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[atrueneutral]

"Indulge me, and at least hear me out."

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A huge 🔥HELLS YEAH🔥that you’re doing this @infernal-coffin ! And a big thank you for taking the time to podfic some of my writing!

Really loving what I’m hearing, and I’m looking forward to what else you choose to give us!

Here is the next in my podfics by @a-true-neutral

Get cozy and listen while you read.

Since these are short, I will be releasing a couple at a time.

[atrueneutral]

[atrueneutral]

Preview of ‘May - June - July’ Chapter 2 (Lucy x The Ghoul)

Should be out tomorrow!

—-

“Almost ready!” she threw over her shoulder as she slowly unzipped the front of her vault suit down to her navel. She next fussed with her hair; fingers did their best in untangling the mass that hadn’t seen a bottle of shampoo in weeks, and when she determined the results to be satisfactory enough, Lucy tucked a portion of her dark tresses behind an ear. The same fingers came to pinch the apples of her cheeks, and her teeth nibbled at her lower lip.

Truly ‘almost ready’, the keepsake joined the Cram towards the back of the dryer, now making room for Lucy herself to take up her previous seat. Envisioning the month of May, she positioned her body into a pose that matched the woman in her mind. Innocence was what she hoped to embody as she demurely crossed her legs, arched her back, and softly rested a hand against her cheek.

Her expression turned coy.

“You can look now.”

[atrueneutral]

My autistic self seeing that you have given fairly clear guidelines on how to tell if what you say in a post is meant to be taken seriously or not: 😃

My autistic self seeing that the post with those guidelines might be deleted later: 😟

This is me trying to let you know, via a (hopefully) somewhat comedic fashion, that I actually found your last post very useful for understanding the intended tone of your posts where you address us folks visiting your blog.

I’ve added a small blurb to my pinned post to be (hopefully) somewhat helpful!

To reiterate: I’m a goof, a majority of what I say outside of answering questions is probably going to be tongue-in-cheek, and I like to think of myself as being pretty chill!

My ask-box will always be open! Anyone and everyone is free to send in prompts, comments, love, hate, etc. Anonymous or otherwise!

And the risk of you offending me is 1%.

I’m here to try and be active and interact in fandom spaces (which I’ve never really done before).

I want to say thanks for following and thank you to everyone who has taken the time to send in prompts!

I’ll have more writing to share soon! ❤️

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It's funny that you mentioned writing a piece where Raphael is jealous of Warlock Tav's patron, because I actually had a prompt I was debating on sending you with more or less that premise. 😅

I will, however, abide by your request that we don't send you asks like that. I'm look forward to seeing what you're cooking up!

Oh! Please send it in! I might be able to fulfill both ‘Jealous of Warlock!Tav’s Patron’ prompts at the same time.

Earlier I was just being goofy about the prompt having everyone be pregnant would the poll have had a tie.

Honestly, the door is open so by all means anyone can send whatever prompts they want in! Even IF everyone in the prompt is pregnant lol.

[atrueneutral]

Writing Update:

Helloooooo!

Here's the order of what's slated:

May - June - July: Chapter 2 Raphael x Tav Drabble (ha, unless it becomes not a drabble): Winning vote from the poll was 'Raphael being jealous of warlock!Tav's patron'. Blood in the Wine: Chapter 3 (Apologies for the wait!)

By the way, the vote was very close this last poll. I was worried we'd have a tie and I'd have to mash the prompts together. Pregnant!Raphael being jealous of Pregnant Warlock!Tav's Pregnant!Patron.

If any of you actually send this in as a prompt, I'll ban your anonymous ass.

(Just kidding, I don't have that power.)

(And you're all amazing!)

[atrueneutral]

15 Lines Tag

RULES: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well.

Thanks, @pricemarshfield for the tag! <3 I bet everyone is unsurprised that we're doing this with Tav from HWBASK. It was interesting perusing the story because her actions tend to speak louder than her words lol.

Tagging: @theemptyislost, @sassyandsodone, @sky-kiss and anyone else! Ignore this if you've done this already or don't want to!

Lines behind the cut!

“It was unintentional, I assure you.”

“I, admittedly, got a little overzealous and made a bit of a game out of it.”

“Today didn’t go how I imagined it would.”

“Make it ten, and I’ll get you to like me more in the back room.”

“Say ‘please’.”

“Ass.”

“Are you also leashed by a master, ordered to keep me out of where I wish to go, or shall we talk business?”

“Tell Raphael if he ever tries to dance with me, I’ll break his toes.”

“I’m being secretive, and I know how frustrating that is, but I can’t tell you what’s going on and, frankly, I don’t want to. You’ll hate me, and I don’t want you to hate me…”

“I didn’t intend on you being here, and I’m sorry that you are, but I’m glad to see you, Kass. I’ve missed you.”

“No. You’re going to stay here and stay out of my way. You shouldn’t even be here…”

“This is unhealthy, whatever this is, and, honestly, it’s unwise of me to have come - you’re a devil.”

 “But command me to eat, Archdevil Supreme, and I shall engorge myself, if only so that I might have the honor of retching all over your House of Hope.”

“It’ll be free. Right, Mol? For my troubles.”

“I fucking will. It will be easy - after all, you’re only a cambion.”

“Before I go do what must be done, there’s another debt that must be paid."

Okay. This is technically 16, but I stared at this for ten minutes hemming and hawing so pretend it's 15.

[atrueneutral]

practice

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At the end of HWBASK, would Raphael be willing to accept deals like the one from Act I of his play, where someone wants access to Tav's body, either directly or through Haarlep, or is that sort of thing off limits in his mind?

I’m going off the assumption that most of you here have read ‘HWBASK’ and maybe the follow up POV’s, but I’ll put this answer under the cut anyways for this specific thing.

Raphael strategically set up Act I. He commanded that Haarlep (in Tav’s form) be in the bath when Rhys came to visit the House of Hope, knowing that Rhys would bite the bait and inquire to know more about who this person or thing was.

Up until then, Raphael was the only one (aside from Haarlep of course) who took advantage and used Tav’s form. Should any other visitor have inquired after her, he’d have shut them down immediately. Her body was HIS. This possessiveness he felt bled into the first act, and was compounded by the poor baby beginning to feel stirred by Tav. Suddenly his own plan of letting her be sexually assaulted by monsters bothered him. 🤡

He never stood a chance.

Anyways, after ‘HWBASK’, Raphael doesn’t allow Haarlep to use her form unless Tav were to suggest that she’s open for surprises while she’s out and about.

He knows and abides by consent when it comes to her.

Only ever for her.

(However, he does still think of Tav’s body as being HIS…)

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*Rubs hands together*

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"'Don’t look so peeved with me,' Tav scoffed. 'I’m peeved with you! You know I hate Zhentil Keep…'" Did Raphael do that on purpose to try to convince Tav not to help this soul out?! He's so petty! 🤣

Naturally. 😈

And when it didn’t work: 👿

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"If she admitted to the latter, that would be opportunity enough for Raphael to begin leveraging offers with her and, again, if she ended up denying them all (out of fear of her heart being broken or what have you), then the more she’s risking the Archdevil Supreme taking what he wants."

Dang. Raphael really has no self awareness at all, huh? 😅 Tav is wary of him and especially his deals, but he tries to leverage offers to win her back? Excuse me as I facepalm for our stupid cambion. I can picture someone eventually trying to sit him down and set him straight, maybe even Tav herself. If he even threatens simply taking what he wants, I could definitely see Tav being all 'See?! This is exactly what I'm talking about!' Then it would be up to Raphael if he rolls a Nat 1 on realizing what he needs to do differently if he wants to have a hope of Tav giving him another chance.

No matter what though, Haarlep would just be loving the drama (and probably hating when they get stuck listening to Raphael go on and on about making this or that stupid decision for the nth time while still being completely oblivious that he should just stop doing it).

It was crucial that the curtain fell on Tav. That was the kick in the head and heart Raphael needed.

“-you won’t win. And if you somehow do, be it by cheating or divine intervention, I will ensure it won’t be without sacrifice.”

(By the end, Haarlep was like ‘Can I stop hearing about this now? And when is she coming over? 😏)

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All this talk of alternative endings for HWBASK makes me wonder what Raphael's reaction would have been if Tav's answer to 'do you love me?' was somewhere more in the middle. Like, she is still bitter and/or angry for all the same reasons mentioned in previous asks and posts, but her response to Raphael's question is more resigned/wary and along the lines of "You have left me with nothing. You brought yourself misery just so you could watch me suffer, even when it didn't bring you the pleasure you craved. You even managed to break my heart twice. I can't trust that you won't break my heart a third time. I can't trust that you wouldn't do it on purpose, even of if it hurt you to do so. I can't afford to let myself love you."

TL;DR: What if Tav's answer to Raphael's 'do you love me?' question was more a "I'm trying hard not to love you, because you have already left me with nothing and I'm afraid of you somehow finding a way to leave me with even less if I give you the chance."

I think Tav’s mental state of going into the third act was “I’m trying hard to not love you” and needing to find the strength to bury that love (as Raphael had tried to do for himself).

If she admitted to the latter, that would be opportunity enough for Raphael to begin leveraging offers with her and, again, if she ended up denying them all (out of fear of her heart being broken or what have you), then the more she’s risking the Archdevil Supreme taking what he wants.

[atrueneutral]

May - June - July ( Fallout TV Show - Lucy x The Ghoul)

Part I of II. Spoilers for the show! AO3 Link

---

Sex.

It was nice - the few times she’d had it.

It started with messing around with her cousin, which in the initial days included shy fumbling, apologies, and a lot of trial and error. Lucy was grateful for those experiences (as awkward as they were), for she always intended to use what she learned to make her wedding night unforgettable for her husband - whoever that turned out to be.

Who her husband ‘turned out to be’ was a no-good raider.

Who was now dead.

Drowned in a barrel of pickle juice.

All that aside - the sex was nice! Lucy didn’t at all feel any awkwardness in jumping his bones, and her husband, Monty, was very eager to get the show on the road (in more ways than one, now that she thought about it). His penis had been an average length with a decent width, but, most importantly, Monty knew how to use it.

So well in fact that, in the heat of riding on top of him, she’d fleetingly wondered how often he experimented with a cousin in Vault 32.

Anyways, with the combination of her hand and the wonderful usage of her good-for-nothing husband’s penis, Lucy orgasmed three times. Each orgasm had been toe-curling and back arching with waves of pleasure that coursed through her body, and each celebrated her spouse by having the name ‘Monty’ leave her lips. At the end of it, for Monty’s release, he’d pulled out of her and ejaculated onto her stomach with closed eyes and her name nowhere to be heard.

Hardly romantic for the consummation of their marriage, but it was fine! Overall, a very satisfying endeavor for husband and wife both that left them sweating in their shared bed, silently contemplating their life together. Lucy thought of little else outside of a wholesome future that involved raising children, scheduled meal plans, making her husband happy, and more sex.

Meanwhile, her husband thought of little else outside of how to kill her and the rest of Vault 33.

It’s fine; her husband got his comeuppance, was rightfully dead and was nothing but a rotting corpse partially smelling of pickle juice.

What wasn’t fine was the wholesome future she’d envisioned; there would be no raising children in the vault because Lucy wasn’t in the Vault any longer (and she had no idea when or if she would return); there was hardly a meal to be found in the wasteland; her happiness was shot at the reveal of who her father was and is, what he’d done and -

Deep breaths.

“You good back there?”

“Yep! Fine and good!” Lucy replied, giving the back of her associate a cheery smile as they traipsed through the desecrated remains of an outlet mall. At the Ghoul’s discretion, one of the stores was to be their campsite for the evening, and it would be swell if whatever-store-chosen was already emptied of people; Lucy wasn’t in the greatest mental state for a firefight, and she wished to not spend another night covered in blood and guts.

Being a glass half-full kinda gal, at least she still had her blood and guts - thanks to the Ghoul’s perception, his exceptional gun-slinging skills and his ability to save her butt as she continued to acclimate to the violent and unpredictable world she was now a part of.

On paper, there was a lot to not like about the Ghoul; he avoided telling her his real name, he was prickly at the best of times and insulting at the worst of times, conversation tended to lead to debates, and he never offered anything in the way of personal information - even after she unloaded her entire life’s story upon him. To be fair, he didn’t ask to hear it, she just… felt like talking, and there was a lot of dead air to fill as they trailed after her “stuck-pig” of a father.

But, though he was a cold, hard wheeler and dealer, Lucy liked the Ghoul. She found him alluring - handsome, even. It didn’t matter that his skin was taut and burned to disfigurement by radiation - or that his nose was missing and his teeth yellowed. The remnants of a handsome man were there, and the remnants of a good man were there, too - somewhere hidden in the depths of his eyes.

She was sure of it.

Which made her feel better about wanting to jump his bones.

Lucy would be the first to admit that she was sexually frustrated, but it wasn’t as if she was to the point of throwing herself at everyone who was anyone (which would be a very stupid thing to do out in the Wasteland). The last time she’d felt this amount of pent up horniness was with Maximus in Vault 4, and that hadn’t gone well. Maximus’s bewilderment at her proposition wasn’t unsurprising (she did kind of unexpectedly throw it out there), but his inexperience and lack of knowledge in the sexual side of the birds and the bees became blatantly apparent by time he recited the myths he’d heard.

Especially that myth about a man’s orgasm.

The Ghoul had experience in a plethora of departments - more importantly, the department she was looking for, or so she presumed. She wouldn’t risk ridicule by asking if he knew that the head of a penis wouldn’t explode upon ejaculation; the man had a family at one point (which included procreation), and he likely partook in a handful of sexual liaisons within his two hundred years of still-standing (assuming his penis remained intact - a question she would never dare ask, no matter how bold she was feeling).

She supposed her interest sparked one of the few times he’d said her name. He’d said it in admonishment, chiding her for trying to hold onto the ethics instilled in her by her Vault - the ethics that kept her from sneaking behind an armed raider and cutting his throat. To make a poor point, the Ghoul ended up shooting him in the back instead, leading to a firefight that led to him confidently taking out four raiders without breaking a sweat (if ghouls even sweat) and led to her needing a stimpak after an encounter with a woman on Psycho.

“Could have been done the easy way, Lucy.”

Said in that slow drawl of his and said whilst staring down at her from within the cast shadow of his wide brim hat, the chill he elicited down her spine wasn’t the bad kind. Lucy played the sound and image of him on repeat as she laid in her bedroll in the following nights; she could imagine him over her, threatening to teach her another lesson of the Wasteland with the same knife he wanted her to use against the unsuspecting man he’d blown to bits. Every night, the fantasy progressed into the Ghoul drawing the knife down her vault suit, slicing through the dirtied undershirt underneath, cutting open her bra to reveal her breasts… her name on his lips…

And every night Lucy’s arousal reminded her of how badly she wanted sex.

“Look alive, Vaultie,” the Ghoul said from over his shoulder. His shotgun was locked and loaded in his hands as he stalked towards the blown out glass door of a two storied department store. “We’ll clear out this here store and hold up for the night.”

“Roger that!” Lucy replied, getting her pistol ready. “Dogmeat and I are right behind you!”

It was a win in her book that no one needed to be shot, or stabbed, or blown apart with grenades; both levels were devoid of any activity aside from their own careful clearing of sections, aisles, and backrooms.

The place was a mess - as was natural when anything and everything (aka the entire world) was a mess. The aesthetic of ruin persisted wherever they went. Looting had long purged any remotely useful item from the shelves, and what was left for the pickings were broken toys, upended furniture pieces, other random household goods, and clothing that was mostly nothing but scraps of fabric that barely held onto their hangers.

It was determined by the Ghoul that they would station themselves on the upper level with a strategic view of the escalators and stairwell entrance. A minute later, and the Ghoul was halfway down the unmoving steps of the escalator, hollering the command that Lucy set up their makeshift camp - he’d be back after a bit of exploring the other stores and, if need be, clear them out of any lingering occupants alongside Dogmeat.

Having been left to her own her own devices, Lucy began by dumping her pack and clearing a decent sized space for her bedroll, and she was thoughtful enough to set up a makeshift bedroll for the Ghoul that was made from remnants of a few comforters she’d seen in aisle 42. She next neatly laid out their rations for the evening: some banana yucca fruit that looked… okay to eat, some mystery jerky she wanted to leave a mystery, and a tin of absolutely-irradiated Cram.

Her stomach became queasy the longer she looked at the offerings, and, hoping to distract herself from thinking about perfectly normal Jell-O salad, Lucy decided on embarking on a more thorough exploration of the department store.

She started with the nearest section; a showcase of the latest and greatest home appliance models of the time. Introducing her to the department was a life sized advertisement depicting a wooden cutout of a housewife who elegantly showed off an equally wooden, ‘clean’ button up shirt - having just removed it from the bent, rusted dryer she stood beside. The woman’s smile might have been white-toothed and embellished with a radiant sparkle - were everything above her shoulders not hacked off to leave splintered ends.

As Lucy leisurely strolled down the aisles, it became a game to pretend she was shopping for a new washer and dryer. She mentally checkmarked what she liked and disliked about each model (price included), and at the end of the section, she eventually had an entire list of theoretical appliances she’d go home and excitedly tell her non-existent (and not-smelling-of-pickles) husband about.

The following sections weren’t as fun to peruse; items not made of enamel and steel weren’t nearly as indestructible, therefore Lucy quickly lost interest in scrutinizing scrap. Thankfully, a new interest unfurled in wanting to learn more about the lives of those who came before - what belongings had they left behind, and what stories could she piece together?

Forcing a spring in her step (it’s better to be optimistic), she headed down to the first level and beelined for the break room she last examined with a pistol at the ready.

It was, luckily, still empty.

She walked over to the radio and switched it on - only to switch it back off when nothing but white noise came through. She opened the cabinets to find nothing of note, and she eyeballed the Nuka-Cola vending machines that, of course, had nothing in them but broken glass.

Nothing.

Lucy sighed - unsure of what it was she was hoping to find.

A broken door in the corner revealed a staff locker room meant for the storage of personal items, and she breezed in with the intent of opening every locker she could.

Nothing…

Nothing…

Nothing…

Of the ten lockers, nine held nothing, but the tenth and final locker seemed promising - only because it was locked.

Feeling excitement, Lucy reached into a leather pouch attached to her belt for her trusty screwdriver and bobby pin. She crouched down beside the locker, carefully inserted the pin into the keyhole, and began to meticulously pick the lock - a skill she was developing a penchant for.

A minute of concentration later, the combination lock clicked open. A proud smile split her face as Lucy put away her toolset, and she held her breath in foolish anticipation for the revelation of what was hidden inside the locker.

Probably nothing, but her finger pulled up on the latch and pulled the door open to reveal-

Her mouth parted in astonishment.

It was precisely the kind of treasure she was hoping to find.

It was perfect!

Of course, it wasn’t entirely perfect; the calendar was a little worse for wear, but the color remained rich despite time and the pin-up suggestively posing on the page for the month of October was beautiful in her black and orange themed bikini, dark lips, and exaggerated expression. The witch hat she wore was tilted on a head of curls, and she sat atop a large grinning pumpkin looking very alluring and very cheeky.

Lucy slid the calendar away from the magnet that held it to the door, and she eagerly flipped through each page from January to December. Every woman was delightfully dressed themed to the month, and she was enchanted by their beauty, spunk, and sexiness.

During her third flip through, and by the month of May (perhaps her favorite of the pin-ups), an idea began to take root in her head - a profoundly crazy idea that could very well lead to her being as headless as the wooden woman on display in ‘Appliances’.

An idea that she, Lucy MacLean, would seduce the Ghoul with a little help from May, June, and July.

[atrueneutral]

Just read the last chapter of HWBASK (I somehow missed that chapter 😅) and... I've got to ask...

What does/did Raphael do when a current/potential client insults Tav?

What does/did Raphael do when a current/potential client tries to flirt or make a pass at Tav and/or tries to include some funny business involving her as part of their contract with the devil?

What does/did Raphael do when a current/potential client does both?

“Color me not surprised to see the Hero of Baldur’s Gate here,” said the brute of a man who had come to the Devil’s Den seeking a deal - as anyone always ever did.

Since arriving a minute ago, full of swagger, he was pegged by Tav to be ugly, arrogant, and unpleasant.

“Is it true, hero? You’ll fuck a devil to save a person’s soul? How many fiends have you spread your legs for?”

Ah, and what he had for brawn was there to compensate for his lack of brains.

But, to answer his question, she’d spread her legs for two fiends to be exact. One of which she fucked on a regular basis - irregardless of a soul hanging in the balance.

The very fiend (who looked quite handsome as a human) stood not too far away from where she sat pretending to read her new favorite romance novel. Being a lawful fellow (though still evil in many regards), Raphael cooly leaned against the writing desk with no outward reaction to the salacious attack against her reputation - outward being the key word. She snuck a glance from over her book and could tell he was visualizing a future where the man’s soul was nothing more than a tasty meal.

“Are you deaf, hero?” asked the man.

“Speak to me, not to her - you are here for a devil’s deal, are you not?”

The man snorted in her direction before turning his attention to Raphael.

“Alright, devil. Let’s talk.”

—

“Then we have an accord?” Raphael oozed warmth - his steps slow in taking him from the desk to the man. “You are to procure a Bag of Devouring and personally deliver it to me in this very room - in three weeks time. In return for completion of this task, I will see to the end of your rival and his gang. If you are unable to deliver the item I seek within the allotted time, then there is the unfortunate matter of a price to be paid.” 

“My soul, is that it?” asked the brute, smiling with yellowed teeth.

“Why, yes - your soul would be a fine price,” responded Raphael, smiling with devilish charm.

Anticipation burned in his eyes.

The brute was not so brainless to accept on the spot; he mulled it over for about half a minute, but it was clear he predicted a favorable outcome.

“Agreed - and I think I’ve heard of this schtick.” The brute regarded Tav. “You’re gonna travel with me, yeah, sweetheart? Help me out?”

Rather than read (for the fifth time) the paragraph in which the protagonist and antagonist expressed their hatred for one another before kissing, Tav pondered on ugly, arrogant, and unpleasant souls and what they tasted like to fiends.

Something flavorful, she supposed, for behind his mask of congeniality, Raphael was gnawing at the bit for a bite.

Snap!

An infernal pairing of contract and quill appeared in front of the brute’s face - conveniently obstructing his view of her.

“All that’s left to do is sign,” Raphael said evenly.

The brute snatched the quill from the air with his meaty hand, pointed tip and ink was put to parchment, and the words blazed after a quick scrawl of a signature. Little time was given to the man to read anything (as if his tiny brain could understand Infernal in the first place) for the signed contract quickly disappeared in a plume of smoke and embers.

“Best of luck to you,” Raphael purred, allowing a sneer to eek through.

“I’ve had worse odds before,” the brute replied with a cocky shrug. “But, speaking of luck, how about it, sweetheart? How about you give the devil a good fucking when I leave? A good fuck for good luck - all for my dear, sweet soul.”

“Infiltrating Zhentil Keep for a Bag of Devouring…” Tav whistled as she flipped to the next page. “I remember doing something eerily similar not too long ago. Whether or not you make it out as I did… well…”

She pulled a face that said: unlikely.

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

“I might be too busy fucking the devil - not for luck or for your soul, mind you.” For the first time, she met the brute’s stare - his arrogance was fraying into worry. “But because I enjoy it.”

“You’re obligated to do this with me!”

Tav laughed, “Says who or what? The rumors?”

“I put my soul on the line because of the guarantee!” The brute snarled, moving towards her in anger.

There was a flash and burst, and a large, pointed red wing fanned out to block the brute’s path. Tav was saddened that she could not witness the man’s reaction to seeing Raphael’s true form -  especially when her cambion looked so wonderfully antagonistic.

“A fool shall run a fool’s errand,” Raphael announced. “Run along, little fool.”

The brute snarled again in anger, and his bootsteps stormed for the door.

“Wait!” Tav shouted. The steps halted and Raphael refocused his glare on her. “If I were feeling up to a journey, when and where would I meet you? No guarantees, of course…”

An audible sound of relief.

“The bridge from the Lower City to Wyrm’s rock - dawn.”

After a moment, the door opened and then shut with a slam.

There was another flash and burst of fire as Raphael returned to his mortal disguise.

“Don’t look so peeved with me,” Tav scoffed. “I’m peeved with you! You know I hate Zhentil Keep…”

“You are under no obligation to go. It’s the fault of your own moral code - helping any and every mortal who steps into this den...”

“He’s not the first asshole and he won’t be the last.” Sighing, Tav closed her book and stuffed it into the pack that laid at her chair’s feet. “But, in all honesty, I won’t be too upset if you win this one either. The odds aren’t looking favorable - given your stipulation of three weeks.”

Raphael smirked. “A fair stipulation.”

“Says the devil,” came her droll reply. She stood while throwing her pack around her shoulder. “I think I’ll walk home tonight and will probably hit the hay as soon as I get back - early rise and all.”

“Mm, I’d join you on your stroll, but there are other matters I must attend to.”

Tav headed for the door. “Don’t take too long - I’ve unfortunately grown accustomed to you being in my bed.”

When she reached for the handle-

“Does it bother you?”

Raphael did not need to clarify his question; the remnants of his play, particularly the gossip that overran the city and followed the local hero wherever she went, had evolved into other less-than-savory rumors. Seeing the futility in denying the slander, Tav leaned into taking each blow on the chin and hoped that rumors of her good-deeds would one day overtake the bad.

“Some days more than others,” she answered truthfully.

Raphael blinked at her, something on his mind, but he merely nodded for the exit.

“Hurry home, dearest.”

“I will, under the fair stipulation that you hurry with your business - it’s cold out and I’ll want to wrap around my personal furnace.” She twisted the handle and opened the door. Pausing, Tav threw a last look his way. “I’m happy, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“And I’ll be happy - when this man’s soul is mine,” said her beloved antagonist.

To counter, the protagonist held her head heroically high. “Not a chance in Hell, you rat-fucking-bastard.”

At that, Tav left the Devil’s Den with a smile on her face.

—-