#the plan was to explain EVERYTHING in one brilliant post

[greatmuldini]

The Iron Harp

We’re all in prison together, Johnny, one way or the other.

Act 1

Outwardly, Joseph O'Conor's play is a simple tale of love and loss in times of war: set in rural Ireland in early April of 1920, the action takes place on the property of an English industrialist whose mansion has been taken over by a contingent of IRA volunteers. Their leader is Michael O'Riordan, a gifted poet-musician in civilian life and conveniently the peace-time manager of the Englishman's estate. Michael has recently been wounded in action; now blind as a result he is no longer on active duty but still responsible for an English prisoner of war. Being a man of his word, Captain John Tregarthen has made no attempt to escape, earning Michael's trust and eventually his friendship. He also earns the friendship and love of Michael’s cousin Molly Kinsella, with whom he spends long days roaming the extensive grounds of his idyllic prison. Dreaming of a future life together, the lovers are oblivious to the feelings of their “best friend” – who ends up sacrificing his love for Molly in what he hopes will be a lasting gesture of selflessness only to find that Fate intervenes, with devastating consequences for them all.

Completing the quartet of characters is the dark and “indistinct” figure of IRA commander Sean Kelly, a dark and "indistinct" figure who emerges from the shadows to immediately assert his authority not only in military matters but - crucially, and disturbingly - in those of the heart as well. Specifically, it is the heart of Michael O’Riordan that Kelly claims to know better than O’Riordan himself. As a flesh-and-blood character Kelly is difficult to pin down: cold and calculating by his own admission, he expresses admiration for Michael's hot-blooded fighting spirit. Michael's own startled response to Kelly entering "like Nemesis himself" is ambiguous at best, and even his description of Kelly as a “good friend” comes on the back of a warning to Johnny that "he won't like you."

When Kelly tells Michael that he has never been wrong and does not know what it means to feel regret, the sense of foreboding is inescapable, yet Michael never seems to give in to the negativity emanating from his old wartime comrade who admonishes him to see his friends “as they really are” and not as “you want to see them.” Ironically, Michael refuses to see an enemy in John Tregarthen, but he is equally stubborn in applying the same criteria of honour, loyalty, and friendship to Sean Kelly, who seems troubled by this flaw in Michael’s character: "you love people too much."

Michael's emotional warmth stands in stark contrast to Kelly's impersonation of infallibility - which Michael seems to accept as a token of his friend's unassailable integrity. He continues to defer to Kelly's judgment when a messenger arrives with bad news from the front: three IRA fighters have been killed in skirmishes with British forces, and reprisals must be carried out. Twisting the metaphorical knife in the very real emotional wound, Kelly as the commanding officer nominates blind Michael to be the impartial instrument of God's justice. Forced to select three victims for execution, Michael all but collapses when one of the chosen names is that of Captain John Tregarthen.

Act 2

After he has persuaded Johnny to flee the country and reunite with Molly back in England, Michael is left alone to guard the now empty house. Blind and unable to defend himself, Michael is powerless against two marauding Black & Tans who break into the property and proceed to taunt and abuse the solitary occupant. It does not take them long to realize their victim is an IRA member rather than a civilian enjoying certain protections. Further violence is prevented only by the surprise return of Captain Tregarthen, armed and in uniform, who holds the attacker at gunpoint until Kelly and his entourage arrive to take the men away. Where any other human being would have expressed relief or gratitude at the discovery that the life of his friend has been saved, Kelly’s reaction is characteristically impassive, betraying, if anything, a degree of irritation at the unforeseen complication that has shown the condemned prisoner – the enemy – to be capable of compassion and self-sacrifice in saving the life of his friend. Human qualities that Kelly explicitly claims not to possess. As if to prove the point, he responds with the formal announcement of Tregarthen’s impending execution.

The order is to be carried out within three days, enough time for Kelly to travel to headquarters - and return with a firing squad. But first he must interrogate the captured Tans. While Kelly is thus occupied, Molly manages to convince the love of her life to take her with him. Johnny only agrees to the plan on the promise that Michael will convince Kelly to rescind the execution. If Johnny and Molly can make their way to Belfast on the early morning goods train, and from there to England, all will be well. Michael knows how to distract the guards, and Molly can bribe the train driver to let Johnny jump aboard. Three loud whistles will give the all-clear. With hopes of future happiness rekindled, Molly and Johnny each rush off to their respective tasks, and Michael is left alone with three empty glasses that he cannot see – a detail that does not escape Kelly’s notice as he re-joins Michael to formally accept his plea for clemency. Which he says he will duly submit to "the general," but in his estimation the chances of success are slim. "For God's sake, don't build up hope," he tells Michael before agonizing – to himself – over how to soften the blow for Michael: by bringing the execution forward and keeping it secret, he is certain he can spare Michael the pain and the guilt of having to witness the event.

Act 3

In the pre-dawn hours of the following day, Michael and Johnny are wide awake and waiting for the sentries to change and the train to whistle. Thinking the house empty and their enemies far away, they pass the time in a dreamlike state of high anxiety, reciting heroic poems and melancholy songs in whispering voices, so as not to miss the stroke of six to mark the end of their nightmare and the beginning of a new life – only to see Kelly standing in the door, with orders for Johnny to be executed at dawn, 24 hours earlier than they were told originally. Michael's world is falling apart, he pleads with Kelly, he begs him to show mercy, but an almost equally distressed Kelly reminds him that "I have never promised you hope." Johnny declines the comfort of a priest or minister and is led away to meet his fate offstage while, also offstage, Molly will be waiting in vain for the love of her life to board a train that will never arrive.

Left on stage for their final confrontation are Michael and his Nemesis, both knowing full well that nothing they can do or say will change what Kelly might term the preordained outcome of their efforts. To Michael's accusation of "trickery" (by which he means Kelly's surprise return before the agreed time), Kelly offers no subterfuge, no defence, and no evasion. Instead, he says, Michael’s agony is self-inflicted: it was, in fact, his own stubborn insistence on hoping against hope that has now led to anguish and pain. The only way for Michael to end all suffering, Kelly explains, is to give up hope. Unless he manages to see past the private pain of the moment and becomes a distant observer, Michael will forever be "tortured by hope."

Here Kelly is borrowing from the Conte Cruel tradition made famous by Edgar Allan Poe but named after a collection of short stories by the French symbolist writer Auguste Villiers de l'Isle-Adam. A useful definition of the genre is that it concerns "any story whose conclusion exploits the cruel aspects of the irony of fate." Not only does Kelly borrow the concept, and the title from Villiers' tale, The Torture of Hope, he even recounts the plot to underline his point:a hapless victim of the Inquisition escapes his prison cell only to stumble into the arms of the Chief Inquisitor. The lesson for Michael is that, like the victim, he keeps on hoping for release only to suffer defeat over and over again. There are no similarities, however, between himself and the sadistic Inquisitor, Kelly says: his mission is to ease Michael'ssuffering, not to prolong it.

We are given no reason to doubt Kelly’s sincerity, but neither can we reconcile the apparent contradiction between his declared intention and putting Michael’s best friend before a firing squad. If Kelly wants to end all suffering, as he says, surely, a good start would be to save Captain Tregarthen’s life? It is the argument that Michael himself is trying to make, by reminding Kelly of his god-like powers. Michael’s understanding of those powers differs fundamentally from Kelly’s own. Michael’s life-affirming principle of hope and Kelly’s seductive all-consuming fatalism are the two opposing philosophies that take centre stage in the final scene – while John Tregarthen dies a largely symbolic death offstage.

Johnny’s death is symbolic in that it is not the tragedy at the heart of the play. Michael O’Riordon is the conventional male protagonist whose existential crisis we are witnessing; Michael is unable to prevent the execution of his best friend; and to make that very point, his best friend must die. Michael’s blindness contributes to this failure in the course of the play but read as a metaphor it turns Michael into “one of us.” His blindness leaves him vulnerable to attack and it echoes our own sense of powerlessness in the face of an overwhelmingly hostile universe. The reverse, however, is also true: being blind, and being a poet, puts Michael in the illustrious company of the Blind Bard, an archetype of Western literature since at least the (mythical) time of Homer: the blind singer/seer whose “inner vision” surpasses that of sighted humanity. His Irish equivalent – and explicit model for Michael - is the (dwarf) Harper of Finn, whose iron-stringed instrument has the power to move its audience to tears. Michael O’Riordon is both vulnerable and endowed with the superpower of emotional insight – fundamentally human qualities that Kelly admires in Michael, and which he admits he does not possess.

Kelly is an abstract concept in human form; even while he is evidently the cause of human suffering, in his denial he appears to be channelling the sadistic Inquisitor. The apparent contradiction is of our own making, though: Kelly is Cruel Fate personified. He represents that which we like to imagine as the source of all our woes - the betrayals, the injustices, the disappointments which inevitably end in what we define as tragedy and what to the rest of the universe, that hostile universe, is of no consequence whatsoever. If we substitute “hostile” with “indifferent,” then Kelly becomes the antithesis to Michael’s humanity – his indifference is as inhuman as the infinite, indifferent universe. Conversely, Michael is not concerned with an infinite universe; his frame of reference is on a human scale, and very finite. When Kelly challenges Michael to take his place and adopt his abstract, God-like perspective on life, death, and the universe, Michael does reject the responsibility – but also the indifference required for the position. If the promise of a pain-free existence did not convince Michael to abandon hope, Kelly's failure to shame him into admitting defeat is a testament, at the very least, to human perseverance: we will forever be prolonging the agony to delay the inevitable. (1/4)

[multimilfs]

Lilia Calderu x Fem!Reader: In Omnibus Aequitas

Summary: Agatha isn't the only witch with a force of nature trailing after her.

AO3

A/N: oh my god i can't explain how excited i am to post this! so much thought and careful crafting went into this!! actually begging someone to ask for the TED talk on my planning process for this because hooooo boy

this is my first time writing Lilia, so apologies if the characterization is shaky at all!

also to give credit where credit is due, the idea for this Reader was prompted by a post from the brilliant trickofthelights, whom i admire greatly. i'll attach the post here

Tag List: @emiliaisdead @kenzie-floops @nightmare-of-homophobes @thepotatoislost @mckiejames @women-are-so-ethereal @galaxydreamer468 @angeliccss @goldenautomaton @asolitaryrose3 @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld

Warning(s): None

Shadows often linger in the periphery of Lilia’s vision; this she has grown to accept, on the basis that they are gone when she turns to face them. And she is glad of it each time. The twisted shapes and figures of the primordial horrors that linger are not made to be witnessed, even by her eyes.

So when a figure lingers, she turns with the expectation of seeing the silhouette vanish, but she’s not the only one who turns.

It strikes her as odd that Rio should see whatever she does. This thought occurs to her mid-ballad, fire licking at the back of her neck. When she looks, though, the figure does not vanish, but neither is it a horror to behold.

You are as beautiful as she remembers. The memory, coupled with your eyes on her, nearly trips her up. But Lilia holds strong through the rest of Lorna’s ballad—even as the burns on her shoulders ache, even as your eyes dart away and meet the curious gaze belonging to Rio, even, even as you watch her with that unerring devotion she had once craved.

When Alice tilts her head back, singing with the full force of her soul, Lilia’s eyes leave you. She watches the curse burn to ash above Alice.

You’re gone when Lilia glances back.

---

Sharon, human she may have been, was right about one thing—no witch can be expected to traverse the road without rest. So, the coven opts to take turns keeping watch around the little fire they’ve built.

Lilia volunteers for the first watch, restless, feeling the weight of eyes on her still. She should’ve known you wouldn’t stay away long.

Your entrance comes when the rest of the coven has fallen asleep; Jen and Alice on one side of the fire, propped up against the rock they sat upon, Agatha furthest from the fire, back to it, while Rio—if that is her true name—sleeps near enough to lay a hand on her waist. Teen, she assumes, remains in the makeshift bed they made for him.

She sees your shadow at the edge of the clearing, hesitant. Looking over her coven one last time, she stands, and walks to where you wait outside the light.

“What do you want?”

You reach out, a hand on either side of Lilia’s face. She doesn’t shake you off. Yet.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I left.” You murmur.

Lilia’s lip curls, “Are your brutal truths meant to be endearing?”

“No. They’re meant to be nothing more than what they are.”

Against all odds, Lilia has yet to throw off your hold. You run your thumb gently over the curve of her jaw. Everything in you wants to kiss her—has dreamt of it for over a century—but you know it won’t be welcome.

Her curls are frayed and wild around her face in an endearing picture. Mess suits her just as well as refinement; though that could be your bias talking.

“Why are you here?” Lilia asks.

“Because you’re here.” And because your job brought you here, but that’s less romantic.

She seems to sense the omission. Any warmth drains from her expression, her hands removing yours from her person. You miss the closeness immediately.

“A truth and a lie. Which will come next?”

“It wasn’t a lie. I could’ve been anywhere.”

“Then go there. But leave the coven out of this.”

“I have no choice, Lilia.”

Lilia scoffs, “You had a choice when you vanished for a century!”

You close your eyes against the reminder. Hurt flares through you. The ache from years of longing, feeling that veil between you exist so thin, yet being unable to reach through. You hadn’t even been allowed a glimpse.

It was torment. A century should have been easy, but a life without Lilia felt like clawing your way through. If you tell her, will she believe you?

“Please.” You whisper. You’re not sure what you’re asking for.

“Goodnight.”

You hear her walk away, can’t stop yourself from blurting, despite the consequences, “Please, don’t put yourself in harm's way.”

Her jaw is tight, eyes wary. She looks you over as if something about you will give away what you know.

She crosses her arms over her chest. You recognize it as both a way to keep you out and support herself. You ache to be let back in.

“This whole Road is a death wish.”

“Don’t put yourself in more danger than normal.” You say, then, smaller, “I can’t protect you.”

“Are you asking for my sake or your own?”

“Whichever you’ll listen to.”

“Why ask at all?”

You step forward, hands outstretched to take hers, but you stop short, “Because I love you, Lilia.”

The admission makes her flinch. Her eyes water and she swallows hard. For a fleeting moment you see the startling vulnerability behind her eyes—the loneliness you should have quelled—before she locks it away.

“You can’t love.” Lilia sneers, “It would tip the scales too much.”

“That’s not true.” You defend.

“Oh? Then who, in this wretched universe, have you decided to hate?”

You bite your tongue. Lilia takes your silence for its own—incorrect—answer. Bitterness creeps into her smile.

“Goodnight.”

---

“Here to watch the big show?” Rio asks, lagging behind while the others move forward.

“Just doing my job.”

“Really? I’d say things were pretty square when you showed up.”

You eye her, despising her knowing smile, “Why are you here?”

“My job.”

“Hm. And how many bodies have you collected, again?”

Her smile is wide, but her eyes are cold. She’s always despised that the two of you are equals; that she can’t add you to her menagerie of bodies. Just the same, you’ve despised that you can’t write her name down.

Agatha looks back and tilts her head. You know she can’t see you. Like nothing has happened, Rio turns that grin on Agatha, skipping back to her side.

You catch Lilia’s eyes on you and ignore the question in them.

---

Lilia watches. She follows you in her periphery, makes note of where you are at all times. Her eyes always dart to your hands. Every time she finds them empty, she relaxes.

She’s taken watch, again. You read the weariness in her posture.

Against your better judgment, you lay your hands on her shoulders. She doesn’t shrug them off.

“You need rest as much as they do, beloved.” You murmur.

She stiffens at the old endearment, “We’re splitting the time. I’ll manage.”

You run a hand through her hair. The curls are still loose, wild. You untangle a few of them. Squeezing her shoulder, you place a kiss to the top of her head, savoring the closeness.

For a moment, your hand quivers. You still it. Your punishment was endured with grace, you must endure the distance with the same.

“Sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

Lilia scoffs, “Right.”

The weight of her mistrust is like a knife in your chest. You do not endure the pain with grace; you flinch, tears springing unbidden to your eyes. Lilia’s eyes close in regret.

You wonder if your presence is more of a burden than blessing. Had you mistaken her intent all those years ago? Love is not an emotion that’d come to you naturally. Perhaps, in your learning, you misunderstood, and Lilia’s kind heart wouldn’t allow her to break your illusion.

She had loved you once, hadn’t she? You could swear she had.

“You have to know I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Unless the greater universe calls for it.”

Her tone is honest, but sadness lingers within it. All you want is to see her face.

“If I thought it would do you any favors, I’d throw it all away.” You admit in a whisper.

Lilia turns, then. Her brows are furrowed as her eyes search your own, frantic, swimming with fear. In another time and place, you’d follow the statement with a smirk; but you cannot bring yourself to summon the facade now, not with her.

It isn’t a lie—your admission. If not for the overturning of the world without you, you’d forsake the job on your shoulders. You’d unmake yourself in a moment for her. For the younger witch who sang freely and lamented her gifts. For the wizened witch who eyes you with trepidation, mind rife with your betrayals and shortcomings.

“Where are your lies?” She asks.

“I tell them to myself, so you can have all my truths.”

Lilia smiles then, but it’s bittersweet. A warm hand settles on your cheek. You can’t help it—grace be damned—when you press yourself into the contact. They’re still there—the callouses you remember, rough against your flesh. She still smells of smoke.

There’s a rustling of fabric across the space. Alice shifts, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. Lilia’s touch is gone from you. You settle next to her as she rests, not brave enough to lay another hand upon her.

---

You watch the knife fall as if time has slowed; absently, you think it might be, Time always did love her cruel jokes. It falls with Teen in the direct path. You feel the pen heavy in your hand, the paper near-weightless and yet the heaviest thing you’ve come to bear.

But then Lilia moves. The one moment you need time to slow for you, it’s returned to normal. Lilia shoves Teen out of the way and takes his place in the dagger’s path.

You fall to your knees, “No!”

Throwing your arms out, you aim a burst of magic for the dagger. Consequences be damned. Alice is faster, though, and moves Lilia from the dagger’s path before your magic can make contact.

Rio’s eyes are heavy on you. She can’t do anything—you didn’t technically break any rules, but the intent is damning enough.

“Now this is going to be fun.” Rio purrs.

You stare at the pen and blank paper you dropped in your haste to save Lilia. Your purpose. How close you’d come to unmaking yourself and yet… yet, a part of you is ambivalent to this. The larger part is freaking out, though.

Everyone’s eyes are on you. You flinch. They shouldn’t be able to see you.

Checking your mental list of active charms, you realize you’ve made an error; in your grief-induced act of heroism, you dropped every single charm on your person and directed the energy toward Lilia. The cat’s out of the bag, it would seem.

Lilia is the first to recover, moving out of Alice’s protective hold, “Do you ever think?”

You bristle, yet to stand from your kneeling position. It gives her an advantage over you this once.

“Well and often.” You defend.

“Well?” She questions, beautiful in her terror and rage, “You call that thinking well? You could’ve been killed!”

“You were in danger, Lilia.”

“And you’re not allowed to interfere.”

Ignoring all the eyes on the two of you, Lilia turns and storms through the exit that opened. You watch the road-conjured costume melt back into her normal visage as she gets further away.

It’s then that you recognize the silence.

All of them are staring at you save for Agatha, who eyes Rio with a mixture of trepidation and understanding. You stand as gracefully as you can manage. Smoothing down your clothes, you try to smile, but the action feels slippery on your features. How long has it been?

“What is it with you witches and beautiful mysteries?” Jen asks, “And where can I get one?”

You flush and fidget. The weight of their attention is so much less pleasant than your beloved’s.

Alice tilts her head, “Who are you?”

Holding out your hand, you speak your name. Rio laughs. You blush, remembering that mortal creatures don’t comprehend the original language, not like the two of you. Lilia once said it sounded like botched latin. The coven exchanges various looks of confusion.

“Lilia just calls me—”

“A pain.” Lilia’s voice cuts in, “A very severe, persistent pain. Are you all coming?”

You’re the first to follow, which prompts no shortage of grumbling. You find yourself grinning.

---

“Well, at least we have extra help on The Road.” Jen shrugs, later.

“She can’t help.” Lilia and Rio say in unison.

The two share a look. You can read the distaste in Lilia’s eyes. She doesn’t seem to think much of Rio, not that you do either—and you actually know her.

“Seemed pretty eager to help you, Lilia.”

“A foolish, misguided mistake on her part.”

You flinch at the statement, staring down at your hands. With the charms gone, you witness their true appearance; one completely dark, as if left to char in ember, the other so pale-white it is near translucent.

The beauty of a mortal body with a mortal heart is a range of emotion you’d have never felt before. Though lately, the gift feels more like a burden. Pain is your ever-present companion these days. Even when you look at your beloved, the love that overtakes you is laced with poison; with the reminder of what you had to do.

You can’t bring yourself to wish away the heart in your chest. But you do wish Lilia would be a bit more gentle with it. You’re hardly in the position to make requests, though.

“I can assist in small ways. Taking a watch at night, tending the fire.”

“No.” Lilia shuts you down. You freeze, “You are to do nothing but observe. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, beloved.”

You ignore the look between Alice and Jen.

---

The end of The Road is so near you can practically taste it. It tastes of rot and chaos, but you put that down as a symptom of your disposition. You watch Lilia and the rest of the coven relax, inhaling deeply.

A smile teases at Lilia’s lips.

“What do you smell?” You whisper.

The smile doesn’t vanish as you expect. Rather, it extends to her eyes as she regards you.

“Your perfume.”

You melt. Knees like jelly, you take her hand in your own, and press a kiss to the back of it, ignoring the eyes on the two of you. The Witches Road will give you what you most desire at the end. And before the last trial, it gives the traveler a taste of what their prize is. She can’t reach the end without knowing the truth.

“This body wasn’t mine, did you know that?” You ask. Her expression shifts as she grows a bit more tense in your hold. You hold tighter, “The witch before me had a little over a century left in her when I came. As payment, I had to serve out the rest of her years without the one thing that made it feel like living.”

The words are tumbling from you faster than you can comprehend them. You watch her face, hoping that what you’re stringing together makes enough sense for her to see. Even if it takes some other force whispering the facts into her ear for her to understand, you’ll just be happy that she knows.

Lilia’s the brightest witch you’ve ever known. She’ll figure out what you’re saying, but you just can’t stop; you need to say the words you’ve been dying to say for all these years.

“I never wanted to leave you, beloved.”

There’s no privacy on this cursed road, but you don’t care. If she asked it of you, you’d tell every soul you met how you love her. Lilia Calderu owns your heart, but even more than that, she owns your soul, and you have no desire to take it from her hands—even if she decides to rip it to pieces as repayment.

Let the coven know how you lived a century-long prison sentence to be with her. Let Rio and the greater powers know. You have no shame.

Lilia sneers, “You foolish woman.”

Her hands fist in the front of your shirt and pull your lips to hers. It’s messy; a clash of teeth and lips and noses, a poor imitation of the world-tipping kisses the two of you have found in one another. You’re both horribly out of practice. Never let it be said, however, that passion does not make up for tact. The near-quivering of Lilia’s grip and the force of intent behind her kiss makes up for any clumsiness.

The time on The Road has left her lips chapped, bitter with the remnants of lipstick, and never before have you known something so utterly perfect. You wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close enough that not a breath can exist between you. She sighs against your lips.

A curse of a mortal body is the functions that a higher being like yourself wouldn’t deem necessary; in this case, the need your lungs have for oxygen. Your heart is beating out of your chest and not from desire.

You pull back, panting, forehead resting against Lilia’s.

Breath successfully acquired, you tilt your head and press your lips to Lilia’s cheek, her temple, her forehead—anywhere you can reach, murmuring, reverent, “Lilia. My Lilia.”

“Darling.” She whispers with every kiss, voice hushed with devotion.

A lifetime apart seen to its end. Your fingers still itch with the pent up desire to hold her despite doing so. You were shameless before, but now… Gods help her.

Rio watches the entire display with shameless interest. Her eyebrows are high, a small, curious smile on her lips. Teen had been the first to turn away and busy himself with watching The Road. Somewhere mid-kiss, the remaining three found something more pressing to devote their attention to.

The lack of seeing, however, does not stop Jen from sighing, “When will it be my turn?”

Alice laughs at her side.

---

“Did you know all along?”

Lilia looks up at Agatha’s hushed question. She takes in the messy, haggard, but satisfied look of her fellow witch. She also catches the look Agatha throws your way. You sit across the clearing, Teen at your side, listening with rapt attention as you explain something about the moon.

“I had a suspicion when you mentioned my fortune.” Lilia admits.

A suspicion. A burgeoning hope she hadn’t let herself acknowledge.

“Oh?”

“What is fortune if not a lack of balance?” She shrugs, unable to look away from you, “To change it meant the end of my pain.”

“Enter, your solution.”

“Solution and problem.”

The two share a wry laugh. Lilia’s careful not to ask any pointed questions about Rio, though curiosity does eat away at her. Is anyone better suited to appreciate her experience?

Rio, while polarizing, is beautiful—and seems to have attached herself to Agatha in a way best suited to the witch. There is a beauty in it. Though she admits she’ll always prefer your well-meaning brutality over that which Agatha receives. To each their own.

“The Road seems to play favorites, giving you your prize early.” Agatha muses.

“Having her isn’t the prize,” Lilia corrects, “keeping her is.”

Agatha hums, eyes contemplative.

You’re aware of the eyes on you from across the clearing, but pay it little attention, instead devoting yourself fully to the question Teen has asked you. Gesturing with your hands, you weave similarities between the First Coven and their own. He watches you with a starstruck expression.

Something in your conversation prompts him to tilt his head. He fiddles with the little spellbook attached to his hip. Your musings come to a natural close and he speaks up.

“Can I ask—why Lilia? I mean, she’s great, but I guess I don’t understand.” Teen changes the subject.

You smile.

“Do you know the average person’s response to upsetting the state of the world?” You ask. Teen thinks, then shakes his head, “There isn’t one. It doesn’t matter what they’ve undone in the grand scheme, they’re painfully ignorant of what they’ve done. And what’s worse, most don’t care.”

It’s an old grievance you have with the greater universe. You recognize the necessity of it, but will never deny how it grates on you.

“Lilia… Lilia spent a large part of her life as a harbinger of tragedy. She’d travel through villages and upturn their worlds with a prediction.” You sigh, chest aching with the pain you know she suffered, “But when she did, she always sought to fix it. There were times she leveled the scales so completely that I didn’t have to do a thing. Few had ever considered me in such a way before.”

You look up from your fidgeting hands to Lilia. Her eyes are already on you. The warm, steady weight of her gaze makes you melt.

“And the others, well, none of them were her.”

Teen nods, “That’s sweet. I think.”

You chuckle. In a moment of fondness, you ruffle the curls on his head. He rolls his eyes but allows the contact; how do you tell a force of nature no?

---

You stare back down The Road with the coven. Though the return journey will be without any of the usual hassles, you curse the greater powers for not just providing an exit door. Your feet are killing you.

Lilia looks weary despite having rested. You rub a hand over her back, working out the knots you find with a skilled hand. She sighs.

“Where do we go from here?” She asks.

You raise a brow, “Back to the start of The Road.”

Lilia glares, though it lacks significant heat, “Us, darling.”

Ah.

“Wherever you lead, beloved.”

“That’s a lot of control.”

“Give me a century or so and I’ll start making decisions again.”

Her fingers lace through your own. Lilia stares down the length of The Road she has traversed and conquered, yet the greatest battle lies beyond. The world will never again be the same for her.

You raise her hand to your lips. You press gentle kisses to the knuckles.

“To the return of your glory.” You murmur.

Lilia looks at you for a long moment. Using your hold, she pulls you down, into a short but mind-numbing kiss. You hold tight and sigh, content.

She corrects, “To the return of balance.”

[heartfullofleeches]

Good Boy

Male Sub Yan Bully + G.N Reader

"I only need a good boy by my side, and I don't mean someone who'll have me home by eight. I want an obedient pet. Will you be that for me?."

Warnings/Tags: Top/Dom Reader, Anal Sex/Pegging, Cross-dressing, Light Degradation and pet play. Reader's gender is (obviously) never stated, but their parts are referred to as dick for ease.

Anyone with working eyes could see how whipped that boy was for you.

From the day he pushed past you in the hall, a faint spark started his heart stemming from the dismissive glare you back shot his way. That flicker was the match that blew everything into an explosive mess for your attention, igniting any obstacle in its wake. Your fellow peers avoided you for the continued safety of their fingers and social life, and every which way you turned he was there. His physical harassment didn't go beyond shoving you out of his way or snatching pencils and things meant for trash.

You never acted out against him - to his. Never ratted him out or even raised your voice. You hardly talked to him at all and that pissed him even off more. To make matters worse you were cordial in your brief encounters, and even threw off-handed comments his way. Trailing your fingers up his bicep when he forced himself at your table. Saying he looked "nice" with his hair up and out of the way of those pretty eyes. It drove him mad. He knew you knew he was too chicken shit to actually put hands on you and didn't bother wasting your energy to provoke him.

Recently, your dynamic had taken yet another turn. One, uneventful Monday morning, you strolled right up to his locker and patted him on the head as you walked off to class. His knees turned to jelly, and he nearly had a locker door slammed in his face following your hand as it left his soft locks. At lunch that very same day, you sat in his lap and even fed him his food - so long as he rushed through that project for his next class he was intentionally planning to fail. When the grades were sent back and you caught wind of his score, you kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his hair like you did before. His goons spread rumors of the two of you dating, but now everyone believed it with the leash you had around his neck. If he didn't get himself into detention, another pat. Good grades? Two kisses - if he work school appropriate clothing. Your switch from pretending he never existed to dotting on him like you were actual lovers boggled his mind to no end. What made you see him differently?

"This thing is way too damn short. I told you I'm not putting on fucking her bra - that's gross. Where the hell is my phone.. What the fuck?... give it to me. Post that and I will fucking ki-"

Oh - that would explain thing. It would explain a lot actually. All those weeks back, Erin had been asked by a friend to help deliver his sister's clothing to a nearby shelter with a few beers as payment. One of them had the brilliant idea to have a drinking contest with the loser having to try on her clothes. When it was discovered he had been pouring his into the grass, Erin was immediately disqualified and given his dues. They took video and posted it to his private page - forgetting about the person he made follow back. In all honesty, Erin had no problem wearing feminine clothing. It was just that everything that girl had absolutely shit tastes in fashion and not at all to kiss liking.

What he had on now was exactly his style.

Sliding a hand up his outer thigh, you loop two fingers through the heart shaped buckle attached to his garters and thigh highs. The spaghetti straps of his crop top hand loose and torn off his shoulders; neck and chest decorated in dark bruises and teeth marks. Circling your tongue around his puffy nipple, you pull it between your teeth - just to watch him squirm as your lips break contact with his chest; the strip of leather hanging from his thigh crackling against his skin as you retch your fingers free. He whimpers mutely, rubbing the stinging flesh into the mattress to prolong that fading bite. Grabbing his knee causes him to stop immediately, looking up at you with those pretty, pleading eyes through the whispy, dark ginger locks clinging to his sweaty forehead and cheeks. You smirk.

"What a good boy."

It had all been a test. You saw that video, and you had to have him. You knew he could be obedient with the right motivations and there was none better than giving yourself - and a little praise, to him. As usual, Erin was pissed when he found out you were training him like some.. dog, but he couldn't deny the guilty pleasure of you turning him into your bitch in front of the whole school. His cock throbs in his panties as his hazy mind replayed the billionth loop of you calling him yours; the phantom heat of your breath against his ears sending chills. Erin bucks away from the hand placed over the bump in his skirt so you wouldn't notice the pulse, but you certainly had. You close your fingers around his length, stilling him as another gloop of drool rolls past his lips.

"Eager Boy! I would love to help you with this, but.... I only need a good boy by my side, and I don't mean someone who'll have me home by eight."

You drop your lips to his ear, teasing the shell in just the way that made him cry out everytime. His little bated moans were the cutest thing.

" I want an obedient pet - and lover. Will you be that for me, Erin."

His cock ached at the first title; his heart sung at the next. He'd do anything to relieve the tension in both areas. Anything to be yours. Licking his bitten lips, he nods.

"I'll be good...."

You reach up to stroke his cheek. Erin nips at your fingers, rolling the metal ball of his piercing between each. He spits directly in your hand.

"Freak."

His chest rises with a shaky laugh, yet there's nothing but obedience in those eyes. It's a work in progress. You smack the meat of his thigh with your spit covered hand; the sound and force of the saliva hitting his send immeasurable. The e way his mouth falls open as he gasps - you would've thought he came right then and there if his solid erection wasn't in your opposite hand.

"You're lucky I'm nice. Turn over, pretty boy."

Leaning back, you help Erin lift his leg over your head as he turns over onto his stomach. Scooting forward, his ass falls into your lap as he sinks down. You raise the skirt that barely covered much to begin with and slip those lace panties down; pre-ejaculate smeared into its crotch. You wish you hand more time to appreciate his attire or shove those frilly garments down his throat, but as soon as he came through your door it was too your bedroom - and you wanted to hear his sounds nice and clear for your first time together. There would be plenty more nights in the future for you to do whatever your heart desired. Reaching forward, you tap his lips with your finger.

"Spit? Since you've already proven you don't mind getting your drool all over your master."

Erin opens his mouth - letting out a gagged yelp of surprise as your fingers shoot down his throat. He's never been more thankful for the lack of a reflex. Regaining what little composure he hand, Erin swirls his tongue around your fingers and hollows his cheeks as he suckles them as you drag them out his mouth. His head falls into the pillow as you draw your arm back to position; spreading his asscheeks as your lubricated thumb teases his hole. It slips in easier than you imagine and his back muscles go taught.

"Have you fingered yourself before?"

Erin buries his face in the pillow, eyes avoiding your stare. ".... toothbrush."

"Pfft - you whore. I was wondering what happened to that. Guess I don't have to ask who you were thinking about while you did it."

"At least you go your brains if anything ever happens to your face."

Frowning, you yank the hair still trapped in the scrunchie he wore. "Bad dog. Guess you won't need the prep then."

Removing your finger, you lend your cock to his hole. He hooks one arm under the pillow and reaches the other behind him. You take his hand and lock your fingers with his as you slip inside; pinning the limb to his back as you sink in. You pull your knees from under him and plant them in the mattress as you drag your girth out of his tight hole. Erin drops his free hand between his legs, but you quickly add your weight to his arm - immobilizing him.

"Ah-ah, I didn't say you could do that did I?"

Erin grumbles something under his breath, but thankfully you don't hear it. As a reward for staying still you kiss along his back up to the nape of his neck, right below his choker where you plant your teeth as you start off at a gradual pace. His skirt falls pack down a couple times which you lose care of after a while and let drap at your thighs. He keeps his lips separated from the pillow so his heavy breathes are audible - just like he knew you wanted. Such a good boy. Dropping your grasp to his waist, you tug him back with each thrust - virtually bouncing the drooling boy on your cock. His greedy hole and desperate whimpers suck you back in. Pleads he tempts to conceal with his moans ringing longer no matter how exaggerated his sounds become. Like everything when it came to you - he just couldn't keep it in.

"ngh...y/n...please...hah... give more."

"You want more this so soon? Hm, you've been good enough so far."

Yelping as your hips snap against the curve of his ass, Erin rocks his with a stutter - rutting his aching cock into the mattress chasing friction you refuse to provide. Your hand cracks hard against his right cheek and his back arches against your sweaty bare chest as he all but screams into the pillow now forced into snuffing his cries. You grab his jaw and his head pivots back to look up at you.

"So noisy.... It's unsightly of you, Erin. Like you're a different person now you've got a few inches in you. Tell me, are you my good little puppy or some bitch in heat using my dick to get off?"

Tongue petaled around your thumb, Erin cries out beneath its weight. "Mmph.." You lift your finger, smearing his drool into his cheek as you turn his head to face you.

"What was that, boy?"

"y-yours... 'm yours, I promise. I can be both. Please let me be both."

"We'll see about that." Standing on your knees, you yank Erin along with you and lock your arm around his neck to keep him from falling as you drill upwards into him. His cock bobs with each hammer of your hips into his and you have enough mercy to stroke him to completion as his eyes roll back in his head. You mouth more marks into his neck and shoulder blades, scrapping your teeth on the bone. Your name bleeds off his tongue like it's the only he's ever known and right now there couldn't be a truer statement. You suck one more fresh hickey to his neck and work on to his jaw, licking the stray tears that drip down to the corners of his mouth as you crush his windpipe in your hold - darting your tongue past his gasping lips. Erin groans in the blissful heat of the thirsty kiss, cumming into your hand and onto his thighs and your pillow. You rub the sensitive flesh for a few more strokes before letting him fall into his own mess. You join him on the unstained pillow and scoop your arm under his neck. He scoots over, resting his head on your chest - eyelids droopy and body slack. You brush his hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his clammy temple.

"A quick rest, then it's the showers before bed for you, Mister.. You did amazing for me. Clean?"

You extend your hand; palm glazed with his spend. Erin scoffs, lips twitching into a faint smile.

"You're such a dick."

He sweeps his tongue over the salty fluid and licks it off the ball of your fingers, cringing at the taste, but doing as asked for once.

"True, but I'm your dick now."

He stops - eyes soft and more vulnerable than the entirety of your session. "You... were serious about that?"

"Of course. You're a good boy, Erin - when you want to be. I like you."

His head falls back to your chest, hand finding yours. "i... love you."

-

The next day at school, you walk in together with your wrist in his hand. You'd let him keep his big dog act for just a little longer. Stopping at your longer, Erin spots the one that got away - some little shit that snuck a note in your locker and fled his fury due to the teacher standing in the hall. His right hand tightens into a ball.

"Erin."

The student looks your way, shocked seeing the two of you so close. His shoulders relax as he shoves the fist into his pocket. Thankfully, you didn't have every period together. "See, i wasn't doing nothing."

You peck his cheek with a smile. "Good boy.

[adinfernumadinfinitum]

Welcome to my silly little fan theory @emmg:

How Raphael is the ‘Mastermind’ behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3…

…or how I give him more importance than I should.

DISCLAIMER:

In this ‘dissertation,’ I present my take on things based on Dungeons and Dragons 5e lore from the Forgotten Realms universe, along with fandom theories and headcanons where they suit me. This is NOT an in-depth analysis of anything, so I won’t be reciting specific quotes, etc.

I repeat, this is just MY take on things. If a similar theory already exists, feel free to reach out, and I’ll gladly tag the material!

Oh, and there are a lot of spoilers about, well, everything, so read at your own risk ⚠️

I thank the lovely @bitethedevil for allowing me to tag their posts, making it easier on me so I don’t have to write everything out! I also want to take this moment to appreciate their work and contributions to this fandom! ☺️

Introduction

Baldur’s Gate 3 is a brilliant, complex, multi-layered game filled with multiple villains, heroic figures, and a plot that weaves players in seamlessly. That’s why we love this game—at least, that’s why I do—the gripping storyline and its faceted characters.

The game is set in the Forgotten Realms with DnD lore and rules, while still adding and maintaining its own unique features and twists.

But what if we entirely take a look at it from DnD lore perspective?

Section 1: Raphael as the core character in Baldur’s Gate 3

Fans of the Emperor might argue with me here, but oh man, have you seen how many pies Raphael has his fingers in?

This narcissistic little shit of a cambion plotted his grand design to take the Crown of Karsus for over 2,000 years, planning everything with terrifying precision and putting in a staggering amount of effort—all to manipulate Tav or Durge into giving him the crown.

To understand just how far back his scheming goes, we have to start with the fall of Netheril. As Raphael himself tells us, this is where it all began, and when his father seized the crown, it became impossible for Raphael to obtain it himself.

Baator—the Nine Layers of Hell—has its own system and rules. The plane is aligned as lawful evil, and by its laws, anyone who breaks them is punished; in other words, theft is a crime (don’t try this at home edition).

Am I going to explain the system and rules of the Nine Hells? Hell no, or I’ll be sitting here until next Halloween. Sorry, maybe in a separate post sometime (or not) 😭

So Raphael had to get creative if he wanted to get his greedy claws on the crown.

You can read about how much Raphael’s involvement is actually found in the game Baldur’s Gate 3 here.

What’s relevant for this ‘dissertation’ are the following points, which all show how he orchestrates the plot:

1. Raphael, Vlaakith, and the Astral Prism —

Raphael even plots to capture Orpheus. Not personally, of course, but with the knowledge that it could benefit him and would even serve its purpose in the future. This is a crucial detail.

However, I don’t believe Raphael would craft or have someone craft an item like the Astral Prism, as well as the bindings of Orpheus (the mask, chains, and binding crystals) and the Orphic Hammer. It’s more likely these objects already existed in the Hells, with Raphael profiting by dealing with them.

Sadly there is no official information on that, I really find that interesting.

As for why the Orphic Hammer is called Orphic Hammer - why is Orpheus called Orpheus? He’s a liberator for his people, having inherited the power of Mother Gith, who freed the Gith from mind flayer enslavement. The character of Orpheus draws heavily from Orpheus in Greek mythology, a symbol of liberation, love, and the attempt to rescue a soul from the bonds of death. The term “Orphic” reflects this sense of breaking free from constraints or seeking transformation (of course, it has other meanings, too, but this one feels like what the developers were aiming for).

So the hammer’s name has both symbolic depth and a bit of pun, as it’s intended to free the character Orpheus from his chains.

ANYWAY

2. Raphael, Moonrise Towers, and the Gauntlet of Shar —

The amount of interwoven contracts Raphael has made in the Shadow Cursed Lands is suspicious, and each and every one of them is too , an important point.

Isn’t it just a bit too convenient that Ketheric’s misery plays right into Raphael’s hands? The Shadow-Cursed Lands—Reithwin, once ruled by Ketheric, formerly full of Selunite worshippers but ruined by schemes of the Dark Lady who turned a grieving worshipper of her sister into a Shar follower and leader of an army of Dark Justiciars—is a whole breeding ground for contracts and a stage for Raphael’s play.

Hold on, I’m not implying that I believe Raphael had a hand in Shar’s mischief here, but I do think Raphael handpicked Ketheric, a grieving and obsessed madman (a truly tragic character, honestly), to be an unwitting pawn in his schemes, without directly involving himself. To do this, he contracted with desperate beings like the Architect, Yurgir, and the last Dark Justiciar.

To understand why Raphael would even need Ketheric, we have to look a step further.

3. Raphael and my beloved raccoon boy, Gortash —

Raphael buying Gortash from his parents was a calculated move and the final piece in the Netherbrain plot scheme.

I believe Raphael specifically chose Enver Gortash, a boy with potential, for his plans to get the Crown of Karsus.

Look, Gortash is anything but dumb; in fact, he’s the exact opposite. He learned the ropes in Hell, literally imprisoned in Raphael’s House of Hope. All jokes aside about pot-scrubbing duty and overhearing Raphael and Haarlep getting it on, Gortash is a quick learner.

Raphael just had to watch as Gortash escaped the House of Hope with vital information about the crown. With this, Raphael set up an ambitious, cunning man with the drive to steal the crown.

And this is where Ketheric returns to the picture. Ketheric, the chosen of Myrkul; Gortash, the chosen of Bane; and Durge, the chosen of Bhaal.

As for how Raphael might have gotten his hands on Durge? I’ll leave that as the theory’s plot hole.

I could fill it with headcanons—like Gortash and Durge knowing each other even before Gortash was sold—but that feels a bit far-fetched.

Actually, all of this is a bit far-fetched, but hey, it’s my silly little theory.

But hey again, we’re slowly coming to a conclusion how Raphael is the mastermind behind BG3, do you see my vision?

All Raphael needed was patience. The chosen ones, Gortash and Durge, set the stage by planning the Netherbrain coup and, in stealing the crown, executed Raphael’s plan. All they needed was the third chosen, Ketheric, to carry out the rest of the plot: building the Absolute’s army, etc., the rest we know...

So, what was left? Just someone desperate enough to make a deal with Raphael and actually hand over the Crown of Karsus. And how would he pull that off?

✨The Tadpole Gang✨

Every single one of them fits the bill. Especially if the player chooses Durge.

The next question is: how could he manipulate the group if they were under the Absolute’s influence? Well, that’s where the Emperor comes onto the stage.

Because, hear me out one more time: isn’t it convenient that the Emperor, of all people, finds the Astral Prism? A figure obsessed with freedom and manipulation, ambitious and clever, who would serve perfectly as a kind of protection shield from the Elder Brain’s influence for the gang? And to that even a disposable figure as it is a mind flayer who would not be trusted in the end.

(Naturally, in the game the player is the ultimate executional force, making any kind of higher plan or scheme either perfect or useless)

Nevertheless, this is as far as I will dive into this specific pond.

I just think it adds up nicely.

But Björni, if you have a Section 1, what about a Section 2? you might ask. Well, here it comes…

… how this ‘dissertation’ is actually about Mephistopheles being the ‘Mastermind’ behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3.

Section 2: Raphael as the Scapegoat

DnD’s lore about fiends—and, specifically, cambions—teaches us that they’re doomed to fail from birth. While they may think they’re in control of their schemes, they’re actually playing into the hands of their fiendish parent.

Ever wondered why Mephistopheles would even bother devouring Raphael if we defeat him? Sure, cambion sons are nourishing (yum yum), but given Mephistopheles’ personality, I’d guess he does it to humiliate his son, even in death, for being a failure—a failure to retrieve the crown for his father.

But wait, Mephistopheles already had the crown—why would he bother plotting all of this just to get it back? Isn’t that a bit over-the-top, Björni?

Bear with me: it’s not officially written anywhere, but it’s more or less canon based on what we know of the Archdevils Asmodeus and Mephistopheles.

Asmodeus rules the Hells, while Mephistopheles, as the Archduke of the 8th layer, Cania, is arguably the second most powerful being in Baator. Mephistopheles has never stopped dreaming of overthrowing Asmodeus, even after repeatedly failing miserably. But if he openly tried to use the crown against Asmodeus, it would be a direct affront, and Asmodeus would have shut it down from the start.

Mephistopheles has other children besides Raphael, and Raphael isn’t exactly useless, he’s actually the complete opposite. Strategically, it wouldn’t make sense to discard such a puppet (call him son)—unless Raphael had done something atrocious. And for someone as mighty as Mephistopheles, controlling his little cambion son would be child’s play. So, then why does Raphael hate his father so much, and why is Raphael ‘residing’ in Avernus?

As we know, Avernus is the armpit of Baator, a plane for exiles and outcasts.

I think Mephistopheles intentionally filled his relationship with Raphael with hatred, so Raphael’s ambition to overthrow his father would ignite and one day serve him. When Mephistopheles got the Crown of Karsus, unable to wield it himself, he set the stage for his son’s scheme—by casting Raphael aside, Mephistopheles set him on the path to steal the crown, with Mephistopheles only indirectly involved in overthrowing Asmodeus. Raphael would do the dirty work—taking over the other layers—before ultimately facing his father, who could then just snatch the crown from him. And yes, I do believe Mephistopheles is arrogant enough to think he’d still be more powerful than his son, even with a god-like artifact. He has that bloated of an ego.

BUT (Nr. 36,252), what about Asmodeus? Wouldn’t he step in and crush the plan?

Here’s the thing: Asmodeus generally doesn’t mind if his archdukes fight for control of their layers, as long as it doesn’t threaten his supreme authority or destabilize Hell’s hierarchy. In fact, he encourages a bit of rivalry and ambition among his archdevils, as infighting serves his purposes.

And can you imagine THE Asmodeus being worried about an over-ambitious cambion?

However, this leads to the TRUE instigator and the true subject of this ‘dissertation’…

… how Asmodeus is actually the ‘Mastermind’ behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3.

Section 3: Asmodeus doing things, just because

Joke’s on you—it’s been about Asmodeus all along, because even if he’d lose (not that he ever would—he’s just that powerful), he’d claim at the last minute that it was his plan all along. Losing trusted allies? What a bunch of traitors—perfect excuse to clean house. Losing Baator? Finally, he was sick of the job.

All jokes aside, Asmodeus being the cunning bastard he is, would likely pull off everything mentioned above.

To understand why he’d even bother, let’s take a quick (really quick, this is already getting too long) dive into his background and shenanigans in DnD.

Throughout DnD’s development from 1e to 5e, Asmodeus has gone through quite the evolution, eventually becoming a Greater Deity, the Embodiment of Evil, and one of the mightiest beings in existence, rivaled only by Ao.

While 5e keeps things vague to allow player interpretation, Asmodeus has consistently been the most powerful entity in the Hells—a schemer, strategist, and supreme manipulator.

(Here’s the only quote I’ll reference:) “[…] His sinister machinations could take centuries, if not millennia, to come to fruition, and his master plans extended across the entire multiverse. His labyrinthine, insidious intrigues could seem inexplicable to most outside observers, for Asmodeus let even his own servants stew in fear of his next move. With all the planes as his board, the Lord of Lies maneuvered the forces of evil like chess pieces in his grand designs, slowly and subtly manipulating everyone from deities to, when needed, lowly mortals.”

He’s described as being a thousand steps ahead of everyone. And while most of his plans serve greater purposes beyond even godly comprehension, some things he does just because—just for fun.

CONCLUSION

Of course Asmodeus knew Mephistopheles had the crown. Of course he knew Mephistopheles would never use it openly against him. And of course he knew Mephistopheles would keep scheming to use it indirectly, bringing his cambion son Raphael into the game.

Why would Asmodeus let all this happen, and why am I saying he’s the real mastermind?

Like already mentioned, Asmodeus often (indirectly) encourages and manipulates his archdukes to scheme and fight among themselves as a means to reinforce his dominance, foster survival of the fittest, and test loyalty within the infernal hierarchy. However, he maintains strict boundaries, and any conflict that risks his supreme authority, disrupts Hell’s role in the multiverse, or leads to excessive chaos would be swiftly and ruthlessly quashed. In Asmodeus’s mind, such rivalries are a useful tool—as long as they remain safely under his control.

In my view, the Crown of Karsus was never a real threat to him; this whole plot served his entertainment, tested loyalties, or helped him gauge his chess pieces.

And that’s how Asmodeus is the real mastermind behind the plot of Baldur’s Gate 3.

Thanks for reading this mass of nonsense ❤️

Why I even bothered with all this shit? It’s one of the key plot points in my longfic, Ah, You Devil!

[rxmqnova]

Where Lizzie keeps using Yn's clothes like sweaters, jackets, hoodies...

They are together but keep it private so people or fans didn't know about them. Yn's and Lizzie's fandoms theorized separately about who can be their partners until someone discovered that they matched a few items of clothing and they were searching for more.

They saw that sometimes Lizzie's clothes were bigger. So they started to post photos of Yn and Lizzie wearing the same thing, and Yn saw it and show Lizzie the post so they had an idea, because Yn was the extovert one in the relationship and made a tshirt about a photo of Lizzie and saying something like "yes, i'm dating lizard" or "i'm dating this idiot" or whatever you wanna write hahaha but she didn't say anything to Lizzie so It was a surprise for her when Yn showed her the paparazzi photos and they burst out laughing

Clothes stealer

NO ONE'S POV "Babe? Have you seen my hoodie?" Y/N calls from her and Lizzie's shared bedroom, looking into her closet for what feels like a hundred time.

"Which one?" Lizzie calls back from the bathroom where she's getting ready for the day.

"My favorite, the dark blue one"

Lizzie can't help but smile as she's currently wearing that hoodie. The two practically share all of their clothes. Lizzie absolutely loves stealing her girlfriend's clothes and Y/N doesn't mind at all, she loves seeing her girlfriend in her clothes.

"Nope, haven't seen it" Lizzie lies, not noticing her girlfriend standing at the doorframe and watching her with an amused smile.

"Is that so?" Y/N teases, walking over to Lizzie and wrapping her arms around her from behind. "So you're not wearing it at the moment by any chance?"

"Hm-hm, I definitely do not" Lizzie smiles, turning around in Y/N's arms and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend's neck.

"Mhm. I see" Y/N chuckles, pecking her girlfriend's lips with a sweet kiss. "You know… I found a very interesting article. You haven't told me you're dating Aubrey Plaza"

"What?" Lizzie tilts her head in confusion, making Y/N let out a chuckle.

"I'm just messing with you, but that article really exists. Your fans are trying to find out who's the one you're dating and last week it was Aubrey" Y/N explains.

"Oh, I guess paparazzi took some pictures of us when we went out for lunch last week"

"Mhm. That was last week though, this week you're dating someone else" Y/N teases. "People noticed what a clothes stealer you are, look" She chuckles, showing her girlfriend all those instagram posts where the fans are comparing hers and Lizzie's clothes.

"Oh my god. They see every detail" Lizzie chuckles, looking through all the pictures. "Looks like our little secret isn't so secret anymore" She smiles, wrapping her arms around Y/N's neck and looking deeply into her eyes.

In that moment Y/N gets a brilliant idea…

———

Y/N has everything prepared by now, so now it's time to make her plan come to life. Her idea is basically going out and wearing a shirt with a picture of her girlfriend and words 'Yes, lizard is my girlfriend'.

Y/N's absolutely thrilled about that idea and she can't wait to see Lizzie's reaction. She's more of an extrovert in the relationship and she loves teasing her fans, so this is just the perfect thing to do.

So when she gets ready to go out, obviously with the shirt on, she leaves the house. Lizzie's out filming and won't be back before the evening, so it's the best time to do it now.

Y/N makes her way to the store, at least she gets to buy some groceries to make dinner for her and Lizzie when she gets home.

And then it happens. Just when she walks out of the store with a bag full of groceries, she spots a few people with cameras.

She makes sure to hold the bag far from the shirt, so the print of the shirt could be seen. It takes a few minutes until she gets to her car, ready to drive back home as she's sure the pictures were taken.

And they were, appearing on Instagram only an hour later. Y/N smiles when she scrolls through all the pictures, satisfied with it and excited to show her girlfriend.

———

By the time Lizzie arrives home the dinner is ready to be served. She walks into the kitchen, a smile appearing on her face when she spots Y/N preparing the table for dinner.

"Hello there, beautiful" Lizzie says on which Y/N immediately lifts her eyes and locks them with her girlfriend's, smile forming on her face.

"Well, hello, gorgeous" Y/N says back, walking over to Lizzie and properly greeting her with a kiss.

The dinner goes as usual and the pair talks about each other's days. And just when both are done eating, the time comes and Y/N decides to show her girlfriend the pictures.

"We've talked about going public eventually, right?" Y/N starts, looking into Lizzie's eyes, and receives a nod and a smile. "Well, you know, I thought… why not do it in a cool way? So I just went to the store… like this" And that's when she turns her phone around to Lizzie who truly can't contain her laughter.

"You're such an idiot sometimes" Lizzie chuckles out, taking Y/N's phone and looking more into the pictures.

"I think it was way better than doing it the boring way like everyone else" Y/N says, playing offended and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, but this one's brilliant" Lizzie shows the picture she only just found to Y/N, both of them bursting into laughter at how funny the picture actually looks. "Oh my god, look at your face in this one!"

----------------------

Elizabeth Olsen masterlist

Masterlist

[honeypipin]

The Banker made König Jealous?

Mafia!König who felt terribly sour after seeing the posts you made on instagram at the gala.

The way you looked in your outfit, and the bright smile on your face... yeah, ok so he might have jerked off to the pictures countless times, it was very good material for his imagination, in his defense... but he was so upset he wasn't there with you!

No matter what au he's in, König is our favourite pathetic man, he might try to hide it, but stalking all of your crush's social medias, finding out where they live and constanly fighting over control of the area (and obviously you) will always make him a simp. He just can't help it when it comes to you.

And now he sits in his office, waiting for your arrival, picking at the old scab on his forearm with nothing else to do.

Now he does, you're here!

"Ah, Hallo." He sits up straight, posture no longer henched over his desk, and gestures to the free seat infront of his.

"Hello König, how are you today?"

"Good. How are you?"

"Im ok, thank you. So as we talked last time..."

Now he means no disrespect, but he zones out immediately, so entranced with you, how confidentally you speak about financials, the little smirk that plays on the corner of your mouth when you tell him about an investment plan you are sure is full proof - you're so proud of your abilities, and it doesn't help König's heart with how pretty you are. He could spend hours listening to your sweet voice (and is very desperate to).

A good 10 minutes pass of you explaining your brilliant ideas and König always agreeing to it, since he would let you burn him to the ground if you really wanted. You could tell him that you wanted to feed all of his money to a donkey and he would, just to see a smile on your face. A romantic at heart.

"So? What do you think?"

"Perfekt."

"Really?"

"Always." Always, everything you do is perfect, even in it's imperfect ways, it's always perfect. He is a man who lives to serve, and who else to serve but you? He could wait on you, hand on knee for his life for what matters. Have you ever seen something so awe-inspiring and amazing you physically freeze, jaw-dropped just to take it in? You just stop and this completely new feeling overcomes you, no fear, not even happiness, you're just taking it in.

That's how König felt about you. Well, the first time, but now, he's trying to get himself closer to this absolute paradox. How could you just...be? Like somekind of idol he can't get into the space of, that was exactly it. Like light, he can only watch, watch it dance and play with its beautiful colour, watch it trick him and reveal to him, but can never touch, only feel the ghost of its warmth.

Does he have to let you burn him?

Will he have to feel your love scald his spine? Drip down his body with bloody blisters in its leave? Feel his skin splinter away and his bones into ash under your adoration? Let his wax wings melt into the sea and drown himself in your heat for your heart? He'll do it. He's a man of his word, perhaps not a wise one, but devoted for sure.

"Great. How about we meet up tomorrow to discuss further, your office?"

"Sure."

You weren't going to burn him, not yet. For now, you were going to sear him a little, take a few bites out of his heart, then fucking disintergrate him. And the weirdo would let you do it everytime.

[notelcol]

A rivals desire 🌹

Non gender specific rival/lover✨

A little story inspired by the Wanderers ‘about us: rivals’ voiceline. In this story, reader is studying in Vahamuna with the Wanderer and is his only true academic rival. You and he are the only ones able to really challenge each others work. It will, of course, be set in Sumeru post it’s archon quest.

Mildly edited, apologies for mistakes🫶

——-

“So, you're still stewing over our run-ins from before? Huh. Well, what are you going to do about it? Take your time. I'm in no hurry.” The Wanderer scowled at you, referring to the time you helped thwart his plans to become a god.

“For the last time. No!” Your voice became faster and louder as you continued. “Unlike you, I can let things go!” You glared at him.

“If you aren’t out for revenge, then why would you rebuke my paper?!” He leaned closer as he waved your latest paper around. “Why else would you make a point of disputing every paper I submit?” His voice became quiet, full of venom with a touch of vulnerability.

“I rebuked your paper because it was short sighted. Same as all the others.” You told him. “Your takes on history and society are factually correct and full of potential, yes. But, you always fail to see the true story.” You say, slightly distracted by how close you stood to him. “You miss out the heart of everything by only focusing on the tangible parts. True insight comes from mixing the facts with the feelings that follow in their wake.” You explained, eyes flicking to the ground as you finished talking and realised how long you’d been maintaining eye contact.

When he didn’t reply, you returned his gaze again. He seemed to be lost in his mind, you could almost see the churning of waves behind his blue eyes.

“So you’re telling me, that to reach academic greatness I must tap into my emotions to find the heart of things?” He asked incredulously before scoffing. “You realise I don’t have a heart right?” He folded his arms and raised a brow as he spoke. His words made you chuckle.

“The heart just pumps blood around a body. The brain is where all thoughts and feelings lie….surely you have one of those don’t you?” You smirked.

“Yes. Very funny.” He deadpanned. You rolled your eyes.

“Well, if we’re done here?” You gestured to the path you were on your way down before he interrupted your journey.

“Wait!” He grabbed your wrist as you began to turn away. “If you think you know so much, then show me. Show me how to achieve ‘true insight’.”

You deliberated his request for no where near long enough, given the task it would be to get this man to view society in a sympathetic way.

“Fine. Lesson one. Tell me one emotion you are familiar with feeling.” You looked expectantly, assuming he would give you an immediate answer. After mulling it over he opened his mouth..and then closed it again, before finally speaking.

“Desire.”

“Good! That’s good, you can tap into that. Think of something you want and go after it. Study that feeling. Then when you succeed, focus on how you feel when you get whatever it is you want and it will lead you to another emotion to study.“

“This is ridiculous. Talking about feelings to better writing, how warped.” He grumbled.

“You sound like Azar.” You shook your head at him, remembering the former grand sage.

“Don’t compare me to that old fool!” Offence tainted the Wanderer’s words. “I am nothing like that failure. I am better.” His breath fanned your face as he argued with you.

“Then stop acting like him and prove it! I wouldn’t ‘make a point’ of challenging you all the time if I didn’t believe you could be brilliant.” You exclaimed. His eyes darted around your face as he seemed to freeze. You watched him wade through his mind, slowly you could see his soul becoming clearer in the distance. You had lost yourself in his eyes and possibly would have stayed that way for eternity if he hadn’t grabbed your cheeks, shocking you back to reality. He almost looked as confused as you, before pressing his lips to yours.

Your eyes widened as the space between you closed, but when his fingers started stroking your cheek as he kissed you, you couldn’t help but melt. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck and you let yourself fall into the kiss. You swore you could feel him smile right before he pulled away.

“Peace.” He spoke as he rested his forehead on yours. “The fruition of my desire leads to peace.”

——-

Thank you for reading 🌹

[idyllic-affections]

i feel like alhaithams child would like the arts. they’d be smart and intelligent and everything but they’d also love the arts. that’s what got alhaitham to question the sages in the first place, seeing his child’s emerald eyes light up when they are creative (and uncle kaveh giving them tips on art), he has to wonder what is so BAD about art. trying to hid his child’s talent breaks him more than words could ever explain and even though it’s for their safety, he feels like he’s being the worst father in the world. however, the secret meetings with nilou for dance, the art lessons with kaveh, and him sneaking yarns, fabrics, threads, and art supplies are ways for them to explore art until something changes. and if anyone asks him why his clothes have embroidered green on them, he says he bought it from another region even though it breaks his heart to not brag about how talented his child is.

(sorry if this is all over the place, my brain just couldn’t stop thinking about this  scenario)

suffocation.

summary. alhaitham can't understand what the issue with the arts is.

trigger & content warnings. alhaitham feels like a bad dad :((

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. slight angst, reverse comfort. dad!alhaitham & reader, implied kaveh & reader, implied nilou & reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns used for reader. this post is an expansion of scholarly lineage.

author's thoughts. teehee.... soft angst for you all, in preparation for the worse things i have planned <3

Alhaitham truly, wholeheartedly has failed to understand what it is about the arts that has the Sages so disturbed.

He really wasn't the type to needlessly question them. In his eyes, it was more trouble than it was worth. Being unnecessarily difficult would only bring trouble to himself and his household. Their stance on the arts didn't affect him, it didn't seem to affect Kaveh all that badly, but [Name]...

It affected his child.

Too young to voice their opinion in a way that was safe and effective like Kaveh did, yet also too old to remain blissfully unaware of how stifling the world truly was. The Sages' stance on anything even remotely creative affected his child very deeply, because they were very aware of it, yet could not do anything to combat it.

And his child—Gods, he swore they were a talent to be beheld. From Kaveh always, always ranting to him about how skilled they were and how they had so much potential to be one of the greatest minds in Sumeru both academically and artistically (Alhaitham can't really tell if Kaveh is exaggerating or not, but he wouldn't put it past his child to be so brilliant), to Nilou gushing to him about how she just adored getting to teach them and how quick they learned... he couldn't help but begin to wonder. To question.

What right did the Sages have to suppress the artistic side of Sumeru?

What right did they have to suppress his child's brilliance? His child's, of all people's. He was appalled at the thought, really. He was offended on their behalf, though he did not let it show.

When his coat went missing, he didn't think much of it. He'd assumed it was Kaveh's doing at first—it wouldn't be the first time the Architect left in a hurry and took the wrong things with him—but his theory was disproven in a few mere hours.

His child soon returned his coat to him with an excited smile.

He was quick to notice the vaguely glimmery shine of green thread, embroidered skillfully along the edges, and—

And his heart broke apart in his chest. He knew he wouldn't be able to boast, to tell his curious coworkers that the embroidery was his child's beautiful work. It would get him in trouble. It would get them in trouble.

What kind of father was he, cruelly hiding his child's talent from the world? What kind of father was he? What kind of father would fail so horribly, as he was now, to uplift his child? Circumstance be damned.

What kind of father was he to be behaving this way?

Somehow, they seemed to read his mind.

"It's not really your fault, baba," they told him. "Anyway, I didn't embroider it for praise. I embroidered it because I thought it would look nice on you."

His coat was gingerly discarded off to the side, and his arms were around his child before they could even process what had happened.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[thevindicativevordan]

Hi, hope you are doing well. I am the anon who asked this question about the Maker (post/730144525324009472/im-conflicted-about-the-maker-as-a-character-on) and I wanted to know what are your thoughts on the Marvel Universe as remade by the Maker? I understand that most of it is a comentary/analogy to real life events, with technocompanies rulling the USA, the USA doing experiments in the Pacific with radiation, basically everything Midas stand for, etc. But, looking from the Maker point of view, how do you think it fits with what he wants? And what do you think he wants, in the end?

Perfect time to ask me this because after I got temp banned from the CBR Forums recently, I decided to read all of Ultimate Fantastic Four. I need to amend my earlier post regarding the Maker - he does actually feel like a believable evolution on the flaws that were always present in 1610 Reed:

Even before he became a homicidal maniac, 1610 Reed Richards was a dick. There was a mean streak and petulancy that I had forgotten about. A willingness to walk riiiiiiiight up to the moral divide that was present from the very beginning. Millar, Bendis, and Ellis all established Maker as having a darker side. Using torture against Doom was on the table, he flat out rejected the possibility that he had made a mistake, he did messed up science experiments for fun. The pieces were all there! Alas the execution sucked. I still stand by what I posted here regarding the Ultimate Doom trilogy:

Bendis' depiction of his "fall" was awful and incoherent. Under Bendis, Reed instantly becomes the type of guy willing to commit cold blooded murder against both his family and other heroes for no real reason. If Reed is pissed about the military controlling everything, why is he trying to kill Peter Parker? Shouldn't he be trying to kill Nick Fury and destroy SHIELD? That at least would make sense, Ultimate Nick Fury is a fucking awful person. Instead he murders his entire family instead of just his asshole dad because... I don't know, he's just evil now. A writer can't write someone smarter than them, and Bendis is just not the guy for tackling the world's smartest heroic mind descending into villainy. Reed's plan is dumb and paper thin.

Coldly murdering his mother and sister Enid - his sister whom he went through all the effort to save from Psycho-Man in one of the final UFF arcs! - reads even more egregiously out of character. Why did he kill those two and not just his asshole dad? No clue, Bendis never bothered to give us an explanation. Trying to kill all of SHIELD after the UFF fall apart makes perfect sense to me after reading Ultimate Power for the first time. 1610 Nick Fury is evil. Fury is a monster whom even Dick Cheney would have to kneel in awe before. Asshole deserves to die and SHIELD should be destroyed. Sending suicide bombers to murder Spider-Man and his other heroic peers on the other hand?

No Bendis, you need to actually explain WTF Maker was thinking there because that makes no sense AND it doesn't line up with his previous characterization! Maker didn't want to kill the zombie F4 despite them 1. Being undead and 2. Planning to infect and eat everyone on his Earth. He wasn't willing to kill Doom even after Ultimatum. Then suddenly off-screen he becomes the kind of guy who murders his sister who only ever looked up to and worshiped him, and his mother who tried to support him and showed him nothing but love? Terrible writing, and it makes me so mad because everything else is brilliant setup unintentional though it was.

Pages like this one floored me. You read this knowing they were not setting up Maker yet somehow it perfectly does just that. The other Baxter Building kids breaking off to form their own perfect society in a secret city tucked away from private eyes? Being sick of how they were forced to serve the military? Commitment to the idea to the point they're willing to kill the F4 and any military personnel sent after them? In-universe this, and other events like Psycho-Man's utopia, likely served as the foundation for where Maker came up with the idea of the City. Everything fits! It's a natural result of Maker having an enormous ego, having seen others make their own attempts at building utopias, tossing morality aside, and going "they failed but I'll succeed. I don't make mistakes like they do."

Begs the question OP asked: why did he make Earth 6160 into the way it is? Fantastic question especially considering that both as a hero, and during his initial fall to villainy, Maker hated the "corruption" of science into a force that only served the elite.

Yet the world of 6160 is exactly what he claimed to hate! America collapsed into a realm ruled by technocrats who abused science to enrich themselves. Freaking Midas is in the White House using cosmic energy as a power source for his war suit and the electric grid. What gives? Is it just Maker being a hypocrite? Maker offers two justifications in Ultimate Invasion. First, that he ran civilization models in the City and humanity cannot accept perfect peace. If you've ever watched the Matrix you know how that argument goes. We aren't built to live in paradise. Our human natures are too fallible, when offered the option we reject it. Given Maker's god complex it does suit him that he invokes the Biblical explanation for why evil exists - human nature demands it.

However, there's a second justification. Maker treats Earth 6160 as his playground, his laboratory. He's the Emperor of the World, and with that comes those who would covet his throne. Keeping the world full of conflicts and evils keeps people divided. They're so busy fighting each other that they can't unite against him. Hitler, Genghis Khan, Bismarck, Stalin, Mao, history is full of dictators who employed similar logic to maintain power. Yes it makes him a hypocrite but Maker is beyond caring about the "small minded" dreams he had back before he jumped off the slippery slope.

Regarding what he wants power for, there are two likely motives to parallel his two justifications. I believe he is trying to create the "Ultimate Earth", an Earth that lives up to what he wanted 1610 to be. Time travelling to the future indicates that he is at the very least invested in this Earth's well-being. He saved it from Galactus, he kept the Council from spiraling out of control as they now threaten to do in his absence. He supported scientific and technological advancements that did improve life for everyone. Howard mentions curing cancer. Maker's Ultimate Earth appears to be a technologically advanced society where the peoples lives are improved at the cost of their freedom. In a single word: Latveria. Fitting for a Reed who has gone the way of Doom.

Unsurprisingly Maker's other motive is much more selfish and narcissistic: he wants to screw with Earth 6160 Reed.

Mentioned this before somewhat in my previous post:

My theory is that it's because Maker is trying to take a Reed who is similar to 616 Reed and transform the guy into a monster like him. It's his middle finger to 616 Reed. Maker wants to prove that 616 Reed isn't better than him, if Mr. Fantastic had lost his family and been put through hell like Maker had, he would break too. That 6160 Reed is, so far, not a monster like Maker pisses Maker off. It's not logical to keep 6160 Reed around, and doing so leads to Maker's fall.

Additionally there's some clear self-hatred going on.

Note the callback to UFF with the "I don't make mistakes" line. People talk about Sue rejecting the marriage offer as being the big divergence point between the 616 and 1610 Reeds. I think it goes back even further. 616 Reed was the one who messed up his friends lives. 1610 Reed however was blameless. 1610 Doom, not Reed, was the one who caused the accident that gave the Four their powers. In Ultimate Power it was Doom's meddling which was revealed to have killed millions of people despite Maker initially being blamed. Maker never had to feel the guilt that Mr. Fantastic has to live with. Always when it seemed like he had screwed up, a reveal came to absolve him of any responsibility. Arguably his two greatest pre-Maker screw-ups were teleporting to the zombie Earth and creating the Cosmic Cube and guess what? Both of those were because of external agents in the forms of zombie Reed and Thanos meddling with his head.

So having done nothing wrong his whole life, never having screwed up with nobody to blame but himself, when Sue dumped him and his whole life fell apart because he put saving the world over his personal desires in Ultimatum? Knowing, thanks to zombie Reed, that there were Reeds out there who got married and had families and kept the Four together despite making mistakes? My headcanon is that's what broke him. Also that's why he made Doom's life hell. 6160 Reed was supposed to live the life 616 Reed got, the kind of life Maker wanted. Instead he lost everything. Why? Because from Maker's point of view, Doom doesn't deserve that kind of happiness. Why should Maker, a Reed who never made mistakes, be the one Reed denied that joy while all the Reeds who are responsible for transforming their friends get to have that?

So Maker took 6160 Reed and gave him the life he thinks Mr. Fantastic should've gotten. 6160 Reed made the mistake of not double checking his notes and lost everything. He ended up with the burnt face and Doom moniker because from Maker's point of view, that is what should have happened to 616 Reed. Maker should be the beloved hero with the fantastic family as befitting a Reed who never made mistakes, not the unworthy Reeds who are fallible. In Maker's mind, 616 Reed should be the one whose Sue rejected him and became a villain. His words in Ultimate Invasion about having thought about what he and 616 Reed would be like if they swapped lives support this.

There's a beautiful symmetry going on here between Maker and Doom. Dooms usually blame Reeds for ruining their lives by sabotaging Doom's experiments. Here is a Doom for whom that belief is valid, and his obsession with Maker completely justified. Except it's himself that he's obsessed with, just as Maker is clearly obsessed with Mr. Fantastic. A grand ouroboros of Reeds chasing after one another. Fitting, for Reeds have always been their own worse enemies.

[skyeslittlecorner]

can you post some photos on chapter five? ive been struggling to get to it and im impatient if ykwim 😭😭

Don't worry anon, I got you covered! Let's break this chapter for three parts - one for story and for one for both H-scenes. There are a lot of things to look forward to~

Warning: HEAVY SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT. In fact, I'll try to shorten the whole thing and focus on plot-relevant facts, so for those who want to go through chapter 5 on their own, come back when you're done! (Or just skip to h-scene, they are marked.)

Ch5 - STORY

First, I would like to warn that my opinion about it may be unpopular. As someone who hadn't paid much attention to Hades before, I fell in love with it after this episode. I adore ch5. A lot of people hate these boys to the core for what they did, and I understand and respect their opinion, but I'm with Hades here. I would love to analyze their behavior in more detail, but we don't have time for that today.

Summarizing this chapter is going to be hard because a lot of things happened. Let's go!

We start by going down a slide sponsored by Leviathan and his Lovecraftian friends (TM). But worry not! It seems we have friends even in the realm of death. Say hello to grandpa!

We talk a little, being in a questionable mood. Well, who wouldn't be? But we have the opportunity to know Solomon better, and I'm getting to understand why all devils love him. By the way, it turns out that we are his last descendant.

Sorry Solomon, you're still a peepaw.

He also advises us not to be afraid of Leviathan and not to be submissive to him, and then in a brilliant way he sends us back to the world of the living. Of course, our beautiful king is delighted.

We take Grandpa's advice to heart and finally stand up to Levi. He's surprised, but he doesn't try to kill us again (for now). We witness him hanging one of his subjects, who dared to ask about an accident from 311 years ago.

Fun fact. Devils must have much stronger spines. Do you know how people used to die by hanging? The first methods involved cutting off oxygen, but later they involved into breaking the cervical spine and this was considered a standard hanging execution. Leviathan must be gentle (how bad it sounds in this context), he could kill instantly with a loop like that.

Back to the point. We find out that we also have a noose around our neck, and Leviathan makes use of it. We're hanging, but we finally begin to meet Leviathan's nobles one by one.

Glasyal plots (and ends up hanging for it), Foras argues with him, along the way we learn that Leviathan needs us in his plan, and, you know, maybe killing us isn't the smartest thing he can do. Only Barbatos realizes that maybe it's a good idea to stop hanging us like wet laundry. He's the only one so openly nice to us.

Remember that.

Another fun fact, our MC is of medium height (~160 cm I guess). Leviathan is 187cm, Foras should be similar. I only noticed this because I myself am 180 cm so they are not so strappingly tall for me.

Foras wants to take us away from Levi and explain everything calmly, but the king does not agree. We learn that the guys know where the seed from the Tree of Knowledge is. We're supposed to go with them, and we have about a 50/50 chance of survival. Also, we have the opportunity to see a very rare phenomenon, a joking Leviathan.

Sweetie.

Colossally shortening the rest, the cavalry arrives! You didn't have to. I haven't had time to fuck them yet.

And this cavalry is very much at odds with the nobles of Hades. Most of the time is them arguing. Fortunately, they didn't kill each other…

...because Barbie decided to kill us.

Barbatos is poisoning us to force Bimet and Valefor to join the plan. While we are unconscious, we have flashes of Leviathan's past, which is too sad to analyze considering that we are about to jump to hot scenes now. Besides, most of us already know what this is about. Experience it for yourself. Really. We also learn that not only angels experimented on children, and a little about Mammon's childhood.

In the end, we learn that in Ch6 we must visit the abandoned laboratory in Tartaros, where the seed from the tree of knowledge should be, because as Solomon's descendants, we may be the only ones who will not be killed by it.

Ch5 - VALEFOR H-SCENE

(I really wanted to post CG from Valefor's scene here, but I don't know if Tumblr will block it.)

TIME FOR DESSERT!

Bimet is the first to realize that we lack devil energy. He wants to take care of it, but Valefor brushes him off, sends him to scout, and overall Bimet is our wingman, what a bro lol

Since we are away from Satan and Gehenna, we cannot summon Minhyeok's room. MC thinks she's outgrown it anyway. So we can count on the next scenes to be more and more creative.

It all starts with us telling Valefor that he reminds us of Mammon. And what a beast it brings out of him.

And he loves it.

...aaand then, someone wants to interrupt. Bimet informs us about this and goes to chase them out. Valefor stands with us at the door to see if anyone else is coming. Yes. Naked. With us. In us.

Fortunately, no one catches us and after the entire session we fall asleep in our knight's arms.

I really would like to do more screenshots, but tumblr is blocked… and there's one more part to come.

Ch5 - LEVIATHAN H-SCENE

At least you look beautiful and the platform won't block you.

And here's what I love the most. It was sick. I'd love to experience it again.

I would love to make a whole post ONLY about this and just leave the screenshots.

We are in Leviathan's office, and he interrogates us when we feel like we are lacking devil energy. We want to go to Bimet, but do you think our jealous king will allow it? Oh no no no. And of course, his hands land on our chin and then our neck. He doesn't like our hickeys.

We start asking him valid questions like "why are you jealous of us if you hate us?" So he silences us with a kiss. A deep, suffocating kiss. This is also how Leviathan discovers that we gain their energy through "intercourse with the devil".

And how can I not fall in love with this idiot.

The conversation that follows gives us some light on his approach to sex and to relationships in general. Which is… sad. It fits him perfectly, but it's sad. And I would also like to analyze this someday, this character is beautiful and how he's written is even more beautiful, especially from writer's point of view. He does not want the admiration of his people or the hatred of angels. The only thing he can believe and consider to be sincere is that someone's dislike. This is something that might actually turn him on.

At first he rules, he asks questions and he hangs us. And he does everything he can to piss us off. He hands us a whip and lowers us down.

Just disliking him isn't enough, and he works diligently to make us hate him. He insults Minhyeok, us, wishes us dead, and the more he sees our anger, the more he gets excited and talks more. He knows that we are connected to Satan and we will know how to release our anger. On him.

He finally got what he wanted. We straddle him and, with the help of Satan's strength, begin to strangle him. Neither you nor he are gentle.

Also, his words (unfortunately, I already have a limit on screenshots). "Do not bite your lips. Bite mine instead." I beg, let me violate him even more.

Compliment from Leviathan, nice. In the end, we fall asleep cuddled up to him, and he has no intention of giving us up to anyone. As in the case of Sitri, he only opens up to us when we are so unconscious that we do not see his softer side.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

AND THATS ALL! What a ride it was, I hope I was a good guide. One day I will go into the Hades boys in more depth, but for now, let this be a shortcut for everyone who is still struggling with ch5.

[guardian-angle22]

Felt like putting together a little themed fic rec list! Here are some coda/missing moment fics for 3.07 Red vs. Blue. If I've missed any, let me know and I can add them to the list! (I also might make edits to these posts to add more fics as they get written. If I ever do so I'll be sure to reblog the post for visibility!)

Enjoy all of our amazing fandom writers and leave them some comments & love!

[Disclaimer: If you're an author and don't like to be tagged or linked for any reason, let me know and I'll remove the tag and make sure not to do so in the future, no questions asked.]

SOFTBALL FOCUSED:

◆ Win or Lose by @heartstringsduet (Words: 8.3K; Rating: E; d/s elements)

What if the softball game ended with nothing but TK receiving his rightful reward for winning? What if Carlos ever so slightly tweaked his plans?

◆ in your corner by @heartstringsduet (Words: 7.1K; Rating: M; d/s elements; part 5 of a series)

Win or lose, Carlos promises to reward TK after the softball game tonight. But all it takes is a single moment to unravel what they’ve built together.

◆ it's hotter than hell where i'm at by @petalwritesx (Words: 1.3K; Rating: M)

“If I would’ve known a softball uniform did this to you,” T.K. says, breathless between kisses, “I would’ve bought one a long time ago.” OR: Before their little award ceremony, Carlos and T.K. have some alone time.

◆ Sex Drive by @welcometololaland (Words: 3.8K; Rating: E)

Carlos has a thing for TK playing softball and TK has a thing for reflective surfaces, apparently. OR A season 3, episode 7 missing scene.

◆ "You love this, don't you?" by @irispurpurea (Words: 403; Rating: T)

Fictober 2022 Day 28. Prompt: “You love this, don’t you?” Missing scene from Red vs. Blue

◆ Gold name and number by @goodways (Words: 3.6K; Rating: E)

“I’m just saying Carlos, it was a simple ‘talk shit, get hit scenario’, the law has no place getting involved,” TK spoke with a tone like he was explaining simple first grade math. “First of all, that’s not true and second of all… no, no I think that’s it.” * Carlos has some feelings about TK in his softball outfit.

◆ Take Me Out to the Ball Game by @chicgeekgirl89 (Words: 1.5K; Rating: T)

He’s seen his boyfriend’s ass in a lot of outfits; his uniform, jeans, slacks, but nothing, nothing tops this. His boyfriend is hot. He’s so fucking hot. Carlos isn’t sure he’s ever seen anything hotter in his entire life.  A follow up fic for 3x07 "Red vs. Blue" in which T.K. wears a new kind of uniform and Carlos likes it. A lot.

◆ your hand under my jacket by @kiras-sunshine (Words: 5.8K; Rating: T)

"You know, I’m grateful you came to watch,” TK hums as he steps into their loft through the door, and immediately turns around to give him one of those wide and brilliant grins, and pokes the peak of Carlos’ cap upwards, “even though it looked like you were trying to be as incognito as possible.

END OF EPISODE FOCUSED or BOTH (TW: discussions of grief/death/dying):

◆ Everest to mariana by @paperstorm

A tag for 3x7, 'Red vs Blue', in which Carlos fulfills a teenaged fantasy and TK gets devastating news.

◆ i can't just bring them back, but darling i can hold your hand by @morganaspendragonss (Words: 2K; Rating: T)

It’s been hours, and TK hasn’t said a word. He hasn’t screamed, or cried, or done anything that Carlos has come to expect from someone who just found out a loved one passed away. He’s just curled up in a ball on the bed, staring blankly at the wall, and that’s where he’s been ever since he walked away from the party like a ghost. * a 3.07 coda/3.08 spec fic

◆ underneath by @kiras-sunshine (Words: 4.2K; Rating: T)

Grief is a powerful thing, and it affects everyone differently, creating unique pain and ache for everyone, and it is always a process, and TK has had his grief only for mere hours. It is still new, growing and invading space in him.

◆ not a victory march by @reyesstrand (Words: 2.8K; Rating: T)

Carlos approaches, still under the assumption that everything is fine because it's supposed to be, and TK feels his eyes start to burn when Carlos asks him to tell his mom he says hi.  Because that's something he's never going to do again.

◆ Surrounded by Love by @bluenet13 (Words: 5.8K; Rating: T)

A look at TK in the days, weeks and months following Gwyn’s passing as he processes his grief with the help of his family and friends. A 3x07 Coda

◆ this weight off your shoulders by @marjansmarwani (Words: 1.9K; Rating: T)

When Andrea Reyes receives a call from her son with terrible news, she makes a promise to a woman she only met once but always felt she knew. A 3x07 Coda

◆ may there be abundant peace by @maxbegone (Words: 2.6K; Rating: N/A)

Carlos sighs. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” “Yeah.” “I’m so sorry.” It warrants no further reply, because at this point Carlos is crying along with him, resting his forehead against his temple and securing his hold even tighter. If he didn’t feel so numb, TK would reciprocate somehow. But this day has been simultaneously a blur and the sharpest image, burned red-hot in his brain. He could relive every single moment in perfect accuracy, he swears. __ An introspective episode coda sometime after the events of 3.07 and 3.08.

◆ No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. by @tkstrrand (4 fic series, Total Words: 13.1K; Rating: G)

TK tries to balance moments of joy with grief/guilt following the months after his mother's passing.

◆ sometimes grief is an open wound - it bleeds and bleeds and bleeds by @morganaspendragonss (Words: 663; Rating: M; TW: Self-harm, Suicidal Thoughts)

His doctor puts him back on his antidepressants and he takes them without complaint, even when sometimes they feel like they’re doing more harm than good. The side effects leave him nauseous for a week, his already unpredictable sleep schedule fucked up beyond repair, but TK dutifully swallows them down every morning, because this means that he’s trying, right? It means that… It means something. It has to.

◆ wrap me up, enfold me by @strandnreyes (Words: 2.3K; Rating: G)

“She’s dead.” Those are the last words he has spoken in at least ten minutes. Now as Carlos sits beside TK on the couch, he isn’t sure what to do. His boyfriend is silent and unmoving, almost hauntingly so, and there’s this vacant look in his eyes that makes him look so unlike himself that it jars Carlos.

◆ Before...And After by @littlemissmarianna (Words: 256; Rating: G)

TK takes a shuddering breath. He doesn’t remember much about last night, except that he was catatonic after the call, then dissolved an hour later into a sobbing, hyperventilating mess. The only reason he didn’t shake apart was because Carlos had held him.

◆ wrapped in a cloak of misery by @pendragonsandbuckleys (Words: 1.1K; Rating: G)

The phone clattered to the ground only seconds before TK’s knees buckled from underneath him. - a 3.07 coda.

◆ silent answers by @blueink3 (Words: 577; Rating: T)

It’s Paul who notices first because of course he does. “She’s dead.” Who clocks the fact that something has gone horrifyingly, catastrophically wrong. “She’s dead.” “Carlos?” Not ‘hey, man’ or ‘you good?’ Not the casual, easy tone Carlos has come to appreciate ever since that night at the club. It’s diffused more than one high pressure situation, but this -  Nothing can fix this. A coda to 3x07.

[maestroofcringe]

< ру версия | eng version >

〔E. Nygma, Private Investigator〕

Case Nᵒ0: Gotham's Sherlock Holmes.

Finally got courage to post it... Sorry if English is bad, not native language. Have a nice time reading!

synopsis: The brilliant mind of Edward Nygma requires action, but he does not intend to return to crime. Then a plan comes to his mind - to become a private detective. Edward is well aware that he may need help. Harvey Dent and Jonathan Crane agree to participate in the case, also unwilling to continue their criminal activities. However, the plan is not going according to plan at all...

Several months have passed since the Riddler's criminal genius was finally recognized as sane. The doctors, who had previously locked him in a cell, inevitably and independently realized their big mistake and admitted that the Riddler is a wonderful person all by themselves. They have never ever been bribed, and he have not been making fake documents, of course.

Despite the fact that Ed didn't need a job due to his fortune he was dying from boredom. He may have left most of his obsessive "dragging Batman into a game" thoughts behind, but his brain still required a challenge. If he doesn't find a way to entertain his mind, he might snap and start throwing riddles around the city again.

However, his genius had not faded. Not at all. And one day, during regular going through his extensive library, he came across a book of Sherlock Holmes. Eureka! This was what he needed! A private detective was perfect for new job! After all, Edward was an ex-cop, ex-cop undoubtedly superior to the Dark Knight in field of deduction and many others.

Therefore Nygma decided to become Gotham's own Sherlock Holmes. Edward figured out what he would need to do to achieve this goal. He came up with three simple steps to begin career of the city's most brilliant detective. The first step was to "prepare the necessary documents", the second was to find a case, and the third was to solve it successfully, getting interviewed as nice promotion and gaining more cases. And then, everything would fall into right place. Starting is always the hardest part, isn't it?

Paperwork...  No, Nygma never liked to do this, which meant he needs some good lawyer, notary, or at least someone who knows enough about it... Precisely! What better lawyer could be than former District Attorney Harvey Dent?  He heard Harvey is "retired". Ed thought he'd probably bored out of his mind, too.  Moreover, Dent is physically much more prepared. And extra guns never hurt.

Edward immediately picked up his phone and found Two-Face's number in contacts. He called him and invited for a drink at their favorite bar. Fortunately, Dent accepted the invitation.

▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢

Half an hour later, Nygma entered the bar where Harvey was waiting for him. He was holding some papers with schemes and explanations. It seemed like he had drawn the whole diagram by hand, with every single detail painted.

Harvey rolled his eyes and chuckled as he asked: "I thought you invited me here to chat, not to lecture me about your new "genius" plan. To be honest, Ed, I've had enough of it and so have you."

"You don't understand, Harv! It's a win-win option. This time I'm sure on one hundred percent, I did the research and, believe me, I thought it all out. The usual. Yet, you didn't even try to hear me! When some stupid coin offers - you agree and go forward it, but as old friend ask you for help, you immediately "quit". And! AND, it's not about crime! The plan is legal, for note. Believe me, you'll regret your refusal if you won't listen to me. Therefore, let me give you a little tip - listen, or rather write it down. Maybe not only half of your brain will start working! Harv, please, don't be an idiot for the next ten minutes and let me explain. I quitted crime, agree, BUT I'm not going to get rid of my mind in order to meet the standards of society!" Edward quickly interrupted Harvey, not letting him get a word in until he finished his tirade by asking," Which one of us is the brain, after all, me or you?"

Harv frowned, not appreciating the "hints" about his past decisions. He took a deep breath, counted to ten and exhaled. Edward had a point, it was worth listening politely, Dent can refuse any time later.

" Well, let's imagine I believe you," he finally said, adding, "Go on, smart-ass."

"Harvey, what do you think about private detectives?" - Edward's smile returned as if he didn't throw a tantrum five seconds ago.

"Seriously, detective? What's the riddle here, Holmes?"

"Right, like Holmes."

"You're kidding, Ed..."

"Please, remember, I'm not the one to joke about important things. What I said doesn't sound a joke, does it? Sooooo," - Nygma wanted to push his friend to the right conclusion.

"It means you being honest. Let's assume that's not some kind of trick. Besides, your "honesty mania", or whatever it's called..." Harvey paused for a moment, trying to recall the exact word, but alas, no other idea came to mind. "Forget it. How does this relate to me?"

"That's a great question, Harv! Good job! I told you the brain would start working. Fpr why I'm here - I need your expertise. You know the law inside and out, being an expert in document management and stuff. You're the real professional, aren't you? You know how to do good work and I need someone I can trust without fear of back-stabbing," Edward seemed almost sincere for a moment, however he quickly hid behind his sarcastic mask and strange sense of humor. " Harv, I'm going to die of boredom or kill someone! Think about it. You wake up in a trap, failing to answer my riddle and getting HEAD OFF! Not that you use it anyway..."

"Come on, Ed. I was just asking." Former DA sighs, thinking about how it could be beneficial for him, after all he wants to help people again. "Ah, screw it! Will do! I agree 50%. Is that a deal, partner?"

"DEAL! It's a deal!" Edward replied, feeling happy about the success awaiting him at the next step. Of course, success always awaited him, because the unrivaled genius of E. Nygma had never let him down. It was rare to see the Riddler in such good spirits, especially after his career ended. Well, there he was, walking down the street with a happy smile on his face. A suspiciously happy smile...

"You have no idea what a great decision you made, Harvey!" He exclaimed as they walked towards the bus stop, where they would split up.

Harvey smiled, but said nothing. He was still unsure of why Nygma was doing this. It's unlikely that he was doing it out of kindness. Moreover, it was also unlikely that Ed had called him only for the sake of working with papers. Harvey knew it was too soon to hide his colt. "I should keep an eye on him," Harvey thought, waving goodbye as he disappeared into the bus. "I promise you, Gilda, I will not let him hurt anyone else. Not after what happened... not ever".

▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢

First step was made. Gotham's own Sherlock Holmes now planning brilliantly solve the case, case waiting for him to be found. No one knew that the case would find them on its own.

[alianoralacanta]

Ahhh I want to kiss your brain. Thank you for that absolutely BRILLIANT analysis, I love your essays :) You are brilliant!

I hesitated in sending this ask because you've explained so much so well already, but you mentioned you're open to clarification 🫣 I hope you don't mind, I was wondering about this part, this especially caught my attention...

Mattia Binotto in 2022 had a problem. His plan was progressing faster than he’d anticipated. Ferrari was supposed to mount its title challenge in 2024, not 2022.

Mattia had not put all the systems in place to support the title bid that he had intended. Instead, he chose to stick to his plan. Keep building systems and manage down expectations.

There were times when it felt like he was favouring Carlos Sainz because his driving was closer to the plan. However, Charles Leclerc appeared to be convinced, from the beginning, that a title fight was on due to Ferrari’s performance level.

Forgive me this might very well be a stupid question but what do you mean by systems that he hadn't placed yet to support the title bid? I read up about the 2022 season around last year since I wasn't actually there to witness it (I became a fan mid-2023), clearly there is a lot more to the picture than I anticipated!

What other systems are there? Was he planning for new recruits to the team, or something different...?

Thank you once again! :)

Warning! Long post alert! (This time it is only a 2-parter) I am so happy that you enjoyed my essay :D The question is a sensible one. Section 1: Defining a system (eventually)

By "Mattia had not put all the systems in place to support the title bid", I meant that the organisation as a whole had still not coalesced into something that consistently gave the same, helpful response when encountering difficulties. The part of this we see most often expressed is in race strategies. When everything goes to plan, Ferrari could and still can execute a race strategy absolutely fine. However, it just takes one unplanned change to break the system. (This may also be why strategy fails happened to Charles Leclerc more often than Carlos Sainz in 2022, for Charles is the one most likely to have discovered something outside the pre-calculated strategic parameters - usually that discovery was good, sometimes it was bad, but the Ferrari strategic team seemed to be just as bad at handling it either way). This specific pattern is often a sign that the right people are in place, with a valid "Plan A" system, but don't yet have systems behind them to adapt. (This is also why Charles Leclerc defended Xavi Marcos Padros so much despite Xavi being linked with many of these errors. There is more detail in Section 9: China 2004 of the original essay about Charles accepting more fractious interaction as problem-solving than might be expected, and in addition both Charles and Xavi probably agreed there were systematic issues behind at least some of the problems we saw). Departments we see less may or may not have had the same problem, though it's realistic to believe they did. Mattia Binotto called Ferrari a "young" team in 2019 because many of its staff had not worked the positions they were in before and were still getting used to the processes and people in those new positions. So, what is a "system" in these contexts? It is how the actions taken within the team fit together to get particular things done. It considers: - the individual components involved - the goal(s) to which they are employed - the nature of the links - and the conditions that make these change When we are told that people have been hired into a team, that is part of the system, but only part. A person is (for the purpose we're considering) the smallest complete component of a system, but different parts of what someone thinks, says and does will interact with different systems in different ways. It is also necessary for a F1 team to do, at minimum, the following for these people: - teach them enough about their new team to let them buy themselves the time needed to do everything else in this list - help them work with their new colleagues - give them a worthwhile and useful task to aim towards - link that goal with the other goals needed to eventually win the title - plan everything out so that things happen in a sequence that makes sense to everyone. This may require putting in/removing intermediate steps, swapping round goals, exchanging less useful goals for better ones, figuring out the carrying capacity (amount of goals can be done simultaneously) of the team and its departments, deciding what counts as "good enough" and having some idea what needs to change if a given goal is at "good enough" rather than "ideal" - or indeed is missed. - making sure all the resources that are needed are in the right place at the right time. - monitoring the situation surrounding the team, its departments and people - knowing when and how to intervene in internal issues - protecting the team from negative external influences where possible - mitigating against harm done by issues from which protection could not be provided. It is not just F1 that is like this. Pretty much every large enterprise is the same way. There is an upper limit as to how many resources people can marshal effectively without this sort of planning, and even small companies often benefit from proportionate planning. I've emphasised "plan everything out" because I this is the part where Mattia Binotto's plan came unstuck.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, Chapter 2

Pairing: Platonic Steven Grant x Reader (for now)

Rating: T

Word count: ~2800

Story Summary: Steven meets a beautiful woman in the Egyptian exhibit at the British Museum...

...Too bad she's his new boss.

Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent since Steven still works for the British Museum post-canon, No Jake Lockley, developing friendship

A/N: Here we are with chapter 2!

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this (or any of my other writing), please let me know!

Title from the song of the same name by The Police.

“...Also, leave room for questions in between exhibits instead of just powering on through -- oh, who am I bloody kidding,” Steven said to himself as he went over his notes in the men’s room before his meetings with Dr. Y/L/N on Friday morning. “I can't do this. I can't. I never should have accepted this position. Is it too late to tell Dr. Y/L/N that I've changed my mind?”

“Hey, no, none of that,” Marc replied in his head. “You're gonna be great.”

Steven caught Marc’s reflection in the mirror. “You really think so?”

Marc nodded. “Your ideas are good. Besides, Dr. Y/L/N wouldn't have given you the job had she not believed you could do it.”

Steven took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Clearly she saw something in me, right?”

“Exactly. Now, go get ‘em.”

Steven squared his shoulders. “Okay, off I go.”

He exited the restroom and headed upstairs to the meeting room, knocking lightly on the door before entering.

He froze as he saw Dr. Y/L/N and the entire Curatorial team already seated. Oh, bollocks. Way to make a first impression. “Sorry, am I late?”

Dr. Y/L/N looked up at him and smiled. “Ah, Steven! No, you're not late at all. Have a seat, I'm glad you could join us.”

Steven sat in an empty seat across from her.

Dr. Y/L/N shuffled some papers in front of her. “Okay, let's get started. First, I'd like to thank you all for making me feel so welcome during my first week as museum director. I know I have some big shoes to fill, but I truly think we have a wonderful team here and I'm looking forward to working with all of you to make the museum's collection the best it possibly can be.

“Second, I'm assuming you all know Steven Grant, who is currently one of our gift shop employees but as of this coming Monday will be our Visitor Engagement Specialist.”

Steven gave a small wave as six pairs of eyes turned towards him. “Er, hello.”

“Steven’s first task as our new VES will be to update the guided tours,” Dr. Y/L/N explained, “so I asked him to sit in on today's meeting so he can include our new artifacts in his planning. Christina, why don't you go ahead and tell us about them.”

Christina, the head of the Curatorial department, cleared her throat. “Yes, well, the Cairo Museum has very generously loaned us the coffin of Akhenaten as well as a rather extensive collection of funerary masks from various ancient Egyptian kings and queens. Steven, I can email the list of who they were made for to you this afternoon.”

Steven nodded. “That sounds brilliant, thanks.”

“We'll have to pull a couple of display cases from the basement to house the masks, but we should be able to fit everything with the rest of the Ancient Egyptian artifacts on the 3rd floor without having to take anything out or move too much around, so that area should only be closed for a few days while we get the new display set up.”

“Excellent.” Dr. Y/L/N made a few notes. “Is there anything else that we would want to add or rearrange in any of the other areas while we're at it, to sort of refresh the rest of the collection?”

“Actually, a member just donated their private collection of first-edition classic British novels,” James, another member of the Curatorial staff, said. “There’s several Dickens, a couple of Austens, and even copies of Dracula and Wuthering Heights .”

Dr. Y/L/N’s eyebrows raised. “Have they been authenticated?”

James shook his head. “Not all of them. We're working on getting that done now.”

“Please let me know as soon as you do. I'd like to have those out on display as soon as possible as well. Anything else?”

Steven cleared his throat. “Er, actually, if I may…”

Dr. Y/L/N turned to him. “Yes, Steven?”

“If I remember correctly, a few years ago there was a lovely collection of Grecian pottery on display, but it was removed and I believe put in storage in order to make room for a statue of Zeus.”

“Oh, I think I know which collection you mean,” Christina replied. “The one that included a scene of Hercules fighting the Nemean lion?”

Steven nodded. “Yeah, that's the one. Do we still have that?”

Christina nodded as well. “Yeah, we still have them.”

“Perhaps we could put those back out?” Steven faltered when there was no immediate response. “Or not, I just thought…”

Christina shook her head. “No… no, you're right. We have the space for them, so there's no point in leaving them in storage.”

“Wonderful idea, Steven,” Dr. Y/L/N added. “Thank you. Any others?”

When no one else offered up any other ideas, she nodded. “Okay then, thank you everyone. I know sometimes things come to people after the fact or they don't feel comfortable sharing in a group setting, so if anyone has any other questions or ideas for sprucing up the displays my door is always open -- unless I'm in a meeting, of course, but in that case feel free to email me.”

As everyone began to stand and file out of the room, she looked over at Steven. “And speaking of meetings, instead of taking up the meeting room with just the two of us, how about you and I meet in my office instead, in say, 5 minutes or so? I need to stop off for some coffee first.”

Steven nodded, starting to get nervous again. Maybe I should brew myself a cup of tea while I'm at it. “Yes, ma’am.”

He headed downstairs to the staff kitchen, where Donna was sitting at a table eating a sandwich.

She glowered at him, but said nothing.

Steven caught Marc's reflection in the microwave. She doesn't look too pleased, Marc said with a smirk.

Steven bit back a smile as he filled the electric kettle with water then turned it on. Yeah, she's barely said two words to me ever since she had to apologize to me on Monday.

God, I wish I had been a fly on the wall for that meeting.

Steven grabbed a to-go cup and chose a tea bag before opening it and setting it in the cup. Me too, actually. It'd have been nice to see Donna get put in her place for once.

I just wish I'd have seen the look on her face when she found out that you were getting promoted to Visitor Engagement Specialist. I'm surprised she didn't quit in protest, especially since it meant she'd actually have to do inventory herself next week instead of pawning it off on you like she always did.

Steven shrugged slightly. I actually didn't really mind doing inventory. The stockroom was always quiet and it made the time pass by.

Once the kettle started boiling Steven poured the water for his tea into his cup and popped a lid on it. Alright, here I go.

He headed back upstairs to Dr. Y/L/N’s office and knocked on the open door. “Dr. Y/L/N?”

Dr. Y/L/N looked up from her computer screen and smiled. “Hi. Come on in.”

She stood and walked behind Steven as he entered, shutting the door behind him. “Have a seat.”

Steven sat in the same chair he had sat in on Monday when Dr. Y/L/N had offered him the VES position.

Dr. Y/L/N sat across from him and reached for a folder. “Alright, before we get started, I have the HR paperwork officially instating you into your new position ready for you to sign.”

She slid it over to him. “You can wait until Monday, of course, but I figured if you signed it today that'd be one less thing you'll have to worry about.”

“Oh, erm…” Steven opened the folder and quickly scanned the documents, still marveling at the massive (to him, anyway) raise that he would be receiving. “I can sign it today. That's not a problem.”

“Fantastic. Here you go then.” Dr. Y/L/N grabbed a pen and handed it to him. “By the way, I've scheduled a meeting with the rest of the Programming staff for first thing Monday morning to formally introduce you as the Visitor Engagement Specialist and to let them know that we'll be modifying the tours.”

Steven nodded and set his cup of tea down before signing the paperwork. “Oh, brilliant. Thanks.” 

“By the way, it was really a great idea to add that pottery collection back to the Ancient Greece display. Your clear knowledge and enthusiasm for history and your attention to details like that is why I know I made the right decision in offering you the Visitor Engagement Specialist position.”

Steven flushed at the praise. “I, er, I took a bit of a wander through each area while I was making notes for our meeting and since I always liked that collection I thought it might bring some fun and excitement to the tours to be able to kind of tell the story depicted on each piece.”

He bit his lip. “I hope I didn't step on any toes by suggesting that though. I know that I was mostly just there to observe.”

Dr. Y/L/N shook her head. “No, I want to see collaboration between departments, especially between Programming and Curatorial. We're all part of the same team and are working together towards the same goal, so don't ever be afraid to make a suggestion.”

She took a sip of her coffee. “Now, what else do you have in mind to improve the tours?”

“Well…” Steven pulled his notebook and a map of the museum out of his messenger bag. “First off, I think we're going about the tours themselves the wrong way.”

He pointed at the map. “Currently, we're starting on the ground floor and working our way up to the fifth, which means when visitors make their way back down after the tour is over they mostly tend to just leave rather than stopping by the gift shop or the bookstore.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “So what do you think we should do?”

Steven moved his finger to the group entrance. “What I suggest is that we have tours meet on level 1 at the group entrance and head up to level 5 whilst whoever is leading the tour gives a general overview of the museum, then we work our way through the collection back down to level 0 and end our tour there with a gentle reminder to check out our gift shop and bookstore.”

Dr. Y/L/N hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Steven was encouraged by Dr. Y/L/N’s positive reception. “Also, I believe we're spending too much time on certain exhibits and not enough time on others. There needs to be a better balance so we're not rushing through the last few exhibits trying to squeeze everything in because we've spent 20 minutes lecturing on the Siege of Lachish.”

Dr. Y/L/N huffed out a laugh. “I agree. I noticed that as well.”

She made a few notes. “Anything else?”

“Just that I also think we should allow time for a few questions about the collection while we're in each area rather than wait until the end of the tour. Again, we frequently run out of time so there's usually not even a chance for visitors to ask questions anyway, or if there is time we've thrown so much information at them that they've likely forgotten what it is they wanted to ask.”

Dr. Y/L/N made another note. “Absolutely. These are all really great ideas, Steven. Think you can implement them into a sample tour for me?”

Steven nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I can have  something put together by Monday if you'd like. It won't include the new exhibits, of course, but it'll at least give you an idea of the direction I want to take the tours and give me a chance to retool them if necessary.”

“That would be wonderful.” Dr. Y/L/N reached for her coffee and took a sip. “By the way, how are things downstairs? Donna isn't still speaking disrespectfully to you, is she?”

Steven shook his head. “No, ma'am. Actually, she hasn't said much of anything at all to me since Monday.”

Dr. Y/L/N sighed. “Okay. I'll talk to her again.”

“No!” Steven cleared his throat. “Er, no. No, that's quite alright. I’d actually prefer it that way. Besides, it's not like I'll have to deal with her on a daily basis after today anyway, innit?”

Dr. Y/L/N took a sip of her coffee. “Regardless, I really am sorry that you’ve had to endure such treatment, especially for so long. No one should ever be spoken to with such blatant disrespect, especially by their supervisor.” 

Steven nodded. “I appreciate that.”

“If Donna does ever speak to you like that again, please let me know.”

“I will.” Steven bit his lip. “If there's nothing else, I er, I should probably get back to the gift shop. Technically I'm still a clerk until Sunday.”

Dr. Y/L/N looked chagrined. “Oh my goodness, you're absolutely right. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn't have asked you to do anything pertaining to your new position just yet since you haven't officially started.”

Oh, bollocks, Steven thought. She thinks I'm complaining. “It's nothing like that, ma'am, it's just that I'm sure you're busy and I don't want to bother you by hovering, that's all.”

“Oh.” Dr. Y/L/N shook her head with a smile. “No, you're not bothering me at all. Most of what I've been doing all week is reading over museum policies and procedures and meeting with the board of trustees and various benefactors, so it's actually been nice to get a little break from that and talk to someone who actually works here.”

Ask her how she likes being here so far, Marc said in Steven's head.

Steven cleared his throat. “How has your first week as Director been otherwise?”

“It's been good. A lot to jump into, of course, but you and the rest of the staff have been incredibly kind and welcoming.” Dr. Y/L/N paused. “I wasn't quite sure how the staff would react to me, especially with me not being British.”

Steven shrugged. “Well, it's like you said, we're a team, right? That includes our team leader, no matter where you're from. Your qualifications speak for themselves.”

Dr. Y/L/N shot him a small smile. “I really appreciate that, thank you.”

Her office phone rang. “Sorry, one second.”

Steven waited as she pressed a button on the phone. “Yes?”

“Dr. Y/L/N, the Chairman from the Board of Trustees is on hold for you,” Helen, Dr. Y/L/N’s executive assistant, said through the speaker.

“Okay, one minute. I'm wrapping up a meeting.” Dr. Y/L/N sighed and picked up the receiver before covering the mouthpiece with her hand. “I'm sorry, Steven, I have to take this. If you happen to think of anything else you want to add to the tours or if you have any other questions or concerns, please let me know.”

“I will.” Steven put his notebook and map of the museum back in his messenger bag and stood. 

He picked up his cup of tea. “Want me to close your door on my way out?”

Dr. Y/L/N shook her head. “No, you can leave it open. Thank you.”

Steven stood and started to walk towards the door.

“Oh, Steven?” Dr. Y/L/N called out. “One more thing.”

Steven stopped and turned back around. “Yes, ma'am?”

“If I don't see you again before you leave today… have a nice weekend.”

Steven smiled. “You too, ma'am. See you on Monday.”

I told you she'd like your ideas, Marc said as Steven headed out of Dr. Y/L/N’s office. 

I really think I'm going to enjoy working with her, Steven replied. She seems really open to collaboration. 

Yeah, she seems great. 

Steven arrived at the elevator and pressed the button to go down. Maybe we can come back on Sunday when I'm off and do a trial run of the tour so I can double-check the timing. I want to be as prepared as I possibly can be.

I'm sure you'll impress the hell out of her.  

Steven waited for the elevator to arrive, then stepped on and pressed the button for level 0 . He had to admit that he not only wanted to impress Dr. Y/L/N professionally, but he also wanted to impress her personally as well. I certainly hope so.

[that-ari-blogger]

We're Talking About Cacti (The Valley Of The Lost)

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is a tragedy of inevitability and psychology. It’s a story about how cycles of the same behaviours can lead to ruts and create problems.

A key mechanic of the storytelling is how every character’s greatest strength is also their greatest weakness. It’s a story in which characters cause their own misfortune.

However, the series is also a story about breaking those cycles, about recovering from trauma and redeeming oneself. I say it’s a tragedy because it functions remarkably efficiently as one, but the term doesn’t really apply too well in practice. Most notably, the series has a happy ending. The cycle gets broken.

My coverage of the fourth season of this series is going to focus in on individual characters and discuss how their development as people interacts with the themes, and perhaps no side character relates to the themes as well as Perfuma.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Percy Jackson)

When I wrote my post on No Princess Left Behind, I discussed almost every character within that episode. Almost.

I discussed how Bow’s top down, tactical approach prevents him from noticing the minutia and lets him get blindsided twice in the one mission, and I mentioned that Glimmer’s stubbornness causes the events of that episode, but also lets her be the first person to actually get the jump on Shadow Weaver. I also discussed Adora’s rapid internalisation and Mermista’s pragmatism.

But I left out Perfuma.

Mostly, this was because I wanted to dedicate an entire post to her, and here we are.

By the model established, Perfuma’s greatest strength and weakness is her unflinching moral framework, and I want to clarify that I don’t mean being a good person is worthy of scorn, I mean that Perfuma has one way of looking at and interacting with the world, and she is not very good at adapting.

This is a phenomenal way of getting across emotion. The objective is missing, and therefore so is everything else in this shot. The scale of the characters serves to show off the sheer scale of the empty space and to create that feeling of pointlessness.

This is a brilliant trait in the larger scale of the war with the horde, where, after the first season, she never backs down from a challenge if it’s the right thing to do. When threats are issued and everyone else is running low, Perfuma is the one person who never budges.

The flaw here is funky. Perfuma cannot improvise, she operates by a plan and prepared responses, so when people surprise her, what does she do?

Mermista’s emotional distance is part of the buddy cop dynamic she and Perfuma have, in which they are both convinced they are the straight man to the other’s antics, which is fun. But a lot of that dynamic is frustration. Perfuma is an extrovert, Mermista is not. Perfuma tries to be outgoing, and Mermista pushes back because it makes her uncomfortable.

It’s a dynamic that doesn’t go anywhere until Perfuma learns that people are complicated, much like plants.

You will notice that this flaw is not inherently moral, and here’s where that gets tricky. Because you are right, social awkwardness is not an ethical dilemma, but Perfuma doesn’t know that. Perfuma believes that not being able to find common ground with someone is a moral failing and, because she can’t achieve that with Mermista, she views herself as a failure.

The cycle is repeated with Huntara. Where Mermista was distant, is actively antagonistic, Huntara pushes back in a pricklier manner, and Perfuma doesn’t know what to do.

Even the shape language of these characters is different. Perfuma is all wavy lines, making her seem approachable and non-dangerous, while everything about Huntara is angular, even the spiky collar. The only exception is that tattoo on the side of her head, implying a softness that you have to go through the prickles to find.

Which brings me to the cactus.

I love the little joke about Bow assuming there’s a double meaning and Perfuma being straight to the point, and I think it works as a storytelling concept too. Because we're not talking about the problem, we're talking about Perfuma's approach to solving it.

I’ve always been a bit confused by Perfuma’s magic.

Magic is the bluntest form of plot device you can find; it always exacerbates the themes of the story. For example, the Percy Jackson series is about family and generational legacy, so the magic is handed down and unavoidable. Characters are saddled with magical abilities that sometimes work perfectly, but other times backfire, cause problems, or come with side effects that can’t be avoided. The characters have to actively deal with who their parents are at all times.

She-Ra features a personal magic system, where each character has individual abilities that mirror their personality or, in this case, their stories. Adora escapes trauma by putting on a brave face and being useful, so she has She-Ra, a mask she can wear that is useful enough to make her feel better.

Perfuma has plants, which don’t really match her vibe at all. Plants are varied and versatile, with all kinds of weird and wonderful variations that can survive almost anything. I live in Australia, where half the flora can only grow after being set on fire, and the other half has put the idea of “the best defence is a good offence” to its logical extreme. Perfuma, as I keep saying, is about as far from this as you can get. She is many things, but versatile is not one of them.

Yet.

“They're the one plant I can't control or keep alive, and everyone says they're so easy, but you still have to water them, and I always under-water then over-water and I…”

Cacti are living things, so they do need sustenance to survive, but they are also stupidly resilient. It takes great skill and effort to kill a cactus.

Let’s apply Perfuma’s approach to cactus growing to the rest of her life. Because while she isn’t directly talking about Huntara, she’s been approaching both the same way, and that’s what’s been causing the trouble.

Every plant needs water, but usually they need different amounts of it. There’s also the thing of soil acidity, but I’m not exactly expecting Perfuma to turn around and go “the PH of this desert is all wrong!”

Similarly, people have different levels of comfortability with situations and other people. You can overwater someone by being too overbearing, kind as you may be, some people want space.

Can we talk about how strong Adora is to pull Huntara around the corner like a ragdoll? Turns out there's some power to her normal form as well as her magical one.

The moral here is really simple, back off. Right?

Well, no. People and plants cannot survive on their own, without care. If you step away from someone and withhold aid, they are going to dry themselves out and get hurt. If you don’t water a plant, it will have no food and die.

The trick is finding a safe middle ground between the two extremes and understanding that not being able to follow your plan doesn’t mean you are a moral failure. It means engaging with someone on their own terms.

It’s notable that Perfuma spends most of the series surrounded by flowers, which are pretty, but brittle and high maintenance, and her kingdom is similarly the type of place that she can lead with a more hands on approach. But some people and plants need her to relax just a bit, and those are the ones that tend to be able to support her in turn.

But I mentioned the breaking of cycles, and that’s where we are now. If Perfuma continues on the path she is on, she will repeatedly be unable to connect with those in her life who she will need to rely on later on down the line, but she will also destroy her self-esteem because, as has been mentioned, she has tied her morality to her one-size-fits-all problem solving.

Perfuma was talking about the cactus, but she applies the lesson she learned about that to her interactions with Huntara and later on Mermista, so that when things go wrong, the two can lean on each other better than almost any other pair in the group.

Perfuma breaks the cycle of her own behaviour, and becomes the rock that everyone else can orient themselves around, along with maybe Bow.

I did want to mention one of Perfuma’s early lines and contrast it with the introduction of everyone’s favourite Enby, Double Trouble.

“I'm really trying to be zen about this, but if I'm being honest, and I always try to speak my truth, I just don't get cacti! They're just so rough and unfriendly!”

It's interesting that Perfuma used the phrase “my truth”, because it recontextualises her honesty as honesty of opinion, and I’m calling apple sauce.

Perfuma is always putting on a façade of overcompensating friendliness that she doesn’t ever break, at least not until this episode. I’m not saying she isn’t friendly; I’m saying she uses it to cover up her own emotions because she has a set response to any problem, and that doesn’t involve her being anything other than the happy-go-lucky.

Catra has pieced together that Double Trouble is a shapeshifter already by the time of this shot. She is scared when she sees herself. There are so many readings of this little action, from the idea that Catra is scared of herself, to scared of losing control, and a ton more.

That idea of masks and walls that people put up to defend themselves is a core theme of the series, and one that I am still trying to relate to my thesis, but it is called attention to directly by Double Trouble.

“Of course, we all wear costumes.”

PROTECT THEM AT ALL COSTS

Double Trouble is a character who weaponizes their empathy. I want to devote an entire post to them at some point, but for now, I will say this: Acting is about empathising, you become someone else by understanding them and their emotions. If this is a fake character you are making up, that’s all well and good, but if you want to impersonate someone, you need to learn how they think.

Double Trouble understands people better than those people understand themselves at times. I wonder if that will be important.

Final Thoughts

One thing that I feel the need to mention is the head cannon that Perfuma is trans. I fully ascribe to this, theory, despite the fact that it isn’t actually in the text of the series. I think it’s a really cool detail, but I am not trans myself, and so I cannot be considered the expert on this. Let me know what you think in the replies.

I also really like the animation of this episode. I don’t know if I would quite call it a step up from the show, there is one shot in particular that is jarringly janky, but I do find the expressiveness of the faces and the key frames rather visually pleasing.

Next week, I will be discussing Fluterina, and how Etheria itself functions as a setting. So, stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[daveyfvckingjacobs]

https://www.tumblr.com/daveyfvckingjacobs/747669470228676608/alan-and-robin-edwin-and-violet-maud-and-jack?source=share

pls explain i love this hc but wgy i want to hear your thoughts

-maudlover1123

original post for context here!!

I can absolutely explain because I’ve thought about this quite a lot so!! I will now become an unskippable dialogue option

alan and robin as the solider:

aside from robin’s genuine ability and willingness to be the fists if needed they’re - in their own heads - the pawns. the ones who are able to be sacrificed if needs must for a greater good (see robin threatening his own life to protect maud and alan’s sin eater beliefs). the oftentimes simple, dirty brute force, the soldiers following orders (both willingly and not) to get what needs to be done done for others, oftentimes heedless of themselves. in the vein of unwillingness is also the sentiment of alan being a soldier in how his hand is forced, very truly a pawn for the wrong side against his will but mostly focusing on the positives of it. “who carries a mighty sword” in how indispensable they are even if they’re less on the side of planning or brains

edwin and violet as the poet:

this is the most metaphorical, in being poets both in terms of brains, and of words and actions in general. violet’s feverish intensity, her theatrics and fluidity of her magic alongside edwin’s theories and whip smart intelligence: to me those are forms of poetry, in a sort of metaphysical way. they have their own form of arsenal that isn’t (usually) violent but is just as brilliant and useful. the way edwin experiments with magic, violet too a little: “he will slay you with his tongue”, having a reliance on something more precise and delicate alongside the significance of the arts and literature to them both

maud and jack as the king/ruler:

maud’s army. that’s it that’s the thinking. jack starts it as a sardonic comment but it becomes quite literal: she’s the leader on the lyric, a surprisingly brilliant, optimistic and uplifting force who holds everything together and practically forces them to stay on track. jack is also pretty self explanatory: an officer veteran, still shaking off a lingering army mindset, the one with a grim knowledge of reality and the ability to properly shepherd everyone in the right direction. he’s also a lord - authority comes naturally to him and always has, because why wouldn’t it when everyone else bends over backwards for him. they’re the leaders in different ways, but leaders nonetheless: the ones who are looked too first for options, ironically and not