✦ The Ambitious Shop Keeper ✦
OC RP Blog (Baldur's Gate 3, Forgotten Realms/DnD) // 21+ // Mun: @MrFancyfoot (follows/asks will be from this main)
~ Under Construction ~
Evie Felicien || Owner of Felicitations! Shop & Manufactory || She/Her
Indy OC Muse Roleplaying Blog || Baldur’s Gate III, Forgotten Realms/DnD || 21+ Only
— Selective for NSFW Interactions/Content and Shipping — Open Door for General (SFW) Interactions/Content —
Felicitations! I am Evie and welcome to my shop. Feel free to peruse the wares and let me know if you require any assistance. Mind the snap orchids by the window, they will eat fingers and about anything else dangled over their enclosure.
Please drop a note in the Letter Box with any inquiries, suggestions, or commentary. We are not seeking feedback on the color, shape, nor design of the shop sign at this time, thank-you.
Do watch your step as renovations are presently underway in the shop.
From the mun: Hello! Experiences may and can vary depending on what it is that you seek. I respond as time and interest allows.
A quaint shopkeeper that holds secrets? The Hero of Baldur’s Gate settling into her new life in the City? A quest giver? Political intrigue? A rival in Capitalism? An artificer known well through Faerûn or beyond for the quality of her craft?
Open to those passing through, new friends and "clients/vendors," scene cameos, and the potential for establishing something more.
I am also available on discord: please ask for the handle (I promise I don't bite)
Please take a few moments to read over the Blog Rules.
For those who are new, "#New Beginnings" is a tag I will be using to designate a good collection of posts for getting to know the vibe of the blog and my muse. This post is also helpful for those who may be curious about Evie's default behaviors towards BG3 canon characters and OCs.
❤️
Link Navigation (Work in Progress) :
└──| Logbook Entries | The Fox’s Musings | Fox Tales |
└──| Link Master Post | Starters | Ask Games and Prompts |
└──| Shop Board
└──| About [ Evie - The Shop - The Home]
└──| Aesthetic [ Evie - The Shop - The Home ]
└──| Blog Rules
└──| Default Behaviors Towards BG3 Canon + OCs
Chapter Summary:
"Raphael explores a lot of feelings as someone’s “silly” remarks and sillier poetry get under his skin."
The brain worms were all aboard for this chapter so it came fast! :D And in true "I can't stick to the outline I literally just made a week ago," I'll be deviating to add a(?) shorter(??) chapter after this one soon. We're starting to get into some of the meat of it!
I've been into the nooks and crannies of lore stuff (and youtube is now recommending me weird bird mating rituals for how many I watched as research [which will be made relevant in the future lol]) to stitch together the ritual Raphael starts musing on (it is still very much a slow burn is every aspect but he'll start putting bits in place like true Raphael fashion). >:] I've probably stated it before but I am super excited to get into the Last Light Inn arc! It'll be wonderful chaos!
Enjoy the devil and his obsessive spiralling. <3
Rating: M / NSFT-ish
Word Count: ~1.9k
Tags: POV Raphael; Infernal Politics/Law; Infernal Courtship Rituals; Marriage Contract (Sort Of); Evie’s Whimsical Poetry
Warnings: Possessive Behavior; Obsession; Control; Dark Themes (Canon-Typical); Discussion of Female Sterility (As a Current Trait - Considered a Positive); Infernal Politics/Law (Notably: Discussion of Lineages and Breeding); Dubious Morality
His tongue ran slowly along the ridges of the roof of his mouth, invoking, savoring what had been but a cursory, sanguine taste of her. Since she had graced that first contract with her signature, his mind was increasingly, maddeningly, on the fox. In his bed, in his bath, in his house, in his head.
The aggravation she brought was vanquished upon her leave, yet…there was an itch to raise his hand and drag her back through the planes. To make her see sense—all that he was offering! Branding her brought with it an irritating, nagging possessiveness that had reared its head and revealed itself to her. She had wriggled under his skin just as surely as he had carved and imbued her own with but a fleck of his power.
A distracted twitch and the quill tip snapped, sending spatters of ink blotting parchment. With a growl, he tossed it away, the ruined document soon after mere ash.
Raphael ran his hands over his face before setting his chin atop them and staring down where moments ago there had been tedious correspondence he was too distracted to work on properly. His eyes slid to the revised scroll rolled and secured with a tidy, velvet ribbon at the far edge of his desk. The fox had a way of saying little things off the cuff that would nibble and gnaw at the matter of his mind until they created a festering gash that demanded attention.
Upon sending her back to her camp, he had read and reread the updated contract he had offered her, scouring and analyzing any possible language he may have used to indicate a subconscious desire within himself to wed the fox.
He should have laughed, shrugged it off. But instead, here he sat—wasting away time better spent being productive—because her mockery of his offer was crawling through his marrow. While he determined that it was simply yet another silly, thoughtless comment from the woman, that had not prevented his mind from further latching onto the notion, to begin weighing the optics and advantages of…infernal matrimony.
An Archduchess Consort.
The title was at once acidic, tart, saccharine. A symbol. Too final. A leash.
What fool would stymie ascent by binding themself to another? Yet still, did he not reach for the leash in spite of the damnable distraction threatening to slow his rise?
It was as he pondered his own musings that he had to face the realisation, the hideous admission…that he was not as against it as he initially presumed himself to be.
A confidant. A gilded other. One who shared in his ambition, vision, and goals. The veritable ‘second half.’
Such an arrangement was primarily reserved for strategic politicking and the intention of bringing forth heirs. But while the first step in the latter process had its appeal, he held no patience for the chaos of other courts created by broods incessantly fighting and being pitched against one another. His father took an irksome degree of enjoyment in siring offspring purely for the entertainment of sewing discord and having them vye against each other.
Boldly self-volunteering admittance to her own barrenness, as the fox had in an attempt to devalue herself—in reaction to the clause regarding breeding rights?—held the plot twist of making her a yet more attractive choice, whether considered as a pet or more. With the fox’s inability to naturally procreate, he would be free to take pleasure in her body without the worry of undesired progeny…or whelps sired should their diversions grow extracurricular. That he may not be able to dictate any future contents of a womb non-existent was of no concern. He need only conduct a private verification…
Was her assessment correct? In his flaunting bid to persuade the fox to sign, he indeed had added a number of benefits not normally afforded to solely a vassal, pet, nor concubine. Legally, the principal differences were in the responsibilities and freedoms afforded as his consort. A consort would be trusted and expected to act in his stead when required for certain matters.
Had he not already determined and contractually enumerated a series of tasks that she would manage once under his dominion?
He had shirked the tradition in the past—the closer one was permitted, the more of a liability they became. Many courts had fallen to infighting and betrayal. He had no need of a consort for keeping order in his House of Hope, but once he ruled the Nine…
Being ever closer to completing the Karsite Regalia, it was no longer a wholly disagreeable idea to install an Archduchess alongside his future rule. His power, after all, would reign supreme.
The fox’s power—rather, lack thereof—was a source of hesitation. There was no denying such a blinding shortfall.
Yet there was a glimmer. Evie was self-aware of that shortfalling and making noticeable improvements in practiced skill, unmoored and directionless as it was. With firmer guidance and upfront investment, he would see her further transform in the potential to be truly formidable. Perhaps a taste of power was the push she now required at this step of their dance. Should she stay within his sphere and continue to show promise, perhaps she could be consort material.
A vision then unfolded, draping his little fox in royal finery worthy of appearing upon his stage. Proper attire—not the flour bags she deigned to wear, nor the modest ensemble he had provided to enforce a modicum of decorum. He knew now the form, the canvas, that had been hidden. What bloomed was a fantasy of infernal splendor. Tailored, flowing silks in ivory and blood-red wine with curling embroidery stitching sins along the hems. Glimmering jewels, sultry gossamer. Delicate and refined. Unmistakably his. All polished grace and fiery defiance, poised at his side.
He could practically hear the whispers of critics—how they would scorn—had he ever bowed to their sneers and sniveling, he would be groveling at some baron’s feet, not shaping the future of the Hells.
Diligence decreed that he familiarize himself more thoroughly with the statutes and governance relevant to taking a mate and consort.
He stood and strode with determined purpose to an alcove of tightly packed jurisprudence. The tome he pulled free was a thick, ornate binding that had been placed back after referencing it only the other day while drafting the present iteration of the increasingly nuanced soul-sworn contract offered to the fox. It contained a meticulous account of nearly everything one may need to know of Infernal law and dominion surrounding those who fell under the shadow of a greater banner—the Head of Household. Consorts, concubines, children, pets, vassals, sworn blades, servants, debtors, slaves… A delightfully diverse taxonomy.
The binding creaked ever so faintly as he paged it open, as though the sigh of some slumbering beast begrudgingly awoken. Unhurriedly, he continued through to the designated section on rituals of union under Baatorian statute. Here laid the conditions for a legally recognised joining within the circles of the Hells, all tidy with its clauses and subclauses. Constrained with courtly pageantry to a single contract between parties to be joined.
Admittedly, this was not a topic that he sought with any sort of frequency—perhaps here and there over the centuries in passing as he happened upon it. As written, however, these were not the passages that had come to mind.
No, the rite that had stirred in the recesses of his mind was far more ancient. A woven dance, a covenant complex in its lacing of fated threads. A ceremony born before bureaucracy dulled passion into mere paperwork. Crafted with intent and substance, it was a far safer, though tedious, option against the comparably modern version that, while able to be signed and bound in haste, could leave the joining parties vulnerable to…potential oversight.
The noble circles of the Hells, ever obsessed with legacy and lineage, had traded strong, meaningful union for simpler, colder constructs. They were faster. Deceivingly tidier. Purely transactional. Power was addictive and such contracts offered the quickest route to its amass—and to folly. How often had he bore witness to their fallout, the destruction left in their wake when exploited?
They evaded the heavier obligations of reciprocal courting to create a truly unified bond, and with it, shirked greater, more stable power, for the short-term lesser. A consort bound only by terms on paper was ripe for outside exploitation and betrayal. As such, they had lost esteem, outpaced by the rise of concubines and breeding stock.
But he was nothing if not a patient devil. Should Evie prove worthy of his efforts, he was certain that he could guide her through the necessary ritual steps. The fox would, of course, expect to be courted for the prospect.
If the version he desired was not within this tome, alas, it surely resided within the shelves of his archive.
A summons of his Archivist and the tiefling was soon hastening away to fetch the desired text.
The book in his hand was pressed back into its spot on the shelf. But as he turned to return to his desk, an oddity snagged his eye. His brow furrowed as he stooped to the lowest shelf—there, between another pair of dense codices was something out of place.
He dragged both tomes free from the shelf and, now loosened from between them, to his feet fell a folded scrap of paper.
Suspicions further roused, he placed the books aside, forgotten, and his fingers tingled with a flicker of ward-sense as he reached for the paper. But no, it wasn’t trapped, nor protected. Nothing but mundane parchment. Meant to be found. He lifted the slip and unfolded it, eyes already scanning it as he strode to his desk without looking up. How curious…
He paused beside his chair. On first pass, it was filled with nothing but nonsense words…but he had become familiar enough with the fox’s hand that he recognised it as hers, and, therefore, worth closer consideration.
He sat, holding the scrap before himself, and stared at it.
Sea salt caramel smooth
Falling like petals in a gentle wind
Toffee melodies for candy fools
Silly little pebbles blooming soft on skin
He read it again.
What meaning was there behind it?
Each reading taunted him with interpretations he could not settle upon.
She meant for him to find it. Why? A game, a tease, something more cryptic? Was she mocking him?
If he had not perused her journal, seen her penchant for words of lyrical whimsy, he would have dismissed it outright. Had she torn this from her journal? She may not have removed or messed with anything during her unsupervised time within his office…though he had not expected her to instead plant something for him to find.
Sitting back, his fingers drummed across the arm of his chair as he contemplated the poem. To what did it refer?
Himself?
Her companions?
Caramel, toffee, candy…sweet.
Sweet and soft things.
Herself?
She certainly was a sweet little fool.
Smooth and sticky…as one might describe a devil’s tricks. He felt that he was on to the catch.
But perhaps it was not so deep. A mere tease to cause him overthink meaning where there simply was none.
Warm with a sing-song cadence, he could almost hear her voice reading the lines aloud. Lodging the words like a spell in his ear as she watched just to see what he would do.
He fought back the urge to crumple and burn the paper. He did not care for the waste of his time…yet it could be the fox deliberately signaling her interest by leaving a playful puzzle for him.
Playing whack-a-mole with spam scammer comments today, holy moly.
Anyway, ch21 of Plots & Prosody is up! Please heed the story tags <3
Chapter 21: A Heated Reception — "Evie returns to camp and is confronted over her extended stay at the House of Hope by her concerned companions."
Chapter Details:
Rating: T / SFW
Word Count: ~3.4k
Tags: POV Evie; Astarion; The Rest of the Camp; Angst
Warnings: Emotional Trauma/Processing of Trauma; Imposter Syndrome; Survivor Guilt
[Story Rated E]
Story Summary:
He was the fox hidden cleverly in a word, she is the fox…seated before him. When the bumbling tadfools fall in line behind Evie—an unlikely, inexperienced leader—Raphael feels his carefully laid plans threatened and the Crown of Karsus slipping through his fingers yet again. He determines that a much more involved approach is needed to keep the wayward lot on script and alive long enough for his goals to be realised.
Through moments of exasperation, stubbornness, ambition, solace, and affection, the devil and the fox find themselves unexpectedly bonding. In short time, it is not only the Crown that Raphael desires from this saga, but her in body, mind, and soul. All’s fair in love and war.
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Told in a mix of inter-connected drabbles/vignettes and more, Prosody follows the (mis)adventures of Evie, set during BG3 and after, as she makes a new life for herself juggling her business ventures, a certain vampire’s budding political career, and the unwitting godhood bestowed upon her by a clan of fanatical fish people. Plus the attentions of a devil attempting to court her.
"Spring is coming and Evie is blowing out her luscious Winter coat."
Prompt: A Dog Blowing Out Its Coat
Spring is finally in the air where I am and I may have a few of these little prompt fills on the way. ❤️
It also tickles me to think that Evie may have a stronger natural scent than Raphael/many others in general, to the point of where she never really smells like him but he ends up smelling like her when she's around.
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Rating: T / SFW
Word Count: ~500
Timeline: Plots & Prosody, Part II (Post-Game Events) - Canon
Tags/Warnings: Evie POV; Haarlep; Raphael; Humor; Minor Angst; Mutual Name Calling/Insults; Haarlep is a bit of a menace; I'm tagging this 'fluff' in the literal sense >:]
Main Fic (Rated E/Varied): AO3 + Tumblr | Master List (contains related prompts)
[Quick Context: After being isekai'd by the nautiloid, Evie finds a spell tome that gives her magic in return for taking on various fox features, and then spends most of Plots & Prosody Part I (Game Events) “befriending the devil,” yet denying him her soul. But as a result of Story Events and needing the Orphic hammer, Evie is contractually obligated to spend a certain amount of her time each month with Raphael. She doesn't have a friendly relationship with Haarlep.]
Part of my devil courtship series.
❤️ Thanks for reading! :3 ❤️
“I do believe that your little beastie appears to be balding, Master. Or perhaps it is mange.” Haarlep was eyeing the loose tufts of fur scattered down her tail and the mind-boggling amounts she was leaving behind on every surface she touched. “Is your life so stressful? And yet, you could be living here and enjoying a life of luxury!”
“I’m not balding, you moron! My coat’s just blowing out because of the seasonal change,” Evie snapped back. It meant warmer weather was on its way, to which she was very much looking forward. But while she’d been doing an absurd amount of brushing her tail the last few days, it was taking everything in her to not sit around obsessively plucking all the little tufts.
Her ears, even the strips of fur down the backs of her arms and calves, had also met the same fate. She hadn’t realised how thick her coat had gotten over the colder months until it all started falling out at once.
“Have you considered seeing a groomer?” Raphael asked without looking up from his work but the twitch of a smile on his lips gave away that he found some humor in her plight. She wouldn’t be surprised if one just showed up on his orders…
The incubus gathered up a mound of her fur and began playing with it, much to her chagrin. “Ask me nicely and I’ll brush out your pretty tail for you,” they offered with a predatory leer.
Scowling, Evie threatened, “Touch me and I’ll tar and fur you. I definitely have enough of it to spare at the moment.”
Haarlep stood and scooped up handfuls of the loose fur. They danced around the table to stand behind Raphael with a curling, mischievous grin. And then sprinkled it over him as she watched on in horror.
As Haarlep cackled, all the little hairs lit vibrantly and quickly burned away, leaving behind the acrid smell of burnt hair and Raphael’s huff of annoyance as he flicked strays from his paper. She supposed that was why she hadn’t heard more complaint out of the devil. And having plenty of servants to keep everything tidy.
Her own clothing and effects weren’t so lucky. Her housekeeper had her work cut out for her even with her helping out when she could. Astarion had threatened to take sheers to her out of frustration from constantly waving off little hairs and picking them from his clothes.
She took a bite of her apple and grimaced, feeling something distinctly not-apple as she chewed and half-hating that she knew what it was.
“Such an ungrateful little mutt!” came their favorite insult. Ungrateful. Ungrateful for not wanting to be some lap pet that sat around all day or lived only to do their master’s bidding. Like them. “One would think you did live here with how much the House has come to reek of fox.”
“I can only presume that’s an improvement,” she mumbled as she pulled a hair from her mouth. It was Avernus, after all.
𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄/ 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒. all these sentences quotes are the key words of gothic horror romance, dark romances and enemies to lovers. it also includes scenarios that fit the thematic. please change names, locations and pronouns as you see fit.
Dark Romance & Gothic Horror Romance
“I dream of you in crimson and shadows, and I wake up gasping for air.”
“You should have run when you had the chance.”
“Kiss me now, or I’ll tear your world apart.”
“You haunt me, and I can’t tell if I love it or if it’s killing me.”
“There is no light where I come from. Only you.”
“I warned you, my love, that once you are mine, you can never leave.”
“You smell of death and roses.”
“A monster can love too, but never gently.”
“I feel your presence in every shadow, every whisper of the wind.”
“I would burn the world to keep you safe, but would you still want me after the flames die down?”
“Don’t fear the dark, darling. Fear what’s waiting in it.”
“You are the only thing that keeps me tethered to this cursed existence.”
“My love for you is a graveyard of broken oaths and bleeding hearts.”
“Your touch feels like a ghost against my skin.”
“Even if it damns me, I would choose you over salvation.”
“Do not mistake my devotion for kindness.”
“I carved your name into my soul long before you knew mine.”
“Your love will be the death of me. And I will die smiling.”
“Why do you keep coming back to me?” — “Because you call to me like a song of the damned.”
“We are bound by something older than time, darker than sin.”
“If I kissed you now, would you run, or would you stay and let me ruin you?”
“Let me show you what it means to be truly loved—terrifying, all-consuming, and eternal.”
“You think you know what I am? Then tell me… do I scare you?”
“I should let you go, but your suffering is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“If I must be a monster, then let me be yours.”
“You have no idea what it means to be loved by something unnatural.”
“There is no happily ever after for us. Only a beautiful, tragic ending.”
“Love me or fear me. Either way, you are mine.”
“You are poison and honey, and I would drink you down without hesitation.”
“Would you still love me if you knew what I’ve done?”
Enemies to Lovers
“You are insufferable.” — “And yet, here you are.”
“The worst thing is, I think I hate you because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Every time I look at you, I want to fight you… or kiss you. I’m not sure which.”
“You say you despise me, but your eyes tell a different story.”
“I could kill you right now.” — “Then why don’t you?”
“If you touch me again, I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.”
“I don’t know if I want to strangle you or pull you closer.”
“I promised myself I would never love you, and yet here I am.”
“Do you think of me when you lie awake at night?”
“You don’t have to like me. You just have to want me.”
“You don’t trust me.” — “Should I?” — “No.”
“You are my ruin, and I am yours.”
“I’d rather die than fall for you.” — “Funny, I was about to say the same.”*
“Tell me to stop, and I will. But we both know you won’t.”
“I hate you.” — “You keep saying that. Say it again, but this time, try to mean it.”
“You broke my heart first.”
“I should kill you for what you did.” — “Then do it. But if you hesitate, I’ll know you feel the same.”
“We are on opposite sides of this war, but my heart is on yours.”
“You are my enemy. You have no right to make my heart race.”
“I’d rather love you in secret than hate you in public.”
“If we weren’t enemies, could you have loved me?”
“You tried to kill me, and now you want to kiss me?”
“I will always fight against you, but I will never stop loving you.”
“We are fire and fire, bound to burn each other to ash.”
“You’re a monster.” — “And yet, you can’t stay away.”
“Do you know what it’s like to want something you should never have?”
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” — “Then stop me.”
“I hate that I love you.”
“The only reason I saved you was so I could kill you myself.”
“One of us will betray the other. We both know it. So why are we still here?”
Scenarios
A vampire falls for the very hunter sworn to destroy them.
A ghost lingers in a decaying mansion, drawn to the living intruder who dares to stay.
An assassin is sent to kill a powerful enemy but instead finds themselves unable to pull the trigger.
Two opposing generals meet in secret, their battlefield hatred clashing with their undeniable attraction.
A noble is cursed to love only the one who will be their downfall.
A human discovers their lover isn’t entirely human—and never was.
A prisoner and their captor grow dangerously close.
A warrior is haunted by a mysterious figure in their dreams, only to meet them in waking life.
A dark sorcerer offers an innocent soul a terrible bargain in exchange for love.
A beauty is trapped in a monster’s lair, and the monster is not as cruel as the world believes.
A rival thief and bounty hunter must work together to survive.
A masked stranger saves a doomed soul, but at a terrible cost.
Two heirs of warring kingdoms are forced into a deadly arranged marriage.
A widow finds solace in the arms of the man responsible for her husband’s death.
An executioner spares the life of their enemy for reasons they can’t explain.
A demon falls in love with the exorcist who was meant to destroy them.
A scientist falls for their own cursed creation.
A detective and a serial killer play a dangerous game of obsession.
A fallen angel and a mortal become entangled in forbidden love.
A werewolf fights against their instinct to claim their enemy as their mate.
A forbidden romance unfolds in a haunted asylum.
A fae bargains for love but is tricked into servitude.
An aristocrat falls for the masked vigilante fighting against their family.
A witch saves a wounded knight, only for him to realize she is the enemy.
A pirate and a naval officer share an undeniable connection despite their allegiances.
A woman is drawn to the reclusive lord rumored to be a monster.
A scholar studies forbidden texts and attracts the attention of something otherworldly.
A cursed artist paints their love into existence.
Two enemies must survive the night trapped in a cursed castle.
A creature of the night watches over their oblivious beloved.
Please click for better quality since tumblr eats it!
Finally finished after several months of working on this! For my fic Plots & Prosody ft. my OC Evie and Raphael [AO3 Link].
Inspired by Blackbriar's song "Beautiful Delirium" [Spotify Link]:
"You said I looked like a painting
Mysterious and fascinating
You called me a beautiful bouquet
With hemlock and deadly nightshade
Thorn apple and lily-of-the-valley
Quite unusual, quite uncanny
Thorny roses and nerium
Such a beautiful delirium"
More of my works can be found on my master post. ❤️
Very proud of myself for finishing this piece. It's been a number of years since I've done larger/more involved artwork and for the last couple of those, I struggled a lot with even holding pen and detail work due to my condition and being very bed-bound. Since my health has been improving after finding a compatible medication last year, I've been able to slowly get back into things I enjoy and dedicate more time/effort to them. Thank-you so much to those that gave me motivation and advice!
POV: Your fox-'gf' makes you matching costumes and you can't say no. [There's a bonus pic at the end!]
Plots & Prosody: Prompts
Raphael x Evie (f!OC)
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- (Platonic) Love in Every Stitch -
"Evie sews a pair of 'matching' costumes for her and Raphael."
Prompt: Getting the Devil into a Onesie (as inspired by this)
Happy Valentine’s Day & Aromantic Awareness Week! This was going to be G-rated cutesy fluff and it veered off into M-ish territory, I’m sorry(?). I tried to keep the devil in character, lmao—idk how well I achieved that with this one since it's especially out there.
This one could be read with both a romantic-ish vibe or without - though it's worth noting that Evie is canonically demi-romantic and is doing this out of friendship even if Raphael sees their relationship as a "romantic one" (I do see and characterize him [yes, the devil] as the far more romantic one, but her as way more openly affectionate even if she does only see their relationship as spicy friendship/FWBs).
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Rating: M-ish / SFW-ish
Word Count: 1.2k
Timeline: Plots & Prosody, Part II (Post-Game Events) - idk if I would call this canon but it's the Prosody universe
Tags & Warnings: POV Raphael; Evie (She/Her Pronouns Used; Has Fox Features); Fluff; Cute; More Fluff; Humor; Whimsical; Sexually Suggestive; Astarion mention; Evie is not fond of Haarlep; Minor Threat of Violence; Indulgent Schmoop; Only Soft For Her
Main Fic (Rated E/Varied): AO3 + Tumblr | Master List (contains related prompts)
[For those uninitiated: Evie is my modern, isekai’d f!OC human-turned-foxfolk from my Devil Courtship series, Plots & Prosody.]
❤️ Thanks for reading! :3 ❤️
With his work at last finished for the evening, Raphael strode towards his Archive, where he had instructed the fox to await him but an hour ago. And there he found her. Unrecognisable by sight, though it could not possibly be any other.
Stretched out upon the floor with her nose buried in a book, feet kicked up behind her. And wearing some bright red atrocity.
She was clad head to toe in a blob of a costume invoking the image of—presumably—a devil. Small wings quivered upon her back as she turned a page of the book. What was evidently meant to be a heart-spaded tail was ribboned to the end of hers and swayed with her own movements. Attached to the large hood obscuring her face was a small set of dark, branching horns made from the same fuzzy material as the rest.
His bark of laughter drew her attention as he strolled closer to stand over her. She twisted from her stomach to push herself to sit up.
His hand gestured down her figure as he quirked a brow. “What is this?” he asked, curious what explanation she would spin. She had not arrived at his House of Hope in this manner.
Evie peered up at him from under her floppy hood, it slipped sideways with the questioning tilt of her head. “You said to make myself comfortable here until you were done, so I did.”
The urge to roll his eyes was fought against. “That, I do not dispute. What is it that you are wearing?”
“Do you like it?” She beamed up at him, her tail swishing behind her as she jumped to her feet. “I made it!”
She gave a twirl with her arms spread wide to show off her handiwork.
Amused, he replied, “Have you come to so desire to be a devil, little fox?”
Evie rocked back on her heels, truly entertaining the thought with a hand raising to her chin, but ultimately shrugged. “Not really, no. I thought it would be cute! I do wonder if I might have had an easier time skinning a certain incubus, though. Without a sewing machine, it took awhile to do this all by hand. But this is much softer! It feels like wearing a blanket.”
“I will certainly let Haarlep know that they’ve eked by on luck once again.” As humorous as it was an annoyance, the rivalry that she had developed with his incubus, he could not deny, was a source of entertainment.
“I made you a matching one, too!” she announced, scrambling for a nearby bag and pulling free the contents. “Asta let me use him as a model for measurements. He said he couldn't wait to hear how well it suits you!”
Evie held up another fuzzy…costume.
Raphael blinked at it, his thoughts screeching to a halt.
What in the Hell’s had gotten into her head to make her believe that he would don such childish attire?
Astarion’s words promising retribution echoed in his ear from an event months ago featuring another of Evie’s…creations. He had escaped having to wear one of her flamboyant ‘plushie’ hats, though the vampire had not been so lucky. His dearest intended wife had cryptically and cheerfully promised to ‘include him next time.’
It so appeared that this was ‘next time.’ “Did he now…?”
“It’s really cozy!” she assured at what she perceived to be his hesitation.
“Do you truly believe, my dear, that one of my stature should wear such a thing? Perhaps it would be better suited to Haarlep. You may dress them as you please—in private.” Then again, Haarlep may find too much enjoyment from wearing such a thing…
She pulled into herself, crestfallen as she took a step away. “You don’t like it?” Her words from between a frowning pout of rosy lips now so unsure.
Human sensibilities were so fragile.
With a sudden agitated stomp of her bare foot, her brows furrowed and she let out a growl of frustration. “But, why’s that matter? Soon-to-be Archdevil. You’d let others beneath you dictate your own comfort? I don’t wanna dress Haarlep, I made this for you!”
His eye twitched.
So quickly had the clever fox figured out the words and whiles to use to manipulate him to her own desires.
“Feel iiiit, it’s so soft!” she begged.
A fox unhappy with him jeopardized his contract with that damned vampire.
So be it.
He would embrace her whimsy this once.
He reached for the costume within her arms and she relinquished it. “How long have you spent crafting these?” He scanned it with a critical eye—neat hems, mediocre embroidery, one arm was a hair shorter than the other. Not her finest craftwork, though perhaps she would improve with a tutor. While the devilish one she wore was crimson, this fox was the color of tan sand.
“A few weeks.” She rambled on, “I’d been hiding them in my closet when you’d visit ‘cuz I wanted them to be a surprise. Yours was on the table by my fireplace once, though, with my sewing stuff and I thought you’d seen.”
With a snap of his fingers he was nude.
Evie covered her eyes with a gasp.
“After how many countless times have we lain together, love?” he asked with exasperation.
“But in public?” she squeaked.
“My archive is hardly ‘public.’” How easily he could change that perception of hers by showing her what ‘public’ truly meant.
“You know what I mean!”
He did, though why she was covering her eyes baffled him. “I am afraid to say I rather don’t.” Raphael stepped closer to lean in and speak into her ear teasingly. “Are you embarrassed of my body?”
“Of course not!” she was quick to refute, tone indicating that she thought that notion silly.
“Then why are you hiding?” He tugged lightly at the twin tails of curling copper hair that spilled out from her hood.
She lowered her hands some—revealing her cheeks to have turned a color rivalling her own costume—to stare up at him with eyes pleading for him to cover himself.
“A sweet thing you are to care over any last morsel of modesty that I might have.” He chuckled and stepped into the costume, shrugging it over his shoulders. “What were you saying mere moments ago about letting others dictate my own comfort? Should I not be able to march through my home proudly bare?”
Curiously mum now.
After he buttoned it up, she coyly reached out and pulled the hood up over his head.
A squeal of excitement. “You look so cute!” Evie flung her arms around him and affectionately rubbed her face into his chest.
A whimsical heart. There were times he adored it even if this was not one of them. ‘Cute’ was not a term that had any place to be applied to a fearsome devil—soon her husband—that would reign supreme above all.
“Collect what you desire,” he bid. “Why don’t we retreat to your room for the evening, my dear?”
Where he could retain some sense of dignity lest Haarlep or his servants see him like this. Though surely he could have them both wrangled out these silly costumes with ease.
Bonus Pic: POV your fox-gf makes you matching costumes and you're kinda into it.
🌹 Where in the world does your OC feel most at home? Is there any reason why? If it’s not the place they were born, where were they born? Is there a certain somebody that makes them feel at home where ever they may be? What does home mean to them?
🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?
🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themself? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favourite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone?
🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with recieving affection from others?
🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?
🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them
💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?
🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?
🌳 What is your OC’s favourite way to relax after a stressful day? Do they have a favourite book to curl up with? A hobby? Or do they have a nice bubble bath and have an early night to bed?
🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for?
🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?
🌸 What are some of their favourite things and why? List as many as you can think of!
🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry?
🌼 Who are this characters friends and found family? How did they meet, how long have they been friends for, could they ever be something more than just friends? What do they look for in a friend or a romantic partner?
Questions for You!
💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?
☄️ Does this OC deserve better treatment from you? Do you make them suffer just a little bit too much? Be nice to them!
🌠 On a scale of 1 - 10 how Baby is your OC? BONUS when asking this question rate the OC yourself as see if the reply matches up!!
💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why?
This is a list of default attitudes/feelings that Evie has towards specific canon characters from BG3, the Prosody Universe, plus OCs in general if approached
(so if your muse initiates contact Evie - if Evie initiates with someone new, I’ll go off the vibe on the profile and assume canon or no prior relationship). If you’re seeking something different or have questions, please feel free to ask - I’m very open to all sorts of scenarios, this is just to simplify things for people who may not know where to start or what to expect. For characters not listed here, also feel free to ask. :)
General Ships/Very Fond Of: Raphael (multiple flavors of), Astarion (both spawn and ascended)
Will React with Overt Animosity Towards: *Haarlep, Cazador, The Emperor
Minthara: Antagonistic towards a Minthy that tries to invade the Grove; if met later or under different circumstances, however, Evie could feel a certain kinship with her
Notes About OCs:
Regardless of alignment, Evie will generally be friendly and curious towards anyone first. Will err on the side of thinking the best of someone but is cautious, sometimes suspicious, with first interactions as she feels someone out. Is open-minded so long as she doesn’t sense danger from someone or that they may hurt someone close to her. May react defensively/protectively if she does.
Doesn’t typically react positively to overt flirting from someone she doesn’t know, though may not recognise that someone even is flirting with her, which can make her seem resistant or disinterested. Will make someone work for the romance, but if they play their cards right, may be more amenable to something casual first [as a gen note, I won’t hop to nsfw stuff right away with someone new unless it’s been discussed first and I’m feeling the ship].
Unless clarified that an interaction should be from a totally blank slate where Evie isn’t personally familiar with other/canon characters (or one with different attitudes than those listed above), she’ll default to reactions in line with the above if asked about other canon characters.
Am open to interactions that are or start off as antagonistic for any of the above. Evie’s sweet but I’ll absolutely put her in Situations, lol. >:]
*Note about Haarlep: while Evie’s default opinion of them is quite negative in line with the Prosody universe (she wouldn't reference it with someone unfamiliar but would not react well if propositioned similarly to canon BG3), if that prior past is disregarded, she’d likely just butt heads with them in a more teasing/unserious manner that could become amicable for those who like a softer Haarlep. Unless I see indication for preference otherwise, I'll default to they/them pronouns for Haarlep.
Evie had learned long ago that it was simply his way to ask questions and move on without a response, for Raphael neither expected nor actually wanted one. So often words died on her tongue, too slow to interject before he was moving on.
Her eyes followed the fine needlework of decorative hems and designs as Raphael explained the origins of the fabric.
Though the wine swirling round and around in his glass was a distraction, she couldn’t save herself from the grimace that pulled her face at the imagery of being any part of a bard’s fever dream after hearing the occasionally graphic and often questionable tunes fiddled in taverns and the city street corners. She was frequently reminded of the lurid covers of those awful romance books sold for a copper and secreted beneath paper and twine. Anything flattering was not what came to mind.
That ‘fox’s cunning’ was sending up warning flares with how thick he was laying it on. Was there another purpose for this dinner? Was there anything—besides her soul—that he could possibly want?
The word ‘offer’ stood out among everything else spoken and instantly triggered visions of prior offers, causing Evie to shake her head with a sound of annoyance. “Uh-uh. No contracts—or contract talk—at the dinner table, please.” She knew he had something up those sleeves—he always did. It was hard to blame him, though. A devil was gonna devil. Ever ambitious, he got his crown and yet wanted more.
“If I had it my way,” Evie began her answer, “I would just be running a cozy little shop with some adventuring fun here and there to keep the boredom at bay. But unfortunately, the drive towards capital and power ensures that others are constantly bringing chaos to my door. Not terribly wise to let a fire burn freely at your doorstep…or just stomp it out in case it’s poop. You—” She paused. From the periphery of her eye, she noticed the waiters returning to remove the current course and present the next. She folded her hands neatly in her lap while they quickly did their job.
They departed, and with the basket of fresh dinner rolls now calling her name, Evie reached for one to slather with butter as she picked up where she left off, “You have years of experience through longevity. I have years of experience through…erm, modern education and the internet?” Maybe a bit of a stretch, but the politics and commerce of her time made the merchant moguls and nobles in governance here look like they were partaking in a children’s tea party. Thankfully, she paid attention in her classes and history really liked to repeat itself. Adding magic to it was the only new variable, but she always had been a quick study.
“Most of these nobles—” she gave a pointed glance to the room at large, “—have their status due to wealth, not any particular skill they have. Running circles around them isn’t too hard when you know how they think and operate, which, not surprisingly, doesn’t really change much at its core over time. I’m more than happy to take advantage of their underestimation of me.” The biggest issue was that she could not bring herself to care one whit about their smoke-and-mirrors decorum and dumb ‘sensibilities.’ While she respected everyone as a person, hierarchies never made sense to her. Authoritative respect was something to be earned by merit. She would never act as though she were below another simply because they expected her to do so. That bluntness occasionally caused her problems—something her dinner date was well acquainted with—but there were those who responded well to it.
She pointedly ignored how Raphael wasn’t touching any of the food in front of him—how wasteful—as she tried a sip of the wine. More dry than she liked, but the tinge of sweetness could grow on her. This was a nice evening out. She had promised herself that she would hold herself to two things: she would not embarrass herself—trip over her own two feet, choke on something, say anything especially dumb—or butt heads with the devil. At least in public.
Evie was shrewd, cautious, wary of the way his words slithered, ever testing the air for hidden barbs. Good. That sharpness was what set her apart from the spineless noble sycophants.
Her reaction drew the faintest smirk to his lips. And then, of course, came the protest. "No contracts at the dinner table" she said with a firm shake of her head, as if warding off a particularly persistent solicitor. Raphael laughed in response.
“Oh, my dear Evie, must you wound me so?” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock despair, ever so dramatic. “As if I would dare sully such a pleasant evening with business.” Of course he would, but not today. His grin widened as he took in her unimpressed expression. “Well… unless, of course, you asked ever so sweetly. But I digress.”
He let her speak, let her explain her philosophy—how she danced between chaos and order, how she played the game not out of desire but necessity. She dissected the nobility of Baldur’s Gate with a casual ease that amused him greatly, dismissing them as little more than lucky inheritors of old money and stagnant power. She understands the game, he mused, but more importantly, she refuses to bow to it. How refreshing.
He leaned forward just slightly, the flickering candlelight casting sharp shadows along the planes of his face. “Such a curious thing, this mortal fascination with knowledge so freely given. Tell me, little fox. Does the convenience of it make your kind wiser? Or does it merely breed a new kind of folly?”
A rhetorical question, of course. He already knew the answer. He had seen the patterns of history unfurl countless times. The tools change. The players remain the same.
His gaze flicked lazily to the nobles she gestured toward. “They are as dull as they are predictable, yes. But do not mistake their incompetence for harmlessness. Even the most idiotic beasts bare fangs when cornered. And as you so eloquently stated, my dear, fires left unchecked have a nasty habit of burning one’s doorstep. You would do well to be mindful of the sparks you kick up.”
Raphael reached for his glass, took a slow sip of wine—not out of necessity, but for the sheer pleasure of the gesture, of playing the part.
“You are quite the enigma, Evie. Not a noble, yet more cunning than most of them. Not a merchant, yet you weave through commerce as if you were born to it. And yet, despite all your talk of avoiding chaos, here you sit—” he gestured between them grandly “—entertaining the company of a devil over dinner.” A pause. A slow, knowing smirk. “Do you enjoy my company? Or perhaps the way I unsettle you just a little too much?”
He set his glass down with a deliberate click, waiting—always waiting—for the next move in their little game.
Evie’s brow rose, again hesitating briefly—covering the pause with a convenient bite of food—as she mulled over her response in the face of a conundrum she found herself considering not infrequently. Her words still came uncertain, “You consider your presence chaotic? I’m not sure I’d be here, personally, if I did. Do you find that odd? That I do enjoy your company?” She knew others thought ill of it for they told her as much. That the devil would only bring trouble and her own reputation could be jeopardized. But she didn’t want to alienate them, either.
Despite warnings from others to not trust the devil, Raphael had been one of the more stable presences over the months of their tumultuous journey and his advice had proven sound. He’d been a bit impatient and vocally displeased at times…but it wasn’t like most of it hadn’t been goaded by her own companions or her stubbornness and clumsiness as a leader. He had ulterior motives for helping them but she had personal doubts they would have been as cleanly successful if he hadn’t. Not that she’d ever say that to his face.
Maybe it was naive of her to entertain a degree of friendliness with him, but there were always far worse options than the devil she knew. In the time since she started settling into Baldur’s Gate, she’d become acquainted with a number of them. And Raphael would probably just forget about her soon and move on to greater things now that he had the crown he wanted.
“You only unsettle me in the similar way I feel sitting across from a game master where the stakes aren’t always all known and yet they could change with each game.” She’d stroke his ego just a little. “Maybe the games themselves change. I could even win some, but are they the games that matter? I can just hope that they stay friendly matches and that I catch on quick.” Perhaps she did enjoy the bit of risk, the dancing close to the flames. Would they burn her? Evie shot him a bright grin. “And, y’know, games should be fun.”
