#Raphael fuckers I think I get it now

[smallpeniscollective]

Raphael fuckers, come get y'all juice!!

another smutty Raphael/Haarlep blurb for a concept I CANNOT get out of my HEAD

ladies, gentlemen, and anyone else who showed up to the potluck, here’s some good old fashioned dp with Raphael and Haarlep

content: pov/2nd person, she/her pronouns, afab body parts, pet names, devil sex, fingering with claws (yeOWCH), orgasm delay/denial, p-in-v, p-in-a, double penetration, master/pet dynamic, and whatever else comes with sploinking the devil and his incubus

trigger warning for pain during sex and also for rough sex as punishment for stealing from the house of hope

(this kinda ended up Way longer than a blurb so please enjoy just some porn with barely any plot)

*~*~*

He could have whisked your clothes away in an instant with one of his usual theatrical snaps, but you could sense this was a power play, to make you feel your submission to him deep under your skin. Ravenous, glowing eyes watched as you undressed, making you feel suddenly shy and yearning to hide from his penetrating gaze.

“Oh, don’t be timid now, little mouse. You lost that right the second you entered my home without permission.”

While your terrifyingly hopeless situation had your blood running cold, you couldn’t deny that feeling the low rumble of his voice in your naked chest sent a fresh wave of arousal to your core. You continued to undress with averted eyes and shaky hands. When you dropped the last of your clothing onto a small pile on the floor, you managed to look up at him with anxiously rounded eyes.

“On the bed,” he ordered. His voice sounded cruel and cold, contradicting how intimate this felt to you.

You felt the sensation of shame drop your heart in your chest, unable to stop the panicked wondering of what your companions would think of their fearless leader degrading herself so willingly for a devil.

But your body acted of its own volition, obeying his orders and climbing into the bed rather ungracefully. You sat towards the edge of the bed on your heels, kneeling before him as if he were the answer to your prayers, despite him being the main threat to your existence in this moment.

He approached the mattress with slow and calculated steps while his tail swished behind him like an irritated cat. His wings extended out wide, encompassing you and blocking your view of anything but him.

His hand raised, and you instinctively flinched, only for him to slowly stroke his knuckles down the side of your cheek. His lips curled into a wicked grin in response to your fear. “Don’t act so scared, little thief. I won’t harm you… yet.”

Your heartbeat quickened in your chest at the promise of pain.

He gripped your chin tightly with his thumb and finger, pressing his claw into your bottom lip. When your lips instinctively parted, he dove in. You never expected his kisses to be gentle, but the scorch of his lips pulled a surprised noise out of you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you let him consume you with greedy licks of his hot tongue.

His other hand grazed your cheek before tracing down the side of your neck, claws scratching against your soft skin as he slid that hand into the hair at the nape of your neck.

When your hands moved to touch him, he gripped your hair and yanked your head back harshly, prying your open mouth from his. You whimpered from the sting of your hair almost being ripped out.

“You will not move until instructed. Do you understand?”

You tried to nod your head, but his firm grip on your hair didn’t allow much wiggle room.

“Use your words, pet.” His eyes were half-lidded with lust, but the cruel glare shined through his fiery irises.

“Yes,” you squeaked. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at how weak you felt in that moment, when your entire journey seemed to have been about proving your strength.

“Yes, what?” He asked, tilting his head to the side and squinting his eyes at you. He was searching for submission in your frightened eyes, attempting to crush any form of rebellion against him you had left.

You reactively gulped, mouth suddenly dry as you realized what he wanted. With your voice as meek and vulnerable as you had ever heard it, you whispered, “Yes, master.”

The sharp-toothed grin that spread across his face could only be described as pure evil. The hero of Faerun, the ender of the Shadow Curse and life-saver to any unfortunate soul who crossed your path, was nothing but a mere pet to their new master.

“I so enjoy that title from your lips, dearest pet,” he hummed.

Before you could think of any response, his heavy hands swiftly moved to shove your shoulders back, sending you flying into mattress. You landed with a gasp on your back, and he was quick to pull your legs towards him, spreading you wide for him.

He had been able to smell your arousal from the moment he laid eyes on you in his home, but seeing now how truly wet you were for him, slick dripping from your folds and smeared across your inner thighs, it seemed to boost his ego beyond his absurd level of narcissism. “My, my,” he mused, swiping a clawed finger along your drenched slit, “it seems you rather enjoy submitting to my whims.”

Without instruction to move, you gripped the silken sheets with quick, shaky breaths as he toyed with you. When his claw caught on your clit, you inhaled sharply and bit down in your bottom lip.

Suddenly, two large fingers were shoved into you, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you at the feeling of being stretched beyond what your own two fingers could manage. His pace was teasingly slow as he watched your body react to his touch, how your thighs trembled and your abdomen clenched. When his gaze shifted up at your eyes squeezed shut, he paused his motions. “Eyes on me, little mouse. You wouldn’t want me to take your averted gaze as disrespect, would you?”

“No,” you whimpered, opening your eyes slowly. When you met his eyes, his stare was downright predatory, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

“No?” he asked sharply, correcting your mistake of forgetting your manners. He forced his hand in deep, and you felt the tips of his claws press into your cervix in a warning.

“No, master.” Your brows upturned with an unspoken apology.

“Do not make me remind you again,” he threatened, digging his claws deeper into the flesh of your cunt.

“I’m sorry, master,” you whined. You could feel your walls throbbing around his hot fingers.

Satisfied with your reply, he continued pumping his fingers into you, letting his sharp claws freely scrape against your insides. Your moans mixed with winces as you experienced the pleasure mixing with pain in a way you never pictured yourself enjoying so much.

After what felt like an eternity of such sinful pleasure, a warmth bloomed below your stomach, pulling a string tight within you. When your walls tightened around his fingers, he pulled them out, eliciting a pathetic whine from your lips as that feeling in your abdomen sizzled out.

“Fret not, dearest thief, we’re not done yet,” he murmured before stepping back from the bed and snapping his wet fingers.

A flash of bright flames sparked, and you recognized the devilish form that appeared beside the bed.

“You called, master?” Haarlep asked, shifting his gaze from the still-clothed cambion to your naked body with unbridled lust.

Raphael looked over at Haarlep, and you witnessed the possessive gleam in his eyes fade into something colder and strangely more distant in regards to his personal incubus. “I want you to fuck our little thief,” he said bluntly. “And do make sure she comes. It will make the next act of our torrid affair… easier to handle.”

His phrasing had your mind beginning to spin with worry, but before you could vocalize any concerns, Haarlep obliged his master. He crawled onto the bed with fluid movements and slithered over your smaller frame, lining up his already-hard cock with your soaked entrance.

“Wait,” Raphael barked. Haarlep turned towards his master, and you both watched as Raphael walked towards the side of the bed and snapped his fingers once more. An elegant chair appeared behind him, and he promptly sat, crossing his leg over his knee and curling his fingers around his chin as if he were in deep thought. “Now, you may begin.”

At his words, Haarlep turned back to you, smiling wickedly. “I remember you,” he said, his voice identical to Raphael’s but with more whimsy, “you were the little mouse who snuck around the cat’s house. How does it feel to be beneath his claws?”

“Haarlep, your order was to fuck her, not to make conversation,” You could hear the annoyance in his tone.

“Very well, master,” Haarlep said, before settling his hands on the plump flesh of your hips and pushing into you. The first thing you felt was the sting of the stretch, much larger than anything you had felt before. You panted between pained moans as the ridges and bumps that adorned his member dragged along your tight walls, and your eyes squeezed shut involuntarily in response.

“Eyes on me, pet,” Raphael said, and you obediently opened them once more, turning your head to face him as Haarlep ground his hips against yours to nudge his cock deeper into you. Raphael studied your face as your brows upturned and your mouth hung open in intense pleasure.

You could see outline of Raphael’s erection through his breeches; he was feeling every sensation that the incubus was as you were taken in front of him. Raphael's eyes remained on you as he demanded, “Harder,” but you could tell the order was not for you when Haarlep’s grip on your hips tightened. His claws left deep, crescent-shaped indentions as they dug into your delicate skin.

Haarlep’s sensual slower thrusting then became hard pounding, and the sound of wet skin slapping against skin began to fill the room, along with the noises he pulled out of you. Your knuckles turned white from the grip you had on Raphael’s sheets as your low moans morphed into cries of pleasure. Your eyes were still on his but beginning to blur with tears as he watched you be fucked relentlessly by his copy.

Raphael let out his own quiet groans as he felt the sensation of your phantom cunt squeezing and quivering around him. He smoothly uncrossed his legs, spreading his thighs in a deliciously dominant way and untied the string to his breeches to free his aching cock. Precum leaked from his tip as he lazily stroked his shaft.

“Touch her,” he ordered Haarlep. You grew somehow even wetter at his orders when his eyes never left you.

“As you wish,” you heard Haarlep’s voice sing out, his face just barely in your peripheral view. One of his hands moved from your hip to your most sensitive region, and you gasped loudly at the caress of your clit as he continued his hard thrusts.

At the sensation of your clit being touched and the pleasurable pounding you were taking, your knees lifted of their own accord to hold at Haarlep's hips. You could feel the bruises forming already from the ridges on his hips digging into your skin, yet that string inside of you wound tightly once more. You knew it wouldn’t take long for it to snap.

Your loud moans were music to Raphael’s ears as he stroked harder and tighter, his cock now glistening with an abundance of precum. He grunted before asking in a voice even lower and reverberant than before, “Do you wish to come, little mouse?”

“Yes, master,” you managed through your moans.

“And she calls you ‘master’,” Haarlep cooed at your use of the word. “What a delectable little mouse, indeed.”

Haarlep’s generous circling of your aching clit and deep rutting had you seeing stars. You could feel yourself on the cusp of your orgasm, and your thighs began to shake vigorously from holding it back. Raphael could see this, watching you teeter on that edge with a lick of his lips.

He waited, of course.

Pleasure turned into torture as you wailed, your fingers going numb from how tightly you were gripping the sheets. Your muscles grew taught with the exertion of holding in your orgasm.

You didn’t want to beg, but you couldn’t take it anymore. “Please, master!” you cried out, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

When your cries of pleasure became pitiful sobs, Raphael finally relented.

“Go on then, pet. Come for me.”

With a strained moan, your back arched and your vision blurred as white hot pleasure flooded through you, ebbing through you in waves as Haarlep rode you through it, pounding so hard you could feel it bruise your cervix.

Your thighs twitched as your legs instinctively tried to close from the overstimulation of still being ravaged by the incubus, but Haarlep moved his hands to your knees to keep your legs pried open for him as he continued.

“Enough.” Raphael stood up from his chair as Haarlep stopped his movements, stilling himself inside of you and turned his head towards Raphael. “Up.”

You looked to Haarlep, and Haarlep glanced your way quickly to express his annoyance in having to stop before pulling himself off of you. You let out a soft whine as he pulled his cock out of you, feeling suddenly empty.

“You as well,” Raphael said, gesturing at your limp body.

You took in a deep breath and sat up, muscles already sore as you slinked off of the bed. When you stood up, your knees almost buckled beneath you, but you kept yourself up on trembling legs. He noticed, smirking to himself at your weakened state.

With another snap of his fingers, his clothes were gone, and you couldn’t help but stare at his naked form. You had seen it on Haarlep, but Haarlep’s form was a little less sharp than Raphael’s, with his slightly rounder jaw and softer nose. Raphael’s true naked form was enthralling, the divots and ridges on his body seeming sharper, more dangerous.

He took his place on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with a smug expression. He gestured to his cock, still erect and glistening with his precum.

You understood the silent command, climbing back onto the bed. You crawled on all fours towards him and took the opportunity to freely graze your hands up his muscular legs, touching as much skin as you could—as much skin as you were allowed to touch. Despite how rough the two fiends had been with you, your touch was adoring and gentle as your fingertips brushed over the ridges and protruding veins.

When Raphael's expression shifted from inquisitive to impatient, you took it as a cue to fulfill his desire and made your way to his lap to straddle his textured hips. You let your drenched folds glide over his shaft in a slight teasing manner, this being the only teasing you could sneak in before his hands seized the meat of your thighs to serve as a reminder of who was in charge.

You took the large member in your much smaller hand while your other hand landed on his broad chest for stability, and you slid the head of his cock down your slit to guide it towards your entrance. With a sharp breath, you pushed down onto him, still feeling sore from the previous pounding. When your hips landed against his with him fully sheathed, you took a moment to adjust to the sheer size of him yet again. Both of your hands on his chest now, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing, and he, in turn, gave your thighs an assertive squeeze to let you know he was done waiting.

Your pace was slow on weak thighs as you rocked yourself against him. But his cock nudging that soft spot deep in your core egged you on, giving you just enough energy to revitalize your need.

You let yourself fall against him, clinging to him and nestling your face in the warmth that was the crook of his neck as you chased that high once more. His hands moved to your waist, forcing you down harder against him, and you couldn't stop the whimpers tumbling past your lips, landing right in his ear.

You felt the bed dip in weight behind you, but you were too focused on the grind of your hips and the pleasure climbing in your core to pay any mind to it.

"What a naughty little pet," you heard Haarlep muse from behind you, but you didn't dare slow or stop your movements. Haarlep sat himself atop Rapahel's mid-thighs, planting himself right behind you, and you could feel his heat radiating onto your back.

"Some spittle, to prepare her," Raphael instructed through soft grunts, and Haarlep eagerly complied, deftly snaking a large hand around the column of your throat before suddenly prying you off of Raphael and pulling you back against him.

Then Haarlep took his turn devouring your lips. His kiss was much more gentle than Raphael's, and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch. Your hips ground down harder against Raphael as Haarlep beckoned your lips open with a swipe of his tongue. The second your lips parted for him, his tongue was barging into your mouth, stroking your tongue with tender licks.

When the saliva seeping down your throat made you reactively gulp, you felt your insides light up with an energy that could only be described as carnal lust in its most calamitous form. Electricity seeped into every fiber of your being, tingling all the way down to your fingers and toes. Every muscle in your body ached for sex, more and more sex until it consumed you whole.

Subconsciously, your pace atop Raphael quickened. Your moans, muffled by Haarlep's mouth on yours, heightened in pitch and intensity. Arousal pooled beneath you, leaking onto Raphael's skin and aiding your gliding atop his hips.

Raphael leaned forward, greedily taking a nipple into his mouth while his other hand groped at your other breast roughly. Your hands flew to his head, your fingers digging into his soft hair as you pulled him further against you. You practically mewled when his hot tongue ran over the bud, letting his sharpened teeth scratch your sensitive skin as he sucked.

Your core felt dangerously aflame with a mounting pleasure surging through every inch of your body. Haarlep released your lips, eyes burning into yours to watch his spittle work its magic on you. With his hand still on your throat, his other hand tickled the skin along your spine as it snuck down your back.

In your haze of primal desire, you almost didn't notice Haarlep's fingers swipe at the puddle of your own wetness beneath you, until you felt those fingers smear the slick over your unused hole. Still holding his stare, your eyes widened at the realization of what the next act of your "torrid affair" truly was.

Raphael intended to stuff you full of two cocks, both of which he would be feeling inside of you.

Your mouth dropped open, attempting to stutter out any protest you could think of in the moment, but your words—or lack thereof—were cut short by the hand around your throat quickly moving up. Your jaw was abruptly encapsulated by Haarlep's large hand, muffling any noise you could make.

"Hush now," his voice rumbled in your ear, sending more tingles down your spine. Your labored breathing through your nostrils sounded loud against his hand. "Don't you want to be a good little mouse for your master?"

At the word, Raphael released your breasts, paying his full attention to the interaction between you and Haarlep. You felt him pull away, and your frantic eyes locked with his in a silent plea. You had never had any lovers use that particular hole; you weren't ready for it to be intruded upon.

But the spittle in your veins begged for more.

The tip of Haarlep's cock pressed into the tight ring of muscle, and the feeling was... strange, to say the least. You never used this hole in any pursuits of passion, you never thought to. It was uncomfortable, but the member still being coated in your slick made it easier to take.

The stretch as he pushed in farther burned more than it did in your cunt, and low, pained moans slipped past your lips in response, still muffled by Haarlep's hand.

You stilled your movements, unable to continue grinding with this new sensation distracting you. Your inner walls throbbed around the two cocks, and you could feel the sweat covering your skin, spurred on by the heat of the two infernal bodies surrounding you. With your eyes still on Raphael's, your chest heaved with deep, ragged breaths.

"It seems our little thief needs some aid," Raphael said, his voice more gravelly than before. He removed his hands from your waist, allowing Haarlep's hands to take his place, and you sucked in a sharp breath the second your mouth was freed.

"Sing for us, little mouse," Haarlep whispered in your ear before he forced you down by the waist, plunging the two cocks deep into you.

You shrieked at the pain, and tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. The stretch, the burning, the stinging; it was too much. But you were not granted a moment of reprieve when Haarlep effortlessly lifted you and shoved you down repeatedly.

The spittle in your system felt like a godsend now, easing the pain and turning it into a plethora of pleasure as the ridged cocks ground together with the only barrier between them being your slick inner walls. You continued to wail, it being the only sound your used, feeble body could make.

Your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open as your vision blurred from your tears.

But Raphael would not allow your eyes to close. He wiped the sweat-soaked strands of hair from your face before gripping your jaw with a grip that almost crumbled the bone.

"Eyes. On. Me."

The dam finally broke, and the tears leaked down your face inn warm streams as you blubbered, "I- I can't. T-too much."

He laughed coldly in your face, his broad chest bouncing with the deep chuckle. "Thieves must be punished, dear. Is this not a merciful punishment? Would you rather I skin you? Maim you, hm? Make you bleed?"

You sobbed, your body shaking. You couldn't even tell if it was cries of pleasure or cries of terror; you were too far gone as the devil and his incubus abused your frail, mortal body.

That familiar string winding tight in your lower belly once more was the hint that it was, in fact, cries of immense pleasure, the kind of body-wrecking pleasure that you could never experience with another mortal soul.

Raphael could feel you tightening around him, and the sight of his favorite little misadventurer, his dearest thief, falling apart so beautifully under his claws...

This image of you would make the most wonderful painting to adorn his grand halls.

Haarlep felt it too, and his response to it was to quicken his forceful pace of shoving you down on him and Raphael. His hold on you was so tight that his claws dug into your sides, and small beads of blood trickled down your sweaty skin, not that you even noticed in the moment.

The rapidity of being shoved on two cocks and the pressure of them digging into every soft spot inside of you had you racing towards a powerful orgasm. You could see in Raphael eye's that he was near his own end with his quick grunts and heaving chest. His hold on your jaw loosened and changed to a gentle holding of your chin, keeping your teary eyes on him throughout all of this, while his other hand sought out your clit once more. He wanted to feel you come apart.

And come apart, you did.

With one last wail, a tsunami of blindingly hot pleasure surged through you, sending every nerve into overdrive. Your walls squeezed the two cocks tightly, and every continual shove down on them resurged the bliss until your body was convulsing.

The squeeze of your cunt and sound of your cries pulled his orgasm out of Raphael, and his lips parted. In a chorus of low and sultry noises, you felt him and Haarlep come inside of you in tandem, the molten heat of infernal seed filling up both of your holes.

When they finally stilled, Haarlep released his grip on your waist, and you instantly keeled over, landing against Raphael's chest with a barely-audible whine. You were exhausted, out of breath, and slick with sweat and a faint amount of your own blood.

Raphael's breathing returned to a normal pace almost immediately, and you listened to the heavy beat of his steady heart to ground yourself back to reality. He let you lay on him for a moment and stroked your hair rather gently, unusual considering how cruel he tended to be.

Haarlep noticed this, eyeing his master with a suspicious gaze. Has the devil gone soft for a mere mortal, and a thieving one no less?

Raphael motioned to dismiss Haarlep with a wave of his hand, not even giving the incubus the dignity of a verbal dismissal.

Haarlep pulled out of you, his seed spilling out of your used hole. A whine hitched in your throat at the motion as you tried to control your breathing. He slipped off of the bed and gave Raphael one last mischievous glance before disappearing in a quick haze of sparkling flames.

Once you were alone with Raphael, his hand reached for your face, lifting your head up to meet your tired eyes. “You did very well, little mouse. You’ve proven time and time again to be far more resilient than I originally gave you credit for.”

Your arms trembled as you lifted yourself off of his chest. All of the doubt and fear you had tucked away when the pleasure rolled in came flooding back. “What’s going to happen to me?”

He smirked at your nervousness. He twirled a strand of hair around his finger while he murmured with his smooth, deep voice, "You will rest in the House of Hope tonight, little thief. And tomorrow, you will be back on the road with your merry band of misfits. I still need the Crown, and how very lucky for you that I still have your contract."

The contract. The very item you were caught stealing. You were still merely a pawn in his overarching game of chess, but he was right.

How lucky for you that your services were still needed.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #bg3 smut #bg3 haarlep

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

The bayverse boys would 1000% have beef with your pet turtle and would consider it a betrayal of the highest order if you so much as looked at it (or, god forbid, showed it affection) in their presence.

They would certainly feel ... something LOL

Leo

"Oh, alright, I see how it is. Cool, cool, cool..."

He wants to be the ONLY turtle in your life! What can that one do? It can't talk. It can't hug you back. It can't protect you. Everytime he looks at the small terrapin, it's always with a slight disdain - this little sneer you always catch out of him. You try to have him involve in the pet's care, but you soon give it up when you see him teasing the poor thing with a salad leaf, always getting it out of the reptile's reach as it comes close to munching on it.

"What? I'm just trying to train him to get faster and hone his ninja reflexes. Come on!"

***

Raph

"Watchu lookin' at, punk?"

You do notice that your pet is acting a bit more... defiant everytime Raphael steps into the room. And the mutant knows that as well, he can sense it. And he's NOT going to get overthrown by some dooky-ass lookin' wet turtle BITCH. The moment he sees that fucker starts to flutter his front claws in the glass and in HIS general direction, the fight is on. You just step in one day, fidning both Raph and your turtle in a tapping fight marathon; your pet slapping the glass and the mutant tapping his indexes rapidly against it as well, determined to last longer than the animal.

"I'll show you who's boss, ya nasty son of a dirty cloaca."

***

Donnie

"A pet turtle? Seriously?"

He's not absolutely against it ... it just feels a bit weird, you know? There's no denying that Donatello will spend some time studying it - just 'cause he's curious, leave him be. But that's also how you find out that these mutant guys can make other sounds as well... You first hear the usual little chirps coming out of your pet's tank, then comes out a low churr-like sound, reverberating from Donnie's chest and ending in a question sounding chirp. You just stare as the "discussion" unfolds, catching the mutant frown a little.

"Fascinating," he started. "We can understand eachother, but that damn turtle has one filthy mouth. I think you should stop swearing around it... He just called me a motherfucking freak!"

***

Mikey

"You wish you were me, brah."

He doesn't say it outloud that he's jealous... but you do see it in his eyes whenever you pick your pet up or just take care of it generally. He can be cute too!! He can be cuddly turtle, if you just ask. Michelangelo will try to show off whenever around that pet of yours; puffing up his chest, flexing his arms, actively flirting just to grab your attention. But then one day you needed to clean the tank and put your turtle on a little skateboard for it to move around the place freely, and that gave Mikey pause...

"Okay ... actually he's cool. Go off, lil' fella. Do an ollie!"

They are now best friends.

#ask #anon #sorry I'm late for answering this!! #but I've been thinking about this ask all week dbfbgb #and the Raph one made me giggle like crazy

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Who's the little mouse?

Short fic based on this post. The opportunity to drag this bastard through the redemption arc kicking and screaming is too delicious to pass up.

"Now who's the mouse again?"

You felt a well-deserved grin worm its way onto your face as you stared down at the devil at your feet.

Raphael didn't say a word, only looked at you with the most spiteful glare he could muster. It didn't look very threatening, what with the broken horn, bleeding lip, and swollen eye.

"Bravo," Raphael spat out, some blood staining his doublet, "what are you waiting for then, hm?" He gave you a grimace of a smile. He tried to sound confident but you heard the waver in his voice. Raphael knows what happens to demons in hell. You know it too.

You almost felt sorry for him. The devil had his charm even with his ass kicked like that. It was ridiculous, this man had a mansion powered by tortured souls, and yet... killing him felt wrong. Not undeserved you just had a feeling that it should not end like that.

Just then, Gale cleared his throat,

"Come now, let's finish what we've started. This orb isn't getting any more stable and we still have to decide what to do with the crown."

Right, Crown of Karsus. A mighty mcguffin all these big fish in this pond called Baldur's Gate hunt for. You still don't quite understand how it works but you got the idea from Gale's lectures.

And just like that, an idea formed in your head. An idea so devious, so cruel it will make Raphael wish he was dead. Your smile must've slipped into a dangerous category because you noticed the devil visibly flinch whilst looking at you.

"Gale, c'mere." You beckoned the wizard with your finger, a voice deceptively sweet.

The wizard gawked at you, "Uh, sure."

Amidst hushed whispers exchanged with the rest of your party a words like "Holy shit..." and "Are you nuts?!?" were thrown around but in the end, Gale took the crown and walked towards Raphael.

"Are you sure about this?" he called after you.

"Yep!" you sing-songed, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"You're actually scaring me, soldier."

"Just hurry up! I'm dying to see what happens, a-ha!"

Raphael wasn't sure what transpired between you and your comrades but he was smart enough to know he was not gonna like it. In the last, desperate attempt he tried to scare off the wizard who was chanting some gibberish and wielding an object he worked so hard to get his hands on.

"No! Stay back! Do you know who I am?!? You will regret-aaaaarrggghhh!!!!"

A white-hot searing pain went through his entire body as if his very cells were rearranged, and then...nothing.

This emptiness wasn't what he imagined. Surely black tendrils would rise from the ground, dragging him to some archdemon to feast on. Instead, it was like he was dreaming, almost as if he could wake up at any time.

Hold on...

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" A booming voice shook him up from his slumber.

Raphael jerked up. With sunlight blinding him, the whole world spinning and his imminent death postponed, the devil was more confused than ever.

"Wha-what's going on? Where am I?" The devil fumbled, his glib tongue abandoning him.

"We're on our way to Baldur's Gate," another voice chimed in, too familiar and amused for his likings.

He turned his head and zeroed in on the man lounging on the crates behind him. Raphael knows this man, the fool who sold his soul to Mizora.

"Glad you're awake. We thought you were never gonna open your eyes again. Can't believe fucker's plan actually worked!"

He knew this voice too, Zariel's soldier, Karlach. Stupid enough to think she's free of her. Her words made Raphael pause.

"What is this plan you speak of?" He glared her way.

Karlach shrugged, completely unbothered that there was an archdevil in front of her, and jerked her head forward.

"Why don't you ask the boss?"

Thanks to these words, Raphael finally understood where he was - in a rickety wagon stuffed with junk and people he hated the most. Is this his form of hell??

Despite himself, Raphael stumbled to the front of the wagon, legs wobbly like a freshly born fawn. He felt so weak, what did these vermin do to him?!

He almost fell onto the driver's porch where he found you. His favorite mouse and the person who held all the answers.

You looked at him with an easy grin. That unnerved him the most. You always treated him to cold glares and disgusted snarks. Actually, everybody in the cart looked as if they knew a joke he did not. Raphael had enough of this charade.

"You'll tell me everything right now! Or I swear you'll burn with the hottest flames of hell!" He hissed into your ear.

You only gave him an amused side-eye, and kept your eyes on the road as you spurred the horses on, "Oh, yeah?"

He ignored the simmering in his belly at the challenge in your eyes. "Oh, yes..." He grasped your chin and turned you to look at him. "Now tell me-"

"Careful now, you keep leaning from the bench and you'll fall down and break your neck."

He chuckled darkly "Oh little mouse," he leaned close enough he could feel your breath on his lips, "someone like me can't be harmed with tha-aah!"

The world tilted on its axis and just like you said he was falling, arse first into the dirt. For a moment, Raphael just lay there, staring at the azure blue sky as he tried to comprehend all of these new sensations.

This shouldn't hurt, he should've killed all these sinners the moment he awoke, but when he tried to tap into the infinite pool of his demonic magic...it was empty.

What's happening?!?

You were the only decent enough to stop the wagon and rush to help him, the rest just laughed like fools.

To add insult to injury, the githyanki woman just looked down at him from her spot in the carriage and scoffed.

"Pathetic."

#bg3 raphael #bg3 karlach #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #raphael x tav #sorta? #raphael x reader

[wellthebardsdead]

Solairen: *laying on his side, one wing definitely broken from cushioning his fall but alive* morning lords grace- M-my love? *rolls over and gasps, not at the decapitated head of Mephistopheles glaring at him with milky white eyes, but at the vision beside him* my love…

Raphael: *unconscious with a concussion cocktail of incubus spittle and blunt force trauma from riding his fathers head to the ground after severing it with solairens sword. The wedding gown he’d been forced into and paraded around the court of mephistar in as a final humiliation now torn to ribbons hanging off his naked red body, a final act of humiliation before his wedding to a hoard of pit fiends and lemurs that is* mmnn… *opens his eyes to see Solairen, the Paladin he’d fallen in love with as a drow, now a celestial solar ascended by lathander, glowing like a beacon of hope in the hell he thought would be his eternal tomb* m-my love… are you, o-okay?…

Solairen: *smiles and strokes his cheek* I am, I am my love.

Raphael: *leans into his touch without a fuss* h-Haarlep drugged me… brought me here so father could lure you and Astarion, he wanted to kill you in front of me, he wanted to remind me of my place… I didn’t think, you’d come for me…

Solairen: *blinks and laughs through tears* I married you. Astarion married you. He’s worried sick waiting for me to bring you home! I’d go to the end of the astral if it meant saving you… but you saved me instead. *smiles*

Raphael: *closes his eyes and grins playfully as the leathery membrane of his wings begins to flake away like burning paper* a saviour, that… is for certain. My love… *passes out again as large white feathers sprout from his back and many of his cambion characteristics are replaced with that of a solar celestial, his horns lined with gold framing a halo resembling a burning sun, and the jagged arrow point of his tail smoothing to a gentle heart, before returning to a handsome human man, with a heavenly warm golden glow surrounding him*

Solairen: *looks up to the heavens hearing lathanders words in his mind*

“He has proven himself worthy… and you have proven me wrong yet again… you did see good within him”

Solairen: *smiles and closes his eyes* I saw him… only him. *lifts his husband into his arms, giving him a loving, chaste kiss knowing Mephistopheles is still alive in hus corpse. Glaring at him from seemingly lifeless eyes* �� *strokes Raphael’s face* you were always, more than enough… let’s go home my fire… *carries him through the portal back to the devils fee*

Astarion: *pacing back and forth frantically, haarleps blood still coating every part of his magistrate robes* they’re not back yet! Somethings wrong.

Wyll: it’ll be alright.

Calliope: *bursts in through a portal followed by Gale* WHAT DO YOU MEAN RAPHAELS BEEN KIDNAPPED?!

Astarion: I mean I had a bad feeling as I went to kiss him and I stopped in time to realise that fucker! *points at haarleps body* Smells nothing like my husband!! Solairens gone after him and neither of them have returned!

Gale: I’m sure they’ll be fine.

Astarion: HOW CAN YOU BE SO BLASÉ ABOUT THIS?! BOTH OF MY HUSBANDS ARE IN HELL-

Solairen: *steps through the portal holding Raphael, shielding his body with his wing* I’ve got him.

Gale: told you.

Astarion: I- you’re hurt! Gods you’re both hurt!! *hurries over and embraces them both* he’s?… glowing? These markings they look like yours is- what happened?

Solairen: now you have two celestial husbands, my little star.

Astarion: I- you- *sobs* d-don’t be cute I’m very upset! Let’s get him home I need to clean both of you up! You reek of the hells!

*the next morning*

Raphael: *growling as he tries to get rid of the glow on his skin and the halo following him* ARGHH! *grabs it and throws it only for it to reappear* I DIDNT ASK FOR THIS! *hurries to the balcony and looks up at the sun* FUCK YOU LATHANDER!!!

#Raphael bg3 #raphstarion #calliope Greybell #calliope Tav #calliope oc #Solairen Tav #Solairen oc #daywarden Solairen #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #gale bg3

[turtlecleric]

I. I cannot believe I've made a side blog for writing reader-inserts. Alas, I feel it was inevitable. woe, angst be upon ye

I should be working on my rottmnt WIP but we're not gonna talk about that.

@yorshie here's the Raph POV no one asked for after this

---

He'd been too fucking slow.

By the time Raph pulled up on his bike, there was only one foot soldier still standing in the alley. The distinct smell of burnt rubber meant he'd just missed the rest of them, but he couldn't see an obvious trail. And he couldn't follow unless he knew where to go.

The soldier was still standing there, staring at him. Maybe this bozo would talk.

He leapt off the bike, landing in a sprint and running straight for them. They must've been in shock or something, because they didn't make a move to run away. Maybe this was their first encounter with a giant humanoid turtle. Either way, he'd make sure it was an encounter to remember.

Raph pulled out a sai with his right hand and flipped it so his fingers straddled the long blade. As he punched forward, aiming the tip of the sai toward the spot between the soldier's left shoulder and collarbone, he expected them to duck or... something. But they didn't. Despite the blunt end of the weapon, it easily punctured through their armor and settled decisively into the meat and bone there. He heard a strangled cry of pain as the soldier's knees gave out, and something about the sound made his chest feel oddly tight, but he was more focused on the fact that the idiot hadn't even tried to dodge.

He towered over them, even more so now that they were on their knees. He had to bend forward to keep his grip on his sai, and he could hear them taking strained, gasping breaths through the mask they wore. Their face was turned up toward him still, hadn't looked away since they first spotted him, and Raphael had the bitter thought that the fucker probably couldn't bring themselves to look away from the monster standing in front of them.

"Where'd they go," he growled.

The soldier didn't answer. He scowled, pushing the sai in further and twisting it ever so slightly. Another agonized shout came out of the woman - at least, it sounded like a woman - and again the sound elicited a strange unpleasant feeling in his chest. After a few moments her head started to fall forward, and Raph used his free hand to grasp the top of her head and hold it up.

Oh no you don't. You wanted to look at the monster. So look.

There was only the sound of her labored breaths for a few moments. It didn't seem like this one was inclined to tell him anything, but he needed answers and she was the only one here. Still, the uncomfortable feeling in his chest was getting worse. Almost like he had felt that day when-

Don't think about her.

His hand moved from the soldier's head to her throat and he dragged her to her feet, shoving her back against the wall. Her head smacked audibly against the brick there, and he squeezed her throat until he was satisfied with the string of choked sounds that came out.

"Tell me where they went," he said lowly, releasing his grip enough for her to take a gasping breath. "And I won't kill you."

Raph had said it to be intimidating. Frightening. But at his words, the soldier almost seemed to... relax. For a moment he was frozen, and then Donnie's voice crackled in his ear.

"I've got eyes on the truck. They're on Morris Park Avenue, headed east."

Leo's voice came through his earpiece next, but Raph was having trouble focusing on what he said. A small, trembling hand had come up to lightly rest on his arm. Not to struggle or to try and pull him away. Just... to rest there.

He felt his brow furrow, confusion and frustration mixing together.

What...?

One of his brothers called his name through the earpiece.

Right. Time to go.

He wrenched the sai out of the soldier and released his grip on her throat completely. She collapsed at his feet, and he could see blood starting to flow sluggishly from her wound. It stained the black fabric she wore, making it even darker. He could still hear her wheezing breaths as he walked away, but then he almost thought he heard the soft sound of crying.

Raph took a few more steps toward his bike before hesitating and turning back to examine the soldier. She was just... laying there. And she was hurt, sure, but she could still move. Why wasn't she calling for backup? For that matter, why hadn't she run when he first showed up? She hadn't even reached for the pistol strapped to her leg this whole time. He was bulletproof, of course, but that had never stopped a foot soldier from shooting at him before.

This was... this was weird. Wasn't it? This soldier's behavior? Maybe he should-

"Uh, Raphie?" Mikey's voice crackled. "We could really use you right about now, bro!"

The urgency in his little brother's tone got him focused and moving again. He left the soldier behind without a second glance and shot off on his bike, heading toward Morris Park as fast as he could go.

---

When he returned to that alley, hours later, there was nothing but a large blood stain and the tightness in his chest that had yet to go away.

#turtlecleric scrolls #bay!raph #song I listened to on repeat for this one (as well as the previous one): take aim by sleep token

[not-poignant]

1 & 13 for palmarosa! I'm so hooked on it and it's lovely to immerse myself in such a crunchy, well-written dynamic :3

Oooo less go, Palmarosa time :D (I'm so glad you're enjoying it!!)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

So, I looked for Astarion fics early on and saw a lot of Astarion/Halsin, Astarion/player and general pairings I wasn't super interested in, or scenarios I wasn't very interested in. I tried a few, didn't bookmark any, and was like 'hmmm, I expected some more angsty fics for Astarion.' At the time - which to be fair was quite some time ago and the fandom has grown since - everything biased towards very fluffy, or very dark, but where Astarion had the power and was the top, and it was just not quite what I was looking for.

I knew I wanted to do something with Astarion, but I didn't ship him with anyone. I don't ship him with Gale, I didn't want to write an Astarion/player fic, I don't ship him with Halsin, etc. (I am playing an Astarion/Gale run now, but mostly because I enjoy their bitchiness and not because I truly ship them). But when we started spending more time with Raphael I started thinking 'hmmMMMM WHAT IF....'

I looked for fics, there was like 3 at the time (literally, mine is the fourth in the rarepair on AO3), and it was like 'well.... ehhh.... we'll see.' At this point I knew what Astarion's endings were - good and bad, according to Larian - and I didn't like either of them. I was kind of salty in advance that some companions get very clear cut happy endings, and others get sort of...shafted either way. And around that time I was like well... if we take Astarion's 'good' ending (according to Larian) and then actually give him the things I wanted him to have at the end (sans my player character, because I don't like player/X fics), then I could do something with that.

I knew I was shipping him with Raphael, but I actually spent a fairly long time thinking about how to solve the sunlight issue, and what Raphael would want in exchange for that, and how much that would actually matter to him, and why he would offer something like that, and what that would mean for a run where he was killed. I made a lot of thorny choices early on, like killing off Hope (she survives in my run) so Raphael could return to the House of Hope, etc.

But yeah! Basically a very classic 'once more fandom wasn't delivering a weird specific niche thing I wanted in any pairing, so I found a weird rarepair that almost no one was writing, and decided to do what I wanted in that little corner' scenario + 'I love BG3 as a game but fuck what they did with Astarion's character right at the end, I'm going to make a third ending just for me.'

...I'm both really stubborn and pretty weird actually when it comes to writing fanfiction *hangs head*

I'm just kind of obsessed with Astarion, he's a very specific kind of character 'type' for me (he gives me Felix Harrowgate from Doctrine of Labyrinths vibes and frankly I wrote a similar-ish fic about him too at least in spirit). Raphael I find fascinating. Because we get so much less information about him, I can put more of my own needs for the fanfiction into him, and develop his back story in a more robust manner in a way that suits the pairing. Him being a cambion, being able to add monster fucker elements, being really certain mentally that he's like... that he doesn't have a very 'classically' human way of thinking, makes him extremely interesting to me as a love interest to write!

(Not gonna lie, part of me actively resents how fluffy fandom is getting, and I wanted to put more rape and dubcon into AO3 overall for Astarion in particular. Like, I want more angst and hurt/comfort etc. I get that his back story is tragic, but I also wanted to push that in a different direction, and I really love writing a character that's been through so much awfulness they become almost expectant of it? That's also a Felix Harrowgate vibe. It's fun kind of...guiding those characters specifically to a better place internally, and not just externally).

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

The Palmarosa playlist! I put it on every time I write for this story. Some songs I listen to more than others, Trench and Menace generally accompany me during the more sexual scenes for example. And I have put on the instrumentals for I Want To Live from the official BG3 soundtrack (by Borislav Slavov) on repeat for sections as well. I still am expanding the Palmarosa soundtrack but I have enough kind of music to also be comfortable writing the story as well. :D

--

From this fanfiction meme!

#asks and answers #memey goodness #palmarosa #thespectaclesofthor #raphael x astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 raphael #i have zero belief that astarion will genuinely heal in either one of his endings in the game #and i'm like #'i can fix him / i can make him worse / i can hurt him / i can help him' #put it all in the pot dsflakfjas that's what i love #i'm doing the same for raphael too but he doesn't know it yet

[pengychan]

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

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

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

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

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

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

“In the foyer--”

“If he so much looks at Hope, I’ll--”

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

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

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

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

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

“An understanding!”

“I realize it sounds bad, but--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please tell me you know what’s going on.

“Raphael has ran afoul of Mephistopheles--”

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

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

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

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

"Not hearing a no."

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

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

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

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

“... The other half of his soul.”

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

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

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

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

“Anything!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Lady Antilia.”

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

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

“Belial’s task?”

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

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

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

A chuckle. “Correct. And who--”

“I used it, once.”

“... What?”

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

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

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

“No one. I’d never even seen--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lord Mephistopheles named me Raphael, Lady Baalphegor.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I-- thank you, Lady Baalphegor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Raphael. Do you understand ?"

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want--”

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

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

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not anymore it’s not, fucker.”

“Karlach!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha--”

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

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

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

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

You were tiny, then.

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

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

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

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

She’d reached out, so weak she could barely pull the squalling creature up against her chest, in the crook of her arm. “Demanding, aren’t we?” she’d heard herself murmuring, her own voice barely audible. She felt cold all over and yet she must have been warmer than the rest of the room, because the child grew a little quieter now, pressed against her. A tiny, bloodied hand had curled around her finger. Even this small, he had claws. 

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

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

“... And that, love, was that.”

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

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

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

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

Down came the claw. 

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

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

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

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

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

This, too, I claim as mine.

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

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

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

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

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

“Starspire.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dearest Israfel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How very perceptive,” was the dry reply. 

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

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

“Had you never seen her before?”

“No.”

“I can see the resemblance.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** [Back to Chapter 9]

[On to Chapter 11]

[Back to Start]

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

[cambion-companion]

alright, but now thanks to your fic where Tav complains about Raphael's midlife crisis (poor) choices and Larian, in an hilarious coincidence, quickly changes Raphael's hair colour back, we as a community of Raphael fuckers SHOULD agree, that this event DOES happen at some point, yes? 🤣🤣🤣

like whether is in game and in one meeting, this man comes with black hair and tav makes a comment/roasts them, and the next one he is back to normal pretending it didnt happen (after crying in his shower) or in an established relationship and tav is just not impresed😒, cue raphael changing his hair back (after crying in his shower) or, he has a *Vegeta (from dragon ball gt) moment, where his own kid with Tav is just flat out insulting him over his hair dye and demanding him to go back to normal, and sure he may play it cool, but the hair has gone back to its original colour (after even more intense crying in his shower)

long story short, you and Larian have given us a gold mine that should be exploted 😤

*Vegeta (originally a villian now a girldad) decided to have a mustache, his teen daughter hated it and shamed the poor bastard into shaving it🤣

I love it when life imitates art and it does seem to happen a lot when it comes to DnD. Bless Larian, I adore how they listen to their consumers.

Raphael would absolutely snap his fingers and roast anyone who insulted his new hair crispy bacon/charcoal marshmallow style.

Maaaaybe Tav gets away with it, but only because Raphael actually seems to care what they think of him.

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #larian studios #hotfix 8 or something #idk #baldurs gate 3

[bearhugsandshrugs]

My mind has been plagued with the thought the name "Gortash" was Rapheal's way of taunting Enver. Like, haha your parents sold you. AND ALSO THE NAME MEANS STRONG STONE

Raph really be like: hahahaha Gortash *proceeds to let Gortash be beaten up*

I think Gortash keeps it to reclaim it in some way

My brainworm is now your brainworm 😌

Hiiii! So... I don't really share the headcanon that Raphael sought to demean Gortash, especially as a child. I still think he got him to work for him because he saw his potential.

My memory of the biography outlines we get in Act3 is wonky but as far as I remember Gortash picked the name himself after he freed himself? I think it was definitely after he was in the gang, but hey, he could have been in the gang before the HoH, so who knows.

I personally think Gortash took a new name to break fully from his parents. And I headcanon that the House of Hope staff accepts that name because despite being annoyed at him and his escape, they can't help but respect that little fucker for breaking free and breaking it off from his deadbeat parents.

But that's just my HC!

#enver gortash #bg3 raphael #bg3 headcanons #imabreadstick-blog asks

[thegenvyisreal]

Good Omens Season 2 Episode 6 Thoughts (for real this time)

Let's just take this chronologically so I can lose my mind at the end.

Crowley in heaven! What a dork! He looks lovely I hope SO MANY PPL cosplay him.

OKAY. OKAY LISTEN. I know we never got Crowley's angelic name but that demon was a SERAPH I WILL NOT BE TAKING QUESTIONS. I AM A RAPHAEL!CROWLEY TRUTHER AND WILL BE SO UNTIL PROVEN OTHERWISE.

He's so powerful! Someone on here pointed out that when Gabriel in the recording said he was the only supreme (or level 1 or something?) archangel in heaven it panned immediately to Crowley. MY MAN. MY GIRL. CROWLEY IS SO IMPORTANT!!

Throwing encyclopedias at the demons and Aziraphale wincing, boy I feel you.

And shax made fun of Zira for liking food?? Okay fat shamer! Get fucked!

Wartime Halo Demon Bomb?? Great band name.

Crowley defusing a war with just saying "no, bad, do NOT"? The power he has!!

OMG

INEFFABLE

BUREAUCRACY

First of all, I THOUGHT the fly was a Beelzebub thing! I just didn't think it had Gabriel's memories in it.

Their little love story was cute, but explain to me HOW we were supposed to deduce why the jukebox is the way it is or WHY Gabe lost his memories without the Bureaucracy exposition??? NEIL YOU WANTED US TO FIGURE IT OUT BUT HOW???

Good for them for going off together but it's just so SILLY how THEY get to have that and our duo DON'T. I do not like it.

Okay. Let's get on with it.

So I DON'T get my angsty finale, but I do get something INFINITELY WORSE.

Maggie and Nina coming to Crowley to tell him what's up. Good for them!

Nina calling Maggie Angel I ALMOST FELL OUT OF MY CHAIR

Hell yes Derek Jacobi you're so lovely but I want to punch the Metatron in the FACE.

Why on earth would you get Zira THAT coffee?? He doesn't drink coffee!! Is this some power trip?? Is there SOMETHING IN THE COFFEE???

Aziraphale. Sweetie. Darling. Dear boy. You're so STUPID.

Crowley being like, I need to tell you this right now or I may never be able to say it. And Zira like, hold that thought! YOU RUDE LITTLE BITCH LET HIM SPEAK.

Aziraphale. WHY. WHY DO YOU INSIST THAT HEAVEN IS SO WONDERFUL AND GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! THEY HURT PEOPLE!! YOU LITERALLY LIED TO THEM ABOUT JOB'S KIDS CUZ YOU KNEW THEY WERE WRONG!! WHY DO YOU KEEP DEFENDING THEM!!

Crowley confessing. Begging Aziraphale not to do this. Aziraphale not understanding why Crowley WOULDN'T want to do this. ZIRA AFTER EVERYTHING CROWLEY'S BEEN THRU YOU WANT HIM TO GO BACK TO HIS ABUSIVE FAMILY???

The kiss.

My heart shattered.

I've been waiting for this moment for over a month, and I got it in the WORST POSSIBLE WAY. Crowley's desperation, Aziraphale not knowing how to react. Not reacting at all. Crowley kissed him and he just stood there.

Sidebar: I KNOW that Aziraphale KNOWS that he's in love with Crowley. He KNEW in 1941. You dumbass. You imbecile. You fucker. Why.

"I forgive you".

LITERALLY MURDER ME

I want to understand him. I am Aziraphale-coded for sure. But I guess I'm also Crowley-coded?? Idk what to do with my feelings.

The WAY he SAYS the line. The ACTING from Michael. Bravo bb. THE WAY. HE SAYS IT. MY HEART IS ALREADY TORN OUT AND NOW YOU PUT IT THRU A MEAT GRINDER.

Excuse me Zira I have one question:

WHAT.

ON EARTH.

DOES HE NEED TO BE FORGIVEN FOR.

YOU ABSOLUTE TWAT.

I'm gonna commit multiple crimes.

Crowley just standing there HEARTBROKEN. He LOVES THAT ANGEL SO MUCH. HE WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM. I'M GONNA MCFUCKING LOSE IT.

And he just walks out. And Aziraphale looks just as broken. I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it.

And after EVERYTHING. Crowley still waits by his car. Waits to see if Aziraphale will come to his senses and come back for him. But he doesn't. Zira even LOOKS BACK AT HIM before going into the elevator. How DARE you. How FUCKING DARE YOU YOU COWARD.

And you know??? You know what really gets to me?? You know what really cooks my noodle?? Besides the "I forgive you"???

Aziraphale's face journey in the elevator. How it lands, at the end, on a horrific smile. Bless Michael's acting skills cuz that is a horrible smile.

And Crowley just feels nothing. Completely broken. Like all of us.

I get it. I GET THE PRIDE AND PREJUDICE PARALLELS. @sycophantastic pointed it out, that it's a 3-act structure, and I know this is the "dark night of the soul" portion of the hero's journey. I GET. IT. I still hate it.

It took me forever to get to sleep last night. Like an hour and a half. Cuz my brain wouldn't shut up. And I dreamt about them. And it was awful and sad. And NOW we're going to a friend's house to watch the whole thing with her for the first time. Again. I have to endure this again.

I need QUITE EXTRAORDINARY AMOUNTS OF ALCOHOL.

#good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens #GOs2 #gos2 spoilers #gos2e6

[thelampisaflashlight]

Thinking about some of my OCs and it's like:

Lamb: "I am a goofy lil' weirdo, just bouncin' about in life. Just a pure and innocent creature."

Also Lamb: "I am currently a third in a relationship between those two-" -pointing at Cowbell and Special- "-and I once fucked a guy in a spa because I was in a bad mood and his dick was big... Don't get me started on what I've done with Swiss..."

Lamb as well: "Do not tell Omega what I get up to when he's not around, I would literally shrivel up and die in an instant."

Jeremy: "I'm a single father, who is doing his best to support his young son and provide him with a better life than I had growing up."

Also Jeremy: "I'm open and honest about my history, because it's important to me that I know I won't be judged for it in a relationship. I have trust issues and need reassurance."

Jeremy as well: "I can and will judge you for flooding your bathroom, and I will be merciless."

Quincy: "I'm just trying to make the best of a bad situation and get my life back on track after putting my wants and needs aside for years."

Also Quincy: "Mission to become a better person sidetracked by unlocking the monster fucker trait early in the narrative."

Quincy as well: "I have so many relationship issues with friends and family that I am in no position to begin dating, so I'm not committed to anything at the moment. I'm still figuring out who I am in a broad sense."

And then there's Raphael;

Raphael: "I am nervous."

Also Raphael: "I am nervous."

Raphael as well: "I might just start crying here and now-"

#lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band oc #nameless ghoul oc #sibling of sin #sibling of sin oc

[angst-king]

Fall from Grace CHP 9

(SURPRISE FUCKERS, you guys know I can't move on with a happy ending like that. So here's my version of a 'bad ending'. Like I said in the true ending. I hope you all have enjoyed this story I know I loved writing it. Anyways without further ado~) ((CW mention of amputation, sex & death) “Vaggie” Her hoarse voice called out from behind the cracked door, Vaggie went over to her concerned. Charlie noticed the metal arm, from what she had been told Lute had cut off Vaggie’s arm or well mangled it to the point she had to cut it off herself. But that didn’t deter her from wanting one final session. “Charlie, you shouldn’t be roaming around too much, you need rest-” Charlie shut Vaggie up with a deep kiss yet instead of it being quick and rough it was slow and tender full of love and wanting. Vaggie made a soft noise in surprise, her face blushed but she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity and kissed back. Charlie pulled Vaggie into her bedroom and locked the door, her inhibitions dropped as they continued to kiss. When they pulled away Vaggie noticed tears falling and cupped her face worriedly.

“Are you okay, did I hurt you?” Charlie shook her head and smiled before whispering.

“Before I go, I wanted you to know that I-...I ….I think I love you Vaggie.” Vaggie smiled and leaned in to kiss her but halted when she realized what she said.

“What do you mean ‘before you go?’ Wh-where are you going, Charlie?” “I’m going to die, Vaggie.” Her eyes blew wide and she backed away checking over the princess’s body.

“Not now but soon, I’m sorry to do this to you but. I can’t take living anymore, call it cowardly but living hurts. My life has been nothing but being someone else’s puppet and I can’t do this.” Charlie explained dismally but her smile didn’t leave as she reached for Vaggie.

“Please Vaggie, won't you give me one more night? Fuck me like you love me, not as a knight, not as an exorcist but as a lover. Fuck me like you want to know just how much you love me.” The blond girl pleaded while intertwining their fingers and pulling Vaggie on top of her. Vaggie sighed, if this was going to be her last she was going to make it her best!

For someone who was apparently soulless, she knew how to make love. Vaggie spent the entire night fucking Charlie how she had dreamed. Sure she liked it rough but it always felt like hate fucking or as if she was fucking a stranger. This felt like love, this felt real! She made sure Charlie enjoyed every minute of it and didn’t care if they were caught. She hoped that if she did a good enough job then Charlie would forget all about her plans. However, when Vaggie woke up to an empty bedroom she knew there was no stopping her. 

Then there was a blood-curdling scream.

Vaggie made haste to put on her clothes and get to the source, spear in hand as she ran down the hall. A few other guards came running as well. The sound of loud sobbing echoed louder and louder many other Archangels came from their sides of the castle all meeting in the center hall’s throne room. Vaggie had gone pale at the image in front of her very eyes. On her throne sat Charlie with a holy sword impaling her chest, her crown hanging from the handle of the sword, and her engagement ring resting on the end of the handle. Golden blood slowly seeped through her dress as her body lay still. The source of the scream was Lilith and Samael!

Everyone shared a look of horror as Lilith and Samael rushed towards her. Charlie weakly looked up at her parents who hovered over her. The light in her bright blue eyes faded fast.

“I’m sorry Mom and Dad, I couldn’t do it anymore.” Her voice hardly a ghosting their ears. Lilith dropped to her knees while Samael had Raphael rush over to help him save Charlie. Pulling the sword from her chest they both worked at healing her before she bled out. Samael lifted her body from the throne and pulled her close to his body using what magic he could to repair the damage while he cried.

“It's okay Charlie, it's okay Daddy’s here now, come on sweetheart open your eyes. Daddy and Mommy are here, come on!” He started chest compressions when he couldn’t feel her pulse, it almost made him sick to his stomach to hear her ribs crunching as they broke from the force. They were still healing from her fall through the hotel’s crash. Her lifeless body was raising and lowering on the floor from it. But he wasn’t going to stop, he couldn’t stop, not until his little girl was breathing, until she was holding onto him until she was calling for him. He wouldn’t stop!

“Come on Charlie come on princess, wake up for me, open those pretty eyes of yours. Please Charlie you’re scaring me!” He pleaded, as he worked Michael hurried from his side.

“What the fuck is with all the screaming?!” He yelled grumpily looking to be just woken up from his sleep though as he walked around he saw Lilith who was curled into Uriel while silently begging for their daughter to come back, then he turned the corner and saw Samael over Charlie’s body and the bloody sword on the floor.

“What happened?!” But no one answered, Samael and Raphael were too busy working on Charlie and everyone else was spectating in suspense.

Samael didn’t know how long he had been doing chest compressions but Raphael had to force him to stop and let him continue them. What could he do now? He had just come home from Earth to see his daughter die! He felt so useless all he could do was pray at this point until Raphael told him.

“I’ve got one last option here, and if this doesn’t work then I’m sorry brother.” Samael knew what Raphael meant and nodded solemnly.

“Anything, please do anything as long as it saves her please!” The king of heaven beseeched desperately. Raphael nodded back and clasped his hands together muttering a spell of sorts he asked for Samael and Lilith to extend out their hand. Both of them did as told and he held them in his. Closing his eyes a small glowing ball of light began to grow from the size of a marble to an orange. He was taking some of their divine energy and life force along with his own before he plunged it into Charlie’s body. There was silence, waiting, oh dammit did they hate waiting especially now. The wound in Charlie’s chest struggled to close the sound of skin snapping and pulling to meet in the middle along with crackling bones trying to put themselves back into place.  Blood continued to pour from the area spilling onto the floor creating a puddle that steadily grew. Raphael leaned down, felt for her pulse, and checked for any signs of life. His mouth came utterly dry when not a single one could be found.

“I-I’m sorry, br-brother.” He could hardly get out the words, Samael shook his head, he couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to.

“N-no, please Raphael!” Raphael could feel his own heart sinking as he looked down at the princess.

“I’m so sorry S-Sa-Samael….Sh-she’s gone.” Samael grabbed Charlie’s lifeless body and pulled it back to him.

“No no no, she-she can’t be, please! She’s not no! Please!” He buried his face into her shoulder as bawled heavily. Lilith had realized what this meant and fully dropped to her knees letting out the loudest scream that almost shook the castle. But not of horror, but of pain, this cry was out of pain and loss. Uriel stayed close to her rubbing her back while trying to keep herself from crying as did many of the other Archangels. It had finally hit Michael as to what had happened…Charlie was dead.

Vaggie who stood by watching all of this did her best to resist the urge to cry, she had hardly felt this urge so it was unfamiliar. This deep-seated pain in her chest grew the longer she watched, she bit on her lower lip as it started to quiver when the floodgates of emotions began to test her strength.

The room was overflowing with pain, so much pain, so much anguish.

The princess had fallen from grace, but sadly no one had been there to catch her.

A day after there was an announcement that had reached many places of her passing. Heaven would never be the same, and Samael and Lilith would never be the same. They had lost their only daughter, no amount of asking to reincarnate her would bring her back. No amount of getting on their knees and begging with God would bring her back. No amount of beating Michael bloody would fix the damage done to their kingdom or bring back Charlie.

The story has ended but there was no happily ever after.

#king's fanfic #king's hazbin fic #hazbin charlie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vaggie #hazbin lilith #hazbin arch angels #hazbin swap au #chaggie angst #fwb chaggie #charlie angst #Bad ending

[flowersdaggersviolasandblood]

Flower Girl

Name: Pero Ophiin (She/Her)

Race: Wood Half-Elf

Class: Druid (Circle of the Land)

Background: Outlander

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD!

So, last we left off, we entered a secret temple dedicated to Shar called the Gauntlet of Shar. While down there, we learn from Shadowheart that this temple is one of the many few dungeons where Sharite devotees come to become Dark Justiciars and be forever favored by the Dark Lady. When Pero asks Shadowheart her intentions on becoming a Dark Justiciar, she says that it's for power against the Absloute. However, Pero didn't really like that answer as she has seen what Shar's people can do and are capable of and does not like their vibe. Especially since the mortality rate of Sharites completing the trials of Shar are few and far between, and who knows what failing could mean. From what we seen in this dungeon, could mean death.

While exploring, we discovered 3 skeletons who were controlled by a parasite, but there's also another source that's manipulating the tadpole. After a brief back and forth, we were then attacked by undead Shar worshipers and Dark Justiciars. During the fight, the Bones Malone guys ended up getting @-ed, but don't worry, we will see them multiple times.

While explore, I saw a Displacer Beast and decided to follow it, only to be faced with the rival of Raphael, Yurgir. First time around, I tried to slightly talk with them, but ended up fighting them regardless and it ended in tragedy. So I decided to skip the dialogue, find a more advantageous position and kill the fucker that way. Also, fuck Displacer Beasts, that mf and his AOO clones were annoying as shit.

With Yurgir dead, when we made camp, Raphael came to visit.

Raphael explains that the poem on Astarion's back isn't necessarily a poem, but instead a ritual rite for a spell called the Rite of Profane Ascension, an infernal ritual so terrible, it's never been performed. Cazador intends to sacrifice a bunch of people, including his own vampiric spawn, so that he may ascend to a higher state of being. To walk among the living, while also having the powers of a Vampire. His ritual could be nearly complete, but Astarion is currently missing, and he would need him to finish the ritual.

Great, just great! So Wyll is stuck with Mizora to do her twisted bidding, Gale is a nuke and has a forced mission to blow himself up to destroy the Absolute, Karlach could burn herself up to death, so now Astarion risks being used for a sacrifice that could ascend them to become the most dangerous Vampire on Faerun. While Pero's anger could never amount to what Astarion is feeling, she's peeved right now. She confirms with Astarion that they will stop Cazador and she will protect him.

Also, little cursed thing, when I showed my friends the pics of Astarion and Pero together, one of them mentioned how Pero looks like Astarions' little sister and......Fuck, now I can't unsee it! Welp, it's not a proper harem if there's no Little Sister option XD.

While camping, we also come back to Arabella and her coming to terms with her parents death. Wither explains that with her grief and her newfound powers, Arabella's powers are unbalanced and she will have to leave camp. Pero objects to this, recognizing that Arabella is a child and will most likely not survive on her own, especially in the state the Cursed Lands are in. But Withers shows Arabella a vision of her future, which gives her the strength to move on and continue her own journey. So Arabella left the Party.

With those few camp activities out the way, we venture back into the Gauntlet of Shar. Finally found the check point and encountered some fucked up rats. While down there, we meet Balthazar! MF is down here with a few ghouls and some beeg mf looking for a certain artifact for Ketheric. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to sus out any further information about what this item is, but Pero decided to follow along for the time being (mainly because I don't think I'm ready to fight this mf rn).

While exploring, we found this weird spider carcass and...Well, licking it made Pero feel a little something and...She's not doing that again. Didn't need Astarion calling her out on that (fucking remembering that scene, they really are brother and sister lmao). We also completed one trial of Shar, but Pero is noticing that there is conflict within Shadowheart. When the time comes, Pero might consider helping Shadowheart to consider those feelings as a warning.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #tav: pero ophiin

[tmnt-obsessed-ace]

When The World Crumbles Chapter 8 Beatdown At Sunrise.

For as long as Raphael can remember, he was always the most impulsive of the four brothers.

When an idea popped into his head he had to act on it, no time to think it over, no time to find a better way to go about it. As soon as the idea was in his head he acted on it. Sometimes that was good, like in battle when plans went to shit and he had to move fast.

Other times however, it only caused more grief.

Like when that one New Yorker who would eventually become Spider Bites had the fucking audacity to call them 'Kung Fu Frogs.' record them and threaten to expose their entire existence to the world! Raphael had lost his temper, trying to counter every single insult that greasy fucker threw at them!

Because how dare that sleazeball insult his family?

However over the years his once incredibly short fuse had gotten longer and longer. The impulsiveness was fading away a little.

Ever since those months spent at the farmhouse…

However, the past week has been a nightmare from hell! The Kraang plotting another full scale invasion, Raphael and his brothers getting their asses beat six ways to Sunday for pretty much an entire week straight! They had barely got maybe two and a half hours worth of sleep between the four of them! They ran out of food and medical supplies, leaving them barely surviving. Then somehow they had ended up here in this backwards dimension while Kraang Prime is free to mutate Earth to her heart's delight!

Of course the problems didn't end! Then they split up, got chased by a killer animatronic, now when things were finally starting to look up other Donatello showed up ready to murder them for attacking his brother.

No, not murder them. Murder him.

And Raphael couldn't blame him one bit. If the roles were reversed he would probably be trying to tear the other turtle's head off by now.

Another plasma blast shot past the trio as they ran, trying to get away.

"Why is he so mad at us!" Michelangelo yelled, clinging to Donatello as he ran. The purple clad turtle looked at Raphael, a terrified and angry look in those russet brown eyes.

"Raphie over here decided it would be a great idea to attack Leonardo's counterpart." Donatello spat, sarcasm obvious in his voice. Michelangelo shot the red clad turtle a heated glare.

"Dude!"

"I know! I know I fucked up!" Raphael yelled back, nearly tripping and twisting his ankle again. "He can't follow us forever, we just have to find somewhere to hide!" Fear was obvious in his voice.

Raphael was scared, no…he was god damn terrified! His brothers' lives were on the line because he let his anger get the better of him, again! Because he screwed up! Again!

The other purple clad turtle fired the cannon again and again while laughing at their misery, with each blast coming closer and closer to hitting them.

Raphael threw a trash can at the cannon, trying to slow it down some. That did virtually nothing. Didn't even leave a scratch!

So the three turtles kept running while the furious thoughts in Raphael's head chased him around as well.

His mind kept replaying him tackling the young slider over and over, his sai pointed at the younger turtle's throat while threats spilled from his mouth.

He saw the fear in the poor turtle's eyes, the way he tried to squirm away. It made Raphael's stomach churn. Why did he do that? The kid didn't deserve that! Maybe if Leonardo had been with them that encounter would've ended differently.

If Leonardo had been there that encounter wouldn't have happened at all. Leonardo is calm, level headed even in the most stressful situations. The slider wouldn't have been tackled and the trio wouldn't be chased by his feral brother! Where was Leonardo anyway? Was he looking for them? Was he even ok?

"Raph!" Donatello shouted, snapping the older turtle out of his thoughts. "What do we do?" The other turtle was gaining on them. They dodged another blast, this one grazing the top of their shells.

"Over there!" Raphael pointed to a small playground, not the best thing in the world but there is a small fort for them to hide in. Raphael chucked his last smoke bomb, letting the violet smoke shield them from their pissed off attacker as they fled.

They quickly hid inside the fort. It was just big enough to shield all three of them.

Other Donatello was cussing up a storm, now searching for them. The plastic door and shutters of the fort were shut , leaving only thin cracks of light in the thick plastic building.

Michelangelo was quietly whimpering, Donatello was trying to catch his breath. Raphael quickly shushed them both, pulling them close to his chest as the cannon pulled up to the playground.

All three turtles held their breath, the only sounds that could be heard were their own rapid pulses. After several minutes, with the trio struggling to keep silent, they hoped other Donatello would leave and look elsewhere.

He did no such thing.

"There's no use hiding! I know you three are in there!" He shouted into what sounded like a megaphone. Where did he get a megaphone?

Raphael held up a finger to his lips, the two younger brothers nodding in sync.

"Do you actually think a cheap plastic fort will provide sufficient protection against a blast from a high powered laser canon?" The trio shared a look, this stupid thing wouldn't stand a chance against advanced alien technology.

"Dudes, we're goners!" Michelangelo whispered, clinging to Donatello, who was staring at Raphael with fearful eyes, they were so fucked.

Because Raphael lost his temper. Again.

He gulped, trying to think of a way to fix this. To get his brothers out of danger! Because that's what he's supposed to do as their older brother, keep them safe.

He pulled them close and squeezed them tightly. "No matter what happens you two stay here." Raphael whispered.

The red clad turtle stood up, ignoring the spike of pain from his ankle. The plastic door was pushed open and Raphael left the fort, much to his brothers' horror.

He held up his hands.

"Look I'm sorry-" Another blast narrowly missed him, scorching the roof of the fort "That I attacked your brother." He started, shifting his weight so that his bad ankle was barely touching the ground. Other Doantello scoffed, charging up his fancy new toy again.

The cannon was aimed directly at Raphael. He gulped and moved to the left so that the fort wasn't in the line of fire as well. The cannon fired, Raphael dodged and clambered behind a nearby playset. He climbed to the second level, glaring daggers at his younger brother's counterpart.

"Dude can you not try and blow me to bits for five fucking seconds!" The hooded turtle barked, three more blasts of hot plasma grazing him, leaving scorch marks behind.

"Hm let me think about that for a second-NO!" The other purple clad turtle yelled, firing more and more blasts with the cannon. And of course it would never run out of ammo, stupid Kraang technology.

"Then let's settle this!" Raphael cracked his knuckles. Another blast knocked him off the playset. Donatello and Michelangelo's screams rang in his ears as he fell to the ground, smacking his face into something metal. He stood up, his left eye was shut and starting to swell. He staggered a bit and glared at the other turtle. "Let's fight for real without your stupid damn cannon! What do you say?"

Other Donatello looked him up and down, eyes filled with anger and…concern? It was just a tiny little flicker but Raphael saw it clear as day.

That flicker quickly vanished as the other turtle pulled out his bō staff. Raphael pulled out his sais, shooting one last glance at his brothers peaking through the windows of the fort.

"Raph-"

"Stay there!" The two younger turtles were silenced by the yell. That sounded so much like Leonardo had said it. Full confidence leaving no room for argument. It made them shiver.

Raphael let out a battle cry, charging at the other turtle.

Purple light swirled around the bō staff, forming the head of a massive hammer. Other Donatello cackled and swung the hammer around, Raphael dodging with ease. He smirked and got in close, glaring up at this dramatic fucker before kicking him in the chest.

The purple clad turtle didn't have a chance to recover before Raphael jabbed his sais at the stranger. Not a single hit landed. Raphael was smacked away by the hammer, violet static buzzing from his body. He shrugged it off and kept going.

Donatello and Michelangelo could only watch helplessly as the two decked it out, exchanging blows and trying to dodge others. Raphael was playing defensive, keeping the other turtle away from the fort as much as possible.

"We gotta help him!" Michelangelo yelled, ducking down to avoid a burst of flames from his older brother. The smell of burnt plastic making him choke.

"How? We can barely move and you have a broken arm! Plus you don't have your weapons!" Donatello fired back, wincing as Raphael was knocked into a merry-go-round.

"I got an idea! Follow me Dee!" Michelangelo bolted out of the fort, racing towards a nearby swing set. Donatello gulped, dodging more flames and strange purple light as he staggered after the youngest.

Raphael knocked the purple clad turtle down, tackling him so he could pin him down with his sais. The bō staff was knocked a little bit away.

They were both panting for a moment, blood and sweat running down the hooded turtle's face.

"Get off of me or I swear to god I will tear out your entrails and boil them while you bleed out!" Other Donatello shouted, squirming under Raphael.

"Pft yeah right kid." Raphael rolled his eyes. He heard Donatello say way worse things when playing Minecraft before. The younger turtle growled, thrashing around like an animal.

More voices could be heard approaching. Other Donnie's brothers by the sounds of it.

"Ok look, how about we call it even and just start over?" Raphael asked, starting to get off his brother's counterpart.

"You absolute dumbass." The purple clad turtle said excitedly.

A smirk formed on other Donatello's face. It was a wide, wild smirk that truly made Raphael's blood run cold in his veins. In a split second he snatched his staff, a rocket forming on the end. He brutally slammed the rocket into the older turtle's stomach, sending him flying into the plastic walls of the fort hard enough to leave a crater.

Raphael slumped forward and groaned, a bit of blood dribbling from his mouth. Static electricity coursing through his body. He could barely move. The cannon was pointed at him again, all he could do was weakly raise his arms and hope that death would be quick.

"BOOYAKASHA!" Michelangelo yelled before a loud smack and a yelp echoed through the playground.

Raphael looked up, eyes wide.

Other Donatello was rubbing his jaw, staring at the furious Michelangelo standing before him. He was holding a damn swing from one of the swingsets! He swung it around, the other Donatello avoiding the metal seat that kept flying at his head.

"Holy shit! Go Mikey!" Raphael sputtered out as his Donatello came over, the backpack with the first aid kit in hand.

"Don't kill him Mikey!" Donatello called, the only response being a 'kay' from the orange clad turtle.

"He's really goin at it!" The red clad turtle slurred, watching as his younger brother used a damn swing as a weapon. It was heavier than his nunchaku so he was more or less swinging its weight around hoping it would hit. It was still fucking cool to watch.

"I just hope he doesn't further damage his arm by doing that." Donatello grabbed his brother and helped him stand, leading him away from the cannon while the two turtles were fighting. Once they were a safeish distance away Donatello turned to his older brother.

And smacked his fist on the top of his head. Just hard enough to hurt a little.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"This is the second time tonight you tried to pull a Leo." Donatello said, voice filled with worry and snark. "We already have one self sacrificial fool in the family, we don't need TWO!" Raphael ignored his brother's shouting and rolled his eyes.

"Ok I get it, don't take after Fearless!"

The cannon was knocked about by the pair dueling in the control seat. Other Donatello was slammed into the controls, activating the weapon.

A pink beam of plasma shot out of the nozzle.

Donatello and Raphael ducked to the ground, waiting for the blast to end. A choked gasp from Michelangelo made them look up. He pointed behind them, face going deathly pale.

Behind them was the backpack with the first aid kit. It had gotten knocked out of Donatello's hand by the plasma beam. Now it laid on the ground, nothing but a smoldering pile of ash.

Michelangelo fell to his knees, mouth wide open as he stared at the remains of the first aid kit.

After everything he went through to get the damn thing it just gets destroyed before they could use it? Tears rolled down his cheeks, emptiness filling his worn out body.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Raphael groaned.

"We just can't catch a break, can we?" Donatello asked, pulling his younger brother close.

"Great, now we have to replace the first aid kit, again! Leo's not gonna like this." The other purple clad turtle said, hopping down from the cannon. The trio of turtles all turned to him, murder in their eyes.

"Look it was an accident-"

"You seriously couldn't have let us have the damn first aid kit?" Raphael asked, somehow getting to his feet. The other two joined him.

The trio drew their weapons, summoning whatever little strength they had left. They were exhausted, covered in injuries, starving and about ready to bite it. But if they were going down, it might as well be in a blaze of glory. Their eyes became bright white narrow slits.

The other Mad Dogs surrounded other Donatello, weapons drawn and their ninpo shining.

"Are we seriously going to fight them?" Other Michelangelo asked, clearly not wanting to attack the injured trio.

"Afraid so Michael." Other Donatello raised his bō.

"But look at them! They can barely move!"

"Mikey's right, this feels a little cruel." Other Raphael chimed in, with mixed feelings about this whole situation. On one hand he did want to get some payback for Raphael threatening his brother. On the other hand he looked over every single gash, burn and bruise on the turtles' bodies. Did they actually deserve a smashing after all that?

Other Leonardo stepped forwards, sensing the hesitance from his team.

"Look, if you three drop your weapons now we won't hurt you." He said coolly.

The trio didn't answer, instead screaming as they attacked the four turtles. The four spared one glance and attacked as well. So much for surrendering. Weapons colliding and battle cries were yelled, all the while the sky grew filled with the brilliant hues of the early sunrise. A pretty sight compared to the brawl below.

Just like the brawl going down in a certain brownie factory.

Leonardo blocked the metal blade of the woman's staff yet again with his katana. He ducked behind one of the ovens, tuning out the kunoichi's shouts.

He chucked two shurikens at the woman, neither coming close to hitting her. That was fine, they were just distractions to try and slow her down.

"Just gotta find an exit and we'll be good to go!" He mumbled to himself, avoiding the sharp blade as it sliced through the air. His katana parried the blade, knocking it back so he had an opening. With a swing he almost brought his own blade down.

Key word being, almost.

The woman ducked down before springing back up, kicking Leonardo in his already bruised ribs. A wheeze escaped his mouth but he ignored it, racing through the building once again.

Dozens of vicious shrieks chased after him, followed by the woman's laughter. He ignored them.

After the invasion he grew familiar with tuning out screaming hordes, mind going completely blank. His body was fighting purely on muscle memory and instinct. The blue clad turtle didn't have any plans on winning this fight.

All he cared about was surviving.

He skirted to the left, dodging a metal pipe from one of the woman's brats. With a shove the girl was knocked to the ground while Leonardo kept running.

He ran inside a large room, every breath he took made his chest burn like fire was in his lungs. For a brief moment, everything was peaceful.

Leonardo looked out of the massive windows, the sky getting brighter and brighter. The dark blues of nighttime were fading away, lighter hues of blue and soft pinks and yellows took their place. He smiled, this was his golden ticket out of the crazy brownie factory.

Nothing else mattered, aside from getting the fuck out of here.

Just as he was about to leave, his sixth sense started blaring. Only a moment too late.

"For The Brownie Clan!" The woman yelled, swinging her weapon at Leonardo's legs, knocking him to the ground before attempting another swing. This one was aimed at his head.

He barely had a second to raise his katana, the clang of metal on metal echoing in his ears.

The blue clad turtle wheezed, trying to push the blade backwards. It was a pitiful attempt at best with how much his arms were trembling, begging for rest.

His entire body was begging for rest, vision heavily blurred and doubled. That didn't matter.

He didn't care.

The room was soon flooded with the girl scouts, all watching with blood thirsty eyes while they cheered the kunoichi, who was most likely their sensei, on.

He growled, squeezing his solid white eyes shut and somehow shoved the woman away, punching any of her minions that attacked him next. He had long since given up on not hurting the little hellions. The bruising bite mark on his leg is proof of that.

The hooded turtle staggered back to his feet, fighting past the aching of his bad leg pleading for a damn break. Blood dribbled from his mouth as his knuckles went white around the handle of his katana.

Somehow they had gotten to the highest level of the brownie factory, just below actually being on the roof itself.

"After all of that you're still going? Impressive!" The woman slung her hockey stick of death over her shoulder while her hordes of screaming girls surrounded them, blocking the exits. Leonardo was panting, wanting this to be over.

He was only vaguely aware of the sword in his hands, the laughing shrieks of the brats becoming muffled in his ears. His legs started to buckle. His eyes flickered to the windows, freedom was so close!

The woman charged him again, the blue clad turtle stumbling to dodge each blow. After several seconds he couldn't take it anymore.

"Ok enough!" He said, voice a strained rasp. He sheathed his katana and held up his hands. The girls all booed at him, clearly disappointed.

"You're actually surrendering?"

Leonardo nodded, feeling so stupid for doing this.

"You've won-" An electric chill raced down his spine with the speed of a comet. The very same chill he felt when he saw the glowing lights while looking for Michelangelo. Only this time it was so much stronger. Dark blue eyes widened, focusing on the windows. Beyond the glass was where he had to go.

The woman also looked towards the glass, confused.

"Whatcha lookin at?" She asked, trying to see what was so interesting.

In the distance a flash of light shone above the buildings.

Suddenly filled with renewed energy and growing determination Leonardo unsheathed his katana and sped towards the woman, the blade slashing at her shoulder. A streak of red was left behind.

She smirked.

"Atta boy! Let's finish our battle so that our lord of darkness will prosper once again!" And somehow they circled back to the long furby worship. Fantastic!

The blades collided once again, the determined look never leaving Leonardo's face. Somehow he was going to get out of here and find his brothers!

With a swing of his legs the kunoichi was knocked to the ground, her girl scouts glaring at him with furious looks.

Leonardo spared one last glance at the strange woman.

"You fought well, but now I have to go and find my brothers!" The holded turtle said with a surprising amount of conviction given how exhausted he was.

The woman snickered, standing up.

"Then go! Find your brothers and heal up quick for the next time we meet it will be a duel for the history books!"

"Ok bye!" Leonardo turned to leave when suddenly without warning, the woman shouted something that made his heart skip a beat, jumping into the air.

"GOONGALA!" The woman yelled, kicking Leonardo square in the chest. He was sent flying backwards through the window, frigid winds buffeting past him. He yanked on the cord, turtle glider opening. He flipped around, staring at the woman.

He only heard one person in his entire life say that dumb catchphrase.

Casey Jones.

Was this…Casey?

More flashes of light caught his attention, he'll have to deal with maybe Casey later.

Somehow, he knew that his brothers were in danger. He had to help them!

He zipped through the sky, the electric buzzing in his body serving as his guide to finally find his family.

When the three other Mad Dogs got to the park, they were expecting the other trio to be coming with them peacefully.

Ok maybe expecting wasn't the right word, more like hoping. Well Raph had been hoping that at least.

However, realistically, there would have been no chance of peace. After all it was Donnie that went after them. As soon as other Raph and other Donnie had booked it, Donnie unhooked his brand new cannon from the turtle tank and sped off before anyone could stop him.

He wanted to make them pay for threatening Leo.

So he fucking ditched them to go get vengence while the flaming Albearto kept trying to tear them apart.

Leo had knocked it into a portal, sending the metal monster elsewhere. It could be someone else's problem now. Afterwards it wasn't hard to find Donnie. Just had to follow the explosions.

Luckily they seemed to get there just in time to save Donnie a beat down.

Leo teleported behind his twin's counterpart, dodging every half assed attack from the taller turtle with ease.

"Man you are bad at this!" The slider taunted, blocking another swing with his katanas. The electricity crackled against the metal, yet it didn't electrocute him. Must be an added bonus of his swords being made from his very soul.

Other Donnie was also watching the sparking electricity, confusion written all over his face.

"What the? You should be seizing with electricity by now!" The turtle half shouted before Leo kicked him in the stomach, knocking him into the ground.

The turtle rolled over, getting back up and going at him once again.

"Well I'm not! Must be pretty shocking!" Leo said with his usual playful smirk. Other Donnie looked even more confused as his brain started to process the pun. However he didn't get the chance before getting smacked by Mikey's mystic chains.

Leo watched the other purple clad turtle screech as he was smacked around like a ragdoll. To his left, other Mikey was fighting Raph, trying to land hits on the red hologram. Raph hadn't gone nearly as big as he usually does and he was mostly playing defensive and blocking attacks.

Donnie however had no such restraint, locked in a vicious looking brawl with other Raph. Those two were about five seconds from wrestling on the ground. So naturally to make sure his twin doesn't either get pummeled or commits a felony, Leo joined in.

The slider's katanas sliced through the air, giving other Raph a split second to duck before he lost his head! With him distracted, Donnie's bō formed a hammerhead, whacking the short turtle away like a piñata.

Donnie smirked gleefully, swinging his hammer around. He raced after the red clad turtle, ready to pummel him into the dirt.

"Try not to kill him DeeDee!" Leo shouted, only getting a dramatic cackle in response. Leo rolled his eyes, turning his attention to other Mikey.

The shorter turtle glared daggers at him, the stolen swing in his hands ready to be used as a bludgeon yet again.

Other Mikey charged, quite literally swinging his weapon around trying to slam Leo. When the fight first started he was more or less just throwing his weight around but now it seems like he is actually getting a handle on his new weapon, each swing becoming more coordinated than the last.

That gave the slider an idea.

Another smirk spread across his face. Mikey caught a glimpse while helping Raph fight other Donnie.

"Leon-"

He rubbed his hands together, knocking other Mikey off his feet with the swipe of a leg.

The smirk grew wider, Raph and Donnie both glanced at their brother, already knowing what was happening.

"Leo now is not the time-"

"Nardo I swear to god I will revoke your older twin privileges-"

"Looks like you're finally getting the swing of things!" Leo said with a laugh. All eyes turned towards the blue clad turtle.

Raph, Donnie and Mikey groaned, while their counterparts were staring at him with disbelieving looks.

"Did…Did anybody else get the sudden inexplicable urge to shove him into a locker or was that just me?" Other Donnie asked.

Leo faked an offended gasp, his hand over his heart.

"Good job, I feel less bad about threatening you now." Other Raph retorted, shoving Donnie into a slide.

"Oh come on! That was good!" All six turtles shook their heads. Other Mikey did a so-so gesture with his hand.

Leo pouted, crossing his arms with a huff. Unfortunately that meant that he got hit by other Mikey's swing. He staggered to the ground, glaring at the shorter turtle.

And so the battle continued to rage on, with the other turtles getting more and more worn out the longer they fought. Their movements were getting uncoordinated and sloppy while also slowing down. They were at the end of their ropes.

The trio were thrown into the ground by Mikey's mystic chains, nearly slamming into each other.

They all looked up, Raph's red hologram form looming over them. Other Raph grabbed Mikey and Donnie's counterparts, holding them close. All three shut their eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

It never came.

"Alright thats enough, no more fighting." Raph said, looking at his younger brothers.

Mikey nodded, worry painted all over his normally happy face.

Donnie groaned but nodded as well, allowing the ninpo surrounding his staff to fade.

Leo took that as his cue to come over.

"Let's get you three back to the lair so we can patch you up and then find lame-o number four." He said coolly, already shifting into medic mode at the many, many wounds covering the trio's bodies.

How many of those were caused by the Mad Dogs?

Other Raphael shot him a death glare, holding his two siblings tighter.

"And how do we know you aren't going to kill us! Give me one god damn reason to believe a word that comes out of your fucking mouth!" The short red clad turtle yelled, pulling his brothers to their feet. Weapons drawn one last time.

"We don't want to hurt you!" Raph pleaded.

"Oh yeah, that was extremely obvious! How couldn't I have guessed that!" Other Donnie hissed, filled with that classic Donnie snark. At least that's a constant among the two purple clad turtles.

"Don't act like you didn't attack us first!" Donnie snapped back, loading three tranquilizer darts into his gun.

"Guys come on! You can't fight anymore!" Mikey pleaded, his counterpart mumbling something to his brothers.

Leo waved a hand at Donnie, stopping the softshell from his plan. Donnie sighed and lowered the tranq gun.

"We want to earn their trust!" Leo hissed before carefully approaching. They raised their weapons, their entire bodies trembling. "Look, we got off on the wrong foot here, so let's start over."

Other Mikey looked at his brothers, clutching his heavily swollen arm. "Maybe we should give them a chance?" He asked tiredly.

Other Donnie shrugged. "Raph what do you think?" The red clad turtle glared at Leo, eyes searching for any sign of a lie.

There was none.

The short turtle groaned.

Raph smiled a bit, just about to finally drop the hologram.

There was a horrible shrieking sound, like metal slamming through more metal.

All seven turtles were stunned to see the blade of a katana had gone through the hologram. The owner was another mutant turtle wearing a hood just like the dumbass trio. And he was also sporting half a billion injuries that made Leo cringe.

"LEO!" The trio of hooded turtles shouted, the pure joy and relief in their voices made the four turtles smile a bit.

That quickly changed when the katana was withdrawn and slashed across the surface of the hologram while other Leo flew by with some kind of glider.

"Oh come on we're done fighting!" Mikey yelled, dodging the merciless blade of the katana as it swung just over his head!

"He's not apparently!" The katana was sheathed, a bow and several arrows were pulled out of the quiver.

An arrow was drawn back and fired, narrowly missing Donnie's legs.

Several more arrows were fired, with the four turtles scrambling to avoid them all while other Leo's brother cheered him on from the ground.

Eventually the archer was out of arrows.

Other Leo flew back down, unsheathing his singular katana again. His solid white eyes focused on Leo and Leo alone.

"Hey its alright, we're the good guys!" Raph pleaded, having long since dropped the hologram. "Lets just go to the lair and get you all patched up!"

The hooded turtle ignored Raph entirely, standing before Leo.

It was a challenge.

One Leo couldn't refuse.

He cracked his knuckles and pulled out his twin katanas. "You wanna duel? Well who am I to refuse a chance to show off my mad skills!" Leo said with full confidence.

His counterpart said nothing, sword raised in an unsteady defensive motion.

"Are they actually doing this?" Raph asked.

"You know Nardo will take any chance to show off." Donnie pulled out his phone and pressed record, wanting to catch this on video.

Sensing the tension, the six other turtles all stood back, allowing the duo in blue to circle one another.

"Go easy on him Lee!" Mikey yelled.

"Kick his fucking ass all the way to New Jersey Leo!" Other Raph yelled, other Mikey and other Donnie shouting similar taunts.

"Alright shorty, here's the deal. If I win you and your brothers will come with us to the lair." Other Leo nodded, and for the first time he spoke.

"And if I win will you let us go?" His voice was raspy, cracking in an almost painful sounding way.

All seven turtles winced.

"Deal!"

They circled each other for a few more moments before Leo charged first, twin katanas striking his counterpart's singular one.

When Leo got close enough the white of his counterpart's eyes went away, revealing two dark blue eyes underneath.

There was fear, there was anger, there was the deep seated need to protect, there was love for his brothers. There was also…grief?

If he had to describe it, it was like staring into the eye of a hurricane. The calm only a false sense of hope while the racing winds and thundering rains grew closer and closer, promising destruction on anyone foolish enough to stick around.

Other Leo knocked him off, swinging at him with the practiced elegance and grace of a master. However it was also wild, desperate and exhausted which made every attack easy to dodge.

Blades kept colliding, the sky now bright as sunrise was almost upon them. Neither of the blue clad turtles gave a fuck. They just kept going and going.

However, no matter how much the hooded turtle fought it was obvious who the winner was going to be. Every swing of the blade was slower than the last, those blue eyes struggling to stay focused on Leo.

"Dude seriously just let us help you!" Leo whispered to his opponent.

Other Leo seemed to actually consider this, the weariness in his eyes made it clear that he didn't want to do this anymore either.

Before he could say anything, the sound of a vehicle rapidly approaching made all sixteen eyes turn to the road.

It looked like some kind of food truck, the driver a very pissed off mutant pig.

"MeatSweats? Again!" Raph shouted.

Donnie groaned and Mikey narrowed his eyes.

"Ok who is MeatSweats!" Other Donnie yelled anxiously.

"Cannibalistic mutant pig!" Other Mikey replied.

"What is wrong with this dimension!" Other Raph groaned.

Leo turned back to his counterpart, whose eyes were now wide as the truck got closer and closer.

As all the turtles drew their weapons again a single thought raced through their heads like a speeding bullet.

We are so screwed.

#rottmnt #tmnt 2012 #crossover #tmnt crossover #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teeange mutant ninaj turtles

[ducknotinarow]

Ramble About: 2k12 Karai! Specifically, her dealing with her new siblings [Foot!Casey AU basically] xD

| ramble about your muse

I will be keeping this mostly to the foot!Casey Au cause im living for this whole concept now uwu

At first karai like many kids when new kids are brought into the family hated them. Well more the idea of her father having more kids.

it didn't take long for the three to become close however

Angel is just pure baby and Karai took to being a big sister pretty easy

I like to think Karai helps with doing Angel's hair

that the two have little slumber parties that Casey either is allowed to join or just sort of joins in on

The first time Angel refered to Karai as her big sister she almost cried. She has some family issue all things consider so it was nice.

She tots uses Angel to gag up on Casey cause Angel can get him to agree to anything.

She has "bought" a lot of gifts for Angel over the years

Casey took a bit more to warm up to cause of them having similar tempers and Casey being pretty brash

Karai now feeling she had competition for Shredders approval as well considering she and Casey are the same age (some sexist bullshit too since Casey's a boy I sure she felt her place could be taken at any moment as the heir to Shredders clan.)

With all this pressure one day Shredder snapped at her and she handle it fine in front of everyone but once she could she took off and hid to cry.

Casey came to check on her and manged to cheer her up cause well hes a lovable idiot.

Soon Casey wasn't just a sort of rival but also a source of comfort.

She wasn't alone anymore she had siblings and that kind of changed everything for her.

Casey and Her fight all the time often butting heads ofc but anytime someone wanted to call out Casey as merely being adopted in the clan? they were dealing with Karai.

Casey lives for the fact hes a month older than her and during that month where he is she has to deal with him being the biggest bitch. Since Casey likes to say he's the oldest meanwhile Karai all well im the heir but age matter more apparently XD

Despite all this because Karai is known as a trouble maker rebel as they got older she used to sneak him and her out so they could sneak into hockey games. Especially for his brithday.

Karai, Casey and Angel often would do this as well just sneak out into the town for a bit

If Shredder got mad Karai always took the fall for them all. So to protect the other two and because Shredder would hold back a bit with Karai.

I can see the three of them getting all done up like doing make up get dressed up in street clothes and such to hit the city or just something to do at home.

They likely had a sort of movie night thing to least when younger when they got older not as easy since karai often is busy with foot clan stuff to learn from Shredder.

I feel Shredder dose plan on each kid doing something in the clan when they get older. Karai is still heir but maybe plans Casey being like right hand so the one in charge of missions which is why he gets the mission to play double agent later.

Even if they fight often they do have nice moments here and there so when Casey was given his mission to be double agent so to speak? She was very worried

Casey is a bitch and such but Karai knows he has a good heart as well so she keep tabs on his progress

When she noticed he seemed to be getting closer to Raphael though? She worried not ever thinking he betray them no because eventually Casey was going to have to betray Raph and that may lead to Casey's heart being broken

Often would tease him over this obvious development but it was her way of checking in on him.

Look she knows hes a freak and monster fucker but she can tell Casey clearly caught feelings here.

Karai is known to throw some wins at the turtles in this AU it was away to let Casey have more time because she could tell her brother was actually enjoying his time, buying him a bit more of that before things had to be put to an end

In other words despite all their head butting Karai would do anything for her brother to be happy and her sister of course.

Once Casey's cover is blown and his mission is considered a success? Karai poses Shredder should maybe keep the turtles? Since he hasn't fully decided what to do. Her motive? maybe Casey can still be with Raph somehow.

I never liked this jacket as part of her wardrobe so I have decided it's Casey's and she fucking stole it uwu

#muse| karai #madamkezzie #muse bio: karai #[foot!casey] #(( Karai may be a bad guy but she isn't a bad person uwu))

[riddlerosehearts]

getting very very close to the end of baldur's gate 3! of course, i plan on doing many more playthroughs of this game, but--not counting the things i finish up in this post--i only have a handful of things left to do in my first playthrough and it feels so weird. i'm excited to be done with it but at the same time i don't want it to be over for some reason akfjsgsdf

went to go fight orin, completing the dribbles quest on the way and getting some gloves that apparently used to give a really OP bonus to magic missile but don't anymore?? well, the description makes it sound like they should not work with magic missile, so i guess that was a bug which was patched... but in that case i don't know if i want to bother with finding dribbles in the future lol, doesn't feel worth it for all the trouble you have to go through. anyway, i have not fought gortash, but that's okay because it was extremely easy for my tav to just straight up lie to orin about it!

god i missed lae'zel so bad, she's honestly become one of my favorite characters over the course of this playthrough. in my next playthrough i need to make sure someone else gets taken so i'll get to hear her reactions to all of the things she was gone for during this one. also, minsc did have a lot to say about her and about githyanki in general! i still wish i could've gotten him to talk about shadowheart, not sure why he wouldn't comment on her.

i'd say i can't believe raphael wrote an entire 100-chapter novel that’s nothing but descriptions of different scenarios of him being crowned and coronated as archdevil of the hells, but i can absolutely believe it. i mean, this guy literally has an incubus that's basically a clone of himself--and not only does haarlep tell you raphael is a bottom, but i've also heard it's possible to get him to tell you raphael is bad in bed LMAO?!?! he is so over-the-top arrogant and vain and for what? his own incubus to roast him and reveal his secrets?

anyway, i have loved exploring the house of hope, but now it's time to go kick raphael's ass!

...okay i was super surprised when not only did yurgir show back up, but my tav was able to persuade him to join them in the fight?! i meeean not that i'm complaining but they kind of persuaded him to kill his minions and himself before, so. i guess maybe he respects their cunning and/or feels like their hand was forced by raphael, or maybe he just doesn't give a shit since defeating raphael is more important now. and it was a DC 30 roll to persuade him. but that is still pretty wild lmao, i kind of wish someone had mentioned it.

raphael's final act goes so hard that it almost feels like a waste of talent to kill him. and at the same time it is hilarious that this overdramatic fucker who has 666 HP is also singing his own battle theme. i keep imagining my bard tav clapping back with their own song about what a loser he is, with gale and wyll forming a backing chorus and lae'zel making some snarky comment before very reluctantly joining in.

makes me so sad that otto's irresistible dance incapacitates him but doesn't make him actually dance :( i'm a little confused though because i'm unsure whether i'm encountering a bug or i'm misunderstanding the game mechancics... raphael has a buff called inevitable resolve which says it makes anything that incapacitates him only last one turn, which holds true when i have gale cast hold monster--he breaks out of it on his next turn. but otto's irresistible dance didn't trigger that for some reason and he stayed in it for several turns before my concentration got broken. well, not that i'm complaining!

i found mol's contract in the house of hope, and went and told her we killed raphael. not surprised that she was all mad about it--she's a kid, and kids love to think they can do anything they want without consequences lol. we can only hope she'll grow up and be grateful later.

the order of events during act 3 has honestly been a bit confusing for me and i'm not sure which is the "best" or most logical way to do the whole steel watch/iron throne/killing gortash set of quests in, or if it even matters, but... i stumbled upon the way to get to the iron throne while doing the avenge the drowned quest, so i guess that is where i'll be going next!

#star plays bg3