After creating and publishing Elturian Tails, a visual novel dating sim that answered the call for our beloved tieflings Zevlor, Rolan, & Dammon to be romancable, I am thrilled to announce a new adventure with a similar goal in mind.
Taking lessons learned from Elturian Tails and indulging in a bit of ambition, A Devil You Do will be the next chapter in my game development journey.
Though I'm tempted to share what's already been cooking, just as with Elturian Tails, I want to slowly reveal the game's progress through recurring updates... something to look forward to in the near future! 🖤
The house of hope. Where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed – lavishly. Go on. Partake. Enjoy your supper. After all… it might just be your last.
A/N: just some casual Raphael brainrot. Takes place during Act 3 and may contain spoilers. No set storyline, i just plan on having three chapters of headcanon drabbles that jump around, might also deviate from canon at points. Chapter 2 will be 🌶️🌶️🌶️
18+ MINORS DNI
Chapter 1: In which a bard finds herself in trouble- in more ways than one
Lore paced along the veranda, indecisiveness keeping her from not only knocking on the door to the Devil’s Den, but also keeping her from giving up and returning to the Elfsong.
Some days ago, Lore and her companions happened across Raphael and Voss arguing within the room, and Raphael had offered a deal. Her companions had vehemently rejected Raphael’s bargain…but Lore wasn’t so sure.
Returning meant she had gone behind the backs of people she considered friends. But if they were up against an Elder Brain...any advantage they could get might mean the difference between life and the entire demise of the city.
The Emperor was in a tizzy at the direction of her thinking, and he was a constant angry voice in her head telling her to abandon the deal and return to their newly set up home base. She knew what the mindflayer stood to lose, but she couldn't bring herself to feel any sort of sympathy towards the being that manipulated her and her companions for months. Guardian, my ass.
Bawdy laughter from below caught her attention, voices that were all too familiar to the bard. Her breath stole away from her and she gripped the railing.
There on the half cobbled road below was a face she had hoped to never see again. Memories flashed through her mind, the abuses she suffered at the hands of the man below causing her to freeze in place. Lord Edmund happened to look up at that moment, and he spotted the wayward bard that had been sold to him.
“You!” He shouted, drawing the attention of everyone around him. Then after an angry pause, he and his men rushed to the entrance of Sharress’s Caress.
That decided for her, and she spun away from the railing and burst into the Devil's Den. She slammed the door behind her, leaning against it as if she alone could bar the man twice her size from entering. Her eyes darted about the room, completely ignoring the thoroughly annoyed Raphael sitting at his desk. She scoped out several potential hiding places, but vaulted over the bed and wedged herself between it and the night table when she heard thundering footsteps on the wood of the balcony. Raphael’s glare followed her, though she didn’t really pay attention.
At least until he poked his face around the edge of the bed. When banging started on the door, her flinch had him impatiently raising his brow at her.
“You have, rather recently, taken on an undead man and the avatar of Myrkul, among other horrors, and it's a mortal man that smells like sheep piss that causes you to cower?”
Lore glared up from her huddled position on the floor. “You don't know what you’re talking about.”
Raphael crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. “Enlighten me.”
The door miraculously held against multiple fists banging against it, even the occasional shoulder slamming into it. Muffled shouts could also be heard, growing louder the longer the door remained closed to them.
She took in a shaky breath. “Long story short, my useless drunkard father sold me to Lord Edmund as an entertainer- bard and otherwise- so he could have coin for more drink. Edmund was…is..heavy handed and quick to anger. I have more scars than I care to admit, and not all of them are visible.”
Raphael did not respond, but rather stood in silent contemplation. His eyes shifted to the door and back to Lore, his hand at his chin while his mind turned over the information.
“Perhaps I can be of assistance,” he drawled.
“And owe you a debt? No thank you,” she sneered in return.
“Consider this a gift, then. The entertainment of this encounter will be enough of a payment for my aid. You just have to follow my lead and do as I say, without any fuss.”
Lore looked at him skeptically, and stared at the hand he extended to her while she weighed her options. Edmund wasn’t really a man to give up, especially now that he knew she was in town. He would hound her at every corner, and potentially compromise their mission should he get his hands on her.
With a resigned sigh, she grasped Raphael’s hand and he pulled her to her feet. Somehow during that transition from sitting to standing, her day clothes were whisked away in a flurry of sparks and replaced by one of his robes.
“What? Where are my clothes, Raphael?” She asked, clutching the too-big robe to her. The material was soft against her skin, a luxury she had yet to experience. And one she wished she had time to revel in.
“Follow my lead, remember?” With that, he brought her to the edge of the bed and pushed her down onto it.
“What the hells are you doing?” She hissed. His infuriating smirk spread across his face as she scrambled to cover herself.
“Think of where you are, Little Mouse,” he said simply, as if that made everything perfectly clear.
“A brothel, so what?” She said, before the notion clicked. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh. Now, shall we put on a show for our eager audience?”
With that, his knee found its way between hers on the bed and he loomed provocatively above her. Her heart thundered in her chest and she was certain his fiendish hearing could pick up on it. He brought his face near hers, his mouth hovering dangerously close to hers. Her hand sprung to his chest to push him away, but she resisted the reflex at the last moment. The scent of him wrapped around her- fire and smoke, a hint of cherries, and undertones of brimstone. All scents that denoted his true self…well, maybe except the cherries. She didn’t know where that came from.
“Relax, Little Mouse,” he murmured to her, a hand under her chin to tilt her face towards his, and his other resting against the silk sheets beside her. His lips were so close to hers that all she had to do was lift her chin just so, and they would connect. She found herself holding her breath in anticipation.
With a snap of his fingers, the spell holding the door closed dissolved and it sprang open. The man who had been about to ram the ornate wood with his shoulder stumbled to the ground instead, and the others tripped on his prone figure. To their outside eyes, the room held nothing more than a man and a woman in an intimate embrace.
“Get yer filthy paws off my property!” Edmund gruffed. Raphael slowly turned his head towards the man that was struggling to disentangle himself from his crew.
“Gentlemen,” was all Raphael said in greeting, neglecting to remove himself from his position atop Lore. She hated that she was beginning to enjoy not only the heat he put off, but the weight of him where his body pressed against hers. The hand originally meant to push him away now gripped his lapel, appearing to all who had eyes on them that she had dragged him to her.
“I said,” Edmund growled as he stood and brushed himself off. He pulled a wicked looking dagger and pointed it at the pair. “Paws off my property.”
Raphael went from amused to furious in a matter of seconds, and the heat of him turned up a notch. Lore knew the cambion was just below the surface. He removed himself from the bed and stood at his full height. Even in his human form, he was still a head taller than Edmund, and cut a much more striking figure against the overweight man.
“My, my, what manner of greeting is this? You barge into the Devil’s Den and dare to make demands? I could turn you into a simpering fool, fit for the circus, for this offense.”
“Get your whore ass over here, bard,” Edmund said, ignoring Raphael and waving his knife at Lore. Raphael growled at the slight, his hands curling into fists. Lore decided to take matters somewhat into her own hands.
“Dearest Edmund,” Lore said, rising from the bed- in what she hoped looked like composed elegance- and positioned herself beside Raphael. Her hand slid up to rest on his shoulder from behind and his own hand found its way to her hip. “Do you know why this particular room is called the Devil’s Den?”
Lore turned her attention to Raphael, then, her brows drawn down in thought. “There was something you told me, once, Raphael. When we first met. Ah! Yes. What’s better than a devil you don't know?”
Raphael grinned at the direction of her comments, the flurry of sparks and flame surrounding the both of them as his cambion form burst free. The cambion towered over everyone in the room, his wings flexing behind him and his tail whipping about in irritation. He turned his head this way and that, as if to work out stiff muscles.
“A devil you do, my dear. Now, you pathetic little man, I do believe you owe my favourite client an apology.”
“Fuck this, I didn’t sign up to fight no devil,” a man in the back said, making his escape while he could. Edmund just sneered, ripping a wrinkled page from his dirty tunic.
“That whore is my property by law,” he seethed, holding the page up by one hand and still clutching the knife in the other.
Raphael took the stained vellum and studied the pathetic excuse for a contract. Except it wasn’t a contract at all, but a simple sales receipt that didn't even have the courtesy to be itemized. Raphael’s annoyed gaze flicked from the page to Edmund before the page burst into flame. In seconds it was burnt to nothingness, and Edmund shouted in outrage. He made to lunge at the devil, but a snap of the fiend’s fingers rendered the man unable to move.
“This is how this is going to work,” Raphael growled. “You are going to leave this room, and you're going to forget Lore exists. In exchange, you will keep your life. If you decide a single bard is worth it, though, you will forfeit your existence here and now.”
In the following silence, Lore decided the self-proclaimed Lord needed another knock to his ego. A hit where she knew it would hurt him most. “Give it up, Edmund. A man like this doesn’t need threats to take a woman to bed. Raphael has more charisma in a single hair than you have in your entirety.”
To add emphasis to her words, Lore reached up and caressed Raphael’s cheek, turning his face towards hers. They shared a brief look, before he obliged her silent request and bent over her to press his lips against hers. She was unprepared, however, for the visceral reaction her body had to the sensation. Her hands tightened on him, and it took every effort not to climb the cambion like a tree. When she gasped against him, he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth with a growl.
The concentration needed to keep the opposing men immobile was broken, and they began to wisely shuffle out one by one. Edmund seethed, face nearly as red as the cambion that was lip locked with the object of his own possessive desires. With a huff, the man decided fighting a devil wasn’t worth it and turned to leave. Raphael broke the kiss to address the retreating man one last time.
“Oh, and Edmund?” Edmund froze in the doorway, but did not turn to face the fiend that addressed him. “Should you or any of your associates harm so much as a single hair on my Little Mouse’s head, consider your soul forfeit.”
Edmund’s hands curled into a fist, but he gave a curt nod and continued storming through the door. With that silent agreement, the man had unwittingly locked himself into a contract with the devil. Any plan he had to enact revenge on Lore would end with him wandering the House of Hope as a debtor.
The pair remained locked in an embrace until they no longer heard the lumbering steps of Edmund’s boots. Just in case he came rushing back. Maybe. It definitely wasn’t because Lore enjoyed how Raphael felt under her hands. Nope. Not at all.
Lore refused to admit that she liked being held by Raphael, that his mouth on hers sent her blood thrumming, that the heat of him pooled in her core. She was sure he could probably tell that he was having an effect on her, but he let her go when she pulled away from him. She spun away to hide her flaming face and cleared her throat once, twice…maybe three times before she felt confident her voice wouldn’t crack when she spoke.
“Thank you, Raphael.” Thank the Gods, her voice was steady and even.
“It was my pleasure, Little Mouse,” he chuckled. Her face somehow flamed hotter. “Now, my dear, you were pacing along the veranda for quite a while. What brings you to my den? Alone, I might add.”
Heaving steadying breaths, Lore turned to face him once her heart settled. Raphael remained in his cambion form, but he lounged in a chair, where his hands were tented and he leaned his elbows on his knees. She had his full attention, and Lore had a feeling he knew exactly why she sought him out without her companions. She took a deep breath and hitched her chin up in a sense of false confidence.
The Scent of Cinnamon - Raphael/Haarlep Prequel Series!
Hello darlings!
I have the first chapter of this piece ready for you to devour now~ I'm going to be working on the rest of it in between other pieces, including ATG's ongoing story, but I have been desperate to get this started since the idea seized my soul~
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
The first chapter covers the beginning of their first meeting, and the second will see the deal consummated, so do expect the spice to come soon~
I am so utterly devoted to these two that it is hard to stop them talking when I put them together. From the moment they meet, I could feel their sparks beginning to fly~
Later parts of the work intend to cover the growing of their dynamic together, including Hope and Korilla entering the story, and plenty of other mortals foolish enough to deal with the most devilish...
I kinda want to share some writing I'm proud of. Here, have some tasty Raphael lines in these trying times.
Anyway, uh... oopsies. It's been a few weeks since my last update.
Not out of total neglect, though; I've been blessed with whatever the opposite of writer's block is and have been taking full advantage of it!
And HOLY FUCK, progress has been made on that front.
For reference: back when I was writing my last visual novel, Elturian Tails, I made a mistake by setting word count minimums for scenes. Forcing more words than necessary into finished scenes was a big time-waster in hindsight, as it was more difficult to do that than just write an additional scene.
This time around, I promised myself not to create word counts for scenes and just embrace where the scenes naturally go...
...And now, A Devil You Do is at 55,000+ words. In comparison, after months of nothing but writing, Elturian Tails only ended up being just a bit more than 30,000 words in total.
NEARLY DOUBLED. IN A FRACTION OF THE TIME/EFFORT!
Granted, I've also changed some other approaches to my writing:
Limiting flowery text. Gods, some of my favorite fanfics are just works of art in terms of poetic, descriptive, and flowery writing...I have learned, to my humiliation, that I am not on that level. And maybe that's okay. I'm writing a lot faster now that I'm not stewing and grinding my brain gears over every word.
Better planning. Goals and motivations for every character are defined for every scene before putting pen to paper (erm, fingers to keyboard). It's advice I've heard for so long, but actually sticking to it has helped me structure the story much more effectively. And it makes writing the scenes inside WAY easier.
Game design document. Fucking hell, why didn't I make a GDD before?! Especially for someone like me who will ping-pong back and forth from narrative writing to coding to drawing sprites to UI — having the entire game structure in one place (NOT my poor brain) to reference at any time is a legit game-changer.
Writing for A Devil You Do isn't over, either. In fact, I'm not halfway done with the entirety of the game... HOWEVER...I do believe I'm around 25% done, which means I'm halfway to the halfway point. And my goal is to complete the first half of the game before the last half, so that I can get a demo live mid-development.
