𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒌𝒊

Raphael: i should fashion my proposal right now, tav is in the elfsong tavern as we speak

Korilla: and how do you know that..?

Raphael: oh, i know everything about her. her favorite color, what kind of wine she enjoys, what her routine looks like... everything.

Korilla: ...

Raphael: BECAUSE SHE'S MY ENEMY-

i have an important, completly serious theory and I need you to hear me out.

it's about raphael's true identity.

sooo, what do we know about raphael?

he is hot ☑

he makes deals with mortals ☑

he keeps debtors imprisoned in his house ☑

he has a great desire for power ☑

he sings his own villain song ☑

considering all this info only one conclusion can be drawn.

actually raphael is...

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ursula from little mermaid

Tav: Quick question. If after you claim someone's form their appearance changes, for instance they lose a limb, change their hair, get a scar, age, would the form you take of them follow the changes? Or would it only happen after you sleep with their changed body? How about if you get somebody pregnant? Would the baby have your true form's dna or the form's you took for the act? And do u lose the forms of people who passed? What about if they pass when you're currently taking their form?

Haarlep: ...

Me: hell yeah i'd love a new companion-

Larian: *not recruitable*

A river.

The crystal clear water, moving with a soft, steady, flow. A sunset painting beautiful reflections on it, using warm hues of the hiding sun.

The air was balmy, filled with earthy scent of woods and an odd freshness. Each breath taken here brought a soothing sensation to one’s lungs.

Peaceful hum of the water, accompanied by quiet rustle of trees created a sense of serenity. As if none of the worries could reach this idealistic scene.

A true picture of calmness. The very essence of tranquility.

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Well, not for long. It would eventually be broken by another presence, as always.

Oh, but what a presence it was. Definitely not one he would mind.

He used to wonder what was the purpose of all this. Started asking questions as if to discover why his mind drifted in those new directions. With every passing night, it felt as he got closer to answers, only for them to tease him and slip through his fingers.

Frustration overcame him…but it quickly gave way to excitement. This twisted intoxication of a chase, a stimulation, a challenge.

And there were very few things that Raphael found challenging in this world.

However, turns out you were on a whole other level. A breath of fresh air, always keeping him on his toes and offering a  witty banter.

That’s why he was in this little fantasy right now. Because of you.

A harsh blow of wind.

A flame.

A spark.

There, his little mouse, finally standing before him. Your figure draped with silky, shimmering fabric. It seemed to interfuse with the river behind you. The devil took a step closer to you, seeking your presence. He wanted your eyes on him.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction. Raphael’s learnt a long time ago that you weren’t the type to give in easily. In fact you’d always try to turn the tables and make him lose balance.

What a cheeky mouse you were. Invading his peace of mind, like it was your playground. He was sure it was all meaningful. Every comeback, every frown, every death stare you sent him.

He feasted on them.

A feeling of distorted satisfaction stirred deep within him each time you gave a reaction. It was almost embarrassing honestly. Centuries full of experience should’ve made him immune to such things. And yet he yearned for you.

The devil moved faster now. He wanted to see your face, and he wouldn’t be denied. A strong arm embraced your waist, and a warm hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face towards his.

“Did the little mouse think she could outfox the cat?” Raphael murmured, with this rich, velvety voice of his. It possessed the power to captivate anyone, who got a chance to hear it. Perhaps there was a  siren buried somewhere in his ancestry?

You looked up into his orange, glowing eyes, and pushed him down onto the unnaturally soft grass. And he let you. Right now, he would let you do anything.

“I know I already did” You whispered. The coolness of your skin contrasted beautifully with the hellish heat radiating from his body. Sharp claws squeezed your hips, tugging you closer, until your form would merge with his.

Intertwined fingers, swollen lips, parted only when one of you needed to catch a breath. Demanding touches, full of greed and poorly restrained hunger. There was nothing separating your bodies now, as if the clothes melted from the heat of your desires.

A moan. Yours? His? He couldn’t tell sounds apart now, too absorbed in decorating your throat and chest with dark markings. Every freckle, beauty mark, and scar would be explored, adored even.

His mouth wandered down your figure, creating a path of wet, burning kisses. A nib on your shoulder. A lick on you hip bone. A bite on your inner thigh. He wanted to devour you whole, to drink your precious essence and consume all of the sounds you made.

Feeling your fingers in his soft hair, your leg resting on his shoulder. It made a shiver run all the way down his spine. Each sound that left your lips only encouraged the devil to explore more. His senses started to get overwhelmed, and he loved every second of it.

Raphael was sure now. You were meant for much better things than sleeping in some bloody tavern, after solving everyone’s problems and saving the day. You deserved to experience the greatest pleasures. Your body should be wrapped only in the finest silk and treated as a temple it was.

He started to slowly get drunk on your taste, creating a hot sticky mess between your legs. His silver tongue had many uses after all.

 Not that he planned to stop anytime soon, so he kept up his train of thought. Yes, you were made to be worshipped, to hold power, and…preferably a leash. One that connected with a chain wrapped around his neck. Gods, he’d let you collar him. You would only have to ask.

His eyes rolled back. He was pathetic for you, so desperate to get even a scrap of your attention. Raphael would get on his knees and pleasure you endlessly, just like right here, in this harmless fantasy that his mind put together. Oh, how he’d love to get a taste of real you.

This game of cat and mouse was entertaining but it wasn’t enough. And he knew that sooner or later he’ll start craving more than a mere dream image. It drove him mad. Like all of his thoughts pushed him towards you. Your eyes. Your voice. Your scent.

And here he was, a mighty, cunning cambion reduced to a mess of a man obsessed over a mortal. And the best part. You had no idea. At least he hoped you did. Because if you discovered that he dreams of you, that he watches your every move, that he roots for you…He would jump into Mephistopheles’ jaws himself.

Therefore Raphael indulged himself by making up these scenarios. You were his fixation. The most enchanting and unattainable fantasy of all.

Oh, to kiss you. Touch you. Feel you. This forbidden fruit. The embodiment of temptation. An object of his darkest desires. An inspiration for his poetry. An-

The devil’s back arched as a needy sound escaped his throat.

He was back in his grand bed. A drop of sweat running down his brow. His breathing rugged. And an evidence of his arousal pressing against the silky sheets.

Raphael pushed the smooth fabric away. The heat grew unbearable. Even for him. His gaze moved across the boudoir until it met its exact replica.

“My, my, don’t you look deliciously ruined.” Haarlep’s fangs flashed as theye smiled suggestively. “Perhaps, you could introduce me to this little mouse of yours?” The incubus took a few slow steps towards their master. “I would love too meet someone, who can undo you so wonderfully.” They reached the edge of the bed now.

The cambion just let out a lazy hum, ignoring the teasing remark. “I advise, you’ll either make yourself useful, or get out of my sight.”

Haarlep’s smirk only grew wider at that, as they straddled the other devil’s hips. “”As you wish~ ” The familiar sensation of their wet, hot tongue met Raphael’s skin.

There was still so much to do. As always. The deals, debtors, souls to tear apart. A tight schedule, truly. But after that he will check on his mouse. He’ll relax with a goblet of blood-red wine, while watching your little adventures and discoveries.

A sight escaped his lips, as Raphael felt the tension leave his muscles again. Soon, he would be free of any bothersome nonsense.

Maybe except for one creature that took great pleasure in fueling his annoyance.

“Should I try imitating some rodent noises?”

AN: Because I hate this tyrant and can't get enough of him at the same time.

 Another restless night.

Another walk througt a dark hall.

With only a small lamp in hand and silver moonlight peeking through grand windows to illuminate the lavish decor of the corridor.

He hated the darkness.

Not that the lack of light frightened him itself. It was rather the subconscious feeling that came with it. This sensation of not being sure what lurks in the shadows, waiting for him to make a slip and emerge to destroy him.

Uncertainty. That’s what he hated the most, not being in full control, missing something, things not going according to his plan.

His plan.

The grand scheme, thought through to the last, smallest detail with exepctional precision.  Every decision made so deliberately, reconsidered a dozen of times. Negotiations. Bribing. Threatning. Blackmailing. Planning from sunset to dawn at his desk, until his hand couldn’t hold a quill anymore. Until his eyes started to beg for rest and his vision got blurry. Until his stomach twisted with exhaustion and frustration.

All of this. Just for a little error. A tiny crack in his plans for the future that he didn’t predict. But how could he? It showed up out of nowhere when he was so close to achieving his goal. It felt as if the world itself felt the need to mock him. To rebel against his will.

Miss adventurer.

You and your pitiful group of strays.

Where did you even come from? Why did you feel a need to get involved? None of his notes or backup scenarios, which he meticulously came up with in his mind, covered dealing with someone like you. Someone that couldn’t be simply bought. Someone, who wasn’t easily threatened.

Oh no.

 You barged in as if you've always owned the place.

It was his coronation, his victory, his moment. And you dared to throw him off-balance.

He tried to psych you out, built some authority, show you who’s the one in charge. And still you somehow made it all feel like everything was about you.

It felt like a slap in the face.

Not in a way he'd enjoy.

You were a nobody.

He worked for what he got. He deserved it after clawing his way through misery and pain to the top. After using his charm and intellect to manipulate people as if they were pieces on the lanceboard.

And that’s where the main issue lies.

Because you were so much more than a mere pawn. Pobably more than any of the figures he carefully situated on the board.

You didnt’t play by the rules. You were unpredictable. There was this unique, disarming energy to you that worked better than the sharpest of blades or the most ferocious of spells.

And Gortash felt intrigued.

A little annoyied at first, yes. But if his life taught him aything, it was that even the wildest of cards had its weaknesses. No matter how deeply hidden. So if you wouldn’t submit willingly, he’d gladly put in some effort before watching you break and fall.

The door to his office was right before him now.

These days Gortash found himself visiting the richly decorated room almost every night. Endless paperwork and velvety taste of finest wine proved to be sufficient company for a sleep deprived Banite. Despite his wealth, a peace of mind was a luxury he still couldn’t afford.

He grabbed the door handle.

After he deals with everything else he will take care of his sleep schedule as well.

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But not tonight.

Of course not tonight, since this very night a certain someone decided to sprawl on his armchair at his desk in his office.

It took him a moment to notice the figure. Right here, illuminated only by the moonlight coming through a window. A slightly opened window.

Gortash didn’t stop his movements, slowly stepping into the room to put the lamp down on a small table.

„Good evening.”

Even though he used his practiced, relaxed tone, and put on a look of confidence it did not earn him an answer.

„As delightful as it is to see you, when I said you’re welcome to meet me in my office, I had a different time in mind.”

Still nothing. His smirk only made you stretch your legs out so that your boots ended up on his desk. And his papers.

Gortash felt the corner of his lip twitch. You had the nerve.

„May I know what’s the purpose of your visit?”

He maintained eye contact with you as you slowly stood up. Your movements weren’t rushed. In fact your step was steady, unhurried, confident. Your gaze intense and unyielding. As if you tried to make him feel small in his own space. He didn’t like that.

Finally, you stood righ before him. No particular emotion in this eyes of yours, which shimmered reflecting the light. At least it didn't seem like you wanted to kill him. Yet.

„I want to know more about Steel Watchers…the engines in particular.”

He tilted his head looking you in the eyes as an arrogant smirk found its way back onto his lips.

Oh this was just too precious.

„Ah, but of course you would.”

The Banite held back a snort. There was something really amusing for him in the way you asked your quesion. It seemed like you wouldn’t pose a threat after all. You were just another poor soul with a bleeding heart and delusional ambitions.

„I appreciate the interest in my creations, truly. But why would I share my knowledge with you, miss adventurer?”

He didn’t even face you now, more focused on pouring himself a goblet of dark red wine.

„So you can keep your head in place. For now.”

The signature quick, easy smile only spread wider on his face. It has been a long time since someone dared to speak to him like that. Except for a certain pale-eyed psychopath perhaps. But you were something else entirely. A different kind of entertainment. There was something about your frown that made him want to grace you with his attention. Just a little bit longer. Just until one of you pulls a dagger out.

„I’m trembling already.”

He sat down on a nerby crimson chair with golden ornaments, taking a sip of his drink and crossing one leg over the other. His dark eyes roamed across your figure. The stains of blood, dust, and substances he didn't know the origins of were gone from your clothing now. Good. At least you wouldn’t bring any of this filth into his office. Your boots could be cleaned up more properly though, it seemed you also needed a new pair since- oh. You were still speaking to him.

„..and since these toys of yours can walk around on the surface there must be a way for Karlach as well. I know there is.”

Ah, yes. Back to this honourable quest of yours. What a good, diligent little helper you are. What a nausea.

As if he didn’t have enought on his plate. As if you hadn't ruined his peacefull night and bothered him with your pathetic threats and demands.

But perhaps that was his chance to break you.

He looked you up and down again.

You were tired. Exhaustion expressed not only by the tension in your muscles and jaw but also by a weary look in your eyes.

He could imagine how constant battles and sleeping in the woods must have affected you.

It made him wonder. How long has it been since you indulged yourself? How close were you to the edge? How long would it take for you to let your guard down?

Gortash saw it all clearly now. The frustration and uneasiness in your eyes. Seems he was not the only one worried about loosing control here.

 Was it wrong that he found it thrilling?

He felt no need to tame you anymore. You were perfectly capble of dooming yourself alone. A little push would be enough. He could make you become less cautious, relax your defences.

After all, crashing someone at their lowest was most satisfying.

„And you better tell me all I need to know, or I swear to every bloody deity there is, I will drag you out of here myself and make sure you wish you-”

„Alright.”

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„…”

Well that seemed to silence your unimpressive threats. Great. They were starting to get less creative and Gortash felt the headache come back to him.

„Quiet now?”

At least the confused frown on your face was amusing.

„Are you serious..?”

Confusion looked almost as good on you as desperation did.

„I don’t make empty promises. Besides, you can ask the guest in your head. If you've finally reached a point when you can’t trust your own judgement that is.”

There it was. The sharper glint in your eyes.

„Just like that?”

„What else did you expect?.”

Nothing. Not a word from you. Well, that was satisfying already, undoing you piece by piece. He just had to get more unpredictible than you. Simple as that.

„What's the catch then? If you're so honest all of the sudden.”

Gortash examined his goblet. He needed a refill.

„You'll need to actually use the door next time you come in here.”

Another sip.

„Just give me a few days to make reaserch on the matter and visit me again. Preferably during daytime.”

The room fell silent again. Only the sound of you two breathing could be heard. It was unsynchronised and completly unmatched. Like those two sounds were never meant to be put together, to exist in the same space.

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You gave a short hesitant nod, or perhaps you didn’t, he was too tired to tell. The only thing he knew at this moment was that your figure disappeared with the next blink of his eyes.

The chill breeze kissed his face and neck coming through the slightly opened window.

AN: Just a little something with Zevlor <3

The utter darkness, numbness in all limbs and deadly silence. Those were the things that have accompanied the retired Hellrider recently.

Stuck within a pod caused his muscles to ache at first, but he stopped feeling them after some time. Also the ringing in his ears that caused a splitting headache was gone. However it’s been replaced by even more unsettling and distressing feeling.

The absence of even the slightest amount of light prevented him from figuring out how much time has passed since he got captured. Zevlor assumed it must have been a significant period of time considering his body started to betray him, by trying to get some rest. Most of his attempts to stay awake at all costs were repeatedly ruined by him loosing consciousness. And that’s what he feared the most.

 The very moment his eyes were closing and his awareness was drifting away. This was the time his mind was tormenting him. All of the most frightening, undignified and intense memories came back to him reminding him of every failure, every slip, every time he let somebody down. Each one of them feeling like an old wound being opened by claws of guilt and self-loathing.

It made him sick, his forehead sweaty, breathing shaken, chest tight. His skin crawled with disgust making him shiver uncontrollably.

 Everyone trusted his leadership, they’ve put their faith, their lives in his hands and he let them down…

Perhaps it’s good he was suffering in the darkness now? Maybe this was the way of him paying for all his sins? The idea of this being his punishment crossed his mind too many times at this point.

He started to slowly believe it.

All of the worst moments of his life, hunting him now, only proved him right. The burning hellish flames that surrounded him. The helpless cries of agony mixed with clash of steel and shouted commands. And blood. So much blood.

He thought that the familiar sight of crimson couldn’t affect him anymore. Gods, was he wrong. Living through it all over again, seeing the massacre as Avernus has fallen to the Hells, it touched something deep within him. Something he burried and guarded so it wouldn’t see the light of day again. So that it wouldn’t make him feel vulnerable.

Well that certainly didn’t go as planned as the tiefling felt his sanity leave him by each moment he spend captured.

There was one thing though.

One thing that gradually reduced his dark thoughts.

A voice.

 It was different from all the screams, pleads and harsh tones he’s been hearing since he got here. This one was surprisingly gentle, soft even but there was still an authoritative side to it.

Some time after it appeared, the voice was followed by blurry images. All of them also light and soothing, feeling almost like a gentle caress that tried to assure him he wasn’t left all alone with this suffering.

 Possibly he was being tricked by his own mind, or his captors, and the peaceful image would quickly change into another memory of the slaughter in the Hells.

Surprisingly…it didn’t happen. What’s more the vision started to create clearer shapes.

Shiny hair, bright eyes that sparkled with an adventurous glint…and this contagious smile, which made people forget about all their worries.

He remembered it all in great detail. When you first stepped into the grove, covered in blood, sweat, and dust but captivating all the same. In his mind, bruises and cuts from the battle only added to your natural charm. He obviously pushed those thoughts away playing the role of a professional leader as expected.

That was until you helped thim and his people when noone else would. That he remembered precisely. How everyone greeted you as a savior you were with deserved respect and gratefulness.

Oh how he couldn’t stop expressing his admiration for you while talking to Tilly, Asharak or Cerys. His eagerness might have earned him a few eye rolls and teasing smirks of course but he didn’t mind. What mattered was that his people were safe, that he could lead them again towards better future.

All of this just for him to mess it up.

At least you wouldn’t see how pathetic he looked right now. That’s a positive, right?

Right…?

It seemed it really wasn’t as the voice only got louder now.

"Zevlor"

Oh, how he felt drawn to the way the voice said his name. How is it even possible for one word to evoke so many emotions? How can it be that one voice alone is able to convey so much and yet be so simple at the same time?

"Zevlor"

There it was, he was sure now. He went mad.

Hearing his name again fall from your lips. It was too good to be true. His mind, or whatever power locked him in here was tormenting him again using his memories against him.

But gods, what a sweet torment it was.

Could it be, that one finds some twisted form of salvation by indulging in delusions that will never come to reality?

Could it-

"Zevlor!"

Now that sounded particularlly real.

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As did the sound of the opening of the pot.

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A breah. He was able to take a breath. Yes, the air quality still wasn’t great but it was bearable. So was his field of vision.

After a few blinks he could see clearly. Slimy, glistening walls made of flesh. Mind flayers and Intellect Devourers in sight. He instinctively reached for his sword getting his guard up and-

Oh.

There you were.

All geared up, radiating with this aura of confidence, strength and precision.

Your moves swift and balanced as always. Hair tousled, armor stained with blood, eyes focused. He thought there was a certain elegance to this look as you defeated your opponents one by one in a dance filled with blood and broken limbs.

He would watch it longer if not for a certain gentleman with tentacles who had to be immidately striked down.

There it was. His sign to lock in and make good work off his blade and experience.

His mind was his own.

He took a swing at the nearest Mind flayer ending its life with a few more moves of his weapon.

Just like that, he cut the enemies to ribbons. He was by your side. Shielding you as you finished off another one of the mind consumig creatures until all of them have fallen.

Now came the time for explanation, and suddenly Zevlor realised it would be much easier to face another dozen of foes instead of you.

But he did it anyway, expressed his gratitude, asked about the others, tried to describe what came over him. How his thoughts betraied him. How his judgement of the situation proved to be so wrong. How he got tricked and lost his senses.

He would have kept going if it wasn’t for a hand on his arm. Your hand.

“It sounds like you were being enthralled. It’s not your fault Zevlor.”

He slightly shook his head at that. You were so understanding, even with him, even now.

“It would be nice to think so. But whaever these monsters twist us into…I believe it begins with us.”

Zevlor touched the chest plat of his armor as a small sight left his lips.

“I won’t make excuses. I know it’s too late to make amends but I want to help, if you’ll let me”

The way you looked at him after hearing that made something stir within the tiefling. Something forgotten, something he thought he had lost throughout the years.

It was hope.

This mysterious glimmer in your eyes that just kept you going. No matter the circumstances, the obstacles, the pesssimistic second thoughts.

You just…hoped it will work out and it somehow did.

Zevlor had no idea if it was because you were touched by the divine, blessed by forces of nature or if u purely got lucky each time. What he did know, was that he admired it.

“I could use another blade in the fight to come.”

And gods, of course you would say something to give him this hope. Even after you’ve seen him at his lowest. After he confessed his incompetence and shared his mistakes, you still tried to make him feel needed. Make him feel like he was not lost. Not yet at least.

“My blade is yours.”

He met your gaze giving a small nod. The gesture was small but it was enough for you. He was enough for you.

And just like that he joined you and your companions to explore the depths of the colony.