Paladin) Dispel Evil & Good (Cleric, Paladin) Hallow (Cleric, Fiend Warlock) Insect Plague (Cleric, Druid, Sorcerer) Eyebite (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Flesh to Stone (Warlock, Wizard) Power Word: Pain (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard)

MIND GAMES & NIGHTMARES Mind Sliver (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Cause Fear (Warlock, Wizard) Dissonant Whispers (Bard, Great Old One Warlock) Silvery Barbs (Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard) Crown of Madness (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Oathbreaker Paladin) Tasha's Mind Whip (Sorcerer, Wizard) Antagonize (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Enemies Abound (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Fear (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Conquest Paladin) Phantasmal Killer (Wizard, Hexblade Warlock, Genie Warlock) Dream (Bard, Warlock, Wizard, Land (Grassland) Druid) Dominate Person (Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard, Order Cleric, Trickery Cleric, Conquest Paladin, Oathbreaker Paladin, Archfey Warlock, Great Old One Warlock) Modify Memory (Bard, Wizard, Trickery Cleric) Synaptic Static (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Mental Prison (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Dominate Monster (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Feeblemind (Bard, Druid, Warlock, Wizard) Weird (Warlock, Wizard)

BEST CLASS FOR DARK MAGIC

BARD Necromancy: 1 Necrotic Damage: 1 Shadow Magic: 0 Pestilence: 2 Fiendish Magic: 1 Eldritch Magic: 0 Curses & Evil: 5 Mind Games & Nightmares: 10 Total: 20 + Magical Secrets (4-6)

CLERIC Necromancy: 5, 7 (Death & Grave) Necrotic Damage: 3, 5 (Death & Grave), 4 (Tempest) Shadow Magic: 0 Pestilence: 3, 6 (Death), 4 (Grave) Fiendish Magic: 3 Eldritch Magic: 0 Curses & Evil: 5 Mind Games & Nightmares: 0, 2 (Trickery), 1 (Order) Total: 19 Death: 26 Grave: 24 Trickery: 21

DRUID Necromancy: 1, 2 (Spores) Necrotic Damage: 3 Shadow Magic: 0 Pestilence: 3, 5 (Spores), 5 Land (Swamp), 5 Land (Underdark) Fiendish Magic: 0 Eldritch Magic: 0 Curses & Evil: 1 Mind Games & Nightmares: 1, 2 Land (Grassland) Total: 9 Spores: 12 Land (Swamp): 11 Land (Underdark: 11

SORCERER Necromancy: 3 Necrotic Damage: 9 Shadow Magic: 2 Pestilence: 10 Fiendish Magic: 1 Eldritch Magic: 0 Curses & Evil: 4 Mind Games & Nightmares: 11 Total: 40

DIVINE SOUL SORCERER Necromancy: 8 Necrotic Damage: 12 Shadow Magic: 2 Pestilence: 12 Fiendish Magic: 4 Eldritch Magic: 0 Curses & Evil: 8 Mind Games & Nightmares: 11 Total: 57

WARLOCK Necromancy: 9, 12 (Undead) Necrotic Damage: 9 Shadow Magic: 5/5 Pestilence: 4, 6 (Fiend), 6 (Undead) Fiendish Magic: 6 Eldritch Magic: 3, 4/4 (Great Old One) Curses & Evil: 6, 7 (Fiend), 7 (Great Old One) Mind Games & Nightmares: 12, 14 (Great Old One) Total: 54 Fiend: 57 Great Old One: 58 Undead: 59

WIZARD Necromancy: 11 Necrotic Damage: 12 Shadow Magic: 4 Pestilence: 11 Fiendish Magic: 6 Eldritch Magic: 0 Curses & Evil: 6 Mind Games & Nightmares: 17 Total: 67

Not only does Wizard come out on top with an impressive 67 dark magic spells, it is the only class that can learn all 67 spells. The Warlock learns 15 spells and 4 Mystic Arcanum, plus a few more through Eldritch Invocations, Clerics prepare level + WIS so they'll never prepare more than 25, and we had to cheat to give the Divine Soul Sorcerer 25 spells, or else it only gets a measly 15 spells plus one spell based on the alignment of your divine bloodline. We're also cheating a little with the mind games and nightmares category as while mental manipulation is scary and evil, it isn't necessarily the stereotypical evil one invokes with a dark mage. Although Wizard is the clear winner, it's worth pointing out certain interesting data. The Undead Warlock is the master of Necromancy, with the Wizard close behind at 11, separated only by access to Death Ward. Warlock is also the master of Shadow Magic and Eldritch Magic, but that's kind of the Warlock's whole shtick. The Divine Soul Sorcerer is the master of Pestilence magic, making it a great fit for a Plague Doctor type character, as well as Curses & Evil magic, narrowly beating out the Fiend Warlock. The Wizard is the clear master of Mind Games & Nightmares, and the Wizard and Divine Soul Sorcerer are tied at using Necrotic Damage spells. Wizard and Warlock are evenly matched at wielding Fiendish Magic. While the Bard is pretty much restricted to curses and mind games, it is possible to build a bard that uses exclusively dark magic. They just won't be the greatest dark mage of all time. In terms of who wins the most categories, the Divine Soul Sorcerer wins Pestilence, Curses & Evil, and ties for Necrotic Damage. Without considering subclasses, however, Wizard wins Necromancy, Mind Games & Nightmares, and ties for both Fiendish Magic and Necrotic Damage.

THE BUILD

There are a few good choices for race when building the ultimate dark mage. The Fallen Aasimar's Necrotic Shroud feature adds proficiency bonus Necrotic damage to every attack while the necrotic shroud is active. They also get darkvision and resistance to both necrotic and radiant damage. The Dhampir not only gets dark vision, it lets you stop breathing and make vampiric bite attacks to regain hit points. Reborn are even harder to kill, with advantage against poison, and disease, resistance to poison damage, and advantage on death saves, on top of not needing to eat, drink, sleep, or breathe. But they don't get dark vision. And of course, the Custom Lineage can give your dark mage 60 ft of darkvision, and any feat, letting them take feats like Magic Initiate, Resilient (CON), Shadow-Touched, Eldritch Adept, and more. Ultimately, I feel that the Fallen Aasimar and Reborn are the strongest candidates as they are innately dark and creepy, whereas the Custom Lineage can be made dark and creepy. We'll treat this build as a Fallen Aasimar mostly because Reborns don't get darkvision and that is a pretty huge hindrance. Otherwise, we'd go with Reborn.

Haunted One is the darkest background possible and is also the default background of The Dark Urge in Baldur's Gate 3. We're going to ignore the background's options in order to take Intimidation to bully our way through the campaign and religion to study burials and undead. Since we know we're going Wizard, we'll also pick up arcana to study magic and medicine to study the body, blood, bones, organs, and everything else. However, if you want a sneakier dark mage, you could also go with Deception and Persuasion from our background to maintain a personable façade.

WIZARD SCHOOL OF NECROMANCY

Of course, necromancy is our subclass of choice. The power to raise a stronger horde of undead and it not being tied to specifically Animate Dead does make the Necromancy Wizard pretty useful. And the Command Undead feature really makes the mastery of dark magic vibe feel earned. There is a case to be made for Evocation. The Overchannel feature that sacrifices HP for damage is very dark mage. However, one feature stacked against an entire subclass of dark magic is no real contest. So, we'll go with the School of Necromancy.

The School of Necromancy also has a feature called Grim Harvest, which heals the Necromancer any time they kill an enemy with a spell, and more-so if it was a Necromancy spell. The spells Wither and Bloom, Vampiric Touch, and Enervation each damage the target with Necrotic damage, then heal the caster by half the damage dealt. These two healing factors can stack, making these very useful spells, and Wither and Bloom and Vampiric Touch can be chosen as Signature Spell and Spell Mastery, giving your necromancer an unlimited use of a way to regain hit points, even if it's rather low. It's more effective as a means to patch oneself up between fights, killing a few squirrels or birds to regain hit points for no cost. A 1 level dip into Life Domain can not only give the Wizard Heavy Armor proficiency and access to the Inflict Wounds spell, it can also further boost the self-healing gained from these three vampiric necromancy spells. Although False Life is on the Wizard spell list, the Eldritch Invocation Fiendish Vigor can give your Wizard a way to spam False Life between every encounter, making them just a little less squishy.

SPELL LIST

C Chill Touch, Infestation, Mind Sliver, Poison Spray, Toll the Dead 1 Cause Fear, False Life, Ray of Sickness, Shield, Silvery Barbs, Tasha's Caustic Brew, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, 2 Blindness/Deafness, Crown of Madness, Darkness, Melf's Acid Arrow, Shadow Blade, Tasha's Mind Whip, Web, Wither & Bloom 3 Animate Dead, Antagonize, Bestow Curse, Enemies Abound, Fear, Speak with Dead, Spirit Shroud, Summon Lesser Demons, Summon Shadowspawn, Summon Undead, Summon Warrior Spirit, Vampiric Touch 4 Blight, Edvard's Black Tentacles, Phantasmal Killer, Sickening Radiance, Spirit of Death, Summon Greater Demon, Vitriolic Sphere 5 Cloudkill, Danse Macabre, Dominate Person, Dream, Enervation, Infernal Calling, Modify Memory, Negative Energy Flood, Planar Binding, Synaptic Static 6 Circle of Death, Create Undead, Disintegrate, Eyebite, Flesh to Stone, Mental Prison, Soul Cage, Summon Fiend, Tasha's Otherworldly Guise 7 Finger of Death, Power Word: Pain, Symbol, Tether Essence* 8 Abi-Dalzim's Horrid Wilting, Clone, Dominate Monster, Feeblemind, Maddening Darkness 9 Imprisonment, Power Word: Kill, Weird

INFERNAL SOUL SORCERER

The Divine Soul Sorcerer did pretty well for itself, so I figured I'd give a 25 spell list known for the DSS as a little Halloween Treat.

C Acid Splash, Chill Touch, Infestation, Mind Sliver, Poison Spray, Toll the Dead 1 Bane, Inflict Wounds, False Life 2 Shadow Blade, Tasha's Mind Whip, Wither and Bloom 3 Animate Dead, Antagonize, Bestow Curse, Spirit Guardians, Vampiric Touch 4 Blight, Spirit of Death, Vitriolic Sphere 5 Cloudkill, Contagion, Enervation 6 Circle of Death, Create Undead, Disintegrate, Harm 7 Finger of Death, Symbol 8 Abi-Dalzim's Horrid Wilting 9 Power Word: Kill

#halloween #happy halloween #dnd #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #dark magic #witchcraft #necromancer #necromancy #lich #demon #black magic #all hallows eve #villain #villain pc #villain character #evil campaign

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kipsels · 7 months

Text

Hidden Rule

Wriothesley x Lumine

Lumine’s feet clashed with the metal flooring as she fled down another passageway, her heart thumping out of her chest. Her pursuers were too close, the sound of their own footfalls clanging against steel grating her ears.

“Come on, little lady! We just want to give you a proper welcome!” One jeered, the sound of raucous laughter following behind them.

Lumine’s lungs burned as she forced her legs to move faster, regret filling every fibre of her being. She had played with fire before, had broken every hidden rule with little consequence, but this– she’d never expected this.

Never leave your dorm on the night of the full moon.

That was what they said.

It seemed such a foolish rule for a place at the bottom of the ocean, leagues away from ever seeing the moon’s glow. So she’d taken the bait, hoping for a new clue, a new lead, anything. And now she was running for her life.

“You can’t run forever!”

“Try me!” She hollered back, taking a hard right down another tunnel. Puddles of water splashed up her legs as she raced through them, tracking her wet footprints across the steel floor.

It didn’t make sense! Where were all the guards? Why did no one care that there was a pack of maniacs on the loose?

The pathway forked in front of her, each a sharp turn that hindered her ability to see which way to take. On a gamble, Lumine swerved left.

And immediately regretted it.

The path ended in a wall of steel, with no exits in sight. By the time she had turned around to backtrack, the trio was upon her. Their expressions were wild, more like slavering beasts than humans, and their eyes glowed a terrifying yellow in the darkness.

Stunned by their appearance, Lumine did not have enough time to react before two of them lunged towards her. Their grimy fingers dug into her arms, hauling her back against the wall with such force that stars bloomed in her vision.

“Let go of me,” She snapped, thrashing against the two fiends holding her down.

“Quit struggling,” The third giggled, on the edge of hysteria, “We just want to have a little taste, that’s all.”

“You heard her, let her go.”

Lumine collapsed against the cold steel wall when they dropped their hold on her in an instant, the rabid prisoners visibly trembling under the intensity of Wriothesley’s command.

“But Your Grace, the rule states–”

“Rules change. Now get out,” He growled, the tone of his voice demanding their submission.

And just like a pack of chastised dogs, the prisoners fled with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs. Wriothesley turned to watch them flee, a quiet scoff leaving his lips.

Lumine sagged against the wall in relief, the tension in her muscles starting to relax.

“Your Grace, thank you f–”

“A pretty princess like you should know better than to break the rules.”

Lumine reeled back in shock.

Lumine could not claim to know the Duke of Meropide well. They had only brushed paths on that first day, but he'd been cordial and polite, if a little blunt. She'd done her best to avoid him since, but the harshness of his tone, the belittling moniker... it left her taken aback.

Wriothesley had not yet turned to look at her, the broad expanse of his shoulders blocking out much of the harsh amber lights swamping the passage. He seemed to be breathing heavily, his muscles bunched tight beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“W-what do you mean?”

“The ocean might stave off some of the moon’s more transformative effects, but the wolves of Meropide can still feel its call. But I can’t blame them, the bloodlust is almost impossible to resist.”

His knuckles cracked as his hands wound themselves into tight fists, and Lumine realised that he, too, was quivering where he stood.

“Wolves? What wolves?” Lumine asked, “You’re not making any sense.”

Nothing about tonight was making any sense.

“The Fortress is home to everyone who has found themselves on the wrong side of the law,” He said softly, his shoulders rolling back with tension, “But it is also a safe haven for those who have become creatures of the night.”

Wriothesley ran a hand through his mussed hair, gripping at the strands and tugging. Between the black wrappings around his palms and wrist, it almost looked like dark fur was sprouting from his skin.

Lumine shook her head, certain the adrenaline was making her see things.

“When the moon calls, they have free reign of the Fortress, and those who do not heed the warnings eventually join them.”

Silence fell, only their breaths and the quiet plink of water dripping from the pipes above them filling the space.

By some unknown force, Lumine was frozen to the spot. The heavy weight of dread fell into the pit of her stomach as the clues started to knit together in her mind.

“Mind you, I wasn’t being entirely virtuous just now. Just because I wasn’t going to let them turn you… doesn’t mean you’re safe.”

“Your Gr-...Wriothesley?”

“You see, the alpha of the pack always gets first pick. And princess…”

Wriothesley turned, the light glancing off his bright, glowing, yellow eyes.

A gasp escaped Lumine’s lips, and she scrambled against the wet floors to put distance between them.

“...You smell delicious.”

His handsome face contorted with lupine hunger, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as a feral grin split across his lips.

And all Lumine saw was a set of fangs, glistening in the amber light.

“Run.”

- Fin -

#wriolumi #lumine #wriothesley #drabble fic #genshin impact #cross posted onto twitter #its still spooky season somewhere i'm sure

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northprompt · 2 years

Text

Prompt Rec suggested by halibalism:

Louis was young when the graphic images of unspeakable violence began appearing through his soulmate bond. He did not comprehened what he was seeing at first, he thought it they must be his soulmates nightmares. That had to be it. But when he was eight he learned from Father Matthias that soulmates did not share dreams or nightmares, only intense experiances they were having.

Louis learned French after seeing some people plead for their lives in the language and a cold voice scolded them in the same tongue. Louis woke with the images of blood, murder and death that his soulmate was seeing he was thirteen now, and he had always ignored the bond.

"Are you ok? Is it a war where your from?" Louis sent his soulmate in French.

He could only hope that was the case, and that his soulmate was not a murderous lunatic as the images he saw would suggest.

He got a reply in the same voice that has ridiculed and taunted so many.

"I am fine mon cher, do not fear. Where are you my love? You send me so little through our bond, how am I to find you like this?"

Louis was suddenly terrified that his soulmate would seek him out, he did not want a murderer to know where he was. He ignored the man.

At fifteen Louis and his friend gave each other rough handjobs in the bayou, he gasped at the pleasure. He knew he should be doing this with a girl, but his soulmate was a man, so isn't this how it should be? He was still careful not to tell anyone his soulmate was a man, let alone a murderer.

His friend shouted his name when he climaxed, and as they redressed a voice broke across his mind.

"My you are young, too young for me to find you yet. Louis." The French murderer told him. "But will you tell me where you are? I saw a flicker of a swamp just now."

Louis closed his eyes, as if that would help, he had been so careful and now his soulmate knew his name.

"Never, killer, fiend." Louis shot back, feeling brave knowing the man was in Europe still terrorising people.

The voice simply laughed.

At twenty Louis' younger brother held his head under the river, Paul was bigger than him, stronger and more fanatic. He distantly heard Paul telling him he needed to be purged of demons, Louis inhaled water and thought he would die.

"Kick him Louis! Bite him!" The man's voice broke across his mind.

Louis did as he was told and lay gasping on the river bed long after Paul had run home.

"Thank you murderer," Louis told the man.

"My name is Lestat."

When Louis was nearing thirty Lestat had become frantic, the violence he unleashed upon people had become tenfold.

"Tell me where you are Louis. Now, before it is too late, before you age and die."

Louis thought but you will also age and die, but he ignored the man. He was busy running his family's buisness now, he didn't need a mass murderer hunting him down.

At thirty-two Louis took Paul home from an asylum, and held him as he wept. Louis rubbed his back soothingly, he made the mistake of looking at the entrance sign for the asylum, he should have been more careful, Louis' emotions were just as fraught at Paul's.

"New Orleans." Lestat hummed in his head.

Louis hoped the man would not come here to murder him like he had his victims.

But a year later as Lestat sunk his teeth into Louis' neck, he finally understood, his soulmate was not just a murderer, he was a vampire.

#amc interview with the vampire #loustat

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unreadpoppy · 3 months

Text

Swan Song

Read on AO3

a Raphael Swan Lake rewrite AU I guess?

Summary: Odille has always lived in her sister's Odette shadow. When both of them are turned into swans by the devil Raphael, she couldn't be more livid, especially as her sister falls in love with the handsome Wyll Ravengard. When Raphael makes the proposition of a lifetime, Odille's wicked nature will come to the surface.

A/N: This is an wild ass AU that has been living in my head rent free for some time. No canon is followed here, this is way more of a Swan Lake rewrite, but there's still some Raphael stuff (it's not necessarily romantic but honestly, take it as you want it). Also, tw for murder.

This is a tale of two sisters.

Odette, the oldest, was the pride and joy of the family. With bright, blond hair, eyes as blue as sapphire and white skin, to her father, she was beauty incarnate. She was a kind hearted girl, as graceful as a swan when she danced around in the living room, and with a charming smile that could melt even the hardest of hearts.

All in all, Odette was perfect. As her father would often say, it was as if she had been blessed by the gods themselves upon her birth.

Her sister, Odille, however, was not as fortunate.

Being the daughter of a second wife, Odille looked nothing like her sister. Her hair was pitch black, her eyes were of a swamp green color and her skin was pale from the lack of sunlight.

Odille didn’t sing or dance, her smile didn’t shine as bright as the sun, and people didn’t pay attention to her. In fact, even her father often forgot about her.

While Odette was free to do as she pleased, Odille had to keep the house clean and take care of their parents - that being the reason she rarely left the house.

Their parents had died a few years earlier, due to a terrible sickness, leaving the two girls on their own. Odille thought she would finally be free, but her dying mother’s last words had doomed her.

‘Promise me you’ll take care of Odette. Promise me.’ And so she did, finding work to sustain the both of them, while Odette remained the carefree girl she had always been.

Odille lived in her sister's shadow, and for that, she hated Odette. She hated how all the men in the village showered her with gifts and pretty words, how their father, when still alive, would embrace her and kiss her forehead; She hated how beautiful her sister was, how perfect at anything she was, how she had a heart of gold. Odille believed her heart to be a black mass of hatred, a twisted shape of vines and thorns, grown with years of resentment.

So when the news that poor, beautiful Odette had been transformed into a swan, Odille cried tears of joy.

With her sister gone, everyone would pay attention to her. No longer would she be the invisible little girl, always inside her home but the one all eyes were turned to. She would find a handsome man to marry and all would be well.

That’s what she believed at first, but the reality had been completely different.

Once the news spread of Odette’s misfortune, all the men in the village ran to the forest, crying at the loss of such beauty. When night fell, the swan turned back into the girl and she was able to explain her situation.

“I had come to the forest to pick flowers, when a handsome man came up to me.” She began her tale. “He said he had never seen someone as fair as me, and asked for my hand. I refused him, and then he offered riches. When I refused him again, he offered land. And when I refused him for the third time, he revealed himself to be a terrible fiend by the name of Raphael. He put a curse on me - by day, a swan and by night, a woman again.”

The crowd cried, feeling for poor Odette. Her sister had stood aside, far away from most people, the blood in her veins beginning to boil. Even in this situation, her sister still attracted the attention of everyone.

“But do not weep for me, as I can still be saved. I have been told by one of the druid’s who guards these woods that there is a way to break the curse. If a man, who has never loved before, proclaims his love for me before the season’s change, I shall return to my true form.”

“And what happens if that doesn’t happen?” A young man asked.

“Then Odette will stay a swan, forever more.” A grave voice had answered, seemingly coming from the wind itself. Then, near where the girl stood, a great fire rose and from it, a devil appeared.

Gasps and protests were heard all around as Odette pointed at him. “It was him - he is Raphael, the one who cursed me!” She shouted.

Red skin, head crowned with horns, a long tail and wings, the fiend wore long, black garments. People began to shout and curse at him, one person in particular throwing a rock at him. With a snap of his fingers, the boy turned to ash.

“Enough of this noise, all of you.” His voice boomed. “Odette’s fate is sealed, and I fear there is nothing to be done. Try to oppose me and you will live very short lives.” The crowd went silent at the threat. “Now, all of you, leave right this instant, lest you share in his fate.”

At the command, all but Odille left. She decided to stay hidden behind a tree, listening as Raphael turned his attention to her sister.

“How could you be so cruel?” The girl cried.

“Ah, my dear swan, there are men much crueler than me in the world.” He said, his fingers caressing her face, and she quickly turned from him in disgust. Deep down, Odille felt envious, wishing her to be the one receiving that touch. “Now, I can end your torment right this instant. Accept me, and be human again.”

“No.”

From where she stood, Odille could see Raphael’s face turn into a scowl. “Very well. It seems I’ll have to punish you.”

“There is nothing you can do to hurt me anymore.” Odette defied him.

“Isn’t there?” He asked in a mocking tone. He looked around, humming in thought. “You know, these woods can get quite lonely. What if I give you a friend?”

“What-what do you mean?”

“Well, it seems your dear sister didn’t listen when I told all to leave.” Raphael spoke and with a snap of his fingers, Odille was in front of them, wide eyed.

“Do not hurt her!” Odette cried, but he raised a hand, stopping her from walking closer.

“You think too lowly of me. I would never hurt you or your sister.” He smirked. “No, as I said, I shall give you something to keep you company.”

He waved his hand and Odille was engulfed by flames.

She was overwhelmed by the heat and the sound of her sister’s scream, and when the world came back to normal, everything seemed much bigger - or maybe she was smaller.

“NO!” Odette screamed horrified.

Odille tumbled near the pond, catching her reflection in the water. Instead of a woman, she saw a black swan staring back at her.

“Do not worry. When morning comes, she will turn back into a human.” He told Odette.

“But-but, when the sun rises, I’ll be a swan.”

“Yes. If I were you, I’d cherish these few more precious hours until dawn arrives.” Raphael made a motion to leave. ‘Now, if I were you, I’d hush about the solution to your little curse, lest you want a true taste of my ire.” And with the sound of a snap, he was gone.

…

Even as a swan, Odille lived in her sister’s shadow.

At day, she was forced to watch as various men from the village proclaimed their love to Odette, only for nothing to happen. At night, she saw her sister dancing sadly along the pond, the other forest animals joining her.

No men came to profess their love for Odille. No one had even seemed to notice she had shared in her sister’s fate. Her hatred for Odette only grew more and more. If it wasn’t for her, Odille could have been far away now, free from her, but no, Odette had to reject the devil, she had to defy him, and now Odille was still trapped with her.

A month had passed in this predicament, when something changed. One day, a few hours before sundown, an arrow flew across the pond, almost hitting Odette.

Odille, who was sat upon a large tree, watched as a young, handsome man ran towards the swan, raising his arrow, ready to strike. She saw the swan flying away, narrowly missing the arrows again and again, and Odille silently wished that one arrow would pierce her sister’s chest.

But, to her dismay, night arrived, and the sisters positions were changed, the man watching in awe as the swan became a beautiful woman. Odille was quick to fly down from the tree and into the pond, listening to their conversation.

“I apologize, my lady.” He bowed his head. “I am Wyll Ravengard.I was out hunting when I saw the most beautiful of swans. Had I known of your true self, I would have stopped sooner.”

“You had no way of knowing.” Odette smiled at him.

“But tell me, how could this be? Are you some sort of druid?”

She shook her head. “No, I am not. I was cursed by a terrible devil to turn into a swan during the day. My sister-” She pointed at the black swan “was cursed as well.”

Wyll scowled. “These devils…they fool around with the lives of innocent people.” His gaze softened. “I am sorry that this has happened to you. The both of you.”

“Thank you.” She took a step closer to him. “Please, keep me company before I turn back to that form.”

He nodded and Odille watched in contempt as they spent the night talking and dancing. The little relief she got was that, whenever the two would get too close, she’d begin singing that terrible swan song, distracting the two.

But for one month, that was how her night’s would play out. Odille would swim around while her sister smiled and blushed at Wyll. During the day, Odille would think about all the ways she could wrap her hands around Odette’s neck and snap it.

How, if it wasn’t for the fear that the curse would persist, she would have ended Odette long ago.

But Odille would not have to wait long until an opportunity arrived.

…

The night before, Wyll had told Odette how he had captured her heart. He told her that he was the son of a duke, and that his father commanded a ball to be held in his name, where Wyll should find one woman to claim as his wife.

He wanted Odette to attend and to declare in front of all his love for her. She blushed at the thought and kissed him, telling Wyll that she would go. Then, she proceeded to spend the rest of her time telling Odille how excited she was at the prospect of being free.

If her swan face allowed it, Odille would have scowled.

When morning came, the dark haired girl walked to the edge of the forest, as far away from the pond as she could. During her walk, she couldn’t help but murmur.

“Perfect Odette, who gets a handsome son of a duke to fall for her. Odette, who’s so kind, sweet and who everyone loves. Perfect, perfect, perfect.” Odille walked in circles as she spoke to herself. “‘Oh, look at me, I’m Odette, I can do no wrong.’ Ugh, how I wish I could make her stop talking.”

“If I had known you held this much hatred for your sister, I would have approached you much sooner.” Raphael’s voice snapped her back into reality.

He appeared to her just as he had that first day. Odille huffed and walked past him, but he held onto her arm. “Ah, ah, ah, not so fast, little swan.”

“Let me go.” She said, twisting her arm to try and get out of this grip, but he was stronger than her.

“And why would I do that, when you have just become essential to my plans?” At that, she stopped struggling and looked at him suspiciously.

“I don’t want anything to do with you, devil.” She spat.

“Oh but you will.” His eyes darkened as he smirked. “What if I could give you the means to be free, for once and all? To end the curse.”

Odille's eyes widened. Could he truly be offering such a thing?

“What are you trying to get at?”

At this point, Raphael had let go of her arm, and she stood there, listening intently to every word he had to say.

“Let me tell you a story.” He began. “Long ago, all of this land belonged to me, given to me by my father, Mephistopheles. I ruled with a strict but fair hand, this forest being a haven for those in need.” Raphael walked around, moving his arms as he told his tale, almost as if he was an actor in a play.

“That was until I was struck down by the forces of the Blade of Frontiers, Wyll Ravengard. He sought to rid the realm of any devilish influence and so, my reign was over. For years, I have been harnessing my power back and finally, a good opportunity to take the boy down has arrived.”

“And how do I fit in all of this?”

“Patience, dear.” He raised a hand to calm her. “Ravengard has fallen madly in love with your sister, and if he proclaims his love for her, her curse will end, but with your help, I can take down two birds with one stone.”

She raised a brow, urging him to continue.

“Tonight, instead of your sister, it will be you who will go to the ball. With a simple charm, you will look like her. Stay there long enough for the boy to choose you as wife and then strike him down with this.”

Raphael reached a hand forwards and a dark blade appeared in his hands.

Odille gulped. “Why do you need my help for this? Can’t you do it yourself?”

“Ravengard, foolish as he is, is not dumb. He has put a spell on his home, which prevents my entrance. Once he is gone, however, I’ll be able to take over.”

She took a step closer to him, her hand hovering above the weapon. “And what of my sister?”

“The heartbreak of Wyll’s betrayal will be too grand for her to take. I have no doubt she would not be long for this world after his demise.” With the dagger in his hand, Raphael walked behind Odille, his larger body looming over hers as he whispered in her ear. “I’ve been watching you, Odille. I know how you feel, the anger, the hurt, the envy. I could fix it all like that.” He snapped his fingers, a small flame appearing. “No more sister to bother you, no more living in the shadows. You would be the center of attention and all would talk about you for years to come. Do we have a deal?”

Odille thought for a moment. She had fantasized about this situation for so long, it didn’t seem possible but here it was. A quite literal devil on her shoulder, whispering to her all the things she had longed to hear.

She always knew it was wrong to think of killing her sister, but this way, she wouldn’t have to get her hands dirty with Odette’s blood. This way, she would get what she always wanted.

Without a word, Odille grabbed the blade.

…

Wyll had been none the wiser. When he saw Odille - disguised as her sister - he walked towards her, pulling the girl into a dance.

Odille noticed the way he looked at her, eyes full of love and a kind smile. She almost felt bad for what she was to do.

Almost. When she remembered all she had seen and endured because of her sister, the weight of the blade felt lighter.

As the night reached its end, Wyll finished the dance, holding her hand and telling everyone in the room.

“Ladies, gentlemen, friends, hear! I have found the one I shall wed. The one who has captured my heart, the one whom I shall share the rest of my life with!” He got down on one knee, holding her hands. “I love you, like I have loved no other. You, and only you, shall be the one I love.”

Odille smiled, placing a hand on his face. But soon, her smile turned more wicked and vile.

“Oh, Wyll. Love truly makes us fools, doesn’t it?” She said. Wyll frowned in confusion, looking around when a loud noise hit one of the windows.

He turned his head, just in time to see the swan he had grown to love flying near the glass and then falling, having just heard his confession. He turned back to Odille, his face falling.

“No…” Wyll got up and ran towards the window, looking down the balcony to see the swan, now turned back to Odette’s body, laying bloody on the ground. “ODETTE! NO!”

In his confusion and despair, he didn’t notice how Odille had silently approached him. It was only when the dagger pierced his back that he understood what happened.

…

People screamed, running around in a panic. Odille stood there, looking at the body of her sister, dead on the floor.

She should feel sad, but instead, Odille felt happy.

Wyll was laying next to her feet, his blood dirtying the balcony. The smell of sulfur filled the air, and from a circle of fire on the ground, Raphael appeared in all his glory.

Clapping his hands, he walked to where Odille was. “My, my, what a beautiful display that was.” He crouched down, removing the blade from Wyll’s body, wiping it with a handkerchief. “You were marvelous, my dear. Are you satisfied?”

“Quite so.” She sneaked one last glance to her sister, before turning her full attention to the devil. “Now, for your part of the deal.”

“Of course.” Raphael waved a hand and Odille was once again engulfed by flames, feeling her body change. Black feathers grew from various parts of her body, covering her arms, legs, torso and neck. Her feet elongated, becoming talons and from her back, a pair of giant wings appeared.

Odille was confused. She was supposed to become human again and not…this.

“What have you done to me?”

“I have changed you, of course! I never said you’d go back to what you were, dear.” He could see the panic begin rising in her and he smirked, stepping forwards, and giving her back the dagger. “You look marvelous, my black swan.”

Taking it, Odille saw her reflection, how her body had changed and for some reason, she liked what she saw. In this form, she would be free to fly wherever she wanted, and all head would turn when she walked. She was no longer bound by familial bonds, free to do as she wished.

“Now come, there is much work to be done, and I believe you and I will be grand partners.” Raphael offered her a hand, and with a wicked grin, Odille took it.

The end.

#raphael bg3 #wyll bg3 #althought i do deeply apologize to wyll stans #swan lake au #raphael x oc #i guess?#again not very romantic but it can almost be reas as such #raphael baldur's gate 3 #swan lake #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #i have my doubts anyone is reading this but here it is anyways

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extra-v1rgin · 1 year

Text

‘cause it’s the prettiest night

Aki x reader • Sfw • 5.1k

Aki gets drunk, you take him home

Cw/Tw • Consumption of Alcohol, Himeno being Himeno

Through the grapevine you hear about the shit show that was division 4’s encounter with the eternity devil. The rumors of the event encourage you to be happy that you got stuck doing busywork and filling out all kinds of forms. It means that the paperwork filled out that will tell you the full story will find itself in your office, even if it won’t make it’s way to your desk for another few weeks. For now you settle for listening to the jokes cracked in the break room about the new recruits flowing in and the never-ending hotel floor.

Its the time of year where more workers flow in, high-school graduates looking for a paycheck or committed workers finally done with training. The dark truth is that most won’t last a month, either quitting or dying.

Until then the suggestion of a proper, cheesy get-to-know-you, meeting floats in. You don’t know if upper management is behind it, but these sorts of events tend to be ushered in yearly. A few times in between you might venture out with one or two of the others you like enough to bother getting to know.

A date is picked, just another week out. You skipped the one a few months back (because Aki wasn’t going either) because you were swamped with paperwork. You’re busy enough even now, that you don’t quite manage to figure out if Aki is going this time either. Drinks alone aren’t alluring enough to coax you to the restaurant, but you are intrigued to find out if any other fiends show up.

There’s talk of a hybrid too, a devilman. Something not entirely anything at once. It sounds more interesting than the normal rumors that float through the cubicles.

When the official invite is whispered through the walls you offer a hesitant acceptance.

—-

The first few minutes are always the worst. You don’t know why you don’t just start showing up late, but the impact of being one of the first there is too enticing. So you show up, hide in your car until someone recognizable enters, then claim whichever seat you find most appealing that night. Inevitably reoccurring coworkers file into the same kind of position around you, no matter which seat you choose.

It’s followed by awkward and stilted conversations with whoever else is present at first (usually Madoka, who is stiff and unwelcoming). The atmosphere never quite grows thick enough to deter you from your timely habits. It dissipates soon enough once a few others make it through the door. A few minutes of chewing your tongue is worth it.

The chatter gets gradually louder while you fight over the food and pay. Whichever poor waiter has come to serve you listens to the long list of platters everyone calls for depending on whatever their personal taste is.

Aki shows up right on time. He always is there promptly at 7, only late once. You made sure to tease him for weeks after.

Others stare at the fiend and hybrid that stroll in behind, you’re attention is solely on Hayakawa.

He looks the same he as he always does. You’re wearing more lax clothes, black tie swapped out for something colorful, suit jacket left behind. Aki is still, completely dressed up in his work uniform.

When he tries to walk past you drag him down to sit down beside you. “Where else were you gonna sit? Nobody else is gonna tolerate your presence.”

The man scoffs, even as he settles down. “I think you have it the wrong way around.” He surveys the food spread across the table, piling his plate with whatever he finds savory enough. Aki looks over to your tray, stealing the beer in front of you.

You don’t often drink, especially not beer. As much as you try, the sour taste never gets any easier on you. On occasions like this you might manage a drink or two just for the social environment. Mostly you’ll hide your distaste behind polite smiles.

“You should ask before taking others’ things.” Your complaint is flimsy, he knows well enough about your distaste.

He frowns and takes a sip of your drink. While you watch the amber flow down his throat you turn your attention to his charges for a brief moment.

It’s clear why Aki needs a drink. Power, the fiend you’ve vaguely heard about, has claimed several trays of karrage for herself. She eats the chicken nearly whole, gnawing at the bones. Someone tries to steal a drumstick for themselves and nearly gets a few fingers bit off.

Denji seems calmer only by the smallest amount. He has gathered up just as much food for himself, but isn’t as aggressive at protecting it. You’re still careful to nab stuff when he isn’t looking, but not scared enough to stop stealing it.

When you glance back over at him the glass mug is already empty. You’re already in the process of waiving a waiter down and ordering a few drinks when Himeno walks in.

Even though you’ve filled your stomach with warm food and drink a sour taste creeps up the back of your throat. Himeno always shows up to these things. Any excuse to drink you suppose. The thought brings a sly smile to your face, as rude as it is.

She sits right across from Aki, leans over to grab a drink and down it. He gives a soft grin in return, and you try not to outwardly grimace.

Your distaste for the woman is not the biggest secret out there, but you’re mature enough not to start a war with her. It’s tempting to scoff at her borderline alcoholic tendencies and crass mouth. Once she’s had a few drinks it only gets worse, more extreme.

For the second act of the night you’re stuck watching Himeno down glass after glass while she holds Aki’s attention. Even after years of knowing the man you still can’t figure out what he wants from her. The woman isn’t shy, he would have to be blind to miss her interest. There has to be a reason that he hasn’t acted on any feelings, feelings that he hopefully doesn’t have in the first place.

While Himeno tells vulgar stories, you turn your attention elsewhere. It’s easy to listen to what others say as you pick at your food. Conversation flows easily when there’s a few different topics bouncing around the table. The only taboo subject is work, after Fushi lamented the loss of his new buddy. Being paired up with a devil is annoying, but they’re much less susceptible to death.

When Makima enters things quiet down for a moment. She looks formidable. There’s a regal elegance that draws your eyes across her figure and towards her face. The red and orange eye that survey the restaurant are hypnotizing.

She sits at the head of the table. Aki and Himeno break away from whatever world they were trapped in to stare at her, as does everyone else. Even once the chatter begins again it’s slow and hushed. Every time Makima adds something to the conversation it grows still again.

When they begin to drink you give up focusing on whatever the rest are talking about. Piles of glasses begin to take over the table.

Aki is beautiful beside you. There’s always beauty in being able to see the small new pieces of him. As each round of beer is served to the trio he cheeks grow redder. When he downs the glasses foam builds up around his lips, a few stray drops of alcohol crawling down his neck. It inches down before soaking into his collar, still done up stiffly.

Makima drinks in slow but large gulps. Nothing escapes past her mouth. She leaves no lipstick marks against the glass, though her lips are an unnatural ruby red. There’s a vague pinkness on her cheeks. It’s hard to tell if it was there before.

Himeno is clearly the looser so far. Her tie sits in her lap, collar undone a few buttons down. It’s a pretty typical sight, the only surprise comes from the fact that she still hasn’t built up more tolerance.

All the glasses begin to spread over more and more of the table. Nobody is watching the trio quite as closely as you are, though it’s the most interesting thing happening. Even Denji seems vaguely intrigued even when his chin is still sticky with vomit. You catch him trying a few drops lingering to the sides of the mugs. His sour face is reminiscent of you own whenever you drink.

Aki and Himeno keep downing drinks. They both have some hidden determination, clear in Aki’s focused eyes. Overtime they grow hazy until he’s completely out of it, drooling on the table. The uniform suit jacket is finally shrugged off, as he folds it up to rest his head on.

Himeno hasn’t given up just yet. She probably won’t stop until she vomits in another person’s mouth, if anyone will get that close to her. Your focus has remained on Aki, and now that he’s retired your interest in their drinking game has dissipated.

Only one blue eye stares up in your direction. His other is shut tight, cheek pressing against the smooth table. The pupil is so dilated that the crystal circle of color around it is barely visible. You blow stray hairs out from his face, forcing his bangs apart.

Leaning down you murmur against his ear, “Aki-kun, how drunk are you? Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” You wave three fingers right in front of his eye.

He peels his hand out from where it’s pinned underneath your shoulder, to bat yours away. “Fuckin’ annoying.” The man speaks around his slow tongue in a clumsy way. It pries a quick laugh from your mouth.

The corners of his lips twitch in a way that suggests a smile. It’s not quite committed to the action, but with how much Aki’s face is set a perfect grimace his smile muscles might have atrophied. Either way you’re glad to see him have just a glimpse of joy.

Fushi leans over your way, an offer of shirtama on a plate extended over to you. “Are you gonna take Hayakawa-san home?”

His friendly grin doesn’t look sly, or suggest any amount of knowing.

“Oh! I didn’t plan on it, but I guess he’ll need one now.” The half-truth slips from your teeth easily. The restaurant, the same one you always meet at for company gatherings, is only a block or two from the nearest train stop. It’s warm enough that you could’ve taken the train and walked here comfortably. Regardless you drive your car, an old piece of shit, every single time.

Mostly it ends with you dragging whichever one of your coworkers has gotten drunk enough to need the help. Usually it’s Himeno, much to your chagrin, though occasionally she’s sober enough to make the short walk home. You’ve also shuffled a good amount of senior hunters into your car, which occasionally means you get an extra bonus if anyone is sober enough to remember. It’s never Aki. He typically drinks only two or three beers throughout the entire night. Other than a slight drag at the end of his words, he always seems sober.

You’ve been waiting for this day for a long long time.

It sounds creepy when you say it like that. There’s no better way to put it. You drag out your shitty car, pay for too expensive gas, and take home coworkers you barely know, for the hope that instead Aki will be curled up in your passenger seat. It’s begging for a scrap of his attention that you’re so rarely rewarded with.

One in a million chance, and you’ve won the lottery.

Fushi leans a little closer. Your eyes focus again. “You’re always the designated driver.” There’s maybe a little bit of a tease in his voice, a little bit of a question.

“Sorry, but I haven’t been able to convince myself that beer tastes good yet.” That part is the full truth. Getting drunk off vodka or tequila is a few quick shots, beer is slow and leaves shit on your tongue.

He laughs and pulls away again, turning to chat with the other’s.

Your gaze turns back to Aki. His eyes are barely open, thick downward swooping lashes hiding the slivers of his pupils that are visible. “Do you want to go home yet?” Your voice is gentle against his ear. You murmur right up to it, needing to be heard over the chatter.

“Yer fine to go whenev’r.” A slight country boy accent flows in. You know he used to live in a secluded area out west before the gun devil attacked. The tone has crept in before, usually when he’s tired or looses his temper enough to let his poise slip.

“Well ‘yer’ joinin’ me, so don’t fall asleep before then.” Moisture from his breath lingers on your throat. It’s not close enough to brush up against his nose, but you can feel the distance.

He grins sharply. “Don’t make fun.” The man could tear out your jugular.

You jerk back a little. “Alright cowboy.” A small bubble of laughter pops in the back of your throat. Aki rolls his eyes and shoves his face back in between his arms.

You let him have peace for a few more minutes. People are still eager to chatter. Makima has long since stopped drinking, but Himeno is gulping down another still. Power has devoured an entire chicken farm with how much karaage she’s eaten. The fiend has finally settled down, curled up and clutching her bloated stomach. It’s rare to see her face repercussions for the gluttony she so often displays.

Denji is curled up in the corner still. Drunk Himeno is often a menace to anyone nearby, but even a vomit filled kiss is a little much for her. You remember how she had looked when the boy introduced himself, announced how young he was. It’s another item on a long list of reasons why you hate her. Even without the beer there’s a bitter taste on your tongue.

You approach him in the corner like a wounded animal. He looks up with hazy eyes and heavy weight on his shoulders. “Do you want me to take you guys back now Denji-kun?” You’re surprised by how pudgy his face is. It’s your first good look. The tips of your toes rise up to nudge his knee.

“How come you’re drivin’?” When he looks up you can see sticky remains of sick on his chin.

You try not to let your tone grow too tender. It’s easy to remember how queasy adults made you when they fixed you with that sad smile and sweet sayings. “Your buddy can barely walk right now, so I’m taking over. Unless you want to drag him and Power-chan back.”

Denji’s wide eyes make him look younger as he shakes his head. “We can go now. These guys are lame anyways.” A hint of a grin pulls at the edge of his lips. It’s reassuring that he isn’t completely down.

“Do you know how to unlock a car?” You dangle your keys in front of his face. “It’s not fancy like Aki-kun’s, you’ll have to do it manually.”

He jumps up like an eager dog to grab the metal ring you keep everything on. “Don’t try anything,” you warn. It’d be impressive if Denji got the thing to start in the first place, he might earn a joyride if he succeeds and any attempts. “It’s way in the back. Whichever car looks the worst is probably mine.”

The boy snatches your keys, and saunters out the door. You’re surprised nobody pays much attention to his exit.

Coercing Power out the door is much more difficult. Though she complains of stomach pains and clutches her middle, the fiend is still licking chicken bones, gnawing off a few pieces of a meat still stuck to them.

“We’re leaving.” You nudge her horns with your feet.

She blinks hazily and pulls herself upwards. “Says who? I haven’t commanded it yet!” Power waves a wet bone in your direction.

“Don’t you want to go home?”

The fiend gasps. “How dare you assume that! Tis my own mind that I know best.” You don’t know if fiends can get drunk, but there’s a wildness in her eye.

Madoka pushes his glasses up and gives you a serious look. “You gotta use reverse psychology. It’s like talking to a toddler.” He speaks like Power isn’t there, though she does ignore is words. “Watch this.”

He turns to the fiend. “Power-san, I’m surprised you’re still here. Usually the superior is the one who goes home first.”

She picks her head up. “Huh?! Why didn’t the other human say that? I shall not let you trick me!” The girl stands up and is out the door before you can point her in the right direction.

Madoka, as stiff as ever, leans back and lifts his drink back up.

Your smile breaks out slightly wider on your face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You stumble backwards and fall into your seat again besides Aki. His face is plunged into his arms again. When you scratch the back of his head he doesn’t stir at all.

“Aki-kun,” you singsong in his ear. “Get up.” You poke into his skin harder.

The face that greets you is still as cute as ever. There’s a streak of drool across his cheek. Aki’s bangs are more uneven than usual, sticking up and out in odd places.

“We’re leaving,” you inform him. It looks like he hasn’t absorbed the information quite yet, but you’re already folding his jacket over your shoulder and tugging him up by his sleeves. Slowly the man stands up, knees shaking. He puts most of his weight on you, but you still manage to make a quick exit. You stop for only a brief moment to thank Makima, who offered to cover the cost for tonights meal as well as the drinks. Most devil hunters are compensated well for their work, but the amount of beers Aki downed would’ve burned a hole in his pocket. She waves off the appreciation and says, “Goodnight.”

When you’re no longer protected by the warmth of close company and insulated walls Aki shivers. You sling his jacket back around his arms, careful to make sure it doesn’t slip down. If you’re lucky the car will be a few degrees warmer than the outside air. It’s likely the damn thing won’t warm up fully until you’ve arrived back at Aki’s place.

Denji is curled up in the back, car already started and huffing out carbon monoxide. Power is sitting next to him, feet kicking the passenger’s seat. You dump Aki into the front, rubbing your shoulders. Later you’ll fax him the receipt for your chiropractor appointment.

Even drunk and mostly asleep he tugs the seatbelt on.

You run around to the drivers seat. As you pull open the door you can spot a few new scratches along the keyhole. When you slide into your seat you do your best to glare at Denji through the rearview mirror. He doesn’t catch the feeling of your eyes burning holes into his head.

Shifting your gaze to what’s actually behind you, you pull out slowly. Despite the fact that you’re used to dragging coworkers home, you don’t have the best track record when it comes to driving. Your car insurance rates are through the roof, only affordable because you don’t have to pay for any other kind of coverage.

You drive home painfully slow. Normally you’re a bit reckless, even when you’re sober as a stone. The fast nature of Tokyo’s roads encourages you to push through yellow lights and drift around the corners. The first time Aki sat in your passenger seat he looked like he was going to throw up.

Though you still break too roughly and completely miss a stop sign he doesn’t stir. The entire car is strangely quiet other than the squeaking of Power kicking the back of Aki’s seat. Some older song crawls out of your stereo, full of static. The words are unfamiliar, but you can follow the tune.

Aki’s apartment doesn’t have assigned parking, something you’re thankful for. There’s a small gap right near the front that you can squeeze into. You’ll probably scrape against one of the cars on the way out, but you can’t drag the trio all the way across the concrete.

Power springs out easily, racing through the doors and all the way upwards. Denji and Aki both take a bit of prompting, but you manage to coax them out of the car. The boy is stable enough despite his clear exhaustion. Aki sways on his feet. It’s been nowhere near long enough for him to have sobered up, but you wish he had. When the man leans over your head his hands trace your waist.

The night air tickles your nose and fingers. Beside his body there’s pockets of heat that you hide within. Both the teens have charged forward, leaving you with silence. Aki occasionally murmurs something aloud, always too slurred and quiet to understand.

“Thank ya, for takin’ us back,” he finally gets the words out. As he says them his cheek nudges against yours, mouth right against your ear. Your stomach flips several times over, you feel drunk yourself.

Aki’s house is dark. You can hear water running in the bathroom, and see light peeking through another one of the doors. You don’t know who is where, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. Aki’s room is the 2nd door on the left.

It’s neat inside. The bed is made. Pajamas sit folded at the edge. You’re glad you won’t have to ruffle through his drawers, a bit disappointed too. The man pulls away from your side to curl up in bed.

“Don’t sleep yet, I haven’t even taken your shoes off.” You haven’t taken your own either. He’d yell at you if he was sober. If he finds your footprints in the carpet tomorrow you’ll get a late scolding.

Aki mumbles something unintelligible. His loafers are stubborn. The man double knots the laces and no matter how much you tug they don’t come loose. The strings are pulled tight enough that you can’t slip the shoes off without undoing them.

Suddenly he leans forward until his head hangs over your own. “Ya gotta pull here.” Aki tugs at a small little loop at the side and the whole thing unravels.

He grabs your hand in both of his and guides you to the other shoe. “Should’ve taken ‘em off before.” You tug both loafers off and set them underneath the bed.

Taking a brief moment you slip your own off too. You might be able to avoid a scolding still.

“If you wanted them off at the door you could’ve done it yourself.” You fold his suit jacket and place it off to the side. He fumbles with the buttons on his shirt. Sliding upwards you help with the movement. “What would you do without me?”

His head drops down to sit on your shoulder. A calm quiet envelopes the room. His warm cheeks rub against your skin. Aki’s arms hang limp at his sides, letting you do all the work. Once the fabric is undone he stretches his arms out. You can’t tell is he’s trying to be playful or just moving on autopilot. Either way you choose to indulge him.

Tugging the shirt off his body you toss it in the corner. Scooting even closer you pull on the sleep shirt. It’s baggy and old, covered with a fades logo from an unfamiliar band. Your hands brush against the sides of his stomach.

Your thighs brush against his. Letting your fingers wait along his waist it’s hard to pull back. With a brief shift you could topple into his lap. His bed is soft, you could sink into the mattress and fall closer.

Instead you dip off the edge of the mattress. Tossing the pants at him you tell him to change all the way. Seeing him nude, as appealing as the idea is, is something you’ve seen before. Whether it is helping him with wounds or just stuck in uncomfortable situations his naked body isn’t unfamiliar. Still, none of those situations had been anything other than forced circumstance. This isn’t.

“Can you do this part yourself?” Aki’s eyes are closed as his head bobs gently. It seems like he’s not absorbing your instructions at all, but there’s not much more you can do. Taking the bottoms you press them into his hands. His grasp of then is weak, a gentle reflex.

You stand up and stumble out the door. You’ll give him peace for a moment. In the end you suspect he’ll end up sleeping in his boxers or work pants anyways.

It’s quiet outside, pitch black. You weren’t paying attention, but whoever was in the bathroom is gone now. Tracing a finger against the wall you feel the wood until it breaks and you step into the kitchen.

There’s more dishes in the sink than you’ve seen before. Aki’s home often looks spotless, nearly uncomfortably so. Around the table leftovers from breakfast sit. You can imagine the spectacle that the trio make in the mornings.

You don’t love anyone enough to fully clean for them, but you find a place in your heart for Aki as you put away cans of jam and spices. He has a proper breadbox, instead of just jamming the loaf back into the bag, so you use that. The table (and floor) is still coated with all kinds of spreads, accompanied with breadcrumbs, but you leave it for now.

As you set the water to fill up the sink and soak the dishes you finally head towards your original goal.

There’s a low hum the fridge sings. It’s fuller than you’ve found it in the past. Your kitchen back home has mostly leftovers and tv dinners shoved inside of it, nothing like the fresh produce Aki uses. You’ll sort through his cabinets properly and steal whatever’s appetizing later.

Reaching into the back you grab a can of sparkling water. It’s the shitty kind that claims it tastes like fruit, when it’s a pale attempt at flavor. Aki has strange taste, strange to you at least.

You grab a box of crackers from the pantry, alongside a large bowl. It’ll be a miracle if he makes it to the bathroom before his hangover kicks in fully. Himeno couldn’t even make it away from Denji’s mouth.

You’re not an expert in having to deal with hangovers, not when you hardly deal with them yourself. The amenities you’ve grabbed are simple tips shared in magazines to fill space. Hopefully at least some of it will do him good.

When you peek into Aki’s room again he’s tucked into the bed. His pants are shoved into a pile on the floor. He’s curled up still clutching the pair of sweats you offered, meaning he probably couldn’t find the energy to do more than remove his pants.

You peel the bottoms free from his grasp and deposit them back on the floor with the rest of his clothes. Sitting on the bed you’re careful to not disrupt him. Taking out the small trove of items you spread them over the nightstand. The water chills your hand now, but it’ll be warm by morning. Aki will probably be too sick to notice.

Avoiding turning around and admiring the sleeping man you push yourself into his bathroom. It’s hard to read the medication labels in the dim light, but you sort through everything until you find simple painkillers. They find a place beside the rest of the items you brought.

There’s not much you can do to extend your stay.

Kneeling beside him you whisper a quick, “goodbye.” You brush your fingers through his hair and finally take out the ridiculous topknot he insists on wearing all the time. His hair spreads over the pillow, stuck up in a stiff and awkward way. Ruffling the dark locks you watch them settle into a more natural position.

His cheeks look a little more like their natural color, red fading back to a subtle pink. The slumber he’s fallen into seems like a result of the late hour rather than the alcohol consumption. Pausing for a moment you take in the sight of him. Cool shadows mold his skin, his hair looking more blue. If his eyes were open they’d reflect the moonlight, even if it doesn’t permeate the room.

You wish you could stay. It’s tempting to curl up beside him and soak in his presence. Your fingers skim over his cheek one last time. His warm skin lights your fingers ablaze.

The feeling carries you up and out of his room.

The entire home is absolutely silent on your way out. It’s a little unsettling as you creep down the hall. You steal a can of soda from the fridge and crack it open. It must’ve been bought for Denji or Power, Aki would never drink something so unhealthy.

It’s a strange sort of silence once you close the door. The walk there wasn’t particularly loud, but it felt warm and comfortable. The shadows seem more threatening now, the air slightly colder. You regret now that you don’t often wear a jacket. The suit provided is boring and indistinguishable from anyone else’s, but it’s sturdy and well insulated.

Awkwardly jogging towards your car you shiver in the chill air. As you slide in you’re quick to turn on the heat. The car still smells a little bit like Aki, a combination of booze and cigarette smoke. Underneath there’s a hint of whatever body spray Aki uses, warm and musky. If the scent belonged to anyone else it’d be unappealing, but it’s so uniquely Aki that you’re glad the smell permeates the air.

It lifts your mood the whole ride hime, even on the walk to your own apartment. You carry the feelings of his breath against your neck and hands on yours while you curl up in bed.

—-

In the morning you have a single notification on your small phone.

Thank you.

#Aki x Reader #Aki #Aki Hayakawa #aki hayakawa x reader #csm #chainsaw man #valentine's day #valentine's special #drunk! aki #denji #power #himeno #makima #repost #csm fanfic

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jkflesh · 6 months

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TECHNO ANIMAL "BROTHERHOOD OF THE BOMB" remastered reissue

1521x forest green & blood red vinyl

100x clear vinyl (Friends of band and label only)

T-shirt

www.relapse.com exclusives:

352x milky clear with custom splatter vinyl

242x forest green, mint green, swamp green tri color merge with forest green, mint green, white splatter vinyl

Release date: February 16, 2024

Bandcamp: LINK Relapse store: LINK

Relapse Records is proud to announce the reissue of the highly influential TECHNO ANIMAL album, The Brotherhood of the Bomb. The album, fully remastered by Broadrick, is available on LP for the first time ever! Prior to The Brotherhood of the Bomb having even been conceived, TECHNO ANIMAL had already been championed/released by The Beastie Boys, collaborated with Alec Empire and the then-fledgeling Dälek, but still remained in almost total obscurity. TECHNO ANIMAL had barely found an audience, yet on The Brotherhood of the Bomb, the duo had definitely found their sound. "The Brotherhood of the Bomb had a lot to do with myself and Justin's obsession with Dillinja's bass sound, and the love of playing No-U-Turn drum & bass records at the wrong, slower speed." Kevin Martin comments. "It was also nourished by our addiction to the new breed of independent rap that had emerged, as we were paid up junkies for the likes of Company Flow, Anti Pop and Cannibal Ox's consecutive classics. Hence why we had approached them all to guest on our album, and flatteringly. all of whom thankfully agreed to appear." The album was made by punishing studio speakers with overdriven synths through analogue hardware, and dub mixing the lot through Justin's desk, which the two fought over who could get to the parametrics fastest, to do the bassline filter sweeps. "We were both just loving tweaking the fck out of the tunes and going mad on the aux sends/returns" Martin comments. "It was fueled on the atonality of mutating electro acoustic found sounds, and fcking with the stereo field as much as possible, whenever possible." Inspired by Public Enemy's Bomb Squad to bring the noise, Jah Shaka/Aba-Shanti, to brutalise rigs, and filtered those indelible influences through their musical past notoriety. Whether they were known for pioneering industrial metal with Godflesh, or peddling grinding noise rock with GOD, the different aspects of TECHNO ANIMAL are palpable throughout The Brotherhood of the Bomb. The seeds for this album had been sown by making the transition from playing back rooms of pubs, and other dubious squalor venues into playing in sub heavy clubs with their monolithic, low end friendly sound systems. Considered too noisy for hip hop heads and too hip hop for noise heads/metal fiends at that time, TECHNO ANIMAL were truly ahead of their time. Once dubbed "the future of Rock 'n' Roll!" by Alan Mcgee from Creation Records, TECHNO ANIMAL helped pave the way for contemporary, explosive, cutting edge groups like Death Grips, Backxwash, and Clipping, all of whom were inspired by the U.K. duo's furious take on beats, bass and sonic weaponry, and all whom have cited The Brotherhood of the Bomb as an influence and a personal favorite.

#techno animal #justin broadrick #kevin martin #the bug #jk flesh

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aladaylessecondblog · 4 months

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3:01:15 (Raphael x Tav)

TW: noncon, drugging

The visits continued. Four times (or was it five?) on her knees, times spent compliant and pliable. Fifteen minutes shaved off the debt that way, and seven via Haarlep's enjoyment of her body when they used it.

She continued to prefer it this way. No need to look Raphael in the eye--although he did continue to talk, the wretched fiend. Praise for her tongue work or her eagerness to serve--praise, she thought angrily, that made her sound like some sort of pet he was commending for doing a trick.

But it is a trick, isn't it?

She'd always been good at pleasing with her tongue. Halsin, Gortash, even Bane when he'd possessed Gortash's body, they all had good things to say about her oral service.

But none of that praise had ever made her feel so small and worthless. As if that service were the only redeeming thing about her.

He had stolen all enjoyment she used to find in the pleasing art of submission.

The only mercy was that he left quickly. A cutting remark or two might follow his pleasure, but Raphael was not a man who hung around too long once he was satisfied. And she was glad of it.

It was easier to bear. And when she faltered, felt herself close to bursting into tears and becoming a worthless lump of nothing, she prayed. A few times to Silvanus, but mostly to Ilmater.

I do this for my son's safety, she prayed, I could slay any spawn or foul thing that Cazador sends, but could I do it before Cald had been hurt? I don't think so. And so I persist. Please, grant me the strength to endure. If I get no help, I know not what will be left of me by the time I've paid off the debt. I may not be able to help Shadowheart and Lae'zel and all the rest. I may not be able to save everyone from the elder brain. Please, Ilmater, help me.

Tav always seemed to feel a little better after these prayers.

It was the only time she felt she could shut her eyes, and not open them to find Raphael was there. He had a nasty habit of appearing out of thin air, walking from behind a tree or something of that sort, no doubt attempting to hammer in the lesson he'd started with Haarlep. That she and all that she was belonged to him until that debt of time was paid. That he would come to collect at any time that pleased him.

Luckily...it was extremely simple to deal with him. All she had to do was slip behind a mask when Raphael made his visits. Not act entirely happy, not resigned--to act afraid, but not too much so. To act as though she were perhaps a doe, and he a hound that had closed its teeth about her back leg. And when he made clear what he wanted, to comply, with eagerness. The innocent maiden, the wounded prey, the wanton harlot, all by turns.

A mask, and she could shunt this all off to the side. She wasn't this Tav being assaulted, she was that Tav, merely pleasing a devilish visitor. That was all.

She just had to become someone else, someone who wasn't feeling this pain.

In the meantime, there were enough things to do to distract herself that she need not think at all on the ill luck of that horrible fiend having her over a barrel. If she did not think of it, it did not exist. It was as simple as that.

(She just had to keep believing it.)

---------------------------------------

The winter snow was melting and color returning to the swamp when Tav made the discovery that the "unknown person" who remembered her was definitely not Wyll.

The famous Blade of Frontiers came unexpectedly to her door half-delirious from fever--some infection or the other he'd gotten neglecting a wound. At least, she assumed so, judging from the nasty looking cut at his left shoulder and the shiver despite being well wrapped up. He'd looked dead at her, said, "My lady, I'm sorry to...I saw the sign of Ilmater and knew I was safe" then promptly collapsed.

She dragged him inside, cleaned his wound, and spent several minutes with a healing spell over it. Then cast a sleeping spell...and waited.

"Is this the Wyll from your story?" Cald asked. He looked down at the shivering man as he lay sleeping, and then back up at Tav. "He doesn't have horns like you said."

"He doesn't get those until later," she replied. "I'll do my best to help him here. Remember, when he wakes up--it's okay to act like you know him. Or OF him, rather. He's the Blade of Frontiers, very famous, it's only natural that you might have heard of him before."

"So he's safe?"

"So long as we don't see any devils."

Cald was quiet after that, and when she mentioned it was best to let Wyll sleep quietly now they knew he was already, the boy offered also to keep an eye on him...in raven form, if necessary.

He just wanted to see someone new.

-----------------------------------------------

Tav was preparing a soup for her, Cald, and Wyll to eat when he awakened when she heard the slight shifting of air and the deliberate step of Raphael behind her.

"We really must stop meeting this way," he teased.

"How else would we meet? You are the one intent on surprising me with every visit."

"It would not be half so enjoyable without that element of surprise."

"You'll have to pardon me for not screaming. I have a guest in the house," she replied quietly, finishing up the chopping of a carrot and tossing it into the soup. She set the fire beneath it and enchanted a spoon to stir at it continuously, then turned around to face Raphael.

Doe or whore?

The answer was handed to Tav when Raphael stepped forward and pressed an eager kiss to her lips. She tensed only briefly and forced herself to retreat behind the mask, glad that at the same time she could shut her eyes.

She returned the kiss as eagerly as he seemed to want, and aside from brief partings to breathe, it went on for far too long. She could feel him below, already hard--

Tav opened her eyes when he stepped back, and realized that he'd once more chosen to bring her to the boudoir.

"I would have taken you in your bed," he whispered in her ear, "But as you said...you have a guest, and it wouldn't do to disturb them, now would it?"

"Outside would have done just as well, master."

(He shivered just slightly, the egotistical bastard, and Tav knew she was hitting on the bullseye of his desire.)

"I am so glad you've learned to behave, little mouse," he went on, "It pains me to have to harm you in any way, you know."

"And now?" she asked, lowering her gaze in a way she hoped he took as respectful.

"And now you have become everything you should have been from the start. Such a pity that we could not have this bliss those first three hours."

"At least it is here now."

There was a pause.

"What would you have of me this time?"

"Something to reward your good behavior perhaps?"

Tav couldn't stop the look of fear that crossed her face, and it only deepened when she realized that Raphael had noticed it.

"Oh, no need to worry, my dear...this isn't going to be what happened the first time I brought you here. That was...merely to ensure that you understood right away which of us it was that held the power here. I can give and take at my leisure...and today...today, I am inclined to give."

That sweet venom stayed in his voice, though.

"Will Haarlep be joining us?"

"In a sense."

The question forming on her lips was soon answered. He moved to one of the bedtables and retrieved a small but full potion bottle.

"It occurs to me that I do not take your pleasure into account as often as I should," Raphael said as he handed Tav the bottle. "So many times, little mouse, that I indulge myself by having you on your knees. And as you have corrected your ill behavior, so I shall do with my own."

"What is this?"

"Does it matter?" he asked as she uncorked the bottle. "But I will indulge you. That, my dear Tav, is what will ensure you enjoy tonight."

Tav was suspicious, but he clearly meant her to drink it--so she took a gulp from the bottle, and realized rather quickly his reference to Haarlep.

It was semen. And from the pleasurable burn that shot through her body and had her knees nearly buckling beneath her--

Need. Desperate, overwhelming, all-consuming need.

It was with a struggle that Tav recorked the bottle and set it on the bed table. She was suddenly too warm, and as she approached the bed she shuffled to get her clothes off.

"Poor little mouse...that hit you like a boulder during an avalanche. You shouldn't have drunk so much of it. But don't be selfish, come and undress me."

Tav obeyed automatically, breathing hard as she did so. It was torturous to ignore the warmth and the dampness between her legs, but she knew he wouldn't want to wait TOO long, which was the only mercy she could see in this situation.

The second he was bare, Raphael shifted to his cambion form.

"As I said...I want to be sure you enjoy yourself. Now..."

"Please--" It was half knowing he wanted to hear it, and half crying out for relief.

It was so easy to relax, to simply let his commands direct her body, one of which sent her onto the bed and had her opening her legs for him. So easy to ignore that smug look on his face, to keen at the stroke up her thigh, to moan into the kiss he pressed to her lips, to let his tongue plunder her mouth.

Tav who hates him does not exist right now, was the last coherent thought she had before that cock thrust forward and filled her world with ecstasy.

"That's it," she heard Raphael whispering in her ear, "Poor little mouse, so desperate for me, so needy..."

Then he started moving, and all reason left her brain. His hips pistoned a steady beat against her own, his hands groping eagerly at her breasts, his nails leaving scratches and tiny smears of blood over them.

It would have been too much as it was, but then she found herself ordered to reach down and stroke herself.

All it took was a few caressing touches over her clit--

"Oh--" She stiffened as climax rushed up to drown her, and Raphael's thrusts turned painful for a few moments. Her inner walls clenched down on him and yet he kept moving.

"Please--too much--"

Her words wouldn't work, at least not in a way that made sense. It was as if her mouth didn't want to cooperate.

His movements slowed, and he leaned down a bit, whispering, "Keep pleasing yourself, my dear, it's such a beautiful sight."

Her body obeyed automatically--though she felt a few tremors in her abdomen, protesting at the extra stimulation. The pain of overstimulation passed, though, and she felt pleasure rising once again. She barely registered Raphael's attention elsewhere, and didn't understand what he was doing.

Until she felt the edge of an open bottle pressed to her lips.

"Drink, little mouse. And drink deeply."

The shadow of the word no appeared for only a second in Tav's mind before she obeyed, gulping at Haarlep's semen as it poured from the bottle. She didn't know if she finished at all...it didn't really matter, in the end.

Delirium rose.

She writhed beneath him, every stroke now a symphony of lusts, every touch of his cock or hand now overwhelmingly satisfying. Her mouth was moving, but whether she was speaking or not, Tav couldn't be sure. There was only the lusty throb between her legs--and Raphael.

The bottle was suddenly gone.

Again he was thrusting. Her voice rose in moan after after, voicing the pleasure he was giving her, reaching up to touch him--

--she blinked, and she was on her knees, then again and he had pulled her up. His voice was an insidious whisper in her ear.

"Such a treasure I have here..." His dark chuckle sounded off, and once more she felt a savage thrust. "I wonder what you're thinking right now..."

"Not..." There was a pause as she climaxed again, less intensely than before, and for one brief handful of seconds her head cleared up. "...this isn't going to get you...the Crown..."

For that moment she was afraid.

But all Raphael did was chuckle. One arm was slipped about her side, holding at her throat, while the other slid down to cover her abdomen.

"Oh, my dear, sweet, obedient little mouse..."

Another thrust, and a groan in her ear. He gave a shudder, and she felt the sudden heat of his seed as it pulsed into her.

"...by the time you've paid your debt, you'll be begging to give me the Crown."

How long it went on, she wasn't sure. He fucked her a few more times, and she lost count of how many times she finished somewhere after eleven or twelve. But when it was finally over--when she lay tired beside him, her head resting on his chest and her breathing only just becoming more normal again, he spoke.

"Two hours, twelve minutes, and eight seconds."

#here we have the opposite of the last chapter #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #baldurs gate 3 raphael #good tav #female tav #tav #raphael bg3 #bladur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #my tav

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