#let him hoist himself on his own petard

[impactrueno]

let's talk about shoes (stick with me here for a sec)

beetleboots beetleboots beetleboots.

what's up with the three of them wearing combat boots? they go well with each of their character designs so it's not like they look out of place with the rest of their outfits, but knowing this is tim burton and colleen atwood, these things are not mere coincidence.

(spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice below)

a common complaint i've seen people mention about Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is that "there's too many villains," but today i'm here to talk about why each of them matter in the narrative tim wanted to present here. yes the boots are related we'll get to that in a minute

delores, rory and jeremy all have one thing in common: the use of romantic betrayal in order to achieve their own selfish goals, destroying their victims in the process.

this, in turn, makes beetlejuice, lydia and astrid have another thing in common: they were the victims of these romantic betrayals.

you may think "okay but why is that necessary?"

this sequel made the interesting choice of nudging beetlejuice out of the villain role. he's now just a weird ally/deuteragonist...or perhaps even...a protagonist? but that's not enough! why should we as an audience care about him or sympathize with him?

that's where delores comes in. delores is less of a character and more of a plot device. her purpose (besides serving cunt) is to give beetlejuice backstory and be to beetlejuice what beetlejuice was to lydia, only worse. i talked a bit more about it in this post. thanks to her, we now learn that beetlejuice was a victim. not just that, she's also the looming threat beetlejuice needs to justify his marriage to lydia (he seems to be under the impression that this would help him escape delores more easily, but personally i'm not so sure, i think she's more powerful than that.) her return in combination with lydia's return to winter river is what sets his plan in motion.

rory is a pretty self-explanatory villain so i don't think we have to go into that. he wasn't out to kill lydia...but he's a golddigger, so i don't doubt he would've set something up to lead her into having a fatal accident and claim insurance benefits.

jeremy's role in the plot was to make astrid realize that she was wrong about the supernatural, as well as put her in danger in the afterlife, which is the drive lydia needs to turn to beetlejuice for help.

the role of an antagonist is to oppose or be an obstacle to the protagonist's goal. these three are the three obstacles beetlejuice needs to overcome in order to marry lydia.

first, he needs to save astrid as part of the deal with lydia. so he gets rid of jeremy to give astrid her life back. he knows exactly what it's like to be romanced into a death trap. you can tell this was satisfying for him. later, fucker.

then, he needs her fiancé rory out of the picture if he intends to marry lydia. since he knows this guy is a total piece of shit and is lying to her to lead her into the same trap he himself fell into with delores, he simply gives lydia the tools she needs to kick his ass herself. teamwork!

third comes delores. he just needs to survive delores, basically. he tries to pair her off with rory to try and kill two birds with one stone, but the stone that ends up killing them both is the sandworm that astrid summoned, which beetlejuice then guided straight to them. teamwork once again! (beetlejuice and astrid got rid of each other's problems, that's kind of cool)

these three things being taken care of means that beetlejuice can finally marry lydia.............

............except he doesn't. why? because he helped lydia. by bringing her into the afterlife to look for her daughter, he violated code 699. and he did it immediately after signing that contract. hoist by his own petard, this dumbass.

sorry i got sidetracked again. we were talking about boots, right? right right.

beetlejuice, lydia and astrid all walked in each other's shoes.

everything in this movie comes in threes. names, villains, victims, obstacles and pairs of combat boots.

[transhawks]

Top Ten Hawks Moments of 2023

For Keigo's Birthday and for the end of this year, I have decided to make my top ten Hawks moments for all the chapters published this year.

10. "Hawks" gets torn into shreds by AFO

we had a lot of near-deaths for Hawks this year, but I think this was the most memorable as it happened, giving a very needed burst of humor to the AFO vs Hawks and the Heroes fight. Tokoyami's reaction was particularity heartbreaking.

9. Whatever Level of Gay was Achieved Here

This entire chapter was framed in a way that constantly put Hawks and AFO contrasting and melding and there are panels where their thoughts connect. I thought it was a very good way for Hori to make their dynamic fighting each other stand out. Also, the fight was ridiculously homoerotic.

8. Hawks Reminds Us It's About Connections, Stupid.

A theme for the post-Jaku part of this manga has always been heroes needing to bridge that gap and see if they can connect with the villains. It's interesting that Hawks has been the canon mouthpiece among the adults for that view when he so utterly failed his own narrative-assigned connection. I know there was so much pushback in this moment because Keigo again thought of Endeavor, but it stood out to me in repeating this allegory of OFA linking everyone as the solution to the conflict in the first place.

7. Realizing They All Have the Power to Make Their Own Narrative

Against a villain like One For All who wants to believe he's in his own light-novel, Keigo's own issues distinguishing reality and fantasies managed to settle down. He's always resigned himself to being a caged bird and a martyr, so being pitted against a villain so into life being a foregone conclusion helped Keigo remember they all have more agency than they give them credit for.

6. I think all of Keigo's Rizz was in Fierce Wings

Seriously, this is his normal fake hero persona on STEROIDS? It's fascinating how naturally this stuff comes to him. Like damn, he even has his tongue out, mocking All For One as he gets hoisted by his own petard, and has an arm around a vestige lady who looks suspiciously like All For One's mom, which I am accepting as canon until told otherwise. Say what you want about Hawks, for all his failures and paradoxes, the dude has serious BDE. I'd rate this higher but he had a lot of good moments.

5. Nothing beside remains, round the decay

Probably one of the most striking panels this year, seeing a defeated, quirkless Keigo struggle to get up and meet the horde of encroaching Toga-Twice clones, holding the last remaining feather in a landscape of complete destruction made me think heavily of the Ozymandias poem. Keigo, who has always represented the hero system with his whole diamond-insignia carrying chest, seeing all the consequences of his actions and the futility of his actions in stopping the very future he'd allowed himself to commit murder to prevent. I wonder if it struck him how little it all meant as he faced his "presumed" doom.

4. Farewell, Fierce Wings!

we bid goodbye to the quirk that continued to fight even as it was stolen into the eldritchian amalgamation that is All For One! The look in the vestige's face is so resigned and bitter-sweet as he decays away. Keigo isn't his quirk, but it's remarkable how willing to face death both of them are.

3. What he really wants

The interesting thing is the narration implies that either Keigo was telling Naomasa that the aging made AFO stronger as the battle happened, or still had enough control over his emotional state after being left in the dirt to tell him what he observed. The latter is, well, not that surprising when it comes to Keigo, who won't let being quirkless or maimed or delimbed get in the way of being at his job, but that's not what Hori shows us.

No, Hori doesn't show us Keigo standing up or sitting up, no he shows us a Keigo clinging to Tokoyami, a complete break in the many masks he wears to show actual devastation and need for comfort.

There's no Keigo pretending he's okay. There's just one panel showing us a young man embracing his unconscious student after probably one of the most horrific experiences in his life. Keigo, who has been mentioned to be a person who puts so much distance himself and other people, is the one the one clinging to Fumikage.

2. He really was, wasn't he?

As the Twice clones disappear, we see a melting Toga-Twice on the brink of killing Keigo, who makes no move to stop her as she slices him open. No, he seems almost penitent as he accepts death, only pausing to tell her he knows why she's killing him. Make no mistake, the moment he saw Twice back, he knew what this was all about; killing Jin. In this moment, he doesn't hold himself back with saying killing Jin was necessary - the future Jin's murder was meant to prevent came about anyway, no, this is just Keigo being honest that he really liked Jin, anyway. This panel might show the first real regret we've gotten from him, which is likely why he was so open about not fighting back. Because Keigo knows that he does "deserve" this.

1. Haven’t you already done your best, Hawks?

Chapter 185, this panel introduces us to Hawks.

Two hundred chapters later and we finally see Hawks, for all intents and purposes, resoundingly defeated. His quirk is gone. The army he had as back up, defeated. His student lying defenseless beside him. His hero-partner having left to fight his own battles.

And yet, despite it all, despite losing his quirk, despite every sign of failure around him, especially as he now has to reckon with his own moral event horizon, Keigo's capable of saying one thing:

[theofficialpresidentofmars]

gonna be honest, i never bought much into the ‘Hamlet’s fatal flaw is inaction’ take because what no one ever seems to mention is that he has a pretty good reason for said inaction (zero actual proof) and within about an hour of resolving this he’s gone and killed a man. which is very much an extreme immediate action in my humble opinion. and he follows it up with an absolute whirlwind of whatever the opposite of inaction is (more extreme and reckless action which results in the deaths of about 7 more people before the play is up).

No, I doubt inaction is the best word to describe where he went wrong. The play does leave it a little ambiguous, which is why we have hundreds of years of debates about all this, but personally, I believe Hamlet’s true fatal flaw is pride.

Which is impressive, given how much he seems to loathe himself at points. But Hamlet spends the entire play acting like he’s the smartest person in the room, looking down on and discrediting the people around him, and no matter how much reason they may give him to do so, this is ultimately what I think sends him down the wrong path.

It’s made clear with Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern especially, given that it’s this pride explicitly that gets the three of them killed. Hamlet is shown to consider himself multiple times their intellectual superior, running circles of wit around them in acts 2 and 3, in both of their second scenes, even mocking R&G to their faces for their attempt to play him. And this sense of superiority seems to be his path of reasoning when it comes to distancing himself from and justifying their murders- when Hamlet discovers he’s killed Polonius, his first instinct is to call him a fool, and as he drags the body out of the room, his final words on the matter are to again reinforce the idea that Polonius was a ‘foolish prating knave’ and that his death was divine punishment. With R&G, he kills them without remorse, remarking to Horatio after their deaths that they are ‘not near (my) conscience’, and that their deaths were their own fault for meddling where they shouldn’t have. Even when Horatio rightly points out that killing them was of no benefit to him and actually worsened his situation as there was now a time limit on Hamlet’s plans to enact vengeance imposed by the news of their death returning and Claudius taking more drastic action, Hamlet shrugs him off. Hamlet justifies their deaths at the time by bringing up the letter meant to kill him, but before he’d even found out about the letter or been sent off at all, in the same scene as Polonius’ death Hamlet tells his mother of how he wishes and expects to see the pair ‘hoist by their own petard’, suggesting a level of premeditation. All in all, Hamlet’s intellectual pride is a large part of why these three die, and in the ways they do.

With Ophelia, Hamlet’s pride wounds her as he refuses to let her even respond as he accuses her of cheating on him, and as it stops him from considering any options aside from him being correct, ever. He doesn’t listen to her, doesn’t let her explain, and doesn’t follow up with her besides sexually harassing her publicly and in front of her conservative father and then murdering said father. When he finds out about her death, and hears her brother mourning, his first instinct is to try and ONE-UP HIM, to claim that he loved her more and that he’s more saddened by her passing (after being the entire reason for her death). I’m not even kidding, he starts listing things he’d do that he thinks Laertes wouldn’t or couldn’r to try and ‘beat him’ at his girlfriend’s funeral. And Hamlet never considers in the moment that he might have played a part in her death, or might not have been a great boyfriend. He just wants to be better.

And it’s literally Hamlet’s pride that leads him to the fencing duel where he dies in the first place. It’s explicitly and obviously stated by Claudius and Laertes that they want to play on his jealousy of the attention Laertes has been receiving over his fencing skills and the pride he has in his own to offer him a challenge he can’t (and doesn’t!) refuse. It works, without a single hitch, because Hamlet cannot turn down an opportunity to prove he is better than someone at something. Horatio even tries to get him to turn it down, as they both instinctually know it’s a trap, but Hamlet is too prideful to leave.

Hamlet never considers himself to be wrong about the decisions he makes. It’s either deserved, unfortunate but ultimately deserved, or not his fault. Things happen, and everyone else knows less than he does. He readjusts his moral compass to align with whatever justifications he needs to be ‘right’, and he doesn’t look back. The closest he gets is feeling remorse for putting Laertes in the same situation he’s in, but his apology shifts the blame from himself entirely, even going so far as to victimise himself as well. He is too prideful to leave Claudius to God’s judgement, opting not to kill him in the church which is the turning point for everything going wrong.

And he never sees the consequences as the results of his actions. As he dies, he begs Horatio to live, to tell his story, as he believes it’ll save his reputation. Because it looks bad, sure, but if you just see it from his perspective, it’ll all make sense!

So that’s just my thoughts on it anyway. Hamlet does perhaps have a bit of an overthinking problem, but at the same time, it’s his spontaneity and recklessness that causes lasting damage. Hamlet may be cowardly and afraid to act in faith, but at the same time it’s often doubt that keeps him in check, and to commit murder solely based on the account of a spectre isn’t necessarily a noble act. Despite his seeming self-hatred, suicidal tendencies, and habit of beating himself up over every little thing, it’s a recurring and unsubtle theme that- when Hamlet acts on the belief that he is superior to those around him, without fail, bad things happen.

[pengychan]

[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 16

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

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

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

*** TFW you send your wayward son to serve another archduke to straighten him out, and the guy actually likes him more than you do. ***

While an abandoned watchtower couldn’t really hold a candle to an inn, Durge had to admit it was an upgrade from the caves they’d found refuge in since their arrival to Avernus. 

Raphael would have probably failed to see the bright side, and scrunched his nose in disgust as he tended to do, but he was out like a light as he recovered from the fight. He didn’t even stir when Durge laid him down on the bedroll Halsin had placed on the ground.

“... How close a call was it, Halsin?”

“Very close - I’d say he had moments to spare. The poison Yurgir coats his blade with must be powerful indeed.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to test it. I got a few bottles out of one of his merregons.” Two pairs of eyes turned to Astarion, who shrugged. “I didn’t steal those, don’t worry. I don’t take risks--”

“Astarion. Love of my life.”

“... Fine. I don’t take stupid risks. One of the lot was willing to trade, and I had just won some coin.”

“How did you even communicate?”

“They grunted and I grunted back.”

“Nnmmgh…”

“Yes, something like that.”

Durge glanced back at Raphael, but he wasn’t waking up: just shifting on the bedroll, brow furrowed. It was hard to tell if he was dreaming or just trying to lie more comfortably. 

“I’ll head back downstairs and see how the planning is going,” Halsin said, standing. There was an old table at the ground floor, where Yurgir had placed a map as he discussed with Karlach and Wyll - their party’s experts on all things Avernus, so to speak - how to best ensure they could cross the Styx without incident. “And I think Yurgir could use some extra healing, however much he tries to shrug off his wounds. Although I cannot say I have a salve potent enough to help him should he still be here when Raphael recovers enough to start gloating.”

“Hopefully, he’ll be wise enough not to,” Durge replied, gaining themself a long look from Astarion.

“Durge. My little bhaal-babe.”

“... Fair enough. I suppose we can only hope Yurgir will have left by the time he awakens.”

As Halsin headed down the stairs with a chuckle, Astarion sat with his back against the wall, letting out a long sigh. “Well. Seems the incubus was wrong.”

Still sitting on the ground next to Raphael’s bedroll, Durge blinked. “The incubus?”

“When they said Raphael only ever wants to sleep with himself. I’m pretty sure he’d make an exception for you.”

Durge blinked. Opened their mouth. Closed it when Astarion raised an eyebrow, and finally reached up to rub their forehead. To be entirely honest, the assessment didn’t entirely come as a surprise… although they had not been entirely certain, either, that they were not misreading signs. “Surely, he has more urgent matters on his mind.”

“I had you on my mind when I had the most urgent matter in that mind, love. I can’t say I’d blame him,” Astarion added with a grin, gesturing widely at Durge’s body.

They cleared their throat. “It’s entirely possible all he has on his mind is manipulation,” they said, although they were not certain of that either. “Some misguided attempt to ensure I keep my word when it comes to getting the other half of his soul back from Mephistopheles.”

Astarion shrugged. “A sound strategy. I first seduced you to make sure you wouldn’t turn against me, remember?”

Durge chuckled. “Hoisted by your own petard.”

“Oh, no complaints. I mean, I had plenty of complaints when feelings decided to show up and complicate the matter, don’t get me wrong. But no complaints whatsoever now.”

“Even if I’m dragging you to Mephistar?”

“You make my life interesting, darling. And speaking of interesting, you did specifically ask for Raphael’s form in the House of Hope. Impossible not to take notice.”

Durge groaned and chuckled at the same time, resting their head against the wall. “Almost made Karlach carve her own eyes out.”

“I for one think it was an excellent choice. If one had to pick.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean I’d--”

“Not necessarily, no. But if you would - understandable, although I must say I’d prefer him with horns - just know that you need not hold back on my account. As long as you tell me how it went, that is. I’m rather curious to find out if it would really take half a moment to finish him.” A pause, then he tilted his head as though something had suddenly occurred to him.  “... Huh.”

“What?”

“Do you think he felt it, when you were with the incubus?”

Durge blinked. “I… ah. I had never thought about it. I suppose he would have. But I had no idea that would happen.”

“Maybe that’s why it took him so long to get back, he first had to take care of--”

A sudden barrage of screams and hollers caused him to trail off, the merregons Yurgir had left stationed outside the tower to keep guard clearly reacting to something. Amidst the screaming there was a voice that sounded very much familiar. 

“Oh come now, that wasn’t nice-- ow! Hey! You really don’t want me to sound this horn now, pretties!”

Durge blinked. Astarion blinked back, and immediately jumped on his feet to look outside through the arrowslit in the wall. He stared a few moments before blinking again and laughing. 

“Well,” he said, turning back to look at Durge. “Speak of the devil, indeed.”

***

“Ah, here you are. I was concerned I’d missed my chance to speak with you prior to your departure.”

Duchess Baalphegor’s voice was not unfriendly - it never was - but it still made something clench in Raphael’s stomach, his fingers slipping as he tried to buckle the final strap of the leather armor he’d been given. He turned, bowing so quickly he didn’t get a real look at his father’s consort. Further back, in the doorway, stood one of the debtors she’d hand-picked as her attendants, but he barely saw her out of the corner of his eye and paid her no mind.

“Lady Baalphegor. I was not expecting--”

“Oh, hush. Let me look at you.”

Raphael swallowed, and looked up. She was closer than he’d realized, brow furrowed as she examined his face; however, the frown quickly smoothed out in yet another of those half-smiles which were never far from her lips. “Well, look at that - not the slightest sign of scarring. You truly made an incredible recovery.”

“I had excellent healers tending to me, Lady Baalphegor.”

“The most excellent healers in Baator could have done nothing for a hellfire-charred corpse. The fact alone that you survived to receive treatment is remarkable.”

“If not for Lord Mephistopheles’ will--”

“Oh, he was being silly over nothing, wasn’t he?” She sighed, and Raphael bit the inside of his cheek. The friendliest smile or the hottest pincers in Baator couldn’t tear a single word against his father out of him, not in his court, not where he could find out. For all he knew, Baaphegor was looking to have him say something which his father could condemn him for.

Loose lips had almost cost him his life. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

He almost killed me. He called me son. I’m nothing to him. He gave me a chance. I hate him. I’ll make him proud. 

“... I was disrespectful. No devil of his standing can tolerate disrespect. I am grateful for his mercy,” he replied in the end, gaze still low. “I’ll make the most of the second chance he saw fit to grant me.”

There were a few moments of silence, and already he feared he’d made a wrong move when he heard her hum. “Well then, I’m here to wish you best of luck, and to ask that you deliver a message to the Lord of the First on my behalf.” She held out something - an envelope sealed with wax. It looked mundane enough, but Raphael could sense the arcane power in the seal as soon as he reached to take it. It was clearly meant for Lord Bel’s eyes alone, and Raphael had no intention to find out what may occur if he attempted to open it. 

“Of course, Lady Baalphegor. As soon as we reach Avernus--”

A laugh. “Ah, don’t be ridiculous. You’re not marching with the troops through all the layers from here to Avernus. That would be dreadfully tedious, and this letter is to be delivered quicker than that. I’d go myself, if I wasn’t needed for yet another meeting with emissaries from Minauros. As you’re carrying out an important task for me, you have a one-time authorization to use my outer portal to the Bronze Citadel. You may await the rest of the troops’ arrival as Lord Bel’s guest.”

Truth be told, that was a relief to hear: Raphael had been dreading the march almost as much as the Blood War itself. Every single one among the troops was likely to know who he was and how he found himself among their ranks, and nothing delighted a fiend quite as much as stepping over someone who’d just been brought low. At the very least, he could expect ceaseless mockery; knowing that at least was delayed - and perhaps averted, as the Blood War surely would take most of their focus - brought some measure of comfort. 

“I shall inform the commander at onc--”

“The commander has been informed. No need to concern yourself with him.”

“... Thank you, Lady Baalphegor.”

“Oh no, you’re doing me a favor. No need to thank me,” she replied. Rather certain that she knew precisely what she was sparing him, Raphael bowed his head again.

“I am humbled by the trust you’re placing in me, despite my recent-- shortcomings.”

“Youthful indiscretions are hardly shortcomings. My consort would know as much, if he recalled what youth even is.” She shook her head in a sort of indulgent exasperation that, Raphael knew, no one else in Cania would dare show towards the Lord of the Eighth without severe consequences. “Upon your arrival, make sure you deliver that letter to Lord Bel directly. You are to place it in his hands, and no one else’s.”

“It will be done, Lady Baalphegor.”

“Good.” She smiled, and turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. Next to her, the attendant still stood in the same spot she’d been all along, gaze low. Had he paid attention to her, he may have noticed brown eyes peering at him from beneath a curtain of dark hair, but all his attention was for Duchess Baalphegor as she spoke again, without turning. “And, Raphael?”

“My lady?”

“... You’ll find Lord Bel to be a fine strategist, and a reasonable creature. Use your time at the Bronze Citadel well. If you prove an asset, he’ll treat you as one.”

Rather than as cannon fodder, the unspoken part went; Raphael understood that all too well. “I’ll keep it well in mind, Lady Baalphegor. You have my deepest gratitude,” he said, bowing his head once again. Then the door closed and he was again alone, a sealed envelope in hand and some hope that he may, perhaps, yet survive his service in Avernus.

***

“... And thus I came to find you, to give Raphael this token of Lord Bel’s support and see what I can do to ensure he doesn’t get too horribly mangled in the process of helping you see this mission through. You’re all very welcome. That was by far the worst welcome party I’ve ever had, I must say.”

“That may be because you’re not welcome, incubus. At all.”

“Oh, I’m sure you don't mean it.”

Yurgir snorted. “Believe me, I do,” he replied, only to be utterly ignored by Haarlep. They looked over at Durge instead, and grinned. 

“Ah, I have a few more reviews on your form! I wrote them aaaaall down. Didn’t bring the records with me, unfortunately. Would you like to hear the gist of it?”

“No, thank you,” Astarion snapped, in a way that clearly suggested he meant to give absolutely no thanks. Haarlep tilted their head.

“It’s mostly good reviews.”

“They said no. ”

“They didn’t say anything. You said no.”

“I’d also rather not know. And I’d rather we drop the subject now,” Durge replied, putting a calming hand on Astarion’s shoulder. He glared at the incubus, but he eventually let out a long breath and turned away, back to Yurgir as he spoke again. 

“So, you’re going for Zariel this time? Could have mentioned that.”

Astarion made a face. “Ah, that. We figured it was on a need-to-know basis.”

A scoff. “I won’t go running my mouth. If you can take down Zariel, then she isn’t fit to rule Avernus and Bel may as well get another shot at it. I won’t be the one to get in your way.”

“I know you wouldn’t tell on us, buddy. Just figured it could put you in a shitty position if we got caught, is all,” Karlach pointed out, patting his back. For all her disdain for devils in general - something Wyll couldn’t help but share, to be honest - she seemed to rather like the orthon. He could see why: it was difficult not to like someone who could take a bloody defeat with a shrug, and return it with unwavering respect.

Yurgir stared a moment, and barked out a laugh. “Are you concerned for my safety now?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a mortal thing to do,” Karlach said with a shrug.

“Hah! No need. I can look after myself, and I will get Haruman out of your way tomorrow - push a big enough horde of demons by his hill, he won’t resist charging through it. The incubus can even make itself useful by letting you know when the way is clear.”

“Huh? Me?”

“Those wings aren’t just there to look pretty, are they? May as well use them to survey the ground from above and report back to them once I get Haruman out of the way.”

A smile, sultry as they come, a brief flick of their wings. “You think my wings are pretty?”

“No. Did you hear a single sentence past that?”

“Report back to them when the way is clear.”

“Mph. Good enough.”

Haarlep nodded. “Well then, consider me well and truly at your service. Tell me what to do, and it will be done. And I am sure you have questions - I’ll be happy to answer all those I can answer at present. But first, I’d like to see how my former master is faring.”

“He’s sleeping upstairs. You may want to try and convince him not to take unnecessary risks. The duel came close to killing him,” Halsin said, entirely ignoring Yurgir’s snort that it hadn’t been close enough. “He only has half a soul. I don’t know if a scroll or spell of resurrection would work on someone in his state. I am not eager to find out the hard way.”

The incubus seemed amused at the request. They seemed amused by just about everything. “I’ll see what I can do,” was all they said, and headed upstairs, Bel’s horn still in their hands.

***

One thing Haarlep had always liked about Raphael’s human form was how small it was compared to the one they wore. It was easy to move, to pick up and bend into all sorts of delightful ways; the skin was so thin, easy to mark and break, and it always flushed so nicely under their ministrations. They always made sure to both mock and praise all those things, loudly, each time they bedded him. Raphael wore that form as often as his other one in bed; perhaps more, come to think of it, especially when he wanted to feel small. 

For someone who loomed so large outside the boudoir, that happened remarkably often.

Haarlep had tried taking his human form, once. And only once, because seeing them wearing it had sent Raphael in a fit of screaming rage such as they’re rarely seen. It wasn’t often that they paid any heed to his threats to draw and quarter them, but that one time it had felt dangerously like he might, after all, go through with it. 

Curious, that. Raphael had never expressed discomfort about his human form; even if it was not the one he celebrated in those tacky portraits of himself, even as he said time and time again it was only meant to put mortals at ease, Haarlep always got the feeling he quite liked it. Yet he did not want to see Haarlep wear it, and had forbidden them to use it, ever.

In a way, he seemed strangely possessive of it - one form he’d hold onto and never surrender even to them. It had made them wonder, sometimes, which form he considered the true disguise. Haarlep was no stranger to disguises, of course. Yet beneath all the glamorous they had collected there was a form that few had ever seen, but which they knew was entirely and unequivocally their own. For Raphael, and all cambions, it was not so. Both forms were his own, which meant that neither truly was if one were to overthink it. And Raphael spent most of his time doing just that - overthinking.

With a sigh, Haarlep set down Bel’s horn next to Raphael’s bedroll and sat on the floor, reaching over to smooth back his hair. It caused him to stir, mumbling something. When he opened his eyes, he still seemed dazed. No wonder, that: a human taking on an orthon alone crossed the line between foolishness and suicidal ideation. And yet there he was, still recovering but alive. 

“Haarlep?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, and they smiled.

“You look well, my little brat. For someone who fought an orthon, that is.”

“How…?”

“The sending stone I left with you on our last meeting, remember?” Haarlep reminded him, and pulled back their hand. Or tried to, because Raphael reached up to grasp their sleeve, and struggled to lift himself on an elbow. Something had yet to heal, clearly, because he stilled with a groan. Haarlep sighed, and reached over to pull him on their lap, cradling him with arms and wings. “There. Be still now.”

Raphael let out a long breath, resting his head against Haarlep’s shoulder. They expected him to ask what they were doing there, demand an explanation of what was truly going on, but he asked something entirely different.

“The debtor who aided my escape,” he murmured, eyes already slipping shut. “Who is she?”

Ah. Well. Now that was unexpected. Haarlep paused a moment before they chuckled, leaning their chin on top of Raphael’s head. “If out of all the questions you must have on your mind that’s what you ask first, I suspect you already know.”

“Tell me.”

“... Yes. She is your mother.”

A long breath. “Is she still-- is she well?”

“As well as one can be as a debtor in Mephistar. She’s watching over your other half. She’s grown fond of him, if you can believe that. She calls him Israfel, and he responds to it.”

“Impossible. I killed him” Raphael murmured, clearly already sinking back into sleep. Or unconsciousness - hard to tell the difference. “He was weak and I ended him.”

“You’re talking more nonsense than usual, pet. Quite a feat.”

A grumble, but he didn’t protest. He only opened his eyes, or tried to. Haarlep could feel the eyelids fluttering against the side of their neck. “Lie to me,” he murmured. 

Ah, that. Not an uncommon order, back when he owned them. Usually uttered once they were done servicing him, as he lay spent and boneless on the mattress. Now that they were no longer sworn to Raphael, they could refuse. Still, old habits were very hard to kill. 

“Oh, with pleasure. I just love your blazer,” they said, and waited for the usual scoff at the impertinence. Yet, the puff of air against their neck felt almost like a silent chuckle. Haarlep blinked, faintly wondering what they’d given him to dull the pain.

“I despise it.”

“Not your style, I have to admit. Clothes as a whole don’t flatter you. I like you best naked.”

“That is not a lie.”

“Ah, are we still doing that? Very well. What do you want me to lie about?”

“You know,” Raphael murmured, in that quiet voice that they only ever heard in the boudoir before - that voice of his that pleaded without pleading. 

Of course Haarlep knew what he wanted to hear. It all always came back to the one lie they told best. And for what was perhaps the millionth time they decided to indulge him, pressing their lips against his hair before speaking it, just as his eyes fell shut again.

“I love you,” Haarlep said. There was no response, and they had no idea whether Raphael had even heard them before he fell back in a deep sleep, but to be honest it didn’t matter. 

They’d have more chances to lie to him. It was their second greatest talent, after all.

***

“Lord Bel. This one says he was sent by Duchess Baalphegor, to deliver a message.”

This one has a name, Raphael thought, but did not speak. At the heart of the Bronze Citadel, surrounded by at least a dozen fortified rings positively crawling with armed devils, Raphael knew it was best not to speak unless spoken to. So he kept silent, head respectfully bowed before the throne where Lord Bel sat in the least regal pose possible, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees to better peer down at him.

Up to that moment, Raphael had only heard tales of the Lord of the First. If other archdukes were somewhat dismissive of him, there were few devils in the Hells who did not dream of doing precisely what he had done - climb all the ranks, from a lemure borne of a mortal soul all the way up to pit fiend, coming to rule Avernus through his own skill and victories.

And, well, some betrayal against his predecessor. But that went without saying, in Baator.

When Bel spoke, his voice was a guttural rumble. Massive and covered in crimson red scales, cut a fearsome figure. “A message? And what it may be?”

Raphael bowed. “I do not know, Lord Bel. I was not to open the seal, and I did not,” he said, pulling out the letter. “I was instructed to deliver this to you personally.”

The archdevil’s flaming eyes narrowed as he looked at the seal. Then, he smiled. Green, steaming venom covered his fangs. “Very well. You can give it to my guard,” he said, gesturing to the armed erinyes standing around them. One of them stepped forward, holding out a hand, and Raphael stepped back. 

“... My apologies, Lord Bel. I was instructed to deliver this letter in your hands only.”

“And I am instructing you to hand it over to my guard. Are you going to obey or not, Canian?”

Raphael bit his tongue, mentally cursing every deity whose existence he was aware of plus a couple more he made up for the occasion. It was plain as day that he was being tested, but whether Bel wanted him to show obedience to him or prove he didn’t waver from an order, he did not know. He had to make a guess, and hope it was the correct one. 

“... Forgive me, sir. I may only leave the letter in your own hands, and no one else’s.”

There was a long, heavy silence. The erinyes who had stepped forward did not move away, and her hand rested on the pommel of her sword; Bel stared at him for several moments, saying nothing. Then, he laughed. It felt sudden and loud as the crack of thunder. “Hah! At ease, Oreasha. You, what is your name?”

Raphael breathed out before he replied. “Raphael, your lordship.”

“Well  then, Raphael,” Bel said, holding out a hand, palm up. “Here’s my hand. You may place Duchess Baalphegor’s letter in it.”

The letter exchanged hands, and Raphael watched in silence as Bel opened it, the seal disappearing in black smoke. He watched him read, then pause; both his eyebrows went up, and his eyes flickered up to look at Raphael before he resumed reading. That the letter spoke of him was an easy enough guess; not knowing exactly what it said set him on edge.

For all I know, she wants me dead and I’ve just given Bel the order to end me. 

He couldn’t think of any reason why she’d wish him dead, but he could think of no reason why she’d help him either. The intrigues going on in the court of Mephistar made even his most elaborate deals with mortals look no more impressive than the theft of eggs out of a chicken coop, and now he was caught up in it, hapless as a mortal. What if--

“Well. Never thought I’d see the day a son of Mephistopheles would grace my halls,” Bel muttered, and the letter in his hands went up in flames with a gesture. Raphael knew better than to try asking precisely what the letter said, and he just bowed his head.

“My parentage is irrelevant. I was sent to serve you, and serve you I shall. If you’ll let me.”

A rumbling laugh, and the Lord of the First stood. He towered over Raphael, over every guard in the room. He gestured for the erinyes to stay put, and stepped past Raphael. “Walk with me, child of Mephisto,” he said. Raphael followed him, through hallways and onto a balcony. 

The Bronze Citadel had few of the lavish luxuries of Mephistar, but it was to be expected. Unlike Cania, Avernus was one immense battlefield; the Citadel was more fortress than palace. From the balcony Raphael could see the barren land beyond the fortified rings, the watchtowers against a burning sky.  “Had you been to Avernus before, Raphael?” Bel asked.

“Only in passing, my Lord.”

The Lord of the First nodded, and gestured to the landscape. “That’s the Styx. Every day, along the River of Blood, demons breach our barriers and pour in from the Abyss. Every day, we repel their attacks. Do you know how many devils are in all the Nine Hells?”

“No, sir.”

“Too many to count. Some will tell you it means infinite, but they’d be wrong. We are not infinite; however, demons are or come damn close to it. Their strength is in numbers - we cannot hope to match that - so I turn away none who’s willing to serve. It would be foolish. And while I do not partake in the political maneuvering your father and his peers are so fond of, I am no fool.”

“... Yet for all their numbers, Avernus has never fallen into demon hands.”

“All that keeps them from spilling in the layers beneath and onto other Planes is that they are mindless hordes. We fight back viciously, and we fight well, but advantage is strategy.” He turned, nodding towards something. A huge table, it seemed… until Raphael approached and saw it was a map of Avernus. Miniature figures representing armies and demonic hordes moved across it, no doubt mimicking the movement on the ground at that very moment. 

Lord Bel approached, placing a hand on the edge of the map. “You’re no soldier.”

“... I can hold my own in a fight. I can--”

“You will not be kept from the battlefield, obviously. Inexperience in battle makes for poor strategists. But I’d rather you play on your strengths instead of trying to prove a point. A sharp blade can slaughter demons; a sharp mind ensures their armies are kept at bay.” Bel gestured widely at the map, at the miniature armies moving across it. “I told you, strategy is everything. Lady Baalphegor says you’re a good learner. So for now watch, and learn. ”

And so he did.

***

“So, there is some sort of plot going on in Cania, and it concerns Raphael in some way - hence why his human half was smuggled out of Mephistar.”

“Yes.”

“But you cannot tell us, or him, what it is yet. Or who’s involved.”

“Precisely. My lips are quite literally sealed.”

Wyll nodded. “I am not unfamiliar with that sort of predicament,” he conceded. “Anyway, there is a different plot to get Zariel out of the way that involves both the previous Archduke of Avernus and Mizora, who in turn ordered me to see it through--”

“Correct again. You are her favorite warlock, from what I’ve heard.”

Wyll made a face. “A dubious honor.”

“I’d be happy to be her favorite anything,” Haarlep sighed, gaining themself a slightly baffled look from Wyll and a groan from Karlach. 

“Eugh,” she said, causing Haarlep to shrug. 

“There’s no accounting for taste, darling. Which is to say, yours is clearly unaccounted fo--”

“Back to the subject at hand,” Halsin cut them off before they got too sidetracked, “you said Raphael was not supposed to get mixed up with the business about Zariel.”

“No. But as he did get mixed up , it was decided it would make a fine test. If he doesn’t survive this mission, it means he never had any hope of accomplishing anything in Cania in the first place, so it wouldn’t be much of a loss.”

“How delightful,” Raphael muttered. Rest, potions and healing spells had restored him to full health, but he was still frowning as they hiked their way up the hill. Haruman’s Hill, although there was no Haruman in sight. There was no one in sight, Durge noted, demon or devil. Somewhere in the distance, west of where they stood, they heard the sounds of a battle.

As though reading Durge’s thoughts, Astarion looked around before speaking. “... Well, this was a lot easier than I thought it’d be. Yurgir wasn’t joking when he said he’d get everyone in a mile radius out of our way.”

Karlach grinned. “Of course he wasn’t. He’s a devil of his word,” she said, causing Wyll to chuckle and Raphael to scoff. 

“Oh, I thought you couldn’t stand devils,” Wyll said. 

“I beg to differ, given how he turned on me despite the perfectly generous agreement we had in place,” Raphael muttered.

Karlach shrugged at both arguments. “What can I say, I like the guy. He’s the one shining exception.”

“Am I not an exception?” Haarlep asked, turning to her with something remarkably close to a pout on their-- well, Raphael’s face. “I was really good at this entire scouting thing. Came back to tell you the way was clear right away.”

Karlach let out a hum, as though considering. “Eh, maybe if you change your face to that of someone less insufferable,” she conceded. Again, her words caused Raphael to scoff. 

“Puerile as her comment is, it would be wise to take a different form, Haarlep,” he muttered. “Most denizens of the Hells are not familiar with my human form, but the one you’re wearing is more widely known. If someone sees it and news that I still live spreads, all of the bounty hunters of the Nine Hells would be looking to capture me and drag me back to Cania in chains.”

Haarlep to shrugged. “On the bright side, my pet, it wouldn't be all that bad.”

“No?”

“You look delightful in chains,” they replied, causing Durge to nearly choke on the water they were drinking from their flask and everyone else to disguise their laughter as coughing fits with… varying degrees of success. Raphael scowled. 

“Once I'm whole again,” he snapped, “my very first act will be ripping out that insolent tongue of yours."

"Of course it will," was the response, not in the slightest concerned, and Durge could tell that did gain them a few points with Karlach… which were then promptly lost when Haarlep chose to take Durge’s form, of all forms. This time, at least, they were wearing clothes. “How about this one, pet? Last time I visited you, I did notice--”

“No!” Raphael barked, so suddenly it caused nearly everyone else to recoil. He looked furious, skin flushed. “Another form, incubus. Now.”

“I do quite like--”

“He said now, ” Astarion snapped, and Haarlep sighed, rolling their - Durge’s - eyes. 

“Very well, if you must all be so dramatic,” they muttered, and changed back into a different devil - tall and with ivory-pale skin, hollow black eyes and an equally black mustache. The horns were on the smaller side, but the wings were admittedly impressive. “There. How about-- huh. Raphael? Are you well?”

Raphael was, quite obviously, not well. He’d stopped in his tracks as though struck, and his jaw clenched before he spoke, his voice tight. “How-- when… ?” he asked, only to scowl and shake his head when Haarlep opened their mouth to reply. “No, don’t. Just change. I hardly think that the Justiciar of Cania is a fitting choice to go unnoticed,” he ground out. 

Whatever the problem was, it was obviously not just that; still, Haarlep asked no questions and changed form again. This time it was a rather nondescript devil with a bluish tint to their skin, who might have passed for a large tiefling if not for the wings. “How about this one?”

“... Suitable,” was all Raphael said, and for the rest of the hike he remained silent, gaze locked dead ahead of him. 

Only as they got to the top of the hill and prepared to cross - Haarlep by flight, the rest of them through dimension door spells - did Durge approach him to speak. “Are you well?”

Raphael glanced back at them, and turned away just as quickly. “... It was not my intention to cause a scene. It’s ancient history; Bele was no justiciar back then. He got his claws in me when I was still foolish enough to slip up, and was quick to report that slip to my father. I was hoping to never have the displeasure of looking at that face again, that's all. I will admit that knowing he had Haarlep as they wore my form does not precisely delight me.”

“Would you like us to kill him when we get to Mephistar?” Astarion called out, searching through the scrolls they’d brought for the one he needed to cross over with Halsin. “It can be arranged for a fee. A small one. Call it a friends discount.”

For a moment, Raphael stared. Then, his lips curled upwards. “Careful, spawn. I might decide to hold you to your word.”

“Oh, please do,” Astarion said, and grinned at Durge, grabbing Halsin’s arm and holding up the scroll he needed for the spell. “See you on the other side,” he called out, and within moments they were gone, reappearing down below, joining the others already on the opposite bank of the Styx. 

“Well, only us left,” Durge said, and placed a hand on Raphael’s shoulder, preparing to cast. Before they could, however, Raphael spoke again.

“... Your concern is unwarranted. I do appreciate the offer to kill him, however.”

Durge smiled. “Do feel free to hold us to our word, if we cross paths with this Bele. No fee required. I am the Chosen of Bhaal no more, but I remain rather good at killing people.”

“You failed to kill me.” 

“And I am glad,” Durge admitted, giving Raphael’s shoulder a squeeze before they cast the dimension door spell. And perhaps it was only their imagination, but for a moment they thought they’d felt Raphael leaning against them a little more heavily than strictly necessary.

***

“So. Are you going to tell me what that was about, my pet?”

“I am your nothing. And I owe you no explanation.”

“Justiciar Bele did seem to have it in for you. It took me a bit to recover last ti--”

“Be quiet.”

Raphael had ordered Haarlep to be quiet many times before; it had never quite shut them up, really. But sometimes it gave them pause and this was one such time. Still, they did not leave: they sat back, watching Raphael tune his lyre at the entrance of the cave they had found refuge in while, further inside, their companions were setting up a small camp.

Finally, they sighed. “I tried to offer other forms, truly. He would not change his mind and I had no intention to raise any suspicion."

“Like you ever needed an excuse to spite me,” Raphael muttered, but he couldn’t bring himself to put much venom in the words. “... I consider the matter closed. Don’t bring it up again.”

“As you wish, my little brat.” Another pause, then, “... You know, back in the House of Hope, the handsome dragonborn over there also asked specifically for your likeness--”

“Agh!”

Raphael’s hand slipped and the unforgiving string he was testing cut into the pad of his finger. He snatched up the wounded hand with a hiss and a curse. “Will you be quiet!” he snapped, trying his best to pretend the cut was the only reason why his voice had almost cracked for a moment. 

Still wearing the likeness of some devil Raphael had never met, Haarlep tilted their head and reached over to take Raphael’s hand. He offered no resistance, only looking away as they brought the wounded finger to their mouth to place a kiss on the cut, then on his palm. To Raphael’s annoyance, it still made his breath catch a moment. He really couldn’t win with that creature, could he?

“You should be more careful, my pet,” they purred against his skin. “This form of yours gets hurt easily, and I promised your mother I’d keep you safe.”

His mother. He hadn’t thought of her existence in the longest time, until the beginning of that entire charade, as though Mephistopheles had made him out of thin air. And now the thought of her haunted him as it did when he was young, as it had haunted her husband.

“I don’t understand. What’s in it for her?”

“I suppose that at first, it was to spite Mephistopheles. Spite is a powerful motivator, no? You always said so. But to be honest, now she’s rather more concerned about you.”

Raphael scoffed. “She doesn’t even know me,” he muttered.

She was in Mephistar all along, and never once sought me out.

“She knows your other half, at least. Seems fond of it.” A shrug. “And besides, humans are odd like that. How many souls did you get that way? So many mortals with unremarkable or even unlikeable children, and yet willing to part with their own souls for no reason but that they loved the bones of them.”

“Mph. Insolent as ever.” Raphael frowned, and cast a quick healing spell on his wounded finger before he resumed tuning the lyre. Her lyre. Maybe he ought to return it to her, once all was said and done. He’d hand it over and say… what could he even say to her?

“Enough with the frowning, my pet. I always told you it would give you wrinkles, and heeere they are,” Haarlep sing-sang, reaching over to rub two fingers over the creases of Raphael’s scowl. Still, when they pulled him close to rest against their chest and folded both wings around him, he did not resist. “Besides, she knows of you.”

“Of course she heard--”

“I told her a lot of things about you. Entirely too much, maybe. She did ask me to stop.”

Ah, he could imagine precisely the kind of things they’d have told her. Raphael groaned. “You despicable creature,” he ground out, only for Haarlep to lean in and kiss the bridge of his nose, right where it always wrinkled in anger. 

“Ah, I could have done worse - I could have shown her. Alas, she was obviously not interested…”

Raphael scowled. “I despise you.”

“No, you don’t,” they informed him, and kissed the scowl again. “You want to hate me, of course. But you never managed to do that.”

Raphael may have hated them for being correct, if not for the fact that they were indeed correct. He’d felt disdain and annoyance as well as anger, and many more emotions in-between, but true hatred was reserved to few beings indeed and Haarlep, for all their valiant efforts, was not among them. “I find you infuriating,” he said instead, taking one last look at the lyre and giving it a soft strum to make sure it was tuned. 

Resting their chin on top of his head, Haarlep laughed. Their hand went down his chest, down his stomach; with their wings shielding them from sight, they placed a hand over Raphael’s groin. He shivered, and did not protest, when they palmed him through the fabric. “Of course you do,” Haarlep chuckled against his ear. “And you’re such a brat about i--”

“Hey, Raphael!” Astarion’s voice cut them off from the back of the cave. “Can you play that thing, or is it just for show? We need some music here!”

Raphael blinked, and turned to look. Haarlep pulled their hand away and helpfully lifted a wing out of the way to let them see what precisely was going on - a dance lesson, apparently. Ravengard seemed determined to show Karlach the ropes of some courtly dances, which in Raphael opinion didn’t fit her any more than they’d fit Yurgir, for the remarkable pirouettes he’d shown himself capable of the previous day. 

“I can do without,” Karlach protested, a good deal more flustered than she was trying to let by. The others were not joining the dance lesson, clearly, and were getting ready to enjoy the show instead. Astarion in particular, as he was grinning, draped over Durge’s lap with his head resting against Halsin’s thigh. 

“But it’s much easier with music to follow, trust me,” Ravengard exclaimed, already poised to start, a hand held out to her. He turned to glance back at Raphael over his shoulder. “Come on, I gave you the rapier that won you that duel. You owe me one!”

Raphael scoffed. “I owe you precisely nothing,” he muttered, but he sighed and leaned more comfortably against Haarlelp’s chest before he picked up the lyre again. “Very well. Let’s say I’m in a generous mood. What do you have in min--” 

“Oh! Do Three Thayvian Roses!” Astarion yelled, causing Karlach to laugh, any embarrassment forgotten. 

“No, no, do Down Another Tankard!”

“The Waiting Grave!”

“Juice of the Vine!”

"And That's Why You'll Hear Johnny Cryin'!"

“Absolutely none of those are any good for a courtly dance,” Ravengard protested, laughing, and turned back. “Come on, you’ve been around since before the fall of Netheril. You’ve got to know a good one.”

Raphael snorted. “I know more songs than you can hope to even name between all of you,” he informed him, and leaned back to start plucking at the strings. Indeed, suspected he knew more songs than humanity as a whole had ever written - too many to pick, and he let his fingers do the choosing. He closed his eyes and only when he recognized the tune did he begin to sing. 

“Alas, my love, you do me wrong, To cast me off discourteously For I have loved you well and long, Delighting in your company…”

It had been years since he’d performed that one, but of course he didn’t misremember a single word, didn’t miss a single note. It was not the type of music he’d compose himself, but there was a soothing quality to it. It was easy to let himself get lost in it. 

“Your vows you've broken, like my heart, Oh, why did you so enrapture me? Now I remain in a world apart But my heart remains in captivity…”

The words rang out in the utter silence inside the cave, and that was what finally startled him out of it - how quiet it was, no sound of shuffling steps, or stumbling, or whatever a barbarian would do while trying to dance. Raphael blinked his eyes open and turned to realize everyone was stock still, staring right back at him. Ravengard was still stuck in his bowing position, his hand held in mid-air; the tiefling was still standing precisely where she was before, jaw slack.

They all looked as though someone had cast a petrification spell while Raphael wasn't looking. Glancing upwards, he realized even Haarlep was staring down at him. He blinked again. “... Is something the matter?”

“Huh,” Karlach replied, not very brilliantly. 

“That’s-- well--” Ravengard echoed, not much more articulate. 

Sitting against the wall, the druid just stared in silence; his gaze seemed a million miles away. Beside him, Durge seemed to shake themself out of some sort of trance. “Good,” they managed. “That-- really good.”

“What my companions are trying and failing to say,” Astarion supplied helpfully, still on Durge’s lap, “is that you put every harpy who ever lived to shame, and we should find a way to bottle your voice and sell it. Is there a way? We should ask Gale if there is. We could split the profits.”

Haarlep laughed. “Oh, you never sang so prettily for me. Should I be jealous?” they asked, leaning in to nuzzle his neck before whispering, “I still enjoy your moans best.”

Raphael rolled his eyes, but made no attempt to pull away. “... I agreed to provide music for a courtly dance. I see no such dance happening,” he pointed out, causing Ravengard to recoil and immediately turn back to Karlach. 

“Ah, of course! I’m ready, I’m ready!”

Raphael sighed. “The time you’re making me waste,” he lamented, but he did pick up the lyre, and began to play anew. This time, he didn’t close his eyes right away. Ravengard and the tiefling did start to dance in a slow circle; to his surprise, she didn’t stumble on anything. Clearly, they had done it before; they kept their gazes fixed on one another, and smiled.

“Greensleeves was all my joy Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but my lady Greensleeves…

Still sitting against the wall, the others were listening, eyes closed. Durge’s head seemed to sway a little at the music, as though they were getting lost in it. Raphael turned away, closing his eyes again. Beneath his head, Haarlep’s chest was a solid, warm pillow. He chose to only focus on that, on the strings beneath his fingers and the words coming unbidden to his tongue. No Cania, no Avernus, no Zariel or Mephistopheles.

For a time, there was nothing outside that one cave.

“I have been ready at your hand, To grant whatever you would crave, I have both wagered life and land, Your love and good-will for to have…”

*** Bards gonna bard. The song is a traditional English folk song called "Greensleeves". The author is unknown. Legend says it was written by Henry VIII for Anne Boleyn (that ended up great didn't it) but it's only a myth, as it was most likely composed some time after his death.

***

[Back to Chapter 15]

[On to Chapter 17]

[Back to Start]

[wri0thesley]

Thoma and maid darling having just the beginnings of a work romance. They keep trying to go on a date, but Ayato catches wind of their plans and keeps fucking up their schedules, thinking he’s successfully ruined their plans. After all, he’d rather not steal from Thoma if he can help it — he does genuinely value Thoma at the end of the day.

All of that gets thrown out the window when he finds out maid darling and Thomas fucking during work hours just like, in a closet. Turns out all the making-dating-impossible plays just made Thoma and darling slightly more creative

i believe they call this 'being hoisted by his own petard'. because by making it even harder, it made the two of them bypass all of the awkward stages - until the longing got too much for both of them, and suddenly they are beginning to feel like star-crossed lovers or some such thing and the romantic and sexual tension is utterly off the charts--

ah. poor ayato. to see the treasure he's ear-marked for himself taken by his housekeeper? ayato doesn't like to dwell too much on class (thoma is valuable, and he cares about him) - but something about seeing this . . . he feels like he's going to snap. maid darling should be on their knees for him, rubbing their face against his crotch, begging him to let them make him feel good, grateful for his attentions and the promise that the head of the kamisato clan represents.

he's going to have to do something about it.

[mittensmorgul]

okay, i think at least one of my thoughts on this episode is beginning to congeal into something... Gabriel

and I’m gonna call him Gabriel for the sake of expediency, because I do think that’s who it is. let me explain.

first off, they name checked Tall Tales in a bit of throwaway dialogue. but I heard it. (i’ll rewatch tomorrow when it’s on the cw app and get the exact quote, but it was just weird enough as dialogue that it felt deliberately inserted there)

then there’s what we DO know about Gabriel’s timeline, mostly from things he himself said in canon. in 5.08:

You don't know anything about my family. I love my father, my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So I left. And now it's happening all over again.

I always believed he was referencing the ORIGINAL fight between Michael and Lucifer here, when Luci ended up crammed in the cage. That’s what he ran from. At the beginning of Humanity on Earth. And he’d been playing Loki for... look let’s call it at least thousands of years. And Loki? in 13.20:

GABRIEL: Oh, well… We were. A few thousand epochs ago, I was out for a hike in the fjords. Came across Loki bound in a cave, snake dripping venom into his eye. Ugh. Apparently, he had some spat with his pops. Anyhoo, I freed him. Saved his life. Then my real brothers started going at it. I wanted out. Loki owed me one, so… he helped me ditch Gabriel and become him. DEAN: So then you took on his whole… trickster vibe. SAM: What did Loki do while you were impersonating him? GABRIEL: Oh. Well, he had his own family drama to worry about. It was in his best interest to go off the grid for a while. DEAN: But you saw him in Monte Carlo. GABRIEL: Well, I needed someplace to hide. He'd already helped me the once.

So both of them were out and about. even if they were both staying off grid as it were. And I always assumed that Loki only came back out after he heard of Gabriel’s “outing” and “death”-- and Odin’s actual death-- in 5.19.

But circling back around to the Tall Tales reference... it took me a while to see how it could be Gabriel. He had two modes: hoist the deserving upon their own petard, and teach people he actually finds interesting lessons they need to learn. And weirdly... this turned out to be the latter. And it feels even more like an Important Lesson that needed to be learned with Chuck literally sitting in the backup band. Even if that was just supposed to be some random musical group, you know? In a meta way, that’s still Chuck.

(and the role even fit’s Chuck’s known history, thanks Robbie... playing all sorts of music clubs, just having relationships, etc., but that’s all really beside the point to this)

Gabriel... was playing pretty much the same game he did on Sam and Dean way back in 2.15. Like... exactly the game he’s always played on them right up until they finally caught him in 5.08.

Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always.

And that feels like the EXACT reason he would’ve taken an interest in Sam and Dean’s parents, too.

But also in all the episodes of spn that dealt with Trickster lore, and actual Loki lore, there was never a mention of a mirror. Or of being able to kill any of them with a shiny blade covered in blood and whatever spell they did. It was always a special stake. And Gabriel actually did eventually kill Loki... with a special wooden sword. Not a shiny blade.

So, why the deviation in lore? I know we’ve been asking this throughout The Winchesters, but this feels really important here, as well as having a potential explanation immediately to hand: that Gabriel set up all of it. He just wanted to play up close and personal with the Winchesters, maybe pass off a little lesson if he could. But also, regardless, it’s another nod to an angel in the series, and those are really beginning to pile up without actually showing us a real angel. And I’m entirely bemused by that on its own.

[melvisik]

OFMD S2 SPOILERS (ISH)

Saw something similar:

Your idiot boyfriend makes an ass out of himself in front of your peers (even after you've warned him of the dangers of dealing with them).

Do you:

A) Later protect/avenge your idiot boyfriend and let the place burn.

B) Leave your idiot boyfriend to hoist himself with his own petard and go fishing.

Honestly, idiot boyfriend deserves either…

[icharchivist]

Of course we could consider that Belial's loyalty was programmed into him, but tbh that makes me sad, so let's not go with that. The thought that he was made to be ignored and used is just sad, because he can't help it. The thought that he did it to himself because this is a hell of his own choosing is slightly better, because that means one day he can maybe choose something else.

Besides, WMTSB as a whole is about free will and choices

I can accept that Lucilius added this proclivity to get attached and be incredibly loyal to Belial because it's one of Sahar's attributes that he put on the trash pile, but Belial still chose Lucilius to get attached to. That might be motivated by how he watched Lucifer get treated with favoritism and yearned for that himself, but that's neither here nor there.

But Belial being literally made to desperately love Lucilius is just cruel. And I wouldn't put it beyond Lucilius to essentially create a sentient sex toy who's yearning to be used, only to not use it, ever. But like I said, it's sad. And he seems so genuinely annoyed by it sometimes that I don't think he expected it to get quite so bad. Sure, it would be funny if he created Belial this way and then got upset at his creation doing what he made him to do, there's some irony in there, a bit of "hoist by his own petard".

But I choose to believe that, since we established Lucilius already put so much into Lucifer and Belial, like their evolution purposes, the Sahar stuff and them also needing to fill in for the wedges of light and dark and life and death... They're already serving quadruple duty, I don't think he thought to also add "Loves me desperately" to one of them. Least of all the one that wasn't his clone, y'know.

Yeah i agree honestly. I think with the themes of wmtsb and the irony of Belial saying he doesn't have a choice while he chose to live like that, it's important for Belial's obsession to be his own, not something he was programmed to be. Because it means he always had a way out, he just chose not to.

And it is also more realistic. Because yeah this type of neglect and abuse can lead to be, instead, clinging even more to the one who is making you suffer. Because people don't always cope well with what happens to them.

Especialy since he serves of contrast to Sandalphon and how Lucilius neglected him as well, but how Sandalphon instead worked to break free and find something for himself. They contrast each other in the way they were neglected and used by Lucilius. And it has more weight if they have the same level of free will in this decision.

I do think there is still this idea of the sides of Sahar Lucilius tried to get rid off, that ended up being directed at him. But maybe we can take it as more metaphoric or like, just something that Belial was naturally more susceptible to do because of other attributes, and that it is because Belial developed as his own person that he naturally reproduced this patern from Sahar, without it being literally programmed by Lucilius. Esp as you say, with how Belial could just compare how he was treated differently in order to really have everything alligning for an unhealthy devotion to form.

Also honestly Lucilius creati g a sex toy just in case only to disregard him because he realizes he has no use for him is. Not unlikely. After all, creating something just to make it just in case and discarding it when in faft there was no use to it, js what he did to Sandalphon. I doubt he freated Belial for that tho, but the idea of implemanting something like that in case before realizing he doesnt need it is possible. Thk i reallh do believe Belial's sex characteristics were more another thing that developped organically without much input from Lucilius other than just normal development from socilizjng with someone.

As for Sahar i do think it was something that was so vague to Lucilius thag, perhaps the separation of values was a bit subconscious, like, Lucilius didnt genuinely think of Sahar as a being and his qualities as solid things and stuff. If it makes sense.

But yeah i genuinely think it was more the circumstances of Belial's life and being starved for affection especially from seeing how loved his twin was, like a regular person, that shapped him to what he is today, rather than Lucilius programming all of that directly.

Giving Belial more agecncy so he can screw his own life up on his own terms.

[unitystationshenans]

It's two in the morning, I just had a hot chocolate with Vodka, let's talk about some character stuff.

The twinssssss

Okay, so the twins that are mentioned in the prologue. Dj and Jd. They're so fun to write, especially when they get to interact with each other, because sibling dialog is so fun for me to write. (I have two older brothers, we give each other so much grief, it's hilarious.)

So, Dj gets talked about a little more, just because he was in a polycule with Honey’s ancestor Bela, but I didn't get to explore his personality outside of the Unity Project in book 1. I do imply he's a recovering alcoholic, which he is. It’s not a huge part of his character, but it is important for...reasons. When he falls off the wagon, he's a very weepy drunk, and usually ends up bawling on his wife's shoulder until he sobers up a bit more. Elaine, said wife, doesn't usually mind this, because she'd rather him be open with her so they can work on fixing whatever problem is happening. He doesn't avoid any and all social drinking, but he has a two drink limit, and only once every few months.

He is absolutely a certified girldad. He loveeeees Enora to bits, and absolutely did his share of raising her up until Elaine and Enora went to space. He misses them very keenly. He taught her basic self defense, some coding, and a bunch of survivalist tips that immediately became useless once she was on Unity. He would play dress up and tea party with her, and he was genuinely excited to do so, because it meant spending time with his baby <3. He's also a bit of a wife guy, but in a nice, healthy way.

You know what wasn't healthy, though? His relationship with any of his family when he was a kid. Slight exception made for his mother, who was a saint of a woman. Him and Jd were extremely codependent and enmeshed until they hit their teens, and this only really got fixed when Jd straight up vanished for five years. Dj had to figure out how to do things without his brother, and hated it the entire time. Slight spoiler: you know that scar on JD’s face? Technically, it was Dj that gave it to him. It was an accident, and done while trying to protect him, but Dj never really forgave himself for it. Jd never held it against him, and in fact will vehemently argue that it's not Dj that did it. It's just sometimes, when you jump between your twin brother and a man with a knife, elbows can go weird directions and can accidentally send the knife into your brother's face. And then your mom beats the living hell out of the man while you stand over your brother in abject horror, because head and face wounds bleed so fucking much.

They're fine; they've had lifetimes of therapy.

Dj also had/has some more severe mental problems that he's medicated for (another reason he isn't supposed to be drinking alcohol). Due to The Traumas, he did develop a dissociative disorder (being nonspecific for reasons). He compartmentalized his rage issues until they became something worse, it happens.

Both twins were partially mute for good chunks of their childhood, though for different reasons. Dj because he thought verbal communication was a huge bother, and he'd much rather just always be around people who could understand him intuitively (his mother and Jd). Jd on the other hand, he was an anxious wreck until he met his future husband. Previous, he would only talk out loud to Dj, because everyone else just fucking terrified him. They both got better.

Their dad was an abusive pos that died the way he deserved: hoisted by his own fucking petard. Jd witnessed it and described it as one of the most freeing moments of his life.

Both twins have committed homicide. Both were justified.

[moreroom4happiness]

sweet Jebus someone needed to tell dt this, #ppab is so stupid.

truly losing my mind

[treesofgreen]

So I was rereading the stuff I sent you about the 'proper little seductress' thing and I noticed two things in your response I felt I have to point out. One, when Izzy catches Pete and Lucius in the storeroom he WAITS FOR THEM TO FINISH before saying they're getting chores because they're 'laying about doing fuck-all', not because of the sex, and he doesn't get really mad until Lucius is downright insubordinate towards him, which in literally any other ship would have him publicly flogged. Izzy makes him scrape barnacles. THEN, he catches him with Fang -and he LETS HIM FINISH AGAIN!!! Before trying to add more chores which is when Lucius tips his hand and leaves Izzy reeling. Not exactly... not what I would call violent homophobic behavior, no. And I should add, too: a homophobe does not look at the in-your-face gay that irritates him and does this. A homophobe does NOT get fucking blackmailed by said gay man, whom he physically overpowers in every possible aspect except height, in a world where 'I wanted to' is a valid reason for killing someone, and huffs and walks away. Sure, the narrative of this specific show would have made it so that attempt got Izzy hoisted by his own petard AGAIN, but he would have tried, is the thing. And he doesn't. He huffs, tells Lucius to go fuck himself, and literally doesn't even speak to him again until Ed wants him in the pillowfort. That's. Literally not 'homophobic villain behavior'. There's so much more happening here

I was waiting to answer this because I thought I had something to add but was feeling too poorly to do so but I think you have it all covered. These are excellent points.

Izzy is far more bark than bite and his bark is...almost considerate? For a pirate from non muppet land? Like he's incredibly pissed off and frustrated but he doesn't stop the sex. Doesn't stop the sketching. Assigns chores that need to be done anyway as punishment.

We know there are not going to be any lashes given on the Revenge but Izzy doesn't know that and he doesn't even threaten them with violence. He threatens Lucius with blackmail (although, given what I headcanon about his history and interactions with Lucius is arguably worse than a flogging from Izzy's pov) and fails. Lucius successfully blackmails Izzy and Izzy at no point attempts to harm him for it in any way. If Izzy were a violent homophobe who violently hates Lucius for being gay he wouldn't have stopped trying to tear him down. Instead they seemingly ignore each other until Ed asks for Lucius and Izzy goes and gets Lucius. And just warns Lucius not to tell anyone else what he sees (necessary, given their previous interactions). No lying to Ed and telling him Lucius left or something. No telling Ed to suck it up buttercup and be Blackbeard again in the pillow fort era. No telling Lucius "don't get your soft gay cooties on Ed", no interfering later and making sure Lucius didn't get his soft gay cooties on Ed.

There are so many ways they could have clearly and easily shown that Izzy's problem is the gayness (or even the simple fact of softness!) and they chose to do none of them.

[inkdemonapologist]

Another Chance AU thoughts

Okay so, I do not have the energy to sit down and WRITE A NARRATIVELY SATISFYING AND COMPELLING FIC of this idea so, for anyone who’s interested! here’s a Long Bullet Point List of my overcomplicated timeline thoughts around the idea I ended up dubbing “Another Chance AU,” the AU where Dot is stuck in a loop and transfers the loop to Buddy, and also some Boris Joey stuff happens later:

THE BUDDY & DOT PART:

This mess begins when Joey does magic bullshit and gets himself stuck in a time loop in 1946. He was trying to go back to fix whatever made the Ink Demon come out wrong, but no matter what he does differently, the loop won’t break, and he just keeps repeating those few months over and over.

Joey does not figure out how to undo the loop, but figures out how to shove it off on someone else, so naturally he shoves it off on this nosy writer intern who seems to be on the verge of figuring out something is up with him every loop (assuming that she’d be stuck looping while Joey just continues with his life)

this does not happen! Joey’s STILL stuck in a loop, just now he’s not steering it, so he doesn’t remember the other loops or what happened in them, just feels certain he’s done this before

(Which might be impacting Joey’s weird reaction to Buddy in DCTL: he vaguely knows Buddy is important and immediately recognises him but doesn’t know why yet)

When Dot gets the loop, it adjusts to her goals -- she’s trying to figure out what the heckie is going on with Sammy Lawrence, so it loops from a bit before his accident to a bit after his attempted ritual, which just happens to be Buddy’s time at the studio.

Dot felt what Joey did to pass the loop to her and knows the loop can be passed off to someone else, but initially is excited by the ability to DO SOMETHING, to make a difference!! Once it starts to seem like things will go wrong no matter what she does, she doesn’t want to doom anyone else to the loop and still thinks it’s her responsibility

She is speedrunning her friendship w/ Buddy by the time DCTL happens, but while she’s run into Sammy every time, the events of DCTL are the first time she’s seen the ink demon herself (since Buddy had to let him out with her key to cause that particular sequence)

Buddy leaving the party to join her during the Sammy encounter, and apologising and telling her that he knew this is where he should be, is the first time Dot’s ever thought that maybe she could trust someone else to help her

When Buddy’s dying she sort of desperately asks if he wants a chance to try again. He’s confused, but accepts, and she transfers the loop to him

He gets the loop before he dies, but it doesn’t actually restart until after he runs off as a Boris -- the piece that’s getting looped for Buddy is a bit before he gets hired at JDS to a bit after he realised Joey was no good, because the goal the loop attaches to for Buddy is to Stop Joey. 

At this point, Dot and Joey both know they’re in a loop but don’t remember what happens. Dot doesn’t fully remember passing the loop to Buddy, but Buddy catches her up on what he’s learned every time they restart so they can work as a team. Meanwhile Joey is trying to figure out who the looper is and how to take back the loop, though he’s starting from scratch every time it resets. The kids don’t know he knows, but sometimes he has scary moments of awareness when Buddy does something too obvious.

Buddy: “What will make it stop... looping?” Dot: “...that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

DOT AND BUDDY SPEND SOME LOOPS AS TIME TRAVELLING TEENS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE THINGS GO DIFFERENTLY. Also maybe sometimes leaving Joey with the check at Sardi’s because like it wont help anything but U JUST WANNA KNOW IF U COULD U FEEL ME,

Buddy refuses to Kill Joey but is very willing to Let Joey Be Hoist By His Own Petard. Joey knows so much that they really need to know in order to fix the mess he’s made, but they can’t trust him with their secret and he NEEDS to be forcefully stopped. So, if he’s turned into a cartoon.... maybe he’d be more willing to work to undo all of this. He’d be stopped, but his knowledge wouldn’t be gone.

Buddy runs through several loops, letting Joey boris him repeatedly so that Dot can get notes on when Joey shows up and how to do the toon ritual so they know how to spring it on Joey instead

ITS PROBABLY VERY DIFFICULT BUT THEY PULL THIS OFF!!! Joey gets Boris’d. P.S. really love the idea of a version of that scene where Buddy wakes up but hasn’t figured out he’s a toon yet, but it’s Joey this time,,,,

Joey is HORRIFIED, and tries to take the loop back, but it breaks -- Maybe because Buddy actually finally succeeded? The short sequence of Joey being run through the machine, waking up as a Boris, and escaping from Buddy and Dot to try to fix things loops a few times and then the magic abruptly pulls all the cartoon nonsense out of the world and the loop ends.

Joey and Sammy and the Demon and the inky sacrifices are nowhere to be found. Buddy and Dot don’t want to mess with the Ink Machine anymore, and they hope the ink is just gone now, but at least they’ve saved so many people who would’ve been dragged into Joey’s nonsense otherwise. They keep an eye on JDS for the rest of their lives.

THE PART WITH JOEY

When Joey tried to take back the loop, to try to undo this Boris thing, it actually did work... but he and Boris are sharing now. They both have the loop, and so it started back as early as it possibly could: with Joey waking up as a Boris. He can’t go back any further, because Boris didn’t exist before then. He can loop the sequence of how to react to Buddy and Dot, but every time he does, Boris gets a little more aware and Joey has less absolute control

Terrified of losing himself to Boris, Joey instead attempts to shove the loop off onto someone else again, the only person he actually really trusted to care about him personally: Henry. He works the spell onto a letter, asking Henry to please stop by in as casual a tone as he can manage and sneaks it into the mail.

Henry sees a letter from Joey and sighs with uncertain, conflicted feelings and doesn’t open it to activate the thing that would shunt the loop onto him for literal years.

So... the loop stops, which is exactly what Joey wanted on any loop but this one. The ink is out of control, and between Sammy and the Ink Demon and Malice, things are going to get bad whether Joey’s helming it or not. Too proud to admit what happened to him but wanting to save the Studio and his reputation from ruin, Joey-as-Boris tries to sort everything out in hiding -- he’s able to magically shove everything into the sketch dimension, but since he’s a toon now, he gets caught in it too.

Ink hell is not particularly kind to Joey. He becomes the safe house Boris, and between Malice’s grief-stricken grudge against him and watching Sammy fall so far with only occasional sparks of the bright musician he used to be, Joey manages to experience a bit of regret for what’s become of these people he really used to like.

When Henry opens the letter years later (after the studio is shut down and Joey is presumed dead I guESS???? maybe that’s what made him finally do it, regretting that he never did before Joey was gone), the loop FINALLY gets handed off to him and BATIM sort of happens, though it’s very different since fewer people were put in the machine and also maybe Joey is the only Boris????????

Joey is really cheered to see Henry but also this is awkward and embarrassing and he doesn’t actually want Henry to know that “Boris” is him, and makes no effort to correct Henry on that point, though he does get weirdly huffy when Henry sighs about all of this being Joey’s fault.

Henry and his New Pal Boris Who Is Definitely Not Joey work together for the most part though, trying to solve this. Joey actually really would like to fix this, and despite being very nervous about all the ink creatures that want him dead, is doing his best to help Henry survive and figure things out. If they fix it and everyone’s back to normal, Henry NEVER HAS TO KNOW THE BORIS WAS HIM

Henry suspects he could give the loop to someone else, and finally he thinks he knows who to give it to -- Bendy. We’ve spent all this time trying to The End him, but cartoons are SUPPOSED to loop; they’re supposed to be replayed and tell the same story again and again, that’s how they stay alive. 

Giving THE INK DEMON control of the loop sounds like the worst idea, but Joey reluctantly trusts Henry and shows him how to pass off the loop (DONT WORRY ABOUT WHY BORIS KNOWS HOW TO DO THIS, HENRY) and he pulls it off -- returning the loop back where it belongs, freeing the toons from our world and in turn, freeing the humans who were changed by them.

As the toons go home, the humans who were changed by the ink are mostly restored but with some leftover Toon Features, escape AU style.... Joey was really hoping he could just show up and thank Henry for his help and pretend he was behind the scenes the whole time until he realises he still has the ears and it’s very obvious where he was the whole time actually

Meanwhile, DOT AND BUDDY HAVE BEEN TRYING EVERY LOOP TO GET BACK TO THE STUDIO AND FIGURE OUT WHY THEY’RE LOOPING AGAIN?????? WHO STARTED THIS UP AGAIN WE THOUGHT WE BROKE THAT, so obviously as soon as the loop is removed from our world Dot and Buddy burst into the studio to find everyone has been set free. Dot, who has been METICULOUSLY FOLLOWING ALL JDS RELATED LEADS since Joey’s disappearance, is able to get a lot of these people back in touch with whatever friends and family are still around.

Most people didn’t know Henry well and go elsewhere, but he does offer to let Joey stay at his place, and Joey accepts, trying to figure out how to be Joey Drew again in a world where he’d kind of rather hide, with ears that give away his emotions and a body that’s constantly hungry. He is...... trying to be better. He knows how badly he treated everyone at JDS and he knows it’s his fault, he deserved what happened to him and also doesn’t fully deserve this second chance, but he’d still rather relocate to the bottom of the sea than have to apologise or fully acknowledge just how badly he’s behaved. ITS.... A WORK IN PROGRESS,,,,

ANYWAY SO THAT’S EVERYTHING IVE PONDERED!!!!! I think the idea is really fun to play with, but I don’t know how much, like, Content I’ll make for it and I don’t think I wanna be sole arbiter of the AU’s canon -- if anyone else wants to run off and play with these ideas, I appreciate a lil shoutout for the inspiration but otherwise U HAVE MY BLESSING TO DO STUFF WITH THIS!

[theseerasures]

a yearning nation’s blueeyed pride

honestly there is just like. no point as of Witch (if not earlier) in thinking about Marrow and Winter as following along the same defection path, and downright facile to compare the two in terms of who is “closer” to defecting and therefore “less problematic” (even setting aside that making value judgments along those lines in fiction is...never that straightforward), when the narrative has emphasized REPEATEDLY how they are on entirely separate tracks in terms of character and role in the Atlas military.

seriously, it’s like saying “this orange is bad because you can’t eat the peel like you can eat an apple skin”

so like, yes, Marrow is the one who has verbally expressed his misgivings, and has clearly articulated scruples (as opposed to just the dial-up noise) and will blurt them out any second now as soon as he gets a word in edgewise. but also: Marrow HASN’T gotten a word in edgewise (except with Winter, fancy that), and has done approximately fuck all to actually subvert the system that he is growing to hate. both his theory and lack of praxis are tied into Marrow’s relatively low, overlooked position in the Atlas system, and feed into the fact that for Marrow the project of Atlas is not personal.

Marrow joined the military on ideological grounds. he clearly does want personal connection, but that has been denied him at every turn, largely by his teammates, largely by his partner, all of whom use him to enforce their own struggles with the clash between political duty and personal grief. he has been alienated by the system he upholds, which started even before we meet him. this makes it much harder for him to rebel in deed, because he doesn’t have a lot of power to begin with and he knows the system will not protect him if he does; at the same time, that relative powerlessness and isolation keeps his investment in Atlas abstract, uncomplicated, and much easier to dispel. Marrow is still with Atlas because he has a job to do, because it’s his duty, because he is still clinging to the Atlas military’s illusory altruism. he wants Penny to come with them so she can save Atlas. his protestations at seeing Team FNKI, that they are “just kids,” comes from the belief that it is categorically wrong to send children into battle. what is keeping Marrow from defecting is belief, and once the belief is shattered--like, say, when his boss’ new ingenious plan is to Nuke the Poors--there is nothing keeping him around.

and once his path is set he will not waver, because Atlas, by design, has no hold on him materially or personally (outside of his own life, which he was already happy to dedicate to a cause). Marrow then, is the limit case of Atlas being hoist with its own petard: an exemplar for how it gives its people nothing while demanding everything, but also an exemplar for how quickly the entire system folds in on itself when the veil is lifted. when Marrow defects (and it IS when) it will represent Atlas as a whole defecting from itself, even if we don’t see it visually--from the civilians, to the enlisted soldiers, to perhaps even members of Marrow’s own team.

NONE of the things i just mentioned really apply to Winter, because there is nothing about Atlas that is not personal for Winter.

i have no doubt that Winter is in some ways invested in same abstract principles that swayed Marrow, but that is constantly overridden by the fact that Winter has family at all sides of this, even before everything fell to shit, and the narrative will not stop reminding her.

“what about your sister?” “would you say the same thing if it was your sister inside?” her father was gunning for a seat on the Council. the man who took her in is essentially Head of State. Penny has made herself Public Enemy Number One, and Weiss is actively abetting her. even Whitley has now thrown himself into the fray, unbeknownst to her. and another person might be better at compartmentalizing all this the way Winter clearly wants to, and stick to the party line, but Winter cannot, because the more i watch her the more i’m convinced that the current crisis in Atlas is just a microcosm of the real issue, which is to say: everything is personal in Atlas for Winter, because everything is personal for Winter.

at a moment-to-moment level, and especially when backed into a corner, Winter defaults not to ideology but her tightly coiled lattice of personal relationships. and this makes perfect sense, because Winter grew up in a household where she had to perpetually crisis respond, and then she never stopped. Marrow does what he does because he believes in the dream, in making the world a better place, and therefore it is more difficult in some respects for him to defect, because it involves taking a long hard look at and then rejecting the structures he bought into and made himself complicit in. once lines are crossed and he DOES do that, though, he’s home free. for Winter, there are no lines to cross, because all Winter wants in the end is to throw her arms around everyone she cares about and drag them to safety. to keep them there, closely held, where she can see them and make sure that they stay safe.

but what’s tricky about Winter--what’s fascinating to me, what Jacques tried to beat out of her, what James alternately capitalizes on and tries to quash, what she resents about herself--is that in times of crisis (which for Winter is again ALL THE TIME), “everyone she cares about” becomes everyone, so that suddenly she takes a shine to the General’s war machine, so that she’s risking her life to give Penny and Fria a few more seconds of time, so that she’s stepping in front of Elm’s incoming fist, so that she’s letting JYR go rescue Oscar. Marrow has ideals he values, but at her core Winter has nothing but the people, who are real the moment she sees and feels them--real enough to defend, or defend against.

Winter jealously protects her web of people, but that web will also spiral out to infinity if she lets it--so she doesn’t. she has adamantly refused to move out of the mode where she lives present-by-present, only reacting to what is right in front of her, what she has been told, weighing her own life against the people who are closest, and no more. this is unquestionably a trauma response, but it’s also reinforced by 1) her choice to become a career soldier, and 2) the fact that Winter actually HAS quite a bit of power, and she knows that. but she has never trusted herself with any of it, largely because her hypervigilant response to situations has only ever been chastised instead of rehabilitated. Winter knows the weight of her name and her position, but she constantly tries to ignore it, or run away from it, so that she is only ever the heiress, the second-in-command, and never the Queen. she cannot be a leader until she is Good (that is to say, perfect and rational), so she tries to obliterate her power the same time she obliterates that pesky personhood: remaining still for as long as possible, avoiding situations that she knows will prompt action and choice, and when absolutely pushed to think through her power, moving the pieces around with extreme caution, hoping that the world won’t be burnt black by it.

Marrow and Winter are fundamentally at opposing ends of the personal-political bleed, and the story could NOT telegraph it any more clearly than their conversation in Witch, where Marrow makes a personal plea to Winter so that she can make a call far beyond just that, and she refutes him, by reminding him of his obligation to Atlas in the form of impersonal duty.

i’ll conclude by pointing out that there is something very interesting happening with Winter right now, that exceeds her power in-universe. because even as a Schnee, as Ironwood’s protege, what Winter can do is limited (partly because she limits herself), except for how the story has resolutely centered her actions and MADE them significant. in the course of this war Winter has let herself make exactly two choices--both of them noninterventionist, easily justifiable, and not meant to take any ideological stand--and they ended up altering the entire fabric of the war with Salem. all because she loved her sisters more than her duty. all because she was shown a slim chance to save the kingdom and a fourteen-year-old boy, and she thought just for an instant, what’s the harm

(and James Ironwood will never know. that even with his plan, his bomb, all his ships, all his soldiers...he was no match for her. his loyal lieutenant. the only child he will ever have, who has only ever called him “sir.”)

it is not about what Winter COULD have chosen in those moments, if she had the ability to stop Penny and Weiss from leaving, if JYR were even Oscar’s rescuers, in the conventional sense. it is about the fact that she DID make those choices, and the story has made them reverberate, in spite of the fact that she did not mean for them to. Marrow’s story is about being neglected and overlooked by the system, the moment of recognition that it needs you more than you need it, that there are so many more of you, and together you can stop chasing the dream and make your own. Winter’s story cleaves to the heart of not just Atlas, but the RWBY monomyth, which goes something like: stars are like us. the world was created because two brothers could not get along, and sundered because a woman could not cope with her grief. just because you move closer to the elite, to the center, to the top, to the sublime, it does not mean that you move farther from the fallible. we are all, at our deepest layer, people.

but the world does not tremble any less for it.

[wnnbdarklord]

EDIT: so I started writing this like a week ago, but honestly the finale killed any desire in me to interact with this show in a fannish way. So have these half assed notes. I think it's obvious where I lost steam. These ideas are free for use for anyone who wants them in fic, have at you. As it is, I don't think I'll interact with this show as a fan any further than this.

How I would write a Loki show in bullet points (and a mishmash of short scenes and dialogue, let's be honest) for my sanity!

Presuming some disney exec came down from on high and forced the inclusion of EG!Loki and the TVA (because otherwise it'd be IW!Loki that survived and it'd be all about him finding his best life away from Earth, Asgard, Thor and the whole Thanos/EG situation. Or if I only had to include the TVA, it'd be IW!Loki dealing with the TVA, not EG!Loki):

Fair warning: this will likely be a mess since I'm not entirely motivated to not have it be so. 

[cut for length]

Ep1:

- Loki escapes to Nidavelir and uses the tools there to get rid of the chains and muzzle. A CONTROLLED use of the Tesseract, thankyouverymuch

- the TVA comes for him and Loki is wary and on the alert, exhausted from the whole Avengers thing so he immediately makes a clone to interact with the TVA and observes from afar

- the TVA fall for it when they try to bitchslap him like in the show, but immediately regroup when it goes through the illusion and start a search pattern. Their tech can scan for his temporal aura and they close in on Loki quickly (show the TVA as at least somewhat competent or they're shit antagonists for Loki)

- Loki, who still has hold of the Tesseract, portals out of there

- what follows is a quick chase scene across multiple planets and realms, but the TVA are always on his heels. The longest time they take to find him is during an ongoing apocalypse on a random planet that's enough for Loki to get a quick breather. but you know, disaster's on the horizon, so he has to leave eventually. but this is the first clue both we as an audience and Loki get about potential hiding places.

- when an exhausted Loki finally turns to fight, he manages to take several minutemen out  (justifying B-15's hate on for him) before one of them gets in a lucky shot and freezes him

- "Who are you people?" [short flash of Loki's eyes flashing green and the entire scene getting a strange cast, floating energy swirling around everything. It's beautiful, but the TVA people's energy is out of sync, out of touch and strangely jagged compared to their surroundings]

- they slap the collar on him and march him into the TVA

- Loki immediately tries to pull the same illusion trick but it doesn't work cause no magic in the TVA (maybe some visual indication of what he's trying to do, but it doesn't go past his skin. You know, like Sylvie managed in ep 3 -.-)

- he doesn't wildly panic, but we see his breathing speed up and he immediately looks at his left hand and relaxes when he sees it isn't turning blue. 

- okay so the TVA have caught him, he's on their shit list, no magic, exhausted, no idea what's going on, who these people are or how powerful they are - he chooses to play nice for now and bide his time

- the whole intake process is spent in quiet observation mode, only speaking when spoken to

- discomfort at being out of his clothes, but maybe only a wry joke about them wanting to strip him naked (making him a participant in all the thirst jokes)

- he doesn't ask if a lot of people don't know they're robots like a child wanting validation and he's not visibly afraid. Instead, we see him look at his hand again and try for wry humor when asking. But he steps into the device without much hesitation. It's death vs certainty and we already know he's chosen death once before.

- the propaganda cartoon is much shorter and plays in the background so we can see Loki's incredulous eyebrow raise at it. the ticket thing gets an eyeroll, but ready compliance since it's not worth it to argue

- when he sees the other guy get "pruned", he immediately reaches for the ticket to reassure himself it's there, but doesn't wave it around triumphantly, just sighs in relief

- trial can stay mostly unchanged, just no stupid magic attempt in the middle

"It's not your story, Mr. Laufeyson, it never was" (AND THIS SHALL BE PROVEN FALSE, you know, unlike in the show where it turned out to be their fucking mission statement) also, Loki gives her murder eyes for calling him that

- in fact, instead of trying magic, Loki holds up the controller he stole from  B-15 as she was escorting him to the trial and waves as he disappears through a door backwards

After that scene is the church scene with bodies, establishing Mobius as a hunter of dangerous variants. Someone is killing TVA officers

Mobius gets called back as in canon, but arrives too late to stop our Loki from leaving

Sidenote: Loki still has the tesseract since it was in his pocket dimension during the fight the TVA nabbed him in

Ep 2:

- it's now a few days/weeks later. Loki is back in his own clothes, a simpler outfit not geared for war. He's in the biggest library in the universe, the depository of almost all knowledge, looking for information about the TVA. there is Nothing, suspiciously so

- once again, the TVA shows up and he has to run yet again. maybe he kills this team too, to buy himself more time. he steals a melt stick and more time pads and reset charges

- he needs more information and the only place he'll get it is at the TVA it seems, so he shapeshifts into his female form, dressed as one of the many paperpushers at the TVA and we see her being relieved that the spelled clothing is holding once she passes through the time door

(another aside, but ideally the female form is more like Eva Green or Katie McGrath. AND NOT BLONDE)

- acting like she belongs, Loki effortlessly manages to snoop around the TVA for a few hours

- there's only one close call with C-20, but Loki manages to deflect suspicion by parroting the motto at her, which Loki reads from a nearby propaganda poster (cause Loki is good at lying, manipulation and flying by the seat of their pants)

- eventually, she ends up at the archive area and begins researching. We see that Loki is competent at this and is quick to pick up the filing system. the variant number from the papers she signed the episode before becomes relevant to finding the appropriate files

- before she can dig too deep into her own life story as laid out by these people, just as she finds the Ragnarok Report, Mobius finds her (maybe there was a silent alarm triggered by unauthorized access or something. Slightly more competent TVA)

- there is a scene where Mobius and Loki play a game of chicken and manipulation, wordplay and lying until it becomes clear Mobius knows who Loki is (actually establishing some camaraderie)

- Loki gets a little hoisted by their own petard since they're enjoying the banter so much, the backup Mobius called for catches them a little off guard, collared again

- since info gathering is still the name of the game, Loki doesn't try to get away just yet

(during this entire scene, Mobius is the same offhandedly condescending prick he is in canon, but it's very obviously framed that way)

(also featuring confirmation of the genderfluidity thing because fuck you disney)

M: "Nice disguise. Really had me fooled for a second there."

L: "It's hardly a disguise. I am always myself."

[Loki shifts back to male, though the clothes remain the same (shifting =/= magic)]

M: "Yeah, well, next time you want to go undercover at the TVA, maybe don't choose a face we already have from several other of your variants."

[Loki twitches a little, since that wasn't a form he openly wore a lot (even when he wanted to) cause Asgard is a dick about shifting genders] 

L: "And how does that work exactly?"

M: "Got your entire life on file, buddy. But you know, sometimes Asgard isn't a complete stick in the mud the day you gather enough courage to show up to dinner in a dress. We usually have to prune those timelines quickly."

[Loki's grin is more like a snarl, frozen on his face, since he picks up the implications loud and clear (the implication being that him being too happy is not allowed in the Sacred Timeline)]

M: [picks up the files Loki was looking at] "Come on, I've got something to show you."

-cue time theater scene

-that little scene of looking out at the TVA does not feature Loki being impressed or awed at the TVA's tech. It features him being scared/uneasy because the TVA is completely dead to his senses. Loki's eyes do the same flash as before, but everything is completely dull, no energy anywhere. He can barely see some swirls on his own arms]

-Loki asks why this charade, Mobius tells him the TVA is willing to come to an agreement with Loki for his help

"You're not the only one running around messing up the Sacred Timeline. Come on, job interview time."

(it's really really not)

- Mobius tries the same schtick as before, but it's both less and more effective. Less cause Loki has had a bit more time to collect himself since the invasion, more cause he's more aware of the TVA's power and has been chased by them for a while now

- we see Loki being affected by the Frigga thing BUT he also picks up how edited the reel is

- still, he lets Mobius do the "only thing you're good for" bit until we see him look up with murder in his eyes, even through the tears

- "I am going to burn this place to the ground and I am going to start with you. That is my bargain."

"Yeah, cause your "bargains" [Mobius full on air quotes here] work out so well for you," he says, offering Loki a hand up

-cue alarm and Mobius rushing out

-Loki grabs the files Mobius left behind, and also the tape in the hologram projector and escapes

- no infinity stones scene, cause Loki still has the Tesseract and doesn't go to look for more

- cut to the TVA running around in a panic, multiple branches forming on the displays. It's the same bombing plot as in the show, but now serving as a distraction for Loki to get away

- when they figure this out, Ravonna: "You should have just pruned him when you found him. There's a reason we don't reset Loki variants. Our luck always runs out eventually with them. Fix this, Mobius. Or you'll have to answer to the TimeKeepers."

- back to Loki, he steps out into chaos as something explodes behind him. He's in another apocalypse. During his running from the TVA, he noticed it takes them longer to find him whenever there's a lot of chaos around him, death and destruction. He finds a still intact building, seems high tech. Everyone else has already evacuated

- he takes the Tesseract out and blue and green energy surges around him and engulfs the building. It's suddenly quiet and we see outside the windows are pitch black 

- Loki quickly looks away

"Finally, some peace and quiet."

He slumps down to the floor, files scattered around him, tesseract nearby and curls up, dejected and exhausted 

Side note: Loki doesn't need to worry about recharging tempads since he has the tesseract, which was established in Avengers as able to provide infinite energy

Ep 3:

- he finds out about the variants in this episode, maybe goes looking for other variants before the TVA finds them

-how Loki finds out the TVA are all variants: he'd knocked out B-15 for a bit to interrogate her

-they're found by another team of minutemen, led by B-16, who is wearing B-15's face. Several of the other minutemen we've seen Loki kill in earlier episodes as well. They attack *both* of them cause they assume B-15 is compromised. Loki and B-15 work together and kill the whole lot, staring at each other incredulously

"You're Variants! You're all Variants!"

[B-15 collapses to her knees in shock] 

End episode

EDIT: My basic idea for episodes 4 & 5 were Loki and B-15 working together and travelling through various timelines trying to get to the TimeKeepers, but realizing something was wrong the further they went. Time begins breaking down, paradoxes are all over the place and the TVA keeps pruning some specific place so much that sometimes two teams are on top of each other. Stuff like that. 

I also had a few scenes where Loki meets other variants (that aren't him), but who actually like and even love him. Men, women, variations thereupon, and one or two who would mistake Loki for their Loki. So we get bi confirmation without actually including romance in the show itself, because 6 episodes isn't enough to develop that along with everything else that's going on.

Vaguely outlined here: 

My "how to include the bi thing without the main story being a romance and also indicating that Loki is able to be liked and loved by people who aren't just variants of himself, please and thank you":

(note to self, rewrite this so it makes sense lol EDIT: lol, don't feel like it so this is all you get, folks!) 

a variant significant other, male: kisses Loki

Loki: You are clearly my type, but I'm sorry. I'm not him.

[heartbroken expression on the variant]

from another timeline Loki visits:

woman holding a sword to his head after looking at him suspiciously: Change back!

Loki: Into who?!

woman: Her!

[Loki shapeshifts into his female self]

woman lets go of the sword

"You escaped! When Odin took you away, I thought he would kill you. Why did you never come back to me, my love?"

EDIT: My "twist" ending was that the Time Keepers were dead, not that they never existed. Some sort of mcguffin exists to just break the whole TVA and free the timelines. Idk, maybe the TVA was just a test to see if it'd work, but the system just kept perpetuating itself after the power hungry losers kept it going beyond the bounds of the experiment. Either way: 

villain plot twist: the time keepers are long dead. the TVA is a terrible system that perpetuated itself on its own, only a few judges were aware that the timekeepers had ever died. The entire System Has To Go (lol like disney would ever go there)

The system is literally Killing the Universe, since the universe's natural state of being is a multiverse. But the system don't care, system don't give a shit. System only exists to perpetuate itself, system's survival is the most important, catastrophic universal failure need not apply

(this is way too on the nose for disney, but since this rewrite's motto is Fuck Disney, it shall stay)

EDIT: this was how I imagined the climax of the series.

Mobius or Ravonna (i never decided): "All the chaos, all the possibilities? How can you stand the uncertainty? How can you believe the world will be any better than it is now?"

Loki: "Because it has to be!" [smashy smashy TVA]

series ends with the timeline breaking free

we see various scenes of the variants in their former lives, happy

and AU scenes of the previous movies:

Loki gets pulled up on the bridge

Loki accepts Thor's offer during the Avengers

Loki gets up on Svartalfheim, bleeding heavily, but doesn't go to Asgard but to Thor

Loki tricks Thanos during IW

Loki as an Avenger

Loki as a kid

Loki as a girl

Loki on jotunheim, fully jotun

Loki on Asgard, jotun

faster and faster, all sorts of different AU scenes until the screen goes dark and we see our Loki, smirking

"But...well, those are stories for another time."

and he steps back into the shadows.

[shinelikethunder]

you want dark!Will meta? ok, let’s talk about his killing style

Will is always and forever a predator of predators

if Hannibal likes a good hunt, Will likes a good fight. Randall Tier, Francis Dolarhyde, tackling Mason Verger for some fisticuffs over the murder pigpen before pulling a gun on him, freeing Chiyoh’s captive so they can duke it out if he comes back for her... it’d be overstating it to say he prefers a “fair” or “equally matched” fight, but the dude definitely prefers free-range rude over tied-up and squealing

righteous-anger Will is most likely to come into play with those who prey on the defenseless--especially the outcast or alone--or who abuse positions of trust, or more broadly when his protective instincts are roused

but Will is also drawn to monsters who are themselves outcast, alone, or undergoing difficult/isolating transformations, whether he ends up helping them (like Georgia Madchen), or wanting to, or temporarily allying with them, or fighting them to the death (all three in Dolarhyde’s case!)

characteristic unpredictability and indecisiveness comes in here--he doesn’t always know in advance whether he’s going to help, watch, fight, kill, offer an alternate way out, get his pasty ass kicked, etc

Will’s enjoyment of violence strikes me as having far more... Dionysian potential... than Hannibal’s refined cruelties, no matter whether you want to interpret that as “drunken frenzy of bloodlust” or “somewhere between vaguely sexual and downright orgiastic” or “tearing a victim limb from limb and devouring the flesh raw.” although who knows, Hannibal seemed pretty into that shit too in the final cliff fight, maybe they egg each other on.

from what we’ve seen, if Will does go to the trouble of a murder tableau, it’s full-on arts and crafts hour, bitches, and the result is gonna be an elaborate tribute to someone--although eternally unclear whether it’s mainly directed at Hannibal, himself, or the victim and whatever they were striving for

he shares with Hannibal a sense of the “fitting,” the cosmic punchline, the obscurely and elegantly correct, the punishment that mirrors the sin, the tribute that grants the memorialized what they would’ve wanted

for similar reasons, when he’s manipulating instead of doing the job himself, Will prefers to let the odious hoist themselves by their own petard--offering them whatever it is they're willing to trample others in pursuit of, and hey, if pursuing it paints a target on their back for some external danger, it’s not his job to spell that out for them--let them figure it out themselves, or risk reaping the rewards of coveting too thoughtlessly

...although when that’s not possible, he’s totally not above pulling shit like “hello Dr. Gideon, I got Chilton to transfer you back! and between you, me, Chilton, and the Chesapeake Ripper, I figure there’s plenty of wreck-or-be-wrecked to go around, so you’d better start thinking about what angle you want to work here :D”

the common thread in a bunch of Will’s coldest manipulation is that he fucking despises people who want to play footsie with the devil but keep their own hands clean and themselves free of risk--especially if they accomplish it by exploiting, endangering, or throwing under the bus anyone within reach who isn’t lucky enough to share their position of relative advantage

the degree of hypocrisy in this tendency is left as an exercise to the reader

my personal opinion is that whether or not Will remains attached to righteousness as a requirement to justify a killing (which he may, or he may not, depending on what flavor of unhinged you prefer), he’s not going to be interested unless there’s some sense of rightness involved--moral, interpersonal, cosmic, aesthetic, or otherwise. random attacks on whatever “banal, cruel men” one of the murder husbands can track down in the vicinity aren’t going to cut it--I suspect that’d just bore or depress him. his taste in righteous killings is very specific, and his taste in “fuck around and find out / I’m curious what will happen” monster-on-monster action is pretty exotic.

luckily for him, though, NBC Hannibal’s fictional universe doesn’t exactly stint on coughing up whatever type of killer-of-the-week the narrative requires--per capita Art Murder rates be damned.

[bigboobyhalo]

dream is the only person on the server who deserves to be in that prison. techno, wilbur, bad, sam, even quackity, they don't deserve that treatment. you wanna know why dream does? because he fucking designed the damn thing. he commissioned that prison to be as torturous as possible because he was going to put tommy in there and put him through that. not to mention the fact that he was going to put skeppy in a 1x1 cage to use as leverage over bad, and that skeppy probably wouldn't have gotten food delivered to him, books to write in, or a clock to keep track of time, or the option to have visitors. do you think he would have ever let skeppy hear bad's voice again?

dream is being put through the same torture he put others through, he's experiencing narrative justice for his actions, he's being hoisted by his own petard.

him begging for quackity to stop hitting him just like tommy begged dream to stop right before he was beaten to death is an example of poetic justice. it's consequences for his actions. he cannot say "I miss my friends" when he willfully abandoned all of his friends in order to make himself more powerful.

he brought everything upon himself