#unbeholdenness

[legionofpotatoes]

remedy games director sam lake: got my quantum break actor back for alan wake so I will name his character.. tim breaker :) from when he broke the tim <3 only real fans will know xoxo

[regicidal-defenestration]

One thing about China Miéville is that he loves a city

[niksrpgs]

#TheUnbeholden #novel for #VampireTheMasquerade is now ON SALE! #ttrpg #worldofdarkness #originalprint #outofprint #whitewolf #NiksRPGs

[ashes2caches]

no i don’t have a ‘degradation’ fetish. the trans woman spitting on me and calling me a loser is doing so as a fellow proletarian wholly unbeholden of the wider class structure.

[gee0man]

Independent lancer, call sign Cover Girl. Piloting SSC Monarch [G] Type registered "Watch Your Step". No name given. No known piloting record prior to mercenary career.

Since she technically appears in official material, unlike my other OCs, I'll refrain from the usual OC lore dump. I don't think anything about her would run contrary to Lancer's setting or values, but I like the idea of the Lancer cover girl being kinda mysterious. A nameless mercenary unbeholden to anyone. Fighting on her own terms for her own ideals. Can you tell I really like Armored Core?

[constanthaunt]

things that ive decided need explored extensively: gale not pulling the trigger on that kid

Gale doesn’t pull the trigger on the kid. 

He nearly tells John about it back in England, right after the war ends. He’s standing on the grass and watching John swing kids up into a fort where Lemmons is waiting for them, warning them not to touch nothing. John moves easily, unbeholden to the last few years that damn well nearly killed them. Sometimes Gale feels wrong when the wind changes, like he’s being tossed up in the back of a train again, heading for something he doesn’t know. 

Crossing the runway, he heads for John. A jeep beeps at him as it nearly hits him, but it’s John that yells after them, telling them to watch it. 

“Major,” he says, face settling into a smile as he crouches to lift the last of the kids into the fort. 

From below, Gale can hear them running around, touching everything. Kids. John yells up after them this time, threatening to can them all up for the Japanese. Gale tries scolding him through a laugh, but his head and hand is shaking, sending an aimless slap to his chest with the backs of his knuckles. 

It’s only then that he thinks about saying it, hey, Bucky, back in the woods, there were these kids, but then John’s hooking an arm around his neck, leading him towards his own jeep parked up in the grass. He takes the passenger seat. John’s got his thighs spread so wide either side of the wheel that they’re encroaching on his space. Gale shifts his a little more to let their knees touch, something quiet under the sound of John telling him he found something out about Croz that he wouldn’t believe. 

Gale’s believed every goddamn word he’s ever said, so he doubts it very much.

[acatnamedafteradog]

Treasure Tier Patreon reward for Unbeholden and Purplelemon

By Yasmil on furaffinity and bluesky

Follow or support them on patreon

[dearmyloveleys]

;-; i just wanted to say ty for all your posts in the fof tag. now i'm thinking about ying lei and his yeye ying zhao... and now there is no one left to guard the mountain, but ying lei died in the same way as ying zhao, saving people he cares about

Don’t mention it! I blorb too much about things I really like it embarrasses me at times. I’m just glad you like my takes!! Anyway:

😭😭😭😭 this drama exists to hurt us,, I think more than dying for people he cares about (because nearly everyone who died did that), Ying Lei's characterisation and death provides a unique but tragic pov within the main cast

Ying Lei my poor Ying Lei. We don’t really talk too much about him don’t we. So let’s just talk all about him. CHARACTER ANALYSIS TIME YAY

Ying Lei is unadulterated sunshine and has a good heart. Morally, he is on the same page as the rest of the team. Yet, it absolutely breaks my heart that his fate is to be an outsider within the thematic concern of choice in FoF and resultingly, in the narrative.

His place in the overarching thematic concerns of FoF is unclear when we first meet him - he is simply a wandering half mountain god half demon with a bright disposition. But as with many characters in FoF, their appearances aren't just for naught. Ying Lei's representative theme - the freedom of choice and the ability to choose one's identity - finally shows itself in one of the most beautifully written (am biased) episodes of the series, Episode 17, which is all about choice.

In this episode, Ying Lei vents his displeasure of the Wilderness towards grandpa Ying Zhao

"I hate this place. I hate the Wilderness. It's so bleak and desolate. (…) If I have to stay here forever, I'd rather die. (…) I like the mortal world. I like everything that is vibrant and lively."

To which grandpa Ying Zhao gives him his blessing to head to the Mortal Realm,

"…as your grandfather, I respect your decision. You can be a Mountain God or an ordinary person."

His next sentence cements the plight of many demons (and humans) we encounter in the story,

"For many demons in the Wilderness, their lifelong dream is just three simple words… Have a choice."

These three words all the more juxtaposes Ying Lei's freedom to choose his identity, against every other character who faces this fate of not having a choice.

The Lie Demon, unable to say her true feelings until her moment of death, and Fei, who shares similar sentiments as Ying Lei about the mortal world,

"I'm a beast of calamity, I don't deserve to live in the mortal world. But I really like the bright lights, the liveliness and happiness, and the prosperity here." (Ep 13)

And Zhao Yuanzhou, where even in the same Episode 17, echoes Ying Lei's words,

"If this world gave me life to be manipulated by malicious energy, then I'd rather die."

Same words, but a different way out. Or there isn't one at all.

Ying Lei is the only one whose fate hasn't been carved out in stone for him. Even after Ying Zhao's death, he is still able to leave Kunlun Mountain and rejoin the team because he has the support of other Mountain Gods watching over the temple. He is by no means a pampered and spoiled person but he swims in a wealth of freedom. His bubbly, charming and affectionate personality is a physical manifestation of his unburdened self, unbeholden to any ending, except for the one that he wants.

And yet, he chooses a life with the group of people who never have had the option to choose what and who they want to be. Wen Xiao, the Baize Goddess; Zhao Yuanzhao, the vessel of malicious energy; Bai Jiu, determined to bring his mother back; Pei Sijing, the forced breadwinner of her family's martial heritage. To show his determination to be with this group, he never again dons the mature get-up (full sleeved robes and long hair) - his representation of maturing and accepting his responsibility as a Mountain God - after returning back to the Mortal Realm. Rather, he dons the get-up he first roamed the Mortal Realm with (or similar), metaphorically putting aside all that celestial burden in exchange for the friends that he desires. Just who in the group can as easily shed their very roots and history? His precious freedom to choose ironically makes him the outsider in a group whose only wishes are to be able to choose.

He gets along with the team, but no matter how many times he ties the knot of fate around them, these people were never his fate to begin with. Fate found the rest of them and demanded they be bound. Ying Lei wrestles that rope of fate, trying to get in, albeit with rejection. The narrative demonstrates this:

The team was initially formed without him, and he joined later them of his own accord - his own choice - while the others literally were forced to sign a death contract to be together. In the later episodes, his affection for Bai Jiu is often overshadowed by Bai Jiu's respect for Zhuo Yichen. He also continually tries to get both Bai Jiu and Zhuo Yichen's approval - head pats, anyone? Zhao Yuanzhou doesn't trust him to look after the dragon scale. In their conversation with Bing Yi, their team count is five, instead of six. His closest companions within the team are each other's confidants.

Even at his very end, the narrative still denies him a fate with them. He dies for Bai Jiu who is the only person he loves wholly, and fades away before Bai Jiu wakes from his coma. Neither gets to say goodbye. Bai Jiu who genuinely mourns his death, dies for Yichen. In a story where the cyclical nature of fate runs deep, there is no thread of fate that leads back to him. There is no resolution or reciprocation for Ying Lei's soul and sacrifice. Every thread is cut and never retied, no matter how he tries. Siheng has Sijing left to remember him. Yichen keeps Baijiu close to his heart. Wen Xiao and Yichen wait for Zhao Yuanzhou to return. But no one truly reminisces Ying Lei. The only people to do that are dead.

Ying Lei's tragedy lies in his freedom to choose. In a world where most fate is predetermined and choice is a scarcity, his death is all the more painful as every act is a conscious choice toward an unknown end. He carries a burden after all - the burden of writing his own story. And he braved each step with that brilliant smile of his.

我爱这个世界更多 又如何 So what if I love this world even more? 越平凡越长久 The more ordinary it is, the longer it lasts 月亮跟着我���头 The moon nods along with me 简简单单入梦的人最温柔 Those who step into dreams simply are the gentlest 分不清眼泪和酒 真让人挠头 This inability to distinguish between tears and wine, really makes one scratch their head 月亮和小狗默默跟我走 The moon and a puppy walk with me in silence 岁月从不停留 Time never stops once 少年也不回头 This youth also never turns back 他把故乡和爱留在身后 He leaves behind both his hometown and love

- 英雄不磊落 (Heroes Are Not Upright) | Ying Lei's Theme

[artbyblastweave]

Inside Job is I think the only show I've seen in the last five years that managed to take a swing at 80s nostalgia without feeling like it was doing so from within the 80s nostalgia complex. I mean it was at times swing and miss but it felt less beholden to the nostalgia-industrial complex than a lot of things in that sphere, or at least as unbeholden as anything Produced In A Context (tm) can be

[sky-kiss]

Raphael/Haarlep: Potential

A/N: Just wanted to do some early days exploration.

R/H: Potential:

Shall they say there are moments of peace? 

Haarlep doesn't know. Peace is the antithesis of their being. They are chaos—it is their blood, marrow, flesh. And so they cannot say there is peace so much as there is…a lull. If an ocean's waves crest, they must also fall. 

There are days when they sit in the dip, neither at the arc's apex nor rising—they are cradled in the storm's eye.  

It should be contentious; some days it is—Haarlep's brat is not the easiest ward. Raphael's temperament veers towards vanity and arrogance, not unlike his father before him. The difference lies in his mortality and his youth. In the earliest days, in those first few years when Mephistopheles sends him to the House, and the boy-king is still seeking to establish his merit, they feud. Raphael reads while Haarlep sucks him off. Days pass where not a dozen words pass between them. 

Haarlep is forced to peddle his juvenile outbursts to Mephistopheles instead of proper information. They're badly beaten for their insolence, threatened, etc. Haarlep hates, but that is not unsurprising. Hate is familiar; hate does not preclude lust. 

Raphael tips his head to the side when Haarlep returns; the incubus' lovely skin is mangled beyond the telling, mottled, bruised, and eaten away by Hellfire. They hiss when they settle in the healing pool, submerging themself to the chin. 

"Such is the price of your service," their brat says, head held high. "These are the wages your master pays, slave."

Haarlep wants to snap at him, every fiber of their body aching. It is beyond even them. "Slave is a fine word for it, lordling." The incubus smiles with teeth. "I suspect you know something of the Cold Lord's attention? How many years did you spend in his dungeons, dearest?" 

Raphael's eyes flare brilliant gold. The lines of his face are softer than his sire's. In truth, Haarlep prefers them. "Be silent, wretch." 

And so it goes, goes, goes, for so many years. Raphael clutches at scraps; Haarlep absorbs their beatings. A divided House. 

"It cannot stand," Raphael mutters, voice drowsy with sleep. He's always softer after, borderline agreeable. The cambion trails fingers down Haarlep's spine, skin still sweat-soaked, lovely. His tongue flicks out to wet the seam of his lips, eyes lulling shut. 

Haarlep smooths hair back from his forehead. "You quite like the sound of your voice—say more." 

"The House." Raphael sighed, shifting under their weight. "Mephistopheles will destroy us."

"He need not." The words are surprisingly soft. In truth, Haarlep barely knows why they say them. They only care that the House is comfortable. And Raphael is…tolerable, nearly saintly by the standards of Hell and the Abyss. "You have proven…capable." 

Their brat chuckles. "You sing such high praises." Raphael frowns. "I am not too proud to seek an accord between us." 

Their initial instinct is to poke, prod, and tease because he is too proud. Haarlep drags the tips of the claws across his cheek instead. No, no, they will not tease. They've worn a slave's collar too long—sold from the Abyss, sold to the House, traded, traded, undervalued. And there is a degree of vengefulness and distaste, like bile. Haarlep's vanity is offended. 

"Shall we speak plainly?"

Haarlep kisses the corner of his mouth. "If you like." 

"I will see him dead." 

Raphael doesn't say who—doesn't need to. It hangs between them like a song. Haarlep shivers. The incubus rocks their hips against their brat, eyes lulling shut—pleasure, low and hot. "Yes."

"I will be king." 

The voice in their head laughs at this—a cambion will never sit as king. But there is an intoxicating sweetness, a whisper of potential, and what if. What if the boy-king killed him? What if he gained power? What if Haarlep was not beholden to the Lord of Contradictions? What if, what if?

It's potential. It tastes like the Abyss, evolution unbeholden to the Hells' rigid power structure. Haarlep groans against his lips, meaning the words. "Tell us how."

And they are pretty tales, childish, but they have merit. 

Haarlep keeps them. They are not for the Cold Lord. 

They have potential.

Haarlep thrives on potential, violence, lust—everything that is not of the Hells. And as much as his brat will rail against it…Raphael is not of the Hells. Not truly. Not entirely. Raphael is potential. 

And how sweet that tastes. Sweeter than the lordlings' breathy cries as Haarlep takes him, sweeter than the arms around them, sweeter than the violent peak of their pleasure. It speaks of an alliance, of evolution, of growth. 

And Haarlep welcomes its potential.

[feverdreamsandlucidnightmares]

I keep thinking about moral vs ethical authorities and actions in the Trigun animes. I hope this ramble about it makes sense.

I think most of us will agree that morality is perfectly capable of secular development and is unbeholden to religion in general, though religions can certainly serve as a moral authority and inform specifics. But they are not, or at least not the only, source of morals.

And while ethics and morals are often used as synonyms, they do actually have different meanings. The short version is that ethics are the rules and standards of a social system/culture/etc and morals determine what a person individually thinks is wrong or right. Often, people’s morals and ethics follow the same principles and authorities. They don’t have to, though.

Functionally, let’s say that ethical choices are social goods, and thus social authorities are the ethical authorities within a given society or culture. Much like laws and power structures are meant to protect and benefit the people they govern, a social or common good is something that benefits the largest number of people within a society. In Trigun, these authorities include the Bernardelli Insurance Society (in a limited capacity), the JuLai/July military police, the Eye of Michael, and (notably, but discretely) Millions Knives.

There’s plenty of speculation on and textual implication within Trigun Stampede that Knives and Conrad having their hands in a lot of JuLai’s governance and polices. This is where the moral value of the ethical systems in place becomes questionable.

There are a lot of implications to unpack within an ethical system potentially developed and controlled by a genocidal semi-immortal being using it as a shadow government. The abridged, most important point is that there is no reason for Knives to be a part of a system that allows humans to flourish, build community, and grow. There is every reason for him to convince/allow everyone to think that he is.

A social good is one with the support of those in authority. It has no innate moral value. Laws and orders from unjust governments do not absolve anyone of the weight of their actions. But they determine who is punished.

So, the Eye. The church of No Man’s Land. A social authority for people in Hopeland, at least to some extent. Enough so that the orphanage cannot stop the Eye from taking its children. And Windmill Village to a much larger extent. So much so that its people volunteer their children as sacrifices. And it’s implied to have a much wider reach than just that. The Eye of Michael is a cult that preys upon the planet’s most desperate. Rollo - sick and poor and unlucky. Blessed. Made new, made whole (everything down to his emotions tampered with). Monev the Gale. Wolfwood and Livio - orphans and poor. Wolfwood, the handpicked Child of Blessing. The perfect candidate to be a child soldier. Nicholas the Punisher. Livio, the volunteer. The good and faithful brother follower. Livio the Double Fang. The other Gung-Ho-Guns. Dominique the Cyclops, Midvalley the Hornfreak, Rai-Dei the Blade, E. G. Mine, Leonof the Puppet-Master, Hoppered the Gauntlet, Caine the Longshot — volunteers? Desperate people doing desperate things? Or violent people playing at divine intervention? Social authorities in their own right, in the sense that they can do what they want without repercussions from the masses. They answer to Legato, to Knives, not to the traditional governments of No Man’s Land.

And Legato has been desperate. He would kill almost anyone before suffering that again. He would die to escape it, too. Life holds so little meaning to him. The end is near and he is both hierophant and harbinger. He lays no claim to justice, only ruin, but it’s all in Knives’ name.

Knives, who plays god. Who puts a bounty on his brother’s head to drive him back to him. All that power, he gets to determine what is wrong or right and people can either agree or die. It’s easy to see where his morals fail, but there isn’t a higher power to enact justice. So, he has the authority, what goods does he perform with it?

It’s also important to note that Zazie does not perform moral or social goods. Zazie serves themself, for their own betterment. And this is not a moral failing because applying human morals to a multi-consciousness conglomerated hivemind controlled collective of bugs can’t make sense. Zazie is all of the wams on No Man’s Land. All of their collective experiences in the species’ existence. All of their lives, all of their loss. It’s all Zazie. And Zazie believes that the needs of the many (themself in all their facets) outweigh the needs of the interlocutor few (humanity, Plants). Tentatively willing to coexist and adapt, unwilling to accept their own destruction. Allies or enemies. They work with Knives until it no longer benefits them. Very utilitarian.

Nonetheless, the Eye of Michael and its chosen crusaders, its sychophants, its priests are a definitive social and tentative moral authority within No Man’s Land. So, who can tell Conrad that he is performing anything other than a social good by doing his experiments? He claims he’s trying to save humanity and the only authority over him wants humanity dead. A flawed system. The Gung-Ho-Guns perform social goods by killing whoever they are sent to exterminate. This, of course, includes Vash without regard to whoever might be caught in the crossfire. Vash, who unwittingly takes the blame for his brother over and over. Vash, who has a bounty placed on his head by his brother and his misguided puppet government. Vash, who is being mocked and chided, his bounty the same as the cost of a new Plant. Vash, the Humanoid Typhoon, legally an act of God, the first “human” natural disaster. Destruction in his wake.

Wolfwood performs a social good by betraying Vash. He has the authority to justify his actions through his ordainment.

And Wolfwood performs a moral good by saving Meryl. It’s the first unilaterally moral good he performs in Trigun Stampede. That’s important. The thing about Wolfwood is that he knows the difference between moral and social goods. He knows whatever values he’d like to act on don’t align with his orders, but there’s always other lives at stake. Wolfwood doesn’t kill because he’s particularly bloodthirsty. He’s pragmatic. Other people have to die to keep the orphanage safe. An unfortunate, but necessary cost that he’s willing to pay. Until he isn’t anymore. Monsters don’t need morals, but if Vash can afford them maybe he can, too.

And normal, everyday people perform social goods, too, by trying to stop bank robbers and bandits and the Nebraska Family. And Vash. Those are ethical decisions, stopping criminals threatening your home is ethical. You just have to remember who determines who the criminals are and why.

Your moral and ethical authorities, ideally, should be in alignment. This is not a utopia, so they aren’t. And these random people living on the planet he forced them onto are continuously subjected to the so-called social good of Knives enacting his divine plan in order to force Vash’s hand. They are a necessary sacrifice for his greater good. The greater good that is Knives’ Eden, that is a world remade in his image. Vash remade in his image.

[wizardnaturalist]

the thing about tawny man is that by the end, fitz was So Ready to finally accept his love for beloved, to at last and for the first time lean into his own truth and believe it for what it was, only for beloved to reject him just as he was turning the corner

and beloved didnt mean to!! they didnt think they were rejecting fitz, they thought they were saving him. what they saw was fitz once again attempting to mold himself into the shape that one he cares about might find acceptable, the same thing he did for burrich, for chade, for verity. and beloved would rather have no relationship at all than one where they knew that fitz was lying both to them and to himself the whole time

beloved thought if they left, then fitz would finally be free to be himself, unbeholden to expectations, but instead, they just showed fitz that his openness and vulnerability earned him nothing but pain

[sugarandice3]

Mold terrifies me.

It appears everywhere, yet comes from nowhere.

The sense of failure and shame that creeps in when it's found growing in those forgotten places.

Sickness and rot.

Lasting illness that roots itself deep into the body, never to let go until the source is eradicated. Did you cough this much before? When will this runny nose end? This chronic fatigue haunts you, like the memory of the thing that you found infesting your home.

A molds touch lives on and on and on and on.

Mysterious, unknown, unseen.

Lifeless.

Thief of life and ruler of decay.

Mold, neither animal nor plant; unbeholden to the laws that govern either.

I don't fear the dark or death or decay. I don't fear sickness or shame.

I fear the unknowable, not the concept but the thing.

Mold.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

okay so for the ask game: Astarion. any questions, not sure if you wanted us to specify a specific one from the list or not sorry 👉👈

The ask game was for shipping but I'll play with this!

Who do I ship him with: Astarion has a lot of in-game flirtation with Wyll, and I think they'd actually do quite well together in a Spawn ending, as well as extremely tragically in an Ascended ending, where Wyll would have been trying to give him everything he wants only to have to become the Monster Hunter who takes him down in the end. Chefs kiss.

I also love Karlach/Astarion. Astarion joining her in Avernus where he never has to fear the sun again. Karlach never being alone again. They compliment each other in many other ways as well, and they highly respect each other in game. She is so proud of him, and he treats her with a gentle sort of love and kindness that he doesn't show to any other companion in canon (reference: if you ask to date them both at the same time, astarions dialogue is so loving toward karlach and her needs)

I do not think astarion and Laezel are good for one another but I haven't had anyone convince me yet. Even though they sleep together, I can't see the chemistry. She uses him as a service and he provides and imthe it fizzles.

I DO think Halsin and Astarion would be good *stepping stone* partners. I've written drabbels on this before. I love them as the kind of partners unbeholden to each other, who come together and separate sometimes for years at a time. I do not see them as true love that settles down and lives together forever.

I do not ship Bloodweave but I am no hater, I've reblogged great art about it and I've read some fics, I just can't understand on a deep level where they'd /genuinely love each other as people/. I do like the dialogue in Act 3 where Gale says he'd join Astarions hedonistic little party if he threw one. I think these two have good enemies to annoyed to friends dynamic

Shadowheart and Astarion I see respected friends only I see no chemistry, personally. Again, not a hater tho

I shop Jaheira and Astarion as Step Mom and Step Idiot

[dwollsadventures]

Shisa (Medieval)

A variety of domesticated lions found among the cities of the east. The logic behind their creation goes like this: cats are known for being able to see spirits and demons invisible to human eyes. People want protection from those beings, but house cats aren't exactly suitable for the task. So take the same animal, scale it up to proper demon-fighting size, and you get the shisa (otherwise known as komainu, shisi, or singha). Shisa are bred to protect human settlements from unclean spiritual forces and regular ol’ monsters. They spend long periods of time standing still at gates, waiting and watching. A fully grown shisa is larger than a normal lion, able to tackle ogres, wild dragons, and giant centipedes. Their bites are also capable of making contact with spiritual matter. Towns keep at least a pair for safety, and rich families may have their own shisa kennels as a sign of status. Despite their ferocity in the face of monsters, shisa are perfectly placid around humans. Some let them watch after wayward children. For some reason, the domestication process has led to a shortening of their snout and a curliness around the mane. People often mistake them for a type of dog if they don't look close enough. 

-Habitat: Adjacent to human habitats. 

-Slayer Tips: Feral shisa unbeholden to humans are a danger to all. Bring along dogs bred to hunt lions if possible. --

Not the proudest of the artwork here. The idea was to portray the animal which would inspire Chinese guardian lions. At first I tried more outlandish colors, but it didn't look good at all. I might revisit this one day after doing so more studies on statues.

[inhuman-obey-me]

👼w/ lucifer, no mc

"I can’t seem to forget the halo that I used to see." - Lucifer

cw: alcohol, Nightbringer season 1 spoilers

The amber liquid in Lucifer's glass smells dark and sweet.

He's had it a few times before, at the demon prince's invitation, but it's still a bit strange to him, this thing called Demonus. It's not like the ambrosial sweetness of what he used to drink in the Celestial Realm, honey-bright and delicate as flower petals in the wind. That had been airy and full of light, tasting of sunbeams on the trees from which the fruits were picked to make it.

Demonus, however, is something completely different. Actually, he's surprised to find he likes it. It's rich and heady, with a spiciness that lingers on his palate long after each sip. Indulgent, sweet not like honey but like sin. A hint of noxious brimstone burns at the back of his throat as he drinks, rising like a burst of sulfurous smoke directly into his nostrils. It leaves a slow trail of fire through him as it goes down, like lava running down the side of a volcano.

Each sip is an inescapable reminder of where he is now -- of what he is now. Of what they all are, now.

It's not that Lucifer regrets the war. Regrets losing, perhaps -- of course, since no one starts a conflict like that with the intent to fail. But even losing, on its own, would have been fine. There's a sense of freedom to his new life, here in the Devildom. He can say and do whatever he likes, unbeholden to his Father. Here, the insistent, nagging doubts swirling in his mind every day have stopped, no longer screaming to be heard, no longer screaming to be spoken. He had finally spoken them. He had fought for them. And if it only involved him, he would make the same decision a thousand times over again.

But it didn't. It wasn't only him. And now, he's not the only one paying for it.

His brothers had made the choice to follow him, and for that, he is grateful. He is grateful, every single day, not to have landed here alone. But they had followed him because they'd believed in him. His rebellion failing was one thing. What he really can't stand is that he failed them.

Lucifer sighs into his glass as Raphael's declaration from earlier that day rings in his head again -- "The Celestial Gates are open to the six of you, that you may pass through once more."

He won't return; now that he's tasted this freedom, he knows he'll never be satisfied in the Celestial Realm again. But, the others...

Maybe Raphael is right. Maybe his brothers should go. Even if it means leaving him and Satan behind, maybe it's for the best. Maybe it's true -- the wings at their backs should be white. Even now, he can't seem to forget the halos that he used to see over each of their heads.

It's his fault those halos don't shine over them anymore. It's his fault they've become horns instead. It's his fault they aren't angels anymore, and he doesn't want it to be his fault that they stay that way. They won't like leaving him, but who is he to ask them to stay?

It was his war. It was his failure. It should be his punishment to bear. Alone.