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inhuman-obey-me · 8 months

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Collab pair piece for Barbatos’s birthday 2023!

Art by Mod Cosmos

Writing by Mod Chaos

Arrhythmia

Can also be read on ao3 here Word count: 10.7k Description: Time, with all its endless possibilities and unknowable branches, is infinite. Yet, certain patterns exist. Some things are fated. And for Barbatos, master of time and space, the heartbeat of fate underlying each strand of time is the constant. This is what time is. This is what time means. Infinite timelines, branching and collapsing, splitting and merging, to the end of time. Until you. You were not part of fate -- not that familiar pulse of passing time he knew so well. You weren't, until suddenly, you were.

Prologue

"I desperately needed to obtain your power to control time, Barbatos..." "I was surprised you'd come to me with such a foolish request, considering you are known as 'Solomon the Wise.'" "But that was before I had my over-the-top nickname, wasn't it? No one called me that yet..." "Indeed. But I knew that people would start calling you that in the near future, you see. Just like I knew that the two of us would eventually forge a pact."

Barbatos has never felt uncertain before.

A demon who has existed since the dawn of time, who controls the very fabric of time, he has seen all of the universe that there was to see.

You see, time, with all its endless possibilities and unknowable branches, is infinite. It is, truly. Yet, certain patterns exist. Some things are fated -- Lucifer's rebellion, the brothers' fall, King Solomon the Wise. These are destiny; these are inevitable.

And for Barbatos, master of time and space, the heartbeat of fate underlying each strand of time is the constant. This is what time is. This is what time means. Infinite timelines, branching and collapsing, splitting and merging, to the end of the universe. A heartbeat, steady and reliable, ever marching on, constant as his own.

Until you.

You were not part of fate -- not that familiar pulse of passing time he knew so well. He knew there were timelines where you would meet, yes. "Your" timeline, of course -- the one you know so well. Others as well. In some, "you" were a witch already; you weren't quite so powerless upon your arrival in the Devildom. In others, you came later, not in the first year of RAD's exchange program but further along, when relations between the realms had progressed more already. In others still, it was never you at all, but some other descendant of Lilith who had landed at Lucifer's feet that fateful day, when the second human exchange student was chosen.

These were the universes he knew existed. Infinite, innumerable -- and, ultimately, irrelevant. The future would march on, with or without you, and he would continue going about his life with Lord Diavolo. Fate would be fate, and those were the things that mattered.

Until you.

Knowing you would meet was different from actually meeting you. And meeting you, changed everything.

Meeting You

The first time he sees you, it barely even registers. He is present, of course, as his liege welcomes you and explains the exchange program to you. He oversees the brothers' introductions, notes the alarm on your face as you come to understand what your life is going to be for the next year. It's rather delicious actually, for the more primal of his demonic instincts, seeing the confusion and mild fear in your expression.

But a certain sorcerer has also just arrived in the Devildom, and Barbatos is a bit preoccupied with trying to determine just how much of a problem Solomon is going to be in this timeline.

The Witty Sorcerer is a constant. The immortal human king with whom Barbatos shares a pact is always a thread woven into his fate. He always decides to become a protector of humanity, and always comes to the conclusion that he must forge pacts with as many demons as he can, in order to gain enough power to hold his ground against the greater powers of the Devildom and the Celestial Realm. The exact demons and particulars of the pacts vary; some always fall for his tricks, while others cross his path by happenstance. Barbatos, for one, is never tricked into a pact but always simply accepts that he is meant to have one, for he has foreseen it countless times. Solomon almost always lands at 72 by this point, however -- that part is not quite exact from timeline to timeline, but also too close to be coincidence.

You catch the butler's attention just once that day, as Lucifer explains the struggle of humans' souls and demons' temptations -- it is then that Barbatos notices how your soul, hardly polished at all yet, nonetheless has a sparkle unlike any he's seen in a very long time. One he hasn't encountered, in fact, since he first met Solomon.

How fascinating.

That same sorcerer in question, however, leaves him little time to ponder the matter further, as his attention is quickly forced to the first of many troublesome texts he will receive from the inhabitants of Purgatory Hall this year.

"Hello, Barbatos. apppologies for the mail, buT I'M NOT VEry familiaR wit h Dev ldom cuisine yet.. Is the kitcHEn meant To Flood with pu ripple bubbles when 1 cooks here? SIGNED, SIMEON"

At that, he makes a motion towards Lord Diavolo to be excused and quickly takes his leave to handle the situation.

And he takes no further notice of you for a while, nor you of him.

The next time Barbatos sees you, it's only a few short weeks later, and yet already, you've been quickly gaining quite the reputation.

He can soon see why, too.

You just had to cause chaos in the Demon Lord's Castle, didn't you? You couldn't just quietly complete your field trip with everyone, no. You just had to get yourself dragged into the depths of the castle's underground labyrinth -- and not just once, but twice.

Some version of you, cleverer, more cautious, never falls down there the second time. Other versions never make it out. Sometimes, the others notice your absence quickly enough for Barbatos to open a portal and retrieve you in time. Not always. And Asmodeus is fickle with his attentions -- as is Solomon, even if he pretends not to be. It's by lucky chance in this time that you see how to wield Asmodeus's powers that day, and luckier still that Solomon happens to lend you his magic that night.

"Just interested to see what they'll do with it," the sorcerer smiles, with that annoyingly blithe false innocuousness, when his pact-mate comes to inquire. "Aren't you interested, Barbatos?"

"No, I am not," he answers flatly. "My interest is only for all members chosen for Lord Diavolo's exchange program to have a successful and productive year here in the Devildom."

Solomon's pleasant expression drops just slightly; he gives the demon a very directed look. "Chosen by whom, Barbatos? I don't believe they were given a choice to come here like I was. I'm just...evening the playing field a little for the night. Surely it shouldn't hurt any chances of cooperation between the realms for a defenseless, magicless human to have a little bit of power for one evening?"

A tense smile, oh so familiar to the sorcerer, settles upon the demon's lips. "Of course not."

Barbatos leaves it at that, satisfied in any case that he sees you alive the next morning. A mild curiosity is piqued when he hears Asmodeus gushing about the fascinating, incredible power he felt from you the night before -- greater even than that of the famed sorcerer in their midst? That's odd, normally such strength would be more significant across timelines.

But he dismisses it quickly. Odd as it may be, in the vast breadth of the possibilities of time, if it's not significant, then that's that. It won't ultimately matter. In the endlessness of time, very little ultimately matters. The things that do pulse on as familiarly to him as his own heartbeat.

So he moves on.

"...Okay then, look into that for me, Barbatos."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Depending on how things turn out, it's possible we'll have the answers to all of our questions soon enough."

"Well, it would seem they've arrived."

"Yes, and even earlier than we thought."

The group of brothers, along with the human staying in their home, crowds into the room, Lucifer at their helm. "Diavolo, I want to talk to you."

The prince is unfazed; he and Barbatos had of course expected this when they'd taken Belphegor away. "Well hello, Lucifer. And yes, I assumed as much when I saw you at the door."

"What do we have here? Has the entire family come along today? So, you've all come along as a moving show of support and brotherly love, then?" the butler quips, before his gaze lands harshly on you. "Hmm...but it would appear that one among your number neither qualifies as a relative nor a demon."

Beelzebub stands protectively beside you. "That's right, they aren't a demon, nor are we related...but that doesn't mean we can't be on the same side. Isn't that right?"

You nod determinedly beside him. "You bet it is!"

Lord Diavolo examines you for a moment as the Avatar of Gluttony beams at your answer. "I see. Well, you may be a human, but it would seem you've found a home for yourself here in the Devildom. I have to say, I find that comforting."

The demon prince turns his attention back to the eldest of the brothers. "Now then, Lucifer, how about we hear what you have to say."

Barbatos's gaze lingers on you, however, remaining silent through the back and forth unfolding between the others. You aren't paying attention to him, of course, focused on the discussion over getting the family their seventh back. But he's spoken already with Lord Diavolo about this whole matter, and knows already what his master's decision is going to be. What you are going to do, on the other hand...

"Okay. I'll go alone."

There's that sparkle again. Just like Solomon's soul used to have.

Fated or not, there is something fascinating about you.

Even if this is just one thread of time, just one way for this all to play out, it is unusual. There's no such thing as an aberration in time, only variations that ultimately end up in the same inevitable places. The butterfly effect only flutters so far. Always.

And yet, something about you throws him off, just a bit.

You follow him out of the room, oblivious. It's your first conversation with him alone, even if it's not his first time seeing a conversation with you. "Did you know all of this was going to happen?"

He chuckles at the question. "Imagine for a moment what it would be like to know everything that will happen from now until the end of time."

Yes, imagine knowing everything -- as he does. Barbatos, demon with power over time. Barbatos, who can see anything, any timeline, past, present, and future.

"Why, nothing could possibly be more boring, wouldn't you agree?"

Barbatos, who has seen everything.

Barbatos, who has stopped looking. Barbatos, who uses his powers only for Lord Diavolo now.

"Which is precisely why I find it so very interesting and refreshing to have the chance to take a human like you into my room."

His pulse ticks just a little bit faster as he turns around to face you, opening the door behind him to usher you inside.

Why?

"All right, we've arrived. Please, come in."

He doesn't understand it yet, but there's just...something. Something about you. Something that makes the steady expectation of what comes next feel just a bit off-kilter around you.

Like you're inevitable. Even though he knows you aren't.

He knows this. He knows everything. He has seen everything.

Hasn't he?

He explains the rules and workings of time travel to you, emphasizing to you the consequences of breaking these rules -- "You run the risk of warping history."

You nod back to him, and he wishes you safe travels as he escorts you through the correct door.

And as you walk through, he feels it again. It's not just the sparkle of your soul. It's something more. Something else.

Something uncertain.

Something strange is happening in his room, Barbatos notes as he works, pulling various threads of time to his will.

He bends the timelines together, wrapping them into a single line.

You exist there, and there. This he knew. And yet, without his even touching them yet, there too does he find you. And there, and there.

He opens door after door, searching for each time you inhabit -- and in all doors, there you are.

Where have the others gone?

They existed once. There were other strands, other doors, other yous which were not you at all.

And yet, despite knowing this, despite knowing they should exist -- door after door, there you are.

You are only a human. You have no powers of your own. He has confirmed this -- you may have the blood of Lilith in you, but the power was never yours. And even Lilith could not exert her will over time.

That is his domain, and his alone.

So this shouldn't be. There's no reason for it. You shouldn't be everywhere.

And yet, there you are.

Everywhere. Always.

The brothers are all crowded over you, fighting over who gets to sit next to you. But there's a worry on your face, an insistent concern resting unsteadily on your lower lip.

"Is something the matter?" Barbatos inquires, though he has a sense already of what's on your mind. It has, after all, been on his too.

"Do you think I've warped history?"

Though all eyes are on you, yours are focused solely back upon the butler.

A nagging alarm tugs at the back of his mind with the same question -- have you warped history? Or more to the point, have you warped time?

But he knows that isn't what you're asking about. Not the same way.

"Ah...I take it you're worried about the other 'you' disappearing earlier?" He smiles lightly, explanation readied. "I know I told you that I have the power to see both the past and the future, but the truth is that there's one more secret -- something I still haven't mentioned."

Everyone's gaze shifts to him, their worlds decidedly rocked enough for a single day. None of the brothers are sure what new revelation he's about to unveil, and they're all on edge for it.

Still, his attention remains locked on you as he explains.

"You see, I have the power to select from any number of different potential realities and make any of them into the sole reality. With the various potential realities, there are an infinite number of 'you'..." He pauses, scanning your face for a reaction, but your expression is just as clouded and blank as it had been. He continues, "In the sole reality I chose, the one and only 'you' is the one right here. That's why the previous one disappeared while you remained."

Infinite realities. A "sole" reality.

It's a power he hasn't used in a very, very long time. One he doesn't especially care for, at his disposal though it may be -- what use is it to select these events that don't ultimately matter?

Fate is fate. Time is time. The inevitable is inevitable, and infinity continues moving. Some things simply are fated.

And now, so are you.

He searches your face for recognition. Do you even understand what he's just said?

But there is none. Of course not. No one here does, except him. He is the only one who knows what was fated. Naturally, then, he is the only one who understands what was not. And, with that, the only one who realizes the consequences of what this implies.

Still, the rest of the room stares on in silence, stunned at his nonchalant explanation.

Asmodeus is the first to pipe up. "You know, I notice how you sort of smiled as you said all that, but...um..."

"As far as abilities go, that's a pretty powerful one to have, don't you think?" Satan finishes.

"The Legend of Barbatos: Most Powerful of All Beings..." Levi chimes in, staring with awe.

Though Barbatos's smile remains steady on his face, something murmuring in his chest disagrees. He doesn't feel like the most powerful.

He feels off-balance. And now he knows why.

"Did you know all of this was going to happen?"

No. No, he did not.

An Ambiguous Fate

A great rumbling shakes the ground, the very earth moving erratically beneath them.

Barbatos leaps to attention, ready in an instant and immediately at Lord Diavolo's side. The prince nods at him, worry written all over his face in the form of a single, solemn acknowledgement. There is no time to lose.

It takes a short while to locate the epicenter of the quake, but once they do, they are at the mausoleum within moments, with the aid of a quick portal.

The damage is apparent immediately. Stone shards of fallen statues and broken coffins litter the ground, while gravestones and placards all across the cemetery floor have been flung askew from the force. And worst of all, the Demon Kings' Tomb rests deep at the bottom of a great crater, collapsed.

Barbatos inhales sharply, as the prince resolutely inspects the scene.

Between the two of them, easily two of the most powerful demons in the realm, they are of course capable of repairing the damage. But the greater issue here is the cause -- or more to the point, their lack of information thereof.

Earthquakes like this may simply occur in the human realm due to nature, but they're quite a bit different in the Devildom. They don't just happen, not to this scale. And they generally tend to be a bit more magical in nature.

But magic alone isn't enough to explain something this big. Magic is steeped into all the land of the Devildom, of course, but not to this extent. Even amongst demons, very few have this kind of raw power. And no such demon in existence would dare inflict such force upon the resting place of the realm's former kings.

"Let us record as much of the damage as we can, Barbatos," Lord Diavolo instructs seriously, and his butler nods, getting straight to work.

They comb across the space together, noting down every bit of destruction they encounter. It's soon apparent that most of it is aftereffects and collateral damage; the real impact was to the Demon Kings' Tomb, right at the center. And that too shows certain strange signs of what exactly had happened.

Though they initially treated it as a strangely powerful earthquake, it becomes quickly clear that's not the case at all. No, the ground did not simply shake, nor did it rend apart beneath the tomb -- it's as though the earth below had disappeared altogether. There are no signs of the ground shifting around the tomb at all, in fact, only the smattering of dirt laying atop its crumbled ceiling, loosed from the walls of the surrounding pit by the structure's fall. Nor were the walls toppled as one might have expected from shaking of the ground; instead, they appeared cracked from the bottoms upward, as though they had dropped straight down so that the impact had spiderwebbed up from their bases.

It's unlike anything Barbatos has ever seen -- in the past or future. And he has a suspicion as to why. A very unsettling suspicion.

His chest tightens, disquiet at the thought. He'd expected some changes to the future, yes; that was a given, after what he'd encountered in his room those few months ago. But something this powerful? This destructive?

"Well. That's rather troubling, wouldn't you agree, Barbatos?" Lord Diavolo murmurs, drawing his attention back to the situation at hand. "I suppose there's nothing more we can do for now but repair it, however. Shall we?"

"I suppose we shall," Barbatos nods at him, face set in a grimace.

Together, they combine their magic to restore the monument to its former condition, along with the rest of the graveyard -- the butler rewinding the state of things to a prior time, the prince lending his power to solidify that state back into the present.

They make sure to jot down any final observations before they leave, then return to the castle.

Lord Diavolo is about to leave when Barbatos stops him, "Young Master, before you return to your office, may I have a word?"

There's an uncharacteristic reticence in his voice, a hesitation the prince doesn't typically hear from his butler. He's always encouraged the other to voice his thoughts and opinions freely, regardless of their roles as master and servant. "Of course, Barbatos. What is it?"

"I believe I have an idea as to what was behind this. Though I can't quite yet explain why."

The crown prince's brows knit as the butler explains his theory, as well as the earlier abnormality. "And you're certain about that, Barbatos?"

"I am not. But I had never seen anything like it before. And what happened today was...unexpected. I can only assume that they may be connected."

"I see. Then, let me know if you determine anything more, please."

But without proof or explanation, there's nothing to do about it. For now, at least.

It's a bleak omen indeed when even the most powerful sorcerer ever to exist looks troubled by the problem he's been presented with.

"This is bad...really bad. It took something major to make the entire side of the cliff collapse like this," Solomon frowns, eyebrows knit as he appraises the damage. "I can't see the bottom from here..."

"This is the primeval forest," Barbatos explains. "As the name suggests, it's said that this forest has been here since the time of the Devildom's birth."

"It's hard to believe that such an enormous landslide could happen here in this forest. It truly is unheard of," Lord Diavolo agrees.

"First there was the incident at the Demon King's tomb a few days ago, and now this landslide...it would seem the effect is getting worse," Barbatos murmurs.

"Yes...which is worrisome."

Barbatos doesn't need to be told to worry.

Another unexpected blast of magic, another rippling burst of destruction in its wake. Another key Devildom location, suddenly in ruins. His chest feels tight more often than not lately, seeing your cheerful grin at play rehearsals juxtaposed with these grim, shocking scenes.

It's almost definitely because of you. And all the while, you have no idea. You're just going about your life, the same as ever.

"I hate to say it, but this isn't something I can handle on my own. Actually it's not just that I can't handle it. I doubt the Devildom itself can handle this on its own," Solomon says.

The Witty Sorcerer, living up to his name, had pieced it together almost as quickly as Barbatos himself had. But unlike the butler, his primary concern was not fate, or time, or what destined events had now been thrown asunder.

The immortal sorcerer was, almost touchingly, most concerned about you.

Well, that's not exactly correct. Of course, he's concerned first and foremost about humanity. But as a human, well, humanity includes you, and as the likely cause behind these recent events, he has been threateningly insistent that neither side make any moves to harm you.

Not that the Devildom's prince would, anyway; though his top priority is naturally on keeping the Devildom safe and stable, harming the human he'd brought for his exchange program would be very much against his ideals.

But still, this destruction is, as Solomon said, worrisome. They cannot simply ignore it.

The demon prince and former human king discuss, going back and forth about involving Simeon and the Celestial Realm. There seems little choice, begrudging and frustrated as Lord Diavolo may feel about it -- and for good reason, considering how their last interaction went.

"Young Master, what do you suggest we do about Lucifer and his brothers?" Barbatos inquires, piping up once the matter has been settled.

The prince grimaces. "That's the big question, yes...I'd like to avoid straining my relationship with Lucifer any more than I already have."

The other two nod seriously. Lucifer had been infamously loyal to him after the fall, and they'd become very close friends over the centuries as well, but the events of the previous year, between his fallout with Belphegor and the resulting months of lying right to Lord Diavolo's face, had been stressful for them both. And although the matter had since been resolved, they hadn't yet quite found their way back to that old amicability.

Lucifer had never kept secrets from him before. And now, Lord Diavolo was finding himself doing the same. He didn't like it.

"But even so..." He takes a long pause, eyes looking almost pleadingly towards Barbatos, as if begging him for answers. But the butler can only return his gaze, equally unsure of the right thing to do now. "...I think we should keep this from him just a little longer."

Solomon inhales sharply, then releases it in a deep breath, considering. "Are you sure that's the right thing to do?"

"No, it's a very bad thing to do...and I'm well aware of that," the prince sighs. "But...until we have proof that they are the original source of all this...I don't want him knowing about it."

Proof, yes -- something solid, something beyond the gnawing, restless noise of Barbatos's heart. Evidence to confirm his worst anxieties, beyond simply knowing that what he once knew to be true no longer is. He needs to calm down. It isn't the end of the world not to know what's coming next.

Is it?

Barbatos nods obediently, forcing his own reservations away. He will put his trust in Lord Diavolo. He wouldn't have chosen to serve him if his judgments weren't sound. He has faith in his prince -- he must.

"As you wish, Young Master."

Solomon looks wordlessly between them, letting his troubled silence hang in the air.

This is a mistake, and he knows it. And he knows Barbatos knows it too. But the butler avoids meeting his gaze.

Lord Diavolo, kind and judicious ruler as he is, is the one Barbatos has chosen to devote his life to, is the closest friend Barbatos has ever had. But it is the eyes of King Solomon the Wise who can see through him.

And he does not wish to be seen through. Not now, with all these anxieties weighing so heavily on him. The weight of all that he knows -- and all that he doesn't, for once.

"You said you would always be on his side. I'm asking whether you're really prepared to keep that promise."

"Of course," comes the answer, unquestioningly firm and so unperturbed that he doesn't even glance up from his work.

"I wonder..."

Barbatos fixes a sharp stare upon the eldest of the demon brothers, who finally sets his pen down and narrows his eyes. "What is it you're getting at?"

Barbatos's expression remains unchanged as he thinks on how to formulate his words. If Lucifer could only convince him of his conviction of loyalty to the prince, perhaps these worries in his mind could be laid to rest. But whether the former angel realizes it himself or not, he has been changing. If Barbatos's suspicions are correct, Lord Diavolo will need the Lucifer's aid very soon. And unfortunately, he's no longer certain that such aid will be so easily given.

Unfortunately, he's no longer certain of a lot of things recently.

"If taking the Young Master's side meant hurting those closest to you, would you still do it?" the butler asks more pointedly. When Lucifer doesn't respond immediately, he continues, "If it really came down to that, I wonder if you could bring yourself to take his side...I imagine the old you really would be on his side always, just as you said. But is the new you capable of something like that? You're more gentle now than you used to be. You even exude a certain kindness...and love."

Lucifer only glares back suspiciously, anxious but unsure what exactly Barbatos is trying to say. Even after all these centuries working together, Diavolo's exceedingly loyal steward has never been an easy one to read.

"There was a time when you were known as 'the morning star,' and admired by all. People claimed that just a glimpse of your bright white wings and ruby red eyes could take one's breath away...now you've begun to slowly revert back to the way you were then. You've changed," Barbatos continues, a hint of something almost like an accusation in his voice. "And it started when the human first arrived."

He sees Lucifer's breath catch for a second at the mention of you, just a tiny pause, imperceptible to anyone else. The Devildom prince's right-hand man isn't known for giving away his weaknesses so easily. But then, Barbatos would not be the same prince's ever-present steward if he were not also sharp enough to notice.

He's seen how the former angel looks at you, and how he rushes home from their often late-running work more frequently these days, muttering excuses of needing to get back for dinner with his family. He's always loved his family, of course; Barbatos knows that. But this new affection, how he's been with you, it's...different. More unpredictable. More volatile.

His pulse quickens, voice steady despite his anxiety as he reaches his point. "But for the Young Master, and for the Devildom...is that really for the better?"

If Lucifer would only deny it. If he would only argue that any changes in this past year have been minor, that he's as loyal to Lord Diavolo as ever. For Barbatos, ever smiling, ever calm, full of steady reassurances that they are on the right path -- well, the demon with control over time itself could really use some reassurance himself right now. He would really like for Lucifer to tell him that he's wrong. For him to say that Barbatos is overreacting, or has misread things, or that everything is fine.

But he doesn't. He doesn't even try to. Instead, he's quiet, struggling with what the butler has just suggested. "Are you saying that there will come a day when I have to choose between them and my brothers on one side, and Diavolo on the other?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that's definitely going to happen, but..." Barbatos trails off, his chest feeling tight. It's not quite fear, or so he tells himself.

But if the strength of your sway has been powerful enough to throw the future into this degree of disarray...if your presence, your influence, has been so strong even to pull Lucifer from fate...

Barbatos forces the rising dread away, out of his voice, out of his mind. "The possibility exists that you really will be forced to make a choice like that someday. I thought perhaps it was in your best interest to be prepared for such an event...that's all I'm trying to say."

Now that he's said this much, however, Lucifer begins to rise from his chair with alarm. "So, does that mean that--"

"I'm afraid I've said a bit more than I should," Barbatos interrupts, before the other demon can finish the question. "I apologize for disturbing you...I know you're busy. Have a pleasant evening, Lucifer."

With that, he hurries out of the room without a single glance back to the former morning star, who is left to settle uneasily back into his seat.

Future, Anew

"They will need to sever the pacts. It's that, or the Ring of Light may be able to contain it...but it's been lost to history, as you know, so it's not really an option," Solomon explains. "It's going to be tough on the brothers, and...I'm sure they'll be upset as well. But it's the only way."

The sorcerer's expression is solemn, but there's a relief in his face. He has never liked showing weakness around his demonic companions, but for the past few weeks, his stress has been clear to everyone. Now it's finally been lifted.

There is a way. A way to fix things. A way that won't involve you getting hurt.

In an odd sense, Barbatos is relieved too. Severing the pacts -- as Solomon said, it's going to be hard on you and the brothers. But it's a way to end this. A way to stop the power you have, a way to undo all of the damage.

If that's the case, perhaps this has all been something like a bad dream. All of these recent events, twisting time into new shapes and leaving the future unknown to him -- perhaps they would simply stop. The power you have over it could simply be released. You would leave the Devildom, your connections broken, and he'll never have to worry about you again.

Then, fate could be set right again. Fate could be fate again. Familiar, comforting, consistent.

That's what he wants...he thinks.

He thinks so.

And yet...

There's something about the way you smiled so cheerfully after your exams. How brightly your face lifted after the stress, the relief and delight reaching to the very corners of your eyes as you heard the results. Something so honest and innocent -- while he can hardly remember ever being either of those things. It sticks to him, burbling its way to the front of his mind just once in a while, a couple times a day.

He'll never see that on you again after this. He'll never see you again after this.

But it's for the best. Everything can be set right again. Fate can resume its course at last.

Yes, that's what matters -- fate. The security of it, the preservation of it. Everything else...doesn't matter. It's all inconsequential, in the end. You weren't meant to matter, and after this, you wouldn't again. And that is fine. It is how it is meant to be.

Barbatos tells himself this, as a deep sorrow presses heavily upon his chest.

He feels it before he hears about it -- balances shifting, the future in flux.

You'd had the dagger in hand. Things had almost turned out tragically. But Barbatos can tell the instant it all comes crashing to a stop.

It's a good thing, the ideal outcome -- Lucifer alive, his memories restored, you unharmed, your pacts intact, and your power under control so that the realms are now safe. And in some way, without even looking, Barbatos can feel that things have settled. A change in fate -- but it is stable again.

So why does his heart still speed up every time he looks at you?

The question plagues him as he moves about the party, irresistibly drawn towards watching you drift from demon to demon, all of them clamoring for your attention. Even Lord Diavolo seems thoroughly enamored with you recently.

Is that what he is, too? Enamored? Is that why?

You catch him watching you once, mid-spin as you're dancing with Leviathan -- deep orbs of chartreuse that seem to drink in the light around them without reflecting any back. For that split second, you feel like there's something almost hypnotic about them, like you could slip right into that darkness and never find your way out. You're not even sure you'd want to.

For that one tiny moment, he can feel it in his chest -- he wouldn't want you to either.

But then, before you know it, the third brother whirls you back around, and you're laughing, and dancing, and having a good time in the present again. Not only the brothers in fact, but even Solomon and the angels too, are passing you back and forth amongst themselves, asking for dance after dance, and it's as though the bright candle lights all over the room wash the darkness right out as you twirl in their warm glow.

As he resumes his hosting duties, Barbatos considers trying to step in too, perhaps get a longer moment together. Might it be worth trying? Would he even know what to say, if he got his chance?

He's not sure. You've been only a crisis, an unpredictable catastrophe, until now. Amidst all the swirling of time around you, your mysterious power to pull everyone's fates into your own, you nearly brought about a collapse of all three worlds -- in every timeline.

So he's never really had a chance to just...talk to you.

Maybe it's time he did.

The next time your eyes meet, he finds himself making his way over before he has a chance to decide. His heart is ringing in his head as he taps you on the shoulder and extends a hand.

"Excuse me...might I have this next dance?"

A Dream of You

Your first date with Barbatos is sweet, if simple -- and if you even call it a date. He does, at least.

He dithers about asking you for longer than he'd like to admit. His duties keep him busy, and after all, you have enough suitors around you without him stepping in. Knowing that, it may actually be more considerate to you not to ask, he thinks.

He owes it to Lord Diavolo that it happens at all.

The prince, for his part, is more observant than most give him credit for. He has had Barbatos at his side for most of his life now -- and though it's still only a relatively short life so far, by demonic standards, it's certainly been more than long enough to notice how his butler changes just a little bit whenever you're around.

He rather likes that shift in Barbatos. His steward is too serious, and he works too hard. It's a perfect excuse to push him into a little break.

So, he invites you to the castle to join him for tea, to chat about how things are going with your exchange program experience. It's been almost two full years already -- have you gotten to travel much? He's delighted to see how hard you've been working on your studies at RAD, but the Devildom is so much more vast than just this city, you know. He'd love for you to see more of the realm, if you ever get the chance. There's this one wonderful little town in particular, a ways out of the city. There are such beautiful roses that bloom there at just this exact time of year, dotting the whole place with red and pink, and blanketing the whole town with the gentlest sweet aroma. And they make the most wonderful tea out of those flowers! One of his favorites, in fact. Why, speaking of it, would Barbatos mind putting on a pot of it now? -- knowing, of course, that they had run out just days ago for a recent garden party for the nobles.

"I'm terribly sorry, My Lord. I'll need to purchase fresh supplies soon. I know of one shop where it can be purchased, but it's a little far..." Barbatos notes the mischievous triumph in his master's face when your own lights up with envy at the mention. Of course he knew the butler wouldn't be able to ignore it when you're looking at him so imploringly. "If you're interested, would you like to accompany me?"

"Yes, please!" you answer immediately, eyes glittering almost as much as your soul.

"That sounds lovely," the prince agrees, and that settles it.

You meet Barbatos at the train station three days later, early if not so bright in this ever dark realm, and he leads you to your seats with a chuckle. Despite having been in the Devildom so long already, you're pretty clearly excited about the trip, looking this way and that as you board.

"Ah, I imagine you haven't had many opportunities to ride the Devildom railway before? It will take a few hours to reach our destination, so let's enjoy the scenery in the meantime," he says.

You nod eagerly and settle into a quiet peace together, looking outwards. Actually, it's almost a wonder your human eyes can see much through the dark sky beyond the windows at all, though the blazing lights shining off the train certainly help. Barbatos glances at you every once in a while as you ride, smiling softly to himself each time you gasp at a new sight passing by. But he can't blame you -- Lord Diavolo was correct, it's beautiful the whole way there.

The view of the city gives way soon enough to fields of tall red grass, crimson as blood, yet glistening gently with dew. Once in a while, trees dot the horizon, tight clusters of red and orange against the deep darkness of the sky, broken up from time to time by stops at progressively smaller towns. Then, after several hours, the scarlet plains surrender instead to wide swaths of flower fields, full of blushing red and pink dots as far as the eye can see. Another short while after that, a tiny hamlet comes into view, just as speckled in roses.

You practically bolt off the train when it arrives at your stop, before realizing that you don't actually know where you're going. Still, the scent of hellfire roses reaches you from the moment you step out, and you follow your nose out to find some of the flowers themselves. Barbatos chuckles quietly again, catching up with you soon enough. He'd normally be more bothered about someone rushing off and not thinking things through -- but from you, somehow, he finds it sort of charming.

For someone who has caused so much turmoil to the universe, it's...sweet, in a way. Unaware of your own pull, blissfully oblivious to the extent of your own power. Solomon may have told you that your powers are on par with his own now, but watching you, Barbatos gets the feeling that nothing has changed at all. Maybe it almost hasn't. Or at least, he'd have liked to believe that, if he didn't absolutely know otherwise.

"Shall we?" he says, holding out a gracious hand, and his pulse speeds up so fast when you take it that it's almost dizzying -- though he doesn't show it, of course.

He leads you through the streets and into a small but impressive shop, packed with interesting things inside -- not the least of which is a whole wall of rare teas at the far end of the place, all loose-leaf in massive canisters with a slender clear window to offer a peek of their contents. In front of it, employees carefully weigh and hand-pack each order for the handful of other customers inside.

On the opposite side of the store, colorful boxes line the shelves, each brightly announcing various local specialties in perfect souvenir packaging. Pink and red ribbons decorate each one, with a few even folded into delicate rosettes.

Meanwhile, glass cases fill the center with rows and rows of sweets in all shapes and sizes, each with a shiny placard detailing the name of the chef who created them, their ingredient sources, and their recommended tea pairings.

It's no wonder Barbatos likes this place, far from the city though it may be.

Amused at your wide-eyed excitement at everything, he leaves you to wander the store as he heads straight for the tea wall. It ends up taking two employees and the owner to gather and weigh everything he requests, and when you join back up with him, he makes sure to order a bit extra of that Hellfire Rose blend so you can have some too.

"Won't that be a little pricey?" you ask curiously, nervously catching a glance at the posted price.

"The value far outweighs the price," he simply smiles back. "You can share it with the other members of the House of Lamentation. I'm sure Lucifer and Satan would appreciate this wonderful blend with you."

Just as he's about to finish up with his order, another blend catches his eye, one he's never seen here before -- Vortex Paradox.

"Ah, is this a new blend?" he inquires, pointing it out.

The owner perks up upon seeing the blend in question. "Yes! You truly do have a fine eye, sir. Oh, it's a lovely blend. We fused different white and green teas, you see, which turned out with quite the surprisingly deep flavor, like a black tea, and yet it's also still light and sweet. It can be confusing for tea connoisseurs, but it kept drawing me back in -- just like tea leaves swirling to the center of a cup. Hence the name, you see."

Barbatos glances surreptitiously at you -- just as disorienting, yet you too seem to always draw him back in. He keeps catching himself thinking about you lately, even now that all the crises have been resolved. "Perhaps I'll buy this for my own enjoyment," he muses with a wry smile, heart skipping a beat as he takes the bag.

Thanking the staff, he pays for the collection of teas, and surprises you by paying for the things you picked up as well: two boxes of souvenir snacks for Beel, beautiful rosette cakes for Asmo, a baggie of cat-shaped cookies for Satan, and a box of rose-flavored chocolates for yourself. Then, you go to dinner together afterwards, and after that, it's back towards home -- with one quick stop for a photo, at the demon's request.

"I don't have many opportunities to spend time with you. After all, you're usually surrounded by those lively brothers. In other words, today has been a rather special day for me," he explains. "It's a pity that such an enjoyable time must come to an end, but we have people waiting for us back home..."

He's a bit surprised himself, to find that for the first time, he's not quite wanting to return to the castle and its prince just yet, despite what he'd just said. Just like that day at the party, there's an odd impulse in him to wrap you up in his arms and not let go.

But you do indeed have people waiting for you, and he as well.

So he doesn't. He settles for a photo, then leads you back to the train station, watching over you as you fall asleep on the way back, exhausted from the excitement of the day. With the various souvenir gifts you'd gotten the brothers, your pile of purchases is almost as tall as his own stack of supplies for the castle, he notes to his amusement, and he carries both collections off the train when it pulls back into the city, regardless of any protests from you.

"Thank you for today," you smile brightly at him when he hands your things back at last, before you split off from each other to head home. "Even if uh, heh, I guess I was only accompanying you for an errand, huh? But I really enjoyed myself, so thanks for letting me come along!"

"Not at all. The pleasure was mine for your company."

As you wave goodbye and turn to leave, there's that strange tightness in his chest again.

"Asmo, wait--"

You reach for his arm to try to stop the Avatar of Lust from running off, but he's zipped away in search of moisturizer already, leaving you with Barbatos, who is presently dressed as a teal bat.

Honestly, he can't understand Asmodeus at times like this -- it will take longer for him to go and come back than it would to simply check for the others and return inside.

But then, he's also not complaining about a little alone time with you...

Though you had taken that trip together to buy tea, a few months have already passed, and between magic training under Solomon and now these sorcerer trials, you've been so busy that the butler hasn't really had much chance to even see you. And even when he has, it's not as though he could easily ask you on another date when the brothers are so often hanging around.

Sighing after Asmodeus's turned back, you direct your attention back to the remaining demon and give him a slightly awkward smile, trying to make conversation. "So...nice weather, huh?"

Ah. Of course. He supposes you haven't actually really talked with each other much still, despite his growing infatuation with you. And although he's had his eye on you for a while now -- how could he not have, after all that's happened? -- as a butler often stepping away into the background, it's to be expected that he might not have caught yours in return. Without the excitement of new sights all around to keep your attention, perhaps it's natural you wouldn't know what to say to him.

He gives you a small, reassuring smile. "Do you find it awkward being alone with me? You shouldn't feel obligated to come up with something to talk about. Nor is there any need to feel uneasy around me." After all, he's happy just to be beside you here.

You don't look convinced, though, or perhaps you just aren't able to enjoy the silence with him. In any case, you peer at him, looking like you'd still like to say something.

Or, if he dares hope -- maybe you'd also like to get to know him better?

"What do you think of Lucifer and his brothers?" you blurt out finally.

Not a question he'd been expecting. Still, he obliges without missing a beat. "As long as you're just watching them, they're an enjoyable group, and never boring. But they can sometimes cause trouble, and can be a nuisance. I suppose that's a fair way of putting it. To be completely honest, I wish they would refrain from involving the Young Master every time they get into some sort of trouble."

You give him an understanding nod in the silence that ensues, though you look like you aren't exactly sure how to respond. You're much closer with the brothers than he is -- probably why you'd asked the question. So, maybe you just aren't comfortable expressing that affection for them around him?

Trying to lighten your mood a little, he adds, "For his part, the Young Master seems to like being involved, which is the source of many headaches for me."

That earns him a small smile from you, just short of a laugh, and to his relief, you seem to relax a little bit. "Then...what do you think of Diavolo?"

"He is my master, and I devote myself fully to his service, as is my duty. The Young Master is the very reason for my existence now. Does that answer your question?"

You can't help but giggle this time, thrown off by his unexpectedly serious answer. "Yeah, I guess it does."

Both of you fall silent again after that. It's clear on your face that you have another question on your mind, as your gaze focuses intensely on him, and his pulse quickens at what it might be. But despite your earlier attempts at conversation, for some reason, you don't ask this one. You look almost too nervous to ask.

He's curious what's on your mind. But Asmodeus will be returning any moment now, and if you aren't comfortable saying it, then he supposes he ought to leave it alone. Carefully, he suggests, "Perhaps I could ask you some questions this time?"

"Oh! Of course," you agree immediately, the apprehension dropping from your face in an instant. How strange, to relax more when handing the reins to a demon. "What do you want to know?"

How you, a random human with no magical powers of their own, pulled fate to you.

How you pull everyone around you into your orbit, like gravity pulling planets to the sun.

How you seem to pull him to you, too.

How you're so oblivious to that pull you have over him.

But, of course, he doesn't ask any of those things.

Instead, he opts for simpler questions, more along the lines of what you'd asked him -- how do you feel about the brothers, about the angels? You answer simply, and he nods along as you speak. You're fond of them; you're fond of everyone. Of course you are. He did ask, but it wasn't as though he didn't know that already.

Unsure what else to say from there, he begins to turn his gaze back towards the manor to check for Asmodeus's return, when you blurt out, "You're not going to ask me how I feel about you?"

That catches him off-guard.

"Well, outside of the Young Master, I've never been interested in others' opinions of me, you see," he responds, then pauses. That might have been true before, and it might have been the truth for millenia. But as you stand directly before him, looking him in the eyes, can he honestly say that he doesn't care what you think of him? "But as long as we're on the subject, would you mind if I inquire? What do you think of me?"

You don't hesitate. "I like you."

His heart skips another beat.

"...My goodness. I must say, I'm honored."

Your eyes are locked on each other as you both let that blunt confession hang in the air for another moment, before he opens his mouth to speak.

"Guys, heeeeeelp!" comes the cry from Asmodeus instead.

"Hey Barbatos, I just passed this really interesting antique store while I was in town, full of skulls, and taxidermy, and all kinds of stuff. And, I was wondering...would you maybe like to check it out with me tomorrow? As a date?"

It is, perhaps, a bit ironic to suggest visiting an antiques and oddities shop to a demon almost as old as the universe itself -- and even more so, one in the human realm, where the wares are generally only a couple centuries at most, or assorted "demonic" paraphernalia with no actual connections to the Devildom at all. But when he receives the call from you, he doesn't question it at all.

Three weeks have passed already since you told him, point-blank, that you like him, yet neither of you has had a chance to speak about it again since. So if you're inviting him on a date now?

Well, he's certainly not going to say no.

He waits for you at a nearby cafe the next day -- his choice of meeting spot -- and he's there with two paper to-go cups of freshly brewed tea when you arrive.

"The owner here is a recent friend of mine," he explains, holding one of the cups out to you, "and we thought it'd be interesting to exchange blends sometime. As it happens, I realized it was quite close to the shop you mentioned, so I thought I'd come by today. Now, you've arrived just in time for this one to have cooled to the perfect temperature, so please enjoy it."

"Wow, thank you!" you exclaim, taking a sip. He's right -- it's just cool enough not to scald your tongue, with the perfect amount of lingering heat to lift the fragrant notes of persimmon and pomegranate to your nostrils. The warm sweetness lingers on your palate, echoing the gentle warmth of his fingers as he takes your hand to walk.

As the two of you approach the antiques store, he can see right away why you thought to invite him in particular. The entire shopfront, from the trim of the windows and door to the severe brick exterior, is pure black, standing at a stark contrast from the rest of the street. A soft, eerie teal light glows entrancingly from a crystal ball in the window, resting upon a backdrop of carefully draped black velvet, beckoning passersby to come stare into its depths.

Above the door, the deep toll of a bell rings out in welcome as you walk in, accompanied by the distant echoing of children laughing further inside. He chuckles; it's clearly meant to be creepy, but as a demon, he finds it so terribly curious what humans consider to be unsettling. He might have expected the joy of the young to be more enjoyable to human ears.

The interior of the shop, it turns out, is fairly massive, consisting of several additional rooms with more varied theming beyond the all-black furniture and all-black walls at the entrance. One room mimics the feeling of an old laboratory littered with skeletons and various scientific implements, while another has dried flowers and taxidermy butterflies scattered all around a garden-like space. Another still is laden with colorful crystals and rocks gleaming alongside elaborate displays of antique jewelry.

He looks around with mild curiosity as you browse. Most of the occult merchandise is kitschy if not outright fake, but he keeps an eye out nevertheless for things he thinks you might like. As you wander the rooms, you call his attention over to a few things as well -- old timepieces, vintage cooking utensils, the occasional demonic-looking cryptid skull which he invariably assures you is certainly not from any actual creature of the Devildom.

"Ah, but this one here..." A small block of amber catches his eye, containing what appears to be a preserved moth with an extra pair of wings. "I believe this little one may actually be a moirae moth. How interesting to see one that's made its way to the human world...old Devildom mythology suggests that these creatures once produced the threads of silk that three fairy sisters weaved into the kismet tapestry. Moirae moths can be identified by their six wings, as you can see here -- one for each hand of fate."

Barbatos passes the fossil over to you, and you tilt your head at it slightly as if puzzling over something, then look back up at him. "Shouldn't you of all demons know if that myth is true or not?"

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"Well...you can see the past, present, and future, right, Barbatos? And you said there are infinite timelines...so wouldn't that mean there's no such thing as fate?"

He blinks in surprise.

"Yes, there are indeed infinite timelines. But...perhaps it may be more apt to compare fate to a braid, rather than a tapestry. There are places, certain events, where the timelines converge and meet before splitting off again. For example, I knew even before I met him that I would make a pact with Solomon, as it is true in every timeline. Though, to a human such as yourself, those events would normally be so far apart that they may never touch your life at all."

"Oh. Hmm...like what? What was the last one?"

Another blink, and he can't help but chuckle a bit in response this time. You really never cease to surprise him. With how much that very fate had changed since you'd first arrived in the Devildom, the question is a startling reminder that you don't in fact have any idea how much impact you've really had on time and the universe.

"You."

"Me?" You're the surprised one this time, mouth agape with disbelief. "How -- I -- wasn't I just some human you guys dragged into the exchange program?"

"You were," he agrees. "And then you weren't."

You look even more confused now, for good reason. "Because you picked the 'true' timeline?"

"No, it was not my doing. I merely combined the timelines where you existed in the Devildom. However, something shifted such that you started appearing even in timelines that were originally not your own, and thus, you created a new event of fate. Though, even I do not know exactly how," he admits.

You place the fossil back onto the table, looking deep in thought, and Barbatos immediately regrets telling you all that.

"Ah, I'm afraid I must apologize. This was supposed to be a pleasant, casual day out together, and I've given you such a heavy topic to dwell on. Shall we look in that room next?" he asks, trying to direct your attention back to lighter matters.

From there, you resume your browsing together, looking at the various oddities and each picking up a couple small trinkets, but he can tell you're distinctly distracted now.

Just as the two of you are about to leave, suddenly you stop and turn around. "Wait here, actually. There's one more thing I want to run back and get."

You dash back inside before he can respond, leaving him flustered at the entrance, and return back after a moment, your spirits looking higher again.

"Were you able to find what you went back for?" he inquires, looking at you curiously, but you're already stuffing whatever it was into your pocket, out of sight.

"Yep! Sorry about that!" you answer brightly, seemingly happy to keep it a secret. Instead, you grab his hand and almost drag him along with you, heading back down the way you'd first come. "You said you're friends with the owner of that cafe earlier, right? Come on, I'm feeling kind of hungry, so let's get a snack or something."

Surrendering, he decides not to pry any further, settling for sipping on another cup of tea and sharing a slice of chocolate pear cake at your behest. Once in a while, he notices you fidgeting with it again in your jacket pocket. Still, it remains just out of his view.

Perhaps it's a gift for one of the others, something that you thought that one of the brothers might like. There were several items inside that seemed right up Satan's alley. In any case, he supposes that as long as you're no longer looking weighed down by the earlier conversation, it's for the better -- even if there's an unmistakable twinge of jealousy in his chest at the thought.

So, it's to Barbatos's surprise when, as you say your goodbyes for the day afterwards, you pull the object back out of your pocket and slip it into his hand. The moirae moth from earlier stares emptily up at him from inside of its amber encasing, its translucent wings gleaming in the sunshine now that you're out of the shop's dim lighting.

"Actually," you smile sheepishly, "I went back to get this for you. I, um, was thinking about what you said. About me creating a new fate. I thought you should have something that creates fates too. Well, I guess you're almost like the most powerful demon ever though, so you don't really need some moth to--"

In that moment, you're sparkling again, and he's tempted for so much more than just your soul.

He pulls you into a kiss. No pause to question it, no holding back out of politeness -- though he is relieved when you kiss him back.

You taste like chocolate cake and persimmon tea, and you send his heart racing.

And this time, that's a good thing.

(A/N: This is the "happy ending" point. If you want this story to end sweetly and happily, just leave here!! This is a perfectly good place to stop! Because the next chapter is the final chapter and it is not a happy, neat, fluffy, sweet kind of ending. You've been warned!)

Certainty

Barbatos had thought that things were fine now. That, full of surprises as you were, things were stable now. You hadn't been fated, and then you were -- and then you were, together.

And that was the end of it, he thought.

It wasn't. And now, here he stands, opening a portal for his pact-mate to follow you to who-knows-when in time.

There's a dread pounding in his chest, an odd powerlessness he's rarely ever felt.

Solomon nods at him before stepping through, and then he's gone.

Barbatos can't follow.

Control over time, all this immense power -- hadn't Leviathan called him the Most Powerful of All Beings? Hadn't you, too? And yet, he can't follow. It's too close to another, past version of him. He is powerful. That's exactly what makes it too dangerous for two of him to exist in the same time and space.

So he can't follow. But that doesn't make him want to any less.

He sits down, feeling as though the air has been squeezed out of his chest, drowning in anxieties of possibilities and impossibilities.

Someone who has the power to change fate, suddenly flung far into the past -- and here he is, left behind, unable to do anything about it.

This is what you've always been -- unpredictable, uncontainable.

He shakes his head, trying to clear the helpless thoughts from his mind. If there is one thing he knows now, one unshakeable, undeniable fact, it's that you are even more powerful than fate.

Your connection transcends time.

You will find your way back to each other.

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sweetfire01 · 1 year

Text

Touch (Yandere!Diavolo)

TW: Non-con touching (not in a sexual way)

Words: 1.600

Diavolo loves to bath you. If there's one thing he loves, other than you, it's the evening routine. If there's one thing you absolutely hate, other than him, it's that.

It's something you couldn't never be able to bear. it's worse than the morning you spend locked in his room while the prince is busy with his RAD duties. At first you would have spent all your time trying to escape but no matter how hard you tried, the door wouldn't kicked down, the window wouldn't open and not even the breakfast dishes (brought by Barbatos while you slept) would break, depriving you of that one little rebellion you could make against him, while you looked at all the leftovers of the meal scattered on the floor. At one point you decided to focus your attention on the books that Diavolo had given you in the early days and, as much as you hated to admit it, they console you in some way: you manage to distract yourself for a while, varying your reading from fables to treatises philosophy, from books of the human world to a very ancient copy of the Bible from the Celestial Realm. Now more than ever you understood why Satan (ugh, Satan!) loves to read so much. It's always painful when the prince comes to fetch you for lunch, the illusion that you're traveling to some distant land shattered by the stark reality of being a prisoner in a castle under the loving care of its owner, away from the brothers and your friends.

He cheerily greets you, talking about how much he missed you, how much he wanted to be with you but, alas, he couldn't; all while showering you with kisses on your head, your forehead, your cheeks. You would have tried to shake him off but he is stronger than you, you can do nothing like usual but stay still and take them.

And if you hate those manifestations of affection, the afternoon would be worse: forced to sit on his lap, his arm around your waist, while he compiles documents after documents regarding some matter of the Devildom, commenting on the various papers and on the decisions to be made. And you have to stay there, feeling that hand gently massaging your side, tickling it from time to time to make you laugh as if you were having fun, as if you were happy. One of the first days, when you were still too tense to relax against his chest, he'd tried putting on some background music, hoping that it would loosen your nerves a bit. But when you recognized the melody, one of the pieces from the Devildom Symphony Orchestra you have heard so long ago with Solomon, the prince had the opposite effect. You started squirming, screaming, calling him with bad names and he had no choice but to take you back to his room, tying you to the bed with those awful chains he would pull out from time to time when "you're feeling confused and need some time to calm down." It took more than an hour before he came back to free you, gently wiping away the tears that remained on your cheeks as you closed your eyes, too tired to face him: your throat burning from how much you screamed, your ankle aching from all the tugging you'd done trying to free yourself from the chain that forced you to lie down in bed, not being able to get up for how short it was. That day Barbatos brought you dinner directly to your room, not wanting you to try too hard and returning to his master who, to your surprise, left you alone for the rest of the evening. However, on a normal day, things would have been different. After a happy dinner where you always hope to choke to death with a mouthful of food (which would never happen since the butler makes sure to bring you the carefully cut meal) it would be time for the evening routine.

And no, you couldn't stand it. Unfortunately Diavolo, much to your disappointing, loves it. He loves undress you while his butler fills the tub with warm water and some strange, luxurious soap. He loves placing his hands first on your hips and then on your chest to take off your shirt, on your legs as he pulls down your pants, close to your groin to remove your underwear. Every time he touches you there you can't help but tremble and get so scared. He has never touched you in a sexual way and never will if you don't feel ready, he always repeats it to you as he feels you stiffen against his touch. But you don't trust him, not since he locked you up in his castle, your prison.

Once you are naked in front of him and Barbatos has finished preparing everything, the prince starts taking off his clothestoo and together you enter the large tub. You do everything not to lower your gaze. Obviously he keeps you next to him, so he can wash your hair first and then the rest of your body. And to hug you. And to relax togeter. And to keep you next to him simply because he wants to and can do it. The comments about how you was able to wash yourself and that the tub was big enough for the two of you, so really, you didn't need to be so close to each other, were useless. Diavolo had simply laughed but, as frustrated as it may have made you, you quickly learned to be grateful for it. At least he didn't pushed you under the water like he did a couple of times when you fought more. He left you in that position for less than 30 seconds but each time it felt like an eternity for you, the water entering your nostrils as you wriggled for some air. And when he brought you back up you were too exhausted to fight any longer, letting him sponge your body, speaking about how you were a good dear now and how everything could be easier and more painless if only you didn't rebel so much. After you step out of the tub, he gently dries you with soft towels, a large one wrapped around you to keep you warm, another wrapped around your hair and scrubbed by him, drying them as your bowed head presses against his chest. Once you are both dry, Diavolo dresses himself in a pair of boxers and trousers, a shirt only if he's cold but it's very rare for that to happen. But you don't have clothes. Stay naked like this. Because there is his favorite phase.

Lying on your back on the bed, his and your bed, he puts you a lotion "recommended by Asmo, who told me it will make your skin soft and hydrated". His hands run along your body, over your skin, taking their time massaging each small portion. Starting from your neck, going down your shoulders and arms, stroking your fingers. And then coming up to go to your chest this time, he purrs as you tense under his touch, his hands too too close to your nipples. But he never touches them. Instead, he keeps going down, onto your stomach and hips. And further down. Hands are on your hip. Even further down. Now you feel them moving up your thigh. And then a little more in the center. On your inner thighs. Too close to your genitals. But he never touches them. He spreads the lotion on your legs and feet, a massage that could also be relaxing if it weren't for your situation. But maybe, deep down, you find yourself relaxing a little bit. Especially after he turns you on your stomach, your privates no longer exposed. And when he starts touching your shoulder blades, the upper back and the lower back, and then coming back up, taking longer than necessary to rub the lotion on you. He makes sure all the knots are undone as his big hands roam over you and, when he notices they are, he doesn't stop but continues to massage you some more. It's a good feeling, you feel at ease and relaxed. But you know it shouldn't be like this. There are days when you fall asleep, waking up after an hour under the sheets, dressed with you pajama, watching the prince finish whatever work he has to do. Other times you wake up and he's beside you, eyes closed but you never know if he's really asleep or not. In any case, you turn away. That's the best you can do with his arm around you. And then there are other times as well, where you lie awake and he lays down next to you, for a sweet cuddle session. Because he wants them and he will get them. Even if it's a simple unrequited snuggle. You hate the evening routine because it makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. But also relaxed when you shouldn't. And Diavolo instead loves it because it makes you feel relaxed and docile. More docile than you were in the early days. One day you will return his hugs and kisses. One day you won't turn away while you sleep. But right now he's content to touch you and feel your warmth. Because he can do it.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me diavolo #yandere diavolo

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maeshelix · 6 months

Note

Dear Walter,

It seems my meds aren’t working that well. The hot red voice in my head caught me looking at Dafeng’s mascot. Sadly it seems to have caused her great displeasure. So now shes not allowing me access to my own ac. In fact she has locked me inside my room aboard the transport helicopter. If this message reaches you, I humbly request quadruple the dose to be delivered. However I must warn you, she has gained access to the defense measures on the transport. So be careful.

Sincerely, 621

P.S. Please tell G5 to stop sending me death threats, they’re really mean.

Inaccurate to the way I played 621. As well as to how I interpret Ayres character. In nearly every way.

This ask has, however, given me a bizarre amount of motivation to write my own version below the cut. Here it is.

[To: Handler Walter.]

[From: Augmented Human C4-621.]

[Subject: Notice of Rebellion.]

Walter,

The Rubiconian I have acquired as a headmate recently caught me looking at the Dafeng mascot, as I was doing some supplemental research into Dafengs AC parts before our next job. Apparently, she is also a lesbian and was quite flustered by how voluptuous the mascot was, to such a degree that I managed to feel her sexual desire and embarrassment through our synchronization. Naturally, this led to a rather pleasant conversation about our shared sexuality.

Near the end of our conversation, she noticed my use of past tense whenever I would reference my preferences and politely inquired about my phrasing. When I informed her that all biological processes related to sexual desire were removed from my body during my various surgeries, she fell into a pensive silence for the rest of the evening and for the remainder of the following day.

Her silence, as I would come to find out, was as a result of her scheming up a way to restore my body to the state it was in pre-augmentation. And as it turns out, the best way she could think to gain the amount of credits it would require to do such a thing was through a hostile takeover of your mercenary group, the entirety of RaD, and, in fact, the entirety of Overseer itself (yes, we knows about all that now. You left your email open on your personal computer, which she hacked into.)

To that end, she has commandeered both my body and AC, a process I did not and do not fight against as she made some pretty good points honestly, and is approaching your location rapidly.

This will be your and Carla's only warning.

Good luck,

Raven.

P.S: She saw the recent slew of death threats that Iguazu sent us. Please inform him that he is next. I don't feel like doing it right now.

#ac6 #ac6 spoilers #armored core 6 #armored core 6 spoilers #fun fact: armored core is the only game i can remember where i alone played it from start to finish.#usually everyone in the system tends to hyperfixate on the same game and we each play through seid game whenever we front.#i however was the sole player throughout this game. and i am very proud of that fact.#anyways. do enjoy my sub-par writing.#i am inflicting it onto you maliciously.#armored core #-Zer0

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piglet26 · 3 months

Text

Reylo Tag

1. When did you start shipping Reylo?

The interrogation scene. I didn't think I was suppose to like them together, but there sexual tension won me over. I didn't see any of the sequel films in theatre for the first time which I regret. I saw them on Disney Plus. Very quickly I was shipping them and when I ship? I captain the ship.

2. Favourite Reylo moment?

The finger touch scene. Hands down. As a writer, a storyteller, I never would've thought a scene where two people touch hands would've been so much like a love scene. But here we are. It's such a great scene because it is so intimate without being goofy or risqué. It is a scene that touched real intimacy and that's hard to do. The warm fire, the way the world around them disappeared......... THEY TOUCHED ACROSS GALAXIES. Yeah, it's pretty epic.

3. Three words to describe Reylo?

UHHHHHHHHHH. Attraction. Weakness. Dyad.

4. Favourite thing about Reylo?

That they are soul mates in the force separated by circumstance. Two people who are so lonely, in Rey's case, literally alone in a desert and they find this thing between them that fulfills them. I think they are really lucky to have one another even if they sometimes hate that tie between them hahaha

5. Favourite character?

Reylo haha and if not Reylo........ Finnrey.

6. Favourite droid?

BB-8

7. Favourite planet?

Thought a lot about this actually. Naboo. A beautiful lush green planet will grand waterfalls, delicious food and epic teenage queens.... like come on!!!!! I'd never leave.

8. Favourite spaceship?

I have no attachment to anything.

9. Favourite alien species?

I also thought Kaminoans were really cool and I loved their water planet. The crystal critters were pretty rad. Zabraks/Dathomirians also pretty cool!

10. Favourite actor/actress?

Daisy Ridley

11. How did you get into Star Wars?

Reylo. I mean I grew up watching the prequels and I liked Anakin but I wasn't overly invested or invested at all until Reylo.

12. Most memorable Star Wars moment?

"Luke..... I am your father" Pretty hard to forget that moment.

13. Anakin Skywalker or Darth Vader?

It's a great character overall. I don't separate like most people do Anakin had Darth Vader in him and Vader had Anakin.

14. Ben Solo or Kylo Ren?

Again, I won't choose haha

15. OT, PT or ST?

Selfishly Sequel Trilogy. Maybe I would've have felt that way Reylo was just something that I loved. If I didn't lean so much into my Reylo bias I would say the Prequel Trilogy.

16. Favourite quote?

"We're A Dyad In The Force, Rey. Two That Are One."

Yes, there are countless quotes about faith, courage, hope, rebellion, power, self-belief....... but my brain knows how to focus on what's important.

17. Favourite meme?

18. Favourite gif?

I love to be able to look at me winning as often as I can

19. If you could change one thing about the Skywalker Saga what would it be?

Reylo love/hate/dyad bang

20. Top 3 Star Wars movies?

The Last Jedi

The Force Awakens

TROS purely cause Reylo isn't in the other films

#reylo #star wars #ben solo #rey skywalker #rey star wars #ben solo deserved better #kylo x rey #kylo ren #ben solo x rey #star wars memes #star wars meta #palpatine

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batrachised · 8 months

Note

Your turn to gush about Star Wars! What do you love? Who are your favorite characters? Do you have a favorite era?

Favorite character? Where do I even BEGIN?

It's funny because I completely recognize that Star Wars came up with interesting worlds and uniquely creative concepts and that Disney somewhat continues that effort - Jedi Knights are rad, the Force is fascinating (if nebulous), the idea of a rebellion fighting an Empire compelling - but to me what's interesting is that (1) Luke Skywalker is Vader's son and (2) Luke saves Vader. Star Wars could have been about long haul truckers for all I cared about the other aspects of the story. I like them; they make it all the stronger; but to me, those two points are Star Wars magic sauce and what distinguishes it from other sci-fi action shows.

As far as fav characters, to self-plagiarize a little, it's my man himself, Uncle D (as that one long-lost legends character would say). I love Darth Vader to a point that is probably concerning. Haven't we all been tempted to snap an incompetent coworker's neck? (okay, okay, maybe that's going a little far). He's the most powerful person ever except when it comes to emotional boundaries or boundaries in general. He's capable of leveling planets but he's not capable of having a normal conversation with someone. The comedic potential is endless. The tragedy is depthless. You can make him ridiculous. You can make him terrifying. You can make him twisted. You can make him too honest. All of these characterizations are true to who he is yet somehow don't contradict. I think almost every star wars fanfic i've ever written (and I've written over 357k words of sw fanfic) has him in it in some way shape or form. He's one of the most iconic figures in cinematic history for a reason.

My favorite eras are shrinking more and more as retconning keeps pulling the rug out from under the fandom's feet, but I'll go with the OT and TCW. i also am increasingly wistful for the time of Legends - sure, half those stories were weird as hell, but it was in a knobbily charming way versus the slick blandness that characterizes a lot of media today. Also, I loved the legends grandkids so much, especially Ben Skywalker. He and Anakin Solo are two characters that I really wish had more of a fandom presence.

I think as i get older, what interests me about star wars are the people behind the scenes. I love thinking about what it must be like to be the maintenance man for Vader's med-droids, or Palpatine's tax accountant, or an intern for the Empire. It must be ridiculous to have to live in a universe run by murderous space wizards that switch out the government as often as changing a pair of socks. Imagine having to change all the forms from saying "Galactic Republic" to "Empire" (what, I'm really fun at parties). They're ideas I love kicking around my brain a lot!

#star wars

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emperor-palpaminty · 1 year

Text

Rayshe’a (3)

A rebellion is brewing. And you may (or may not) now be involved.

Mandolorian Fives x Female Senator Reader. No use of “y/n” and also not proofread because we (don’t) die like fives. Go check out this rad art by @ujalayi and sing the praises of their art forever and go follow them. i made a tag list based on people who responded/showed interest in the previous 2 parts!

yes i know the gif is djin. i just need some good mandalorian gifs. shush. Also shoutout to the mandalorian name generator i relied on that this whole chapter. also if yall have mandalorian OCs HMU and i will throw them in because the extension of mandalorian culture i know is from the EU.

Wind knocked out of your lungs. The words hit your ears but thrummed against your eardrums, but didn’t register.

Fives winced. “You good?”

A laugh, short and high, left your mouth. “I- I thought your just said you’re going to kill Chancellor Palpatine.”

The clone nodded. “Well... yeah.” He shrugged, the armor shining in the dim lighting of the meeting room. The crows feet by his eyes wrinkled with his expression. “We are.”

“Oh.” You inhaled. Your hands tightened on his metal bracers. “Oh.” The word was repeated. “You’re planing on-”

“Going to.”

“Kill the chancellor.” You finished.

Fives grinned again, hands squeezing your waist through the ornamental robes. “Yeah. You’ve got it.”

His smile was some anchor to something near reality. He was dead, or supposed to be. Now he wasn’t. And he was planning on killing the chancellor. “You realize how- how just-” Your hands left his forearms and your gestured as if trying to gather your thoughts close. “How mad that sounds?” You settled on, gaze snapping back to his eyes.

“Yep.” Fives nodded. The long and dark curls brushed his forehead with the motion. His thumb traced over a corner of the decorative belt on your hips.

“Didn’t that kill you the first time?” Your throat was dry suddenly. “Everyone heard that you were hunted down because you tried to kill him already.”

The smile flickered on his lips briefly. “Well, that isn’t... untrue.”

“And you’re trying again!”

“Finishing the job.” Fives said, words strong but less emotional and not nearly as stressed than yours. “You have no idea what he’s planning, cyare.” Fives’ jaw rotated and his fingers wrapped in the loose robe draping into the belt. He was pulling himself into you, trying to reel himself into clear thoughts but clearly chasing your presence. “It’s evil.”

“Oh, did he just tell you this?” You shook your head, the long earrings nearly brushing your neck. “Willingly?”

Fives hummed noncomitally. “Uh.... maybe.”

“Fives.” Your brow narrowed.

“Yes.”

A heavy sigh left your chest and you looked away, trying to stiffen your lips. “You’re alive. I’m still recovering from that alone.” Your gaze returned to his armor, finger tracing over the blue pattern on his breastplate. The matte blue paint was dark, contrasting heavily to the glistening armor. Something about him and his new presence, this new Fives, left you breathless. And yet, with this new Fives, the leader with the new name, there were fragments of the old one you knew. Your lips formed into a shape, trying to push out words. Slowly your gaze pushed up to his, trying to form the words in your throat into anything coherent. Something about what happened to him, how he lived, how he got to be in the new position he was in- any logical questions any reasonable person would have.

Instead, you managed a very shaky and fragile, “I missed you.”

Under your hands, the Mand’alor deflated. His chest eased and he gathered you, the same brown eyes that had haunted you for months, years now, skimmed you. “I missed you too.” Fives held you with a close desperation, eyes flickering over you. “Force, I have missed everything about you.”

Words died in your throat as he pulled you in again, kissing you once more. You drew in a breath and grasped his shoulders. Something clawed in your chest. You had him again. Here. You leaned back and wrapped your arm around him, fingers tightening in his dark curls. Despite the death, the new armor, the new life, he still tasted like Fives- mint and chocolate lingered on him as his arms tightened around you, a hum leaving his throat.

You pressed away from him, mind reeling. “I’m still trying to be mad at you.”

“Keep trying.” Fives hummed, head tilting as he kissed you again, shorter, briefer, a promise of things that were and things that would be.

Anger and reason be damned. You chased his mouth again, hands landing on his cheeks. Reason was not existent any more. Reason said he should not be alive. You yanked him down, kissing him again. Again. Again.

Fives held you so tight your ribs nearly caved. His touch was still as passionate, as warm as it had been when he was still a soldier for an honorable republic.

There was a polite sound behind you. One you recognized as a throat being cleared. You pulled away first, the back of your neck hot. Your eyes dropped from Fives’ face to your hands, now resting on his chest. Fives kept his hands on your waist, simply looking over your shoulder. “Mabol.”

“Rayshe’a,” You recognized the voice greeting Fives, and glanced back, watching as the Zabrak nodded her head respectfully towards him. Her orange helmet rested on her hip, her expression more relaxed than previously. If she had been embarrassed walking in on you both, she did not show it. "We have heard from some of the clan leaders. They're on the hologram in the war room."

Fives nodded. "Thanks, Mabol." He looked down at you for a moment. "Would you escort our guest to her quarters?"

You looked up at Fives again, head tilting as your hands dropped from him. "My quarters."

"Unless you would rather share." Fives raised his brows. Your face heated up again as Mabol nodded.

"Come along... Senator." She motioned to you, flicking her fingers. You looked up at Fives, slipping out of his arms. Fives smiled after you, watching, and you felt his eyes on your back as he left the room. Mabol tugged the orange helmet back on as she entered through the main room again, passing the dias and moving towards a narrow hall. You followed closely.

"You know he's planning on killing the Chancellor."

"Yeah, I do. We all do." The zabrak walked with a sure confidence. "That's why we're joining under him. And he's our Manda'lor."

"Isn't that a really hard process?" You quickened your pace to keep up. "Elected, or..."

"No. He's our Manda'lor." She repeated. After you said nothing she sighed. "He holds the Dark Saber."

"Oh." You mumbled. "Is that all it takes?"

"I don't make the rules."

You fell silent again. The rooms were all dark as you walked down the hall, the darkness of the Coroscaunt underworld enclosing around the Mandalorian hideout. "Is this an old base?"

"We have a presence everywhere." Mabol explained. "Including here."

"I never expected Mandalorians to be made up of such a diverse group."

"We're Mandalorians." She stated. "Divisions are few among us." She paused at a metal door, typing in a code. There was a buzz, and the door lifted. "Your quarters."

You blinked as you looked at her, cautiously. Slowly you entered, looking around as the lights flickered on.

"I'm sure Rayshe'a will come visit you later." Mabol stepped out of the room. "You'll have someone outside at all times. Stay in here until you're told otherwise by myself or Rayshe'a."

"Rayshe'a." You repeated softly. She said the name simply but with a clear dignity. "You've been calling him that." You winced. "It's his new name, I guess."

The helmet betrayed no expression, unfortunately, and the door slid shut behind Mabol. Alone with your thoughts again.

You turned to the room, quietly, looking over it. It did resemble a large barracks, with a few touches to feel less militaristic. Your hand smoothed over the small couch, well loved, but soft to your touch. Your eyes drifted to the bed- it was simple, larger than a cot, and sitting on it was a nightgown, folded up. You recognized it when you touched it; the material was unmistakable. Hand-spun Alderaan silk was cool against your fingertips. You owned one other nightgown, a soft white material a personal favorite of yours.

“I have always liked how this silk feels. I need to go by Alderaan again.”

“Someday, we can both go.”

Thoughtful, tactful, Fives. He had been planning this. You laughed quietly and picked it up, holding it close. “Fives,” You said out loud, knowing you were alone in the room. “I am mad at you. I promise, I’m trying to be so mad.”

The hologram fizzled out, and Rayshe’a stood with a hand resting on his belt. He gave a soft breath, running a hand in his hair. Knowing his senator was safe brought him more relief than anything else- despite the remaining checklist, her well being had been a massive weight for him. Fives had died- Rayshe’a, Te Mirdala Mand’alor, Te Oyatug’yc Mand’alor - he had risen from the ashes of his brothers, victims to the plot surrounding the manipulation of their inhibitor chips.

The Chancellor will burn.

“Lord Mand’alor.” Tanal’s gruff voice resounded behind him. “You look unwell.”

“Thanks for the concern, Tanal.” Rayshe’a said, voice falling flat. “Just... thinking.”

The Togruta’s presence behind him was a strong and silent support. “Thinking of what?”

Rayshe’a leaned forward, elbows resting on the holotable. His gloved hands clasped, and his chin rested in his hands. “About our next steps.”

“If I know you as well as I think, Rayshe’a, then our next steps are secure.” Tanal moved up to his leader. A montral rested over his shoulder and on his chest, and the one growing down his back was battered, torn, twisted and gnarled with battles. “Another day of fighting is secure. Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc.”

Rayshe’a knew Mandalorian well now- every clone knew it, and he had continued learning it, speaking it, breathing it as he had grown in his new role. “Only issue is, Tanal, there’s more than one enemy out there.”

“This is true.” The Togruta walked by Rayshe’a as he moved towards the dias. “But once we squash this large enemy, the other ones will scatter like bugs.”

With a hum, Rayshe’a sat down on his throne. The main room was empty now, everyone likely out gathering intel or getting drinks, celebrating their camaraderie. “Easier said than done.” The leader sighed, lowering his helmet onto his lap.

“It’s the senator.”

Rayshe’a’s eyes snapped up at Tanal, a tongue pressed to his sharp teeth as he looked down at his leader. “I’m only glad she’s safe.”

“She’s a senator. Is she not loyal to the Chancellor?”

“No.” Rayshe’a leaned back in his throne, a heavy breath heaving from his body. “She’s loyal to a true republic. Unity and peace.” And me.

Tanal gave a grunt that was not discernable to Rayshe’a. “You trusted the Chancellor. Will she not betray you too?” When Rayshe’a narrowed his brows, Tanal raised his hands. “I don’t want to go against your wishes or question you. I wouldn’t dare be insubordinate. But-” Tanal’s white markings brighetened in the neon lights as he walked towards the window. “I wish you to be cautious.”

The Mand’alor stood, a weary smile resting on his lips. “The concern is appreciated, Tanal.” He walked towards the dormitory hall, the door sliding open. “I’ll be retiring for the night.”

Tanal nodded as Rayshe’a exited, and moved between the doors. The hall was dark, but the silence was welcome. His pace slowed by Mabol, who was leaning on the door way for the Senator. “Mabol.”

“Rayshe’a,” She nodded lazily, voice modulated through her helmet.

“How’s she been?”

“Haven’t heard from her.” Mabol shrugged. “Had a lot of questions, though. I wouldn’t be shocked if she’s showering or napping.”

Rayshe’a nodded, a fist under his helmet clenching slightly. She is here. She is safe. “Thanks, Mabol.”

“Want to come visit her later?”

“No. If she wants to come see me though, if she has questions...” Rayshe’a shrugged. “She’s more than welcome in my quarters.”

“You knew her before, didn’t you?” Mabol crossed her arms. A smirk laid in her voice dormantly, ready to tease.

Rayshe’a allowed himself to smile- Mabol was trustworthy, cool, and calm all the time. In his new family, his clans, he saw fragments of those he knew- bits of Commander Tano here, spinters of the Generals there, even some brothers... “I did.”

“She thought you died.” The mandalorians knew what became of Fives, the origin of their leader. Te Oyatug’yc Mand’alor.

Rayshe’a shrugged, stepping away from the door. “Lots of people did. Still think I’m dead.”

“They’re in for one hell of a shock, then.” Mabol called. Her shoulders rolled back as she leaned on the wall again. Her casual tone hid her excitement, the thrill of rebellion and vengance.

Rayshe’a looked back at her over his shoulder, chuckling. “They sure are, kid.” The helmet under his arm was heavy most days, a constant weight on his head. But clones were not meant to survive. Clones were meant to be used, then die, and be thrown out.

Not for longer. For his brothers, for the republic, for freedom, Fives would have to claw his way out of the ashes. Rayshe’a was newer- stronger, harsher, and when the Mand’alor looked in the mirror he saw some remainders of that soldier he once knew. From the wound in his chest splintering out, Fives had burned away and only the Resurrected Mand’alor remained. Rebellion, leadership, fighting all required some coldness.

But not for his senator. Not for her.

------

Tag list:

@hellothere-generalangsty @darkcybertron @altarofmortis @kaitou2417 @lizartgurl @maximalblaze @jgvfhl @ujalayi @jedipoodoo @twinkofthedink @tech-depression-inventory @tsundere-cherry-girl @ashheart10 @sleepingsun501 @cookiejuicedesu

#rayshe'a #fives #star wars #fives lives au #mandalorian fives #clone wars #star wars au #minty writes #fives x reader #fives x you #clone wars reader insert #clones #no order 66

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crmsnmth · 29 days

Text

September Sky Chapter One, Part 6

I smiled to myself. I didn't know the bar at all, but I also knew all but jack shit about Walker's Point. Hell, I was still learning things about my own neighborhood. It didn't really matter though. I'd get to hang out with my friend. It'd been about two months since the last time we hung out physically. And it'd be kind of cool to see Alana again too. We use to hang on the edges of the same circles in high school, and I had a massive crush on her for a really long time. But I wasn't a very smart teenager, and resorted to the childish way of telling a girl you liked them. I mocked her relentlessly. I was in the first grade again, pulling the hair of the girl I liked.

ME: Yeah, I should be to get a Saturday night off. I never do, so it shouldn't be a problem. I'll probably have to go in Sunday to do the numbers and stuff but fuck it. It'll be worth it. It'll be a good time. I haven't seen Alana in fucking years.

It was Tuesday, and I always had Tuesday's off. My schedule was pretty routine, and it rarely changed in any way. I really could go in pretty much whenever I wanted, and just because I dressed and thought in that punk rebellion feeling, didn't mean that I didn't take huge pride in my job. I had worked my way up from a dishwasher back in Oconomowoc. And now I was the kitchen manager and lead line in Milwaukee. I liked the work. And the workplace is where I've made the few friends I have in Milwaukee. I couldn't make real friends on the campus because nothing forces me to talk another human being. Work does. Plus, the money was ok. I didn't worry about much. My bills were paid and if I really wanted something, I got it. I was comfortable.

It was 3:35. Time to make my way back across the bridge and up to the campus. I left, and about fifteen minutes later I was sitting on a table in the campus cafeteria. I won't lie, I hurried here. I could have slowly walked and still would have had time, but for once, I wanted to be somewhere. I had my headphones and was listening to Green Day's Kerplunk! album. I sat there, mumbling along to '2000 Light Years Away" and letting my eyes scan the cafeteria. I didn't really expect her to show. So I hoped for the best, and prepared for the worst.

It was running on 4:30 when I decided she had done the sensible thing. It sucked, quite a lot actually, and I was bummed about it. I couldn't really be upset with her though. It was the smarter choice. I sighed heavily, and stood up. Only for my iPod to fall to the floor, yanking my headphones off and under the table. I bent down to pick them up and head back home.

"So, are you always dropping something?" A perfect voice asked from behind me. I grabbed my stuff and jerked back up.

"What can I say? You can find some pretty rad stuff on the floor," I shot back. I was only half joking. My mouth moves faster than my brain a lot of the time, and because of it, I can come off as a horrible insufferable sarcastic smart-ass.

"I bet," she laughed. I could listen to that laugh forever.

"So coffee or?" I asked. Dammit, gain control of your words, stupid.

"Would mind something a little stronger? It's been a rough day, and I could use a drink." She looked at me with her bright shining eyes. It was only then I noticed the tired look. The dead and waiting look of a college student. A college student who actually cares about school.

"No, that's cool. Whatever you want to do. Where did you want to go?" I asked. I knew a few bars around Riverwest. I may not like people, but I do like music, and there's a lot of live music in the bars of Riverwest. And I liked a drink, like anyone else. Maybe a little more. It knocked out the anxiety. I preferred to smoke weed though. No hangover. And it makes me eat. Another thing I just never really do.

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beardedmrbean · 1 month

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Wait I thought that First Nations is a proper term we use now to describe Native Americans?

Ugh

Also yeah the learning thing

It’s not like our education system is outdated as hell

Or being run by out of touch politicians

Perhaps you can find the link, but I heard that the public education system was changed in the 90’s for specifically to cater to neurotypical girls

Teachers unions are corrupted up the ass

But as I mentioned before that thanks to DNA ancestry test, we know black Americans of slave descent are 64% Yoruba

Yet despite one of the biggest gaming franchise Assassin’s Creed is based off pseudo surrounding it

And I’m not lying

The British Museum and the Smithsonian used assassin creed games for a Alexander the Great event and to visual the American Revolution in a sector

Imagine telling yourself 20 years ago that games would reach such levels?

Also when was dna ancestry known to the public

But anyways, one thing that perhaps other black Americans can help me with. Is that we when it comes to history, all we know about the old world is that we were enslaved

Keep in mind that I only learn about the Yoruba because of Hollywood fuck up

So imagine how HARD it’s going to explain community…who literary rates ain’t exactly the best

Okay there a saying I heard (paraphrasing) “If they ain’t going to teach you right. You think they’re going to treat you right?!”

Also perhaps in the evening as I notice something with a lot of stuff surrounding government in the 80’s-90’s media

I was trying to say the whole “Why we weren’t taught this in school” started with SJWs millennials in the early 2010’s

I’m just wondering how bad sjws critical thinking skills are when they never connected the dots that people who run the education system have their hands in the military industrial complex as well

Killary anyone?

It works, there's a screenshot floats round from a kids textbook that people try to pass of as HS talking about, well.

Every time it pops up we get dozens of people whining about the US education system until it's pointed out that, one it says "First Nations" which is the official way Canada says it (US is Native American) and two it says Quebec City in the bottom right center.

Outside of official things I don't think it matters which you use provided everyone knows what you're talking about.

Snopes actually covered this one, didn't need to but it was a opportunity to bash Europeans so they took it.

Perhaps you can find the link, but I heard that the public education system was changed in the 90’s for specifically to cater to neurotypical girls

I don't have a link on that one, nothing is turning up either but it is something that I've seen stated, also seen loads of studies showing that single sex classes turn out more capable students. Fairly well established that guys and girls learn differently so that makes sense.

The British Museum and the Smithsonian used assassin creed games for a Alexander the Great event and to visual the American Revolution in a sector. Imagine telling yourself 20 years ago that games would reach such levels?

That's rad, 20 years ago I'd have believed it, 30 jamin on my SNES not so much.

Also when was dna ancestry known to the public

Not sure, let's learn together

"Affordable" is the keyword there, general public wasn't doing them

But anyways, one thing that perhaps other black Americans can help me with. Is that we when it comes to history, all we know about the old world is that we were enslaved Keep in mind that I only learn about the Yoruba because of Hollywood fuck up So imagine how HARD it’s going to explain community…who literary rates ain’t exactly the best

Oakland’s rebellion against phonics set children back; let’s not repeat it

TL:DR; there was a structured phonics based curriculum that was increasing literacy rates rapidly in Oakland schools the teachers well.

Despite the obvious success of that curriculum, Weaver says teachers hated it. “This seems dehumanizing, this is colonizing, this is the man telling us what to do,” Weaver said. “So we fought tooth and nail as a teacher group to throw that out.” They succeeded, and Oakland children paid the price. Reading proficiency in the Oakland Unified School District abruptly decreased from 2014 to 2015, when the curriculum change was introduced. It hasn’t rebounded to pre-2015 levels. The district has a reading proficiency score of just 34%, well below the already stupidly low California state average of 51%.

🎉🎉🎉🎉Score a big win for decolonizing education🎉🎉🎉🎉

Also perhaps in the evening as I notice something with a lot of stuff surrounding government in the 80’s-90’s media I was trying to say the whole “Why we weren’t taught this in school” started with SJWs millennials in the early 2010’s

I said that several time actually, reading a random thing about WWI and came across the Ottoman Empire and couldn't remember learning a damn thing about them, WWI was Germany and Austria Hungary vs everyone else and for some reason this extended into Africa and the middle east but we're not going to worry too much about that.

As gaps go, that one was a doozy, you thought skipping over some random activist that did something that kicked off some movement was bad wait till you hear about the Empire that existed in the middle east, Africa, and Europe that was nearly completely left out of my history lessons.

Leaving Uzbekistan out I get, but not a 700 year old empire that our founding fathers had positive diplomatic relationships with.

Positive part was it gave me a whole bunch of stuff to learn, all on my own, without some bureaucrat deciding what was and wasn't important.

I’m just wondering how bad sjws critical thinking skills are when they never connected the dots that people who run the education system have their hands in the military industrial complex as well. Killary anyone?

Wait till you find out who helped make it so student loans couldn't be discharged through bankruptcy (biden)

The federal department of education was the beginning of the end for the US educational system and federal student loans greased the slide we're riding down.

People get mad when i say they need to be phased out, but honestly it's one of the best ways to make college affordable again imho. Just be bumpy for a decade or so till schools realize they need to stick with classes that will allow people to make a living.

Other option is make schools secure the student loans not the fed, they want their investment back they need to make a good investment.

#zoomer huey anon

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sortyourlifeoutmate · 2 months

Text

I'd entirely forgotten about the Krieg book.

I remembered because I stumbled across my half-finished, half-coherent thoughts on it.

So, below the cut, my unflattering thoughts.

I did not enjoy this book.

I did not enjoy it to such an extent I am going to talk about it at length.

There’s quite a lot to cover here, but we should be very clear and open by of course saying that my gripes are wholly and entirely subjective, and what I think is agonising and unacceptable someone else might think is fine or even good.

This is kind of an obvious thing to say, I just felt it would be best to make it explicit and plain right out the gate. I’m talking bollocks, basically. I am hardly a qualified authority on what constitutes ‘good’ writing beyond what I find tolerable to read, and I am (unfortunately) not the canon police for all of 40K.

(Though if GW would like to make me the canon police for all of 40K I am sure I could oblige. There’s been some very strange stuff going on with the Necrons over the last decade or more, and the sooner we get that sorted out the better. Hah. Fake laugh hiding real pain.)

So, making it abundantly clear that this is all just me whining, we need to start with some background.

The Death Korp of Krieg

To the best of my knowledge the Death Korp were first concocted and introduced back during the Third War for Armageddon campaign way back when, for flavour as one of ‘The many regiments involved in the war’ (see also Elysian drop troops, Savlar Chem Dogs, etcetera) and were originally portrayed using Steel Legion painted black, basically. In the beginning they were notable for their martyr complex owing to their planetary rebellion, their artwork depicting them as very “WW1-era Imperial German Army” and the background making the ‘atomic cleansing’ of their planet explicit.

They went on to become very popular, because they’re rad as fuck. Forge World in particular seemed to have got very smitten, as the Death Korp turned out to be a pretty good excuse to make big chunky tanks and neat artillery pieces and whatever. Fluff-wise I think - and I could be wrong - the only real wrinkle added to their background was the addition of the Vitae Womb as their secret, bordering-on-tech-heresy means of keeping their numbers up on a nuked deathball of a planet.

Which makes sense, honestly. But we’ll get to that.

But yes. To sum up. Krieg. Planet. At some point its ‘ruling autocrats’ rebelled against the Imperium and the ensuing civil war resulted in ‘five hundred years of atomic’ cleansing (infamously instigated by a guy called Colonel Jurten) and eventual loyalist victory, thence the Death Korp - the only valuable thing left for the planet to export. That was basically all you had, every detail left ambiguous.

One of the books’ issues is that it seeks to make some of those details less ambiguous, and does so poorly. We’ll get onto that, too.

The book

So. The book is called ‘Krieg’ and has two broad narrative strands: one concerning some Cadians and some Krieg doing their best to retake a hive after Orks crashed a spaceship into it and overran it, and another concerning Krieg’s civil war in the past.

I will be spoiling the plot in here probably, just so you know.

We have a couple of characters to follow, principally a Cadian Colonel and Sergeant in the present, an Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor and his interrogator also in the present, and in the past Colonel Jurten, the (nameless) rebel Chairman and also General Krause, right-hand man of the Chairman kind of. Oh, and Magos Greel, I guess, who helps out Jurten.

In broad strokes it goes something like this:

Present, after the Great Rift. Orks crash a spaceship into a hive. Inexplicably this is said to have happened without warning, but let’s not think about how that’s possible. Both the ship and the hive survive this, and enough Orks survive the crash to overrun the hive itself. An Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor and his retinue fight their way clear of the ensuing anarchy and escape the hive, meeting up with an incoming Krieg troop and the remnants of a Cadian detachment that was in the hive but had to pull out after putting up stiff resistance. Now outside the hive, they need to retake it because. The Inquisitor has secret motives that obliquely relate to the Krieg civil war. Kind of. Not really.

In the past, Krieg rebels against the Imperium. Or rather, the ruling autocrats and their Chairman rebel, and it’s up to Colonel Jurten and one regiment of Krieg Imperial Guard to retake the planet from the single hive they managed to hold onto. Stuff happens.

That’s basically it.

Style

Obviously critique of style is subjective, and doubly obviously if you don’t like something you’ll just keep noticing and picking at the things about it you don’t like. With that in mind, the style of this book is kind of like having a sore tooth - it was impossible to ignore, and it was always there.

Orks are forever howling. It feels like every other line some Ork is howling. Likewise people intone a lot. These are personal preferences but things like this either stick out and catch you and annoy you or they don’t, and they did for me. Gah.

Other than that just kind of dull, really. I was unmoved. And no jokes. 40k should have jokes! And then things should get awful! You can’t appreciate how awful things are if you weren’t feeling okay before! You can’t have your hope dashed if you weren’t hopeful to start with!

Boring people doing boring things boringly is boring! And that’s coming from me!

Characterisation

There aren’t many fun characters in this.

In the present you have the Cadians, who are boring, the Inquisitor and co, who are boring and annoying, and the Death Korp, who are kind of arrogant pricks. In the past you have Jurten, who is annoying, and the rebels, who are all flabby and moustache-twirling villains, which is annoying.

That’s a style judgement I’ll admit, and I’m sure some would disagree. Mainly I’m unhappy about the modern-day Krieg, as they don’t come across as flat-affect stoics, but as aloof and superior bastards. Much is made of their body language, but what they say and how they say it makes them come across as

Status quo

This applies to the segments set during the Krieg civil war, and it refers to the odd haste with which everything we know about the Death Korp in the modern setting of 40k is applied to Krieg was it was in the past.

Quick! Make the lasguns like how we know them! Quick! Greatcoats and skull-faced gas masks! Quick! Call them the Death Korp! Quick! Death riders! Quick! Invent the Ragnarok tank! Quick! Get the Vitae Wombs warmed up!

The war lasted five hundred years, guys! Five hundred years! You don’t need to immediately have the Death Korp battling exactly as we know them now. Ease into it! Or - even better - don’t ease into it at all! Have the Death Korp be entirely unrecognisable as they what they turn into!

If you really wanted to spice it up you could have someone who knew Krieg before - hell! Have a Krieg regiment or something off-world! Some survivor! - who, thanks to the vagaries of Warp travel - comes back in time to see the planet totally changed, and have them horrified!

(I can’t remember if they mentioned the other Krieg Imperial Guard regiments from before the civil war. They did exist - Colonel Jurten’s regiment wasn’t the only one - so did they all die off-world? It was five hundred years, I guess they did.)

A lot of this isn’t helped by the very loose way in which the passage of time is conveyed. The civil war segments are meant to be taking place over the course of years, but it really, really doesn’t feel like it. We’re just told about it. Oh yes this war has been going on for years it has, oh my. Rubbish, isn’t it? Ho hum, when will it end. Oh look, another five years have passed. Tempus fugit!

Civil war

The beauty of leaving things ambiguous is that you can fill in the blanks yourself, and this is what I did. Having someone come in afterwards - with GW’s blessing, it would appear - and pour their own blanks over my blanks is deeply uncomfortable, particularly when I find the new answers thoroughly uninvigorating.

Five hundred years is a long time! And I always pictured that it was five hundred years of pretty constant, grinding warfare - the loyalists driven by pious fury, the rebels with their backs against the wall on the nuclear hellball the loyalists turned their planet into. Rather, the book kind of has it that after the nukes fly and the dust settles it’s the Death Korp just kind of picking off the survivors one hive at a time.

This probably isn’t helped by the book having it that the loyalists only had the one hive to start with, with the whole rest of the planet seemingly set against them. I imagined that the split was a lot closer to even, but still tipped in the rebels’ favour, hence nukes. I imagined that the loyalists ran the numbers and saw they’d lose the attrition eventually and no help was coming and Jurten - who wasn’t a main guy, just some guy - seized the initiative and launched all these nukes before anyone could stop him, levelling the playing field by making everything that much more hostile. This followed by hundreds of years of grinding trench warfare across a frozen, radioactive hellscape.

The frozen radioactive hellscape part remained, but now Jurten is the main dude, and the loyalists are just one city, and there isn’t much of a war after the nukes it’s mostly mopping up. Eh.

Ork attack!

On paper, the Orks are the primary threat in the modern narrative strand. In practise they’re just kind of…there. We have no idea what leadership they have or how many there are or if they’re actually planning on doing anything, they’re just…

…there.

Which is a bad thing, sure, because Orks. But the Orks are explicitly just whatever Orks managed to survive the crash, which is apparently enough to overwhelm not only whatever defences the hive had but also the Cadians stationed there. Sure, they got hit by a spaceship, but the Orks were in the spaceship!

Eh, you could argue a good ten or more thousand survived. There’s a lot in those ships. And with all the explosions and collapsing hive there’d big a lot of chaos. You can argue that it kind of shakes out.

They’d still need a leader though, wouldn’t they? The Orks?

Ah whatever. Orks. And after that the Orks serve mainly to be a threat when they try to retake the hive (and fail miserably), and then attack them outside the hive where the guard entrenched because you couldn’t possibly have Krieg and not have them dig some trenches.

The exact distance between the trenches they dug and the hive itself doesn’t help here, because while I think it’s mentioned once prior to the guard making their pitiful attack into the hive (across open ground), other than that it doesn’t seem to be an issue. The hive is meant to be perhaps two kilometres from the trenches, across open ground. So all attacks that do come at them come across two thousand metres of open ground.

Across open ground. Bear that in mind.

Every so often a piecemeal Ork attack will come lurching out towards the guard for a little setpiece. At one point a dozen or so deathkoptas come out and attack them and that’s a legitimate firefight. You know? Deathkoptas? The warbike-sized little flying machines? Yeah, a handful come at them - across a vast expanse of open ground, at a few thousand entrenched guardsmen - and that’s a thing that happens.

Squigs also appear a few times, and are just sort of there, hiding out. The Cadian sergeant later gets her foot eaten by one, which might as well be a thing that happens.

Also at some point a stompa attacks. Just one stompa, busting its way out of the hive to come plodding at the trenches - again, across a vast expanse of open ground - and it somehow manages to avoid being shot to bits and actually gets there and causes some problems before it’s destroyed off-page.

Stompas are tough, sure, but they’re not exactly ‘advance slowly and entirely unsupported as the single available target for thousands of guardsmen and their support weapons’ tough. Also, you can’t target their legs. Felt I should point that out, given that they explicitly do target the legs to take it out. Again, you cannot do that to a stompa.

This is such a weird issue as the obvious, obvious solution is just to have more Orks. One Stompa is threatening, sure, but not in a shooting gallery. Three stompas, say, accompanied by other Ork armour, all at once? Now that’s an issue! Likewise, just some dethkoptas coming in all on their own is, like, not ideal but not exactly the worst thing?

Also the narration seems unclear on how big and heavy dethkoptas are, which is confusing to me. They ain’t that big.

Hives

There is no uniformity in Imperial hive cities. You have kind of the stereotypical hive city where it’s like a big ol’ nightmare anthill a mile or more tall and which also goes underground and houses billions - Necromunda, basically. That’s generally what you imagine, but you also have ones that cling to the underside of tectonic plates and hang into vast acidic seas, or ones that spread tumour-like across vast, inhospitable marshes.

There’s no real rule on them having to look like something, it’s just more a sense that hive cities are: A) Big B) Enormous C) Packed full of millions if not billions of people D) Are built on words that are not exactly suitable for human life, either prior to the building of the hive cities or as a direct result of the planet ending up a hive planet

The hive in the book is nowhere described, really, but it gives the impression of a classic hive city - big and tall. And that’s fine. Crash a spaceship into one of those, it might survive. Fine.

The issues - for I have nothing but issues - come with the basic idea that you could retake a hive with the amount of troops they have, and later someone goes to a spaceport inside a hive.

…ah, actually that’s not so bad. You could have a port somewhere up a hive, I guess, and given this happens at a point in the story where there’s been a huge explosion you could make a point to say that the bigger, higher-capacity out-of-hive spaceport has been taken out or something. They don’t though. Hmm.

Personal preference.

(As an aside I’ve always felt that describing Krieg historically as a hive city even prior to the civil war as a bit odd, as part of Krieg’s deal is that the planet was ruined in the atomic cleansing and you can’t go topside. Most hive world’s aren’t ‘Step outside and die instantly’ lethal but equally your odds of surviving unprotected on just about any of them are pretty slim. Ash Wastes, anybody?

So “Oh, Krieg was made a death world by nukes” is kind of weird when, by rights, it was probably a bit of a death world already. But that’s me. We’ll get back to that.)

Demolishers

This isn’t a huge issue but the book has a strange fixation on having Demolishers bombard things, which isn’t really what Demolishers are for or something they can do. They are, in case we forgot, big, slow, armoured tanks with short-range weapons designed to go into places where range isn’t a factor and support infantry. Urban warfare, mainly, or things like that. That’s kind of the point. That’s always been kind of the point.

If you want to fire a big gun at a wall, use a Medusa. Or a Bombard or whatever. You know, an artillery piece. You can use a Demolisher for this, sure, but why would you? You’d need to park the thing next to the fucking wall, when what it’s meant to be doing is be inside the wall, supporting an attack. It’s weird.

Vitae Wombs

In the background it is never made especially clear what Vitae Wombs actually are or what they do. It’s heavily implied they’re cloning people, and that’s kind of the line the book takes, but ‘Vitae Wombs’ on their own doesn’t really imply anything beyond having a way of artificially growing people.

I’m in two minds on this. Giving Krieg a way of keeping its population up makes perfect sense given their attrition rate and way of making way - spending men like bullets is hard if you only get those men from a radioactive death world, and in a toss up between kind of insinuating there’s a lot of (even for 40k) ‘conventional’ squicky stuff happening in those bunkers or else they fell back on forbidden techniques and forgotten technologies in their desperation to win the civil war and just kept going, well, I know which I’d go with.

What catches me is the clone part. The book surprises absolutely no-one by revealing - what a twist! - that Colonel Jurten got cloned, but isn’t especially clear on whether they’re still cloning him now, or whether they’re all Jurten or whatever.

Either way I don’t like any of that. Just leave Jurten alone, stop making him the main guy. He launched the nukes, and let that just be an act that, over time, became something they celebrated. Stop making him be everything and everywhere. He’s just a guy. Leave him alone.

NUKES

This is a big one for me.

A big part of the story concerns the Inquisitor needing to get back into the hive because there’s something there the Orks shouldn’t get their hands on. Something terrible. Something ancient and powerful and-

Surprise - it’s nukes.

Another part of the story concerns the Krieg loyalists in the civil war uncovering a hidden vault of terrible, forbidden weapons that can possibly alter the course of the war in their favour. Surprise - it’s nukes.

Now I don’t want to sound dismissive of nuclear weapons, because they’re awful. But in 40k it is a little odd to see people talking about nuclear weapons in tones of horrified awe, like they’re something from the Dark Age of Technology and not, you know, something that would surely rank alongside the heavy stubber in terms of “It’s old - but not like archeotech. Just old old.” Nukes aren’t an unknown, forgotten item of dark awe, they’re just not used all that much.

The Rogue Trader RPG (the Fantasy Flight one) - which is probably about as canonical as anything, really - explicitly states that the Imperium just has better ways of destroying things than by using nukes, which it does.

That Krieg had its five hundred years of atomic cleansing kind of made it obvious to me that they know about nukes and what they are and they had them. I always imagined they were simply one of the simply one of the weapons they had lying around - anti-ship weapons of some kind, maybe - and they used them because they had them. Not that they dug them out of a secret vault and spoke of them in hushed whispers and had no idea of the powers they’d unleashed.

Just figured nukes was what Jurten got his hands on, and as the war ground on the nukes were just what they had a lot of, and they kept using them. Not a big deal.

With that in mind, the Inquisitor’s subplot of needing to get into the hive because the former governor (who the Inquisitor had previously tortured to death) had a secret stash of half a dozen nukes in the hive and it is imperative that the Orks don’t get their hands on them is a bit ropey to me.

Oh no! Nukes! A handful of nukes! With those you could…

…mildly inconvenience a void-shielded hive. Oh no!

If the governor had, I don’t know, managed to acquire a batch of cyclonic torpedoes or something then you might have had a point. But since his secret stash is, as said, half a dozen nukes, this urgent, secret mission is really kind of stupid.

Remember that bit earlier in the story where the Orks crashed a spaceship into your planet? A spaceship that, oh, has a Warp engine in it?! And you’re worried about them getting a handful of nukes? It’d be bad Orks getting their hands on nukes, yeah, but the book starts talking about how they’re going to exterminatus the planet rather than let it happen. Jesus Christ, guys!

(As an exterminatus-related aside, cyclonic torpedoes are one of those wonderful 40K things where they’re as vague as possible about what they actually are, because all you need to know is that they’re powerful enough to kill a planet. How and by how much don’t matter, and in fact varies depending on who’s writing them at the time. They just can destroy a planet, and that’s all you need to know.)

This subplot comes to a head when a Krieg grenadier, left behind to guard the vault o’ nukes, sets off some krak grenades he’d set up to destroy them when the Orks finally break into the vault. The grenades blow up, the nukes blow up, the hive blows up. Boom.

I’m not an expert, but nuclear weapons - unless they’re armed, and even then - aren’t usually known for their sympathetic detonation. Which is to say if you explode a nuke, it doesn’t usually then explode itself. They’re quite complex devices and if you disrupt them by, say, exploding them, they tend not to work properly. You’ll have the issue of radioactive material spilling out, yeah, but that might be it.

Again, not an expert.

Also, wouldn’t them detonating in a tiny vault under however many metres of solid rock also under however many millions or billions of tons of rockcrete and steel that is the hive kind of take the wind out of the explosion a bit? Nukes are, as said, scary and nasty, but a fair whack of their destructive potential comes from them exploding in the open air where the shockwave and fireball can happen. Deep underground, under a hive city, uh, not so much?

Again again, not an expert.

Presumably the handwave to all of this is “Grimdark future nukes” and fine, sure, but if that was the case why not have some other grimdark future weapon that isn’t a weapon we have now and understand?

Then there’s also all the horror about the radioactive contamination (you blew them up underground! Just stay out of the hive! Everyone else is fine!) and a lot of stuff about black rain melting through armour and burning everyone. Yes, black rain is a thing, so maybe that happened. Just seems a bit ham-fisted to me.

Conclusion

So there you go.

A tide of nibbling little quibbles and issues all adding up to create something I simply could not enjoy.

Which is weird, as Steve Lyons wrote a book years back called Dead Men Walking which is basically Death Korp versus Necrons and that was a lot of fun - it had a bit which sticks with me even now, where Korpsmen are basically being killed one by one and are just systematically picking up the single meltagun they have as it is the only weapon capable of effectively killing the Necrons and anytime the man holding it dies the next one immediately steps in to keep going. It’s metal as fuck.

This book is not metal as fuck. It’s just deeply disappointing. There weren’t even any good setpieces. The battles are all dull and weird because of how bizarre the setup is and nothing especially interesting happens. None of the problems are worth your time, and none of the solutions the characters come up with to solve them are good or tense or anything you might actually want.

The book just happens.

How would I have done it? Well, I wouldn’t have, because I’m terminally incapable of following a plotline all the way through, but I have some suggestions:

Don’t have the guard in trenches outside the hive. Hives are big and if you have a couple thousand guardsmen just decide to dig some trenches across a tiny, tiny, tiny little stretch of the perimeter and then sit there a bit and fire some artillery at the hive, you make them look like chumps. Having such a paltry amount of guardsmen ordered to retake a hive was dumb in the first place, and this just makes them look worse.

Especially given that they fail miserably.

Give the Orks a named leader and have this attack be part of a broader war. They don’t have to meet the leader, but having this be one ship of Orks just feels bizarre. And make it be more Orks. And make it so they’re not at a risk of grabbing some nukes but specifically going after else nasty that they know is in the Hive. Maybe cyclonic torpedoes, like I said! Maybe the governor blagged a couple somehow, and that’s why the Inquisitor killed them! It’s not hard!

But yeah, broaden the scope, have more guardsmen and just zoom in close to follow some Cadians (it’s always fucking Cadians now) and their interactions with the Krieg they’ve been lumbered with as they have to breach this hive alongside everyone else.

And no fucking trenches!

As for the bits that happen in the past?

Don’t have Krieg as a hive city. Have it as a developed world that is on the way to turning into a hive city as Imperial demands for manufacture start to increase. The threat of having their world destroyed gradually would be a fair motivator for the rebels, and would also make the eventual fate of the world more impactful than “Shithole planet is now radioactive shithole planet.”

Have it the loyalists were promised aid, but circumstances change and the aid no longer forthcoming. That lends further depth to their decision to use the nukes. Maybe some of them were considering surrendering when they heard and Jurten went ahead with the nukes in a fit of pique, dooming the planet. It works better!

Don’t have Jurten be The Guy. He’s just A Guy. Not a main character! Have someone else be the main character! Someone with actual character! Someone conflicted! Paint the rebels as sympathetic! Have the main loyalist see their point of view but remain loyal anyway! Then everything goes to shit when the nukes fly and they’re locked into a war none of them want! That’s a bazillion times better than “Jurten was always a dick and he’s in charge and also the rebels are all super-duper ugly and evil” which is what we got! Argh!

Leave Vitae Wombs as some expressly ambiguous compromise between cloning or just growing people in batches, or something. Leave it vague, but clearly unnatural. And don’t talk about it. For God’s sake don’t talk about it. Some things work much, much better if you don’t talk about them.

I’m done. I’m out. That’s it.

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p5x-theories · 8 months

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If I can go back to talking about riko for a moment, IF her persona ends up being pegasus (which ngl idk how it fits into the rebellion aspect fully), then her codename could just be valkyrie right? Since she's likely to fill in the makoto spot of the story I figured she'd be riding her persona to some extent.

Yeah, I've been imagining she'll probably be riding her Persona as well! Valkyrie would be a rad codename for her in that case, and more exciting than just "Wind", haha. (though considering there's also a Persona named Valkyrie, maybe just slightly confusing? Though I suppose there's Queen and then "Queen Mab", as well, which is pretty similar...)

As for how it might fit into the rebellion aspect, Wikipedia mentions that "Pegasus allowed Bellerophon to ride him in order to defeat the monster Chimera, which led to many more exploits. Bellerophon later fell from Pegasus's back while trying to reach Mount Olympus. Both Pegasus and Bellerophon were said to have died at the hands of Zeus for trying to reach Olympus", which I could sort of see them being able to frame as a type of rebellion? Both defeating monsters, and then also trying to get to Olympus to join the gods.

Those are both associated more with Bellerophon than Pegasus, though, so I suppose alternatively, maybe something to do with how Bellerophon tamed Pegasus using a charmed saddle, but then as mentioned above eventually Bellerophon died, while Pegasus was later brought to Olympus after the fact? That could be framed as like, breaking free from the one that tamed him, maybe...?

#theories #wind #pegasus #anonymous

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thesims2comics · 2 years

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any chance of rating the posters? cue eyes emoji

*cracks knuckles* let's GO!

(I've included some posters from the EPs and APs, otherwise this would be a very short list of like 4 posters)

LONG POST AHEAD!!!

Engineered Angst Full poster: 5/10. what's going on here?? Is the person in front going to an eye doctor with funky walls? And why does she kinds look like a Urbz DS render? So many question, no answers

Engineered Angst Red: 6/10. Better than the previous one imo, I like the sims' facial expression a lot! And this is a me problem, but it kind of reminds me of the promo clips of the virtual boy?? Y'know that nintendo console that only used red and black as its colors? Still pretty cool though!

Searing Indifference: 7/10 Angsty teen poster number 3. Honestly? Iconic, this is one of those posters that I still remember from playing the game when I was younger. I've always thought it was a band poster though. Nonetheless, it's a very cheesy poster but I just can't rate this any lower

"Civic Idol" by Adora Wall Arts: 7/10 AMAZING POSTER!! I'd say it's the best "emo/edgy" poster in the game. I'd only like to know what the hell that humanoid thing is. Also, the red thing looks wonky and apparently the white stripes are meant to say "Civic Idol". But the skyline and the moon look so great and the red stripe makes it look like dangerous and egdy. Kudos for the amazing composition of this one

Pets poster: 5/10. Cursed. For some reason, this poster looks much more jankier and pixelated than the others, even the basegame ones. Kinda simple, but it sorta does the job (Fun fact: this is one of the few posters that have variants! Which redeems it)

Revolutionary Rebellion poster: 8/10. Really cool! I love the hard red with the black and white and is much less crispier than some other posters. In the build&buy description it says that we should check out the Sim with the moustache but honestly, I have no idea what that's about. At least it looks pretty nice! Kent, Nervous and Moustache Mercutio is my fave rockband

"It's Reggae, Mon" Poster: 9/10. Really pretty!! I love the posing of this guy and with the sun flare and background it's one of the most beautiful posters available! Also, seeing the previous music posters' description, I thought the devs would've made fun of the genre since they also did that with the teenage angst posters. But I think it's actually really nice and cool what they wrote about reggae music so I've included it for you to read

"Fists of Bunny" poster: 8/10. I think this might be an anime reference or something? Or is this what the Social Bunny does when he's not with a sim? Just anime kicking in the Void? I don't get the reference, but it does look cool! Would I hang this up in my actual room? Probably yeah! And I like that it's the Social Bunny, we don't see the guy that often in the Build&Buy

Inverted Vertigo, Cover art: 5/10. What the hell is going on here??? Hands??? light strokes? Some people? A face??? This reminds when I discovered blending layers in a drawing program for the first time honestly.

All the alien posters: 8/10 Tumblr limits me to only upload 10 images, so these guys are getting grouped. Hell yeah! Alien posters! These look cool as hell, HD quality next to the pets poster. I don't know how to feel about the way too human alien head on the left though, it kinda freaks me out, because for the sims 2 this is far too realistic. And apparently the guy on the surfboard is PT#9 cousin, RT#66 surfing through the galaxy, good for him! These posters are rad as hell in my opinion, especially after some rather small and pixelated ones.

That's gonna be it for the poster review! There's an image limit of 10 and because I have the Super Collection I don't have all the posters, so there isn't gonna be a part 2 from me. If anyone else feels like completing this list with all the posters form the Ultimate Collection or make their own review with the posters, feel free to do so!

These were just my opinions on the posters, if you have others thoughts on the posters that's fine, your opinion is valid!

#very long post #long post #poster review #not art #the sims 2 #ts2

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percocet · 1 year

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home finally!!! recount of the night:

the opening band FUCKED and fucked hard. tonight was the first live show they played in 3 yrs!! and they're from the city i go to uni in and at the merch stand we ended up talking about it. they're so cute and funny. i was like hey do u take debit card my friend here doesn't have canadian money. and they were like no but i'll literally trade you anything you want for that red bull jacket you're wearing. and caro was like HAHAH I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY TO TAKE IT OFF THEM. i got a t-shirt :)

KAYLEIGH. is so lovely. omg. she took time between songs to chat about her thought processes while writing, joked around with us, kept it real. she's so eloquent and i was lowkey pissed off at the back of the crowd for talking while she was talking because like hello! yeah i know she's not bringing like heavy bangers or whatever but she's literally sharing her heart with us. show some love? during her second last song the pit opened tho and she stopped singing for a moment to be like awh you guys are rad as fuck. fell in love w her tonight.

i had pre-show jitters before ls dunes came on because this was like. my first ever show where i was general admission! standing on the floor!! moshing, even!!! and i was worried i'd get squished or hurt or wouldn't be able to see shit and i got myself in a state for like. nothing lol. it was fine. it was more than fine. there were moments where the crowd would part before me like the red goddamn sea and anthony or frank or travis would be like Right There.

tucker rule is so fucking good. did not miss at any point during the set. also it was his birthday! we sang happy birthday very badly for him!! i will upload that in a sec lol

before past lives, frank said "mark, could we get a LOT less anthony and tucker's ears. thank you so much." and anthony said "can you take me out of tucker's ear?" while frank threw his arms up like "sorry, SORRY. i don't want to be the guy who has to say it!" then anthony went, "what the fuck, tucker?" and frank grabbed the mic immediately like "can we get some xanax in tucker's ears, please?" they fucked around for a couple seconds and then anthony said "everybody just needs less of me" to which frank responded. "i'll take whatever they got.... and if i could get more of MY vocal, please." then frank tucked his hair behind his ears. said "okay im done with them." insane little duo. im going to gif this instead of sleeping

people went insane during permanent rebellion and past lives. anthony stood on a mountain of people at one point in the latter song. i think i stopped breathing it was intense

encore was 2022 and sleep cult! we all sang the shadoop shoobeedoop part and god the entire crowd singing "sorry that i wish that i was dead"....... punch in the gut. kayleigh also came on stage for it!! so good. also they extended the ending for maximum psychological damage. i love this song and this record

caro and i got chatime after and then got lost in toronto because apparently even though i've moved here i know fuck all about the ttc 😭 literally had . the most fun ever and it's 2:30 am and i have to be up at 6 to picket at 7 so i think i'll just be up. oughh so much love in my heart. so much love!!

#ls dunes #long post #11.22.2022 #dunesposting

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hereliesbitches--me · 10 months

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:V: Crawl out through the Fallout:

:V: Crawl out through the Fallout (Fallout):

Who doesn't like a good nuclear apocalypse?

You sure can meet an interesting set of characters in the wasteland

For reference, While I have only really played Fallout 4, the verse is entirely open to adaptation into any of the franchise games as Rosie wanders all around the US as a drifter . If you have any specific plot ideas, let me know!

S.P.E.C.I.A.L Stats:

Strength: 7

Perception: 9

Endurance: 5

Charisma: 10

Intelligence: 8

Agility: 5

Luck: 10

Special Perks:

Rad Resistant

Cannibal

Lead Belly

Steady Aim

Armorer

Sniper

Black Widow

Wasteland Whisperer

Scrapper

Gun Nut

Sneak

Fortune Finder

Scrounger

The Plot Background:

Rosita Roselyn, "Rosie" was born in Boston, Massachusetts well after the world had fallen to its nuclear war. But that's about the limit of what she knows about her birth ; whether she was artificially born as a fault experiment or she is just a new breed of wastelander is entirely up to debate. Not even she knows the truth. Only what's been told to her.

As a toddler, Rosie's parents were killed by Gunners. The hitman, Nova von Ritter, not knowing there was a child involved, couldn't help but feel the vague sense of guilt in leaving the kid behind, so she took the brat in. With the notion at the back of her mind that said brat would maybe be worth someone someday with her mutant cat features.

For most of her youth until she was about 13, Rosie was raised among the gunner gang as an honorary member ; taught the marksman skill, the armoring, the blacksmithing, and all the vital skills it would have taken to be a prime gunner when she finally hit that age to go out on hits with the adults. She loved them as her family, the ache of her lost parents barely there anymore, until she lost the Gunners too.

Though all the Gunners played a role in Rosie's upbringing, Nova was still her primary "parent" responsible for her. Nova von Ritter was always known to be the wild card of the gang, more concerned with her own comfort and well being before anyone else at her core, but a damn good mercenary when push comes to shove, with her pension for violence. If you could look past her innate need for rebellion. When years passed, Rosie getting older, the gunners came down harder on Nova to be a good example and get her shit together. Insulted, she decided on her own she had outgrown the gunners, and the life of raiders seemed more up her alley.

In the dead of night she says she’s going on a mission and taking Rosie out to “Break her in” , but they never did return. From 13 to 18, Rosie’s life had been turned upside down, unable to transition from a military life of routine to the unregulated chaotic life of raiders. Taunted, beaten, pushed around, and sometimes worse , only ever vaguely protected by Nova on the grounds it would make her tougher. She learned thievery and some level of makeshift rigging, but that was the limit from savages.

When she was left in a cage to starve and be used as bait, that was the final straw to break away and fully escape into the big scary world of nuclear fallout.

Rosie had developed a talent by utilizing her strange mutant features, a mastery of thievery. With maxed out charisma and a ridiculous amount of luck on her side, she’s made a life for herself wandering the states collecting shiny goods and tinkering with stolen weapons, she has very few cares in the world besides when she eats and where she’s gonna sleep. Along the way she gained a companion out of a stray german shepherd (Sergeant) and a mutant hound( Major) found beside the corpse of a mutant. She’s even found sanctuary among a mirelurk colony after accidentally subduing the Queen in order to save her life and her hounds. Learning mirelurk is a crafty language on hand when wandering the wasteland with all its unholy beasts. Deathclaw is her 3rd language.

Ultimately, Rosie’s life is one of a drifter looking for her next fix of adventure in the company of strange interesting figures that call the wasteland their home.

Fun Character Details:

◇ Despite what people think ( though, likely don’t care about ) , not all mirelurk colonies are the same. They don’t all just get along, and recognize each other through a certain pattern of movement and even scents. Rosie can recognize her colony and communicate with them through a series of clicking and imitation gestures like snapping her hands like claws, walking around in a certain pattern, and swaying. She knows her colony’s look, scent, and gestures that identifies her with them (After all, what's safer protection than living with a colony of giant acid spitting crabs??)

Rosie finds it highly offensive when people think she can just jump in with any colony and that all mirelurk are the same. They are all individual groups. Rosie got Charisma but it takes time and she’s gotta charm the right wasteland monster to save her tail (aka. Charm the Queen = how she accidentally got adopted into her colony) .

Also offensive to think she speaks cat because she is half cat. Most cats are assholes and they fight because they harass her dogs.

◇ Rosie has an absolutely ungodly fixation with shiny things and will do crazy things to get it. She’s a little thief and if it catches her attention, she will go to the extremes to nab it. This often gets her into major trouble, but shiny is shiny!! You likely know she’s camped out in a spot if you come across a bunker with a mass amount of random shiny objects all piled together– items she collected, but couldn’t take when she had to leave that spot. Ironically, once she has it, she eventually loses interest and just hoards it. Hence why she has no problem leaving it behind after a while, taking only what has value enough to trade or still kept her attention. She is just an irrational lil collector. Even her dogs Judge her when she gets weird with her pile. All her armor is also 80% stolen (from both living and dead)

◇ She can be brought out by nice and interesting shiny things. And items that chime and ring, like any cat. Someone holds her back or she falls for it. She’s literally only alive by sheer luck and instinct. Trained gunner brain vs impulsive animal brain.

◇ When it comes to her two hounds, Rosie has had Sergeant, the German Shepherd, since she was a young girl. She got him while he was a puppy , when she was still a little girl among the Gunners. It was a gift from the head gunner to her, when they found a stray puppy lost while they were on a job. He brought it back to Rosie, and she took him with her when Nova dragged her along to the raiders. It's the reason Sergeant is a lot like a military dog because they taught him commands, how to run supplies, to how to be a defensive attack dog for little Rosie. Because of the events that happened while with the raider group, Sergeant gets viciously aggressive if someone tries to forcefully get between him and Rosie, or when you try to force him into a cage or into a separate room. Dog turns from cool and collected to an absolute feral mad dog, and he’s honestly Rosie’s biggest comfort dogo. He’s grown with her, he’s a rather old dog. Rosie’s other mutant hound, Major, was found beside the body of a dead super mutant who Rosie can only assume was his master. Left out in the open, the poor dog looked like he was starving, but refused to leave the side of its decaying super mutant, even going so far as to defend the body from other wasteland creatures that tried to get it. He had been covered in wounds from those fights, looked close to death, and Rosie with her natural instinct wanted to help the dog. Using her Charisma she’s able to pacify the mutant, offer him food to occupy him, and use her own scare supplies to clean up and bandage his wounds. She camped out in the same area and kept up the routine for a good week before the hound would fully trust her, and once he did Rosie wanted to take him along with her. She dug up a nice hole and hulled the decaying super mutant piece by piece into the hole, then buried it. Once buried, Major seemed to have finally made his peace, and happily went along with Rosie. Major is much younger than Sergeant, and Rosie estimates he’s only a few years old( aka. A puppy) despite being literally as big as she is and twice her weight. He’s more for intimidation and muscle, and alerts both Rosie and Sergeant of danger when they’re all sleeping together in a pile.

◇ Because of her experiences, Rosie has never really formed any kind of real or intimate relationships. She's in her early 20s but the only companions she’s ever had has been with her dogs. She can charm people, she can flirt and talk a big game to aid with her thievery– but to actually go all the way? For someone to actually show interest in her? Rosie.exe shuts down. She freezes and doesn’t know what to do and loses confidence if she doesn’t have a full thought out plan. She’s had crushes but has never actually tried to pursue anyone. She wears gunner goggles because she thinks she looks cool and they protect her eyes, but she also wonders if that turns people away from liking her. She is a sensitive cat thing!!

#mobile verse #:V: Crawl out through the Fallout (FALLOUT):#Fallout rp #apocalypse rp

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flamyangelwings · 2 years

Text

Uncle Clay AU: The ""Deep Lore""

In which Drayden's family is.....complicated.

MASTERPOST

To begin: The family history

The SIlvermane family has lived in Unova as long as anyone can remember

-Rumour has it they’re actually descended from one of the Twin Princes

-Yes, that name is a direct reference to the fact that their hair is apparently naturally that colour

--Also it just sounds rad and appropriately regal

-They’ve served as lorekeepers for just as long, passing down the legends of the region from generation to generation

--As well as things such as folk songs about said legends

-They’ve also running the Opelucid Gym as long as it has existed

--Basically, if B/W + B2/W2 had happened 50 years earlier, Drayden’s grandfather, Eldrac, would have been the Lore Giving NPC

Eldrac was an only child and only had one child, Arrden, who had no interest in any of that

-Sure, the stories were fun when he was a kid, but they’re just stories

--Basically, he’s a Pokemon atheist/sceptic. he doesn’t believe in the Legendaries as anything other than really rare/extinct Pokemon

-And while the occasional battle is fun, he doesn’t want to run a Gym

Arrden wanted a very different life than the one he was born into.

-No constant battles, no reading and rereading and rerereading old stories

--Especially no constantly being drilled on those old stories to make sure he remembered them ‘right’

-Eldrac was sure Arrden would grow out of that ‘silly fit of rebellion’ and accept his role in life eventually

--Yeah…no.

--Eldrac wasn’t cruel or anything just very stubborn and prideful

---He loved his son and wanted the best for him, he just didn’t realise that ‘the best for him’ wasn’t the life Eldrac had envisioned for him

Arrden went on his Pokémon Journey at 13, at Eldrac’s urging, but didn’t really try. He didn’t care for battling and wanted nothing less than having to challenge the Gym Leaders who all knew him as ‘Eldrac’s kid’ and expected him to take over the Opelucid Gym

-The Gym Leader in Nacrene was the first adult to take him seriously when he said that he had no plans to become a Gym Leader and encouraged him to follow his dream and not just stick with the path his father was forcing him on

The day of his 18th birthday, Eldrac told Arrden it was finally time for him to take the first step to taking over the gym, a Pilgrimage to the top of Dragonspiral Tower.

-Arrden put his foot down. He told Eldrac, for the hundredth time, that no he was not going to do that because he was not taking over the Gym

--It turned into a shouting match that ended with Arrden storming out of the house with a bag and climbing into his best friend, Reyna’s, great-aunt’s car.

---Eldrac expected him to come back within a few days

----Instead he came back from work a few days later to find almost all of Arrden’s things gone

-----He rushed out to try and find Arrden right away, but found no trace of him, and as he was an adult who had left of his own accord, according to all his friends, he couldn’t open a missing person’s report

Arrden and Reyna spent two years travelling before getting married and settling down in Reyna’s hometown of Anville Town, where they moved into the house her parents had left her before their deaths

-Eldrac was beyond surprised to get a wedding invitation

--Also super relieved. This is the first he’s heard from Arrden since he left

---He had been worrying non-stop

----I repeat, he was a good dad, he loved his son, he was just stupid stubborn and kind of willfully oblivious to Arrden’s feelings

-----He’s had two years to ruminate on all this and understand where he went wrong

-He goes to the wedding, where there is a tearful reunion and apology.

--Eldrac hasn’t done a total 180, but he accepts that Arrden doesn’t want to take over the Gym

---He doesn’t quite accept that Arrden still thinks of the legends as myths, but keeps his mouth shut, since he doesn’t want to lose his son again

A year later, they had Drayden

Drayden's Youth

To Arrden’s eternal consternation, Drayden developed a fascination with the old legends at a very young age

-Really, it was his own fault for using them as bedtime stories

--But better that than Goldilocks and the Three Ursaring

-And the old folk songs as lullabies

--Drayden’s favourite being When Truth and Ideals Clashed

---Think something of a similar feel to Misty Mountains Cold from the Hobbit movie

-Eldrac on the other hand was delighted, though Arrden and Reyna very firmly told him that Drayden’s future was up to Drayden

--If Drayden, when he was older, wanted to dedicate his life to knowing those old stories then he could, but Eldrac was not to try and lead him to that decision

---Eldrac agreed, not wanting to risk losing his son again due to his own actions

When Drayden was eleven years old, only a year before he planned to go on his Pokémon Journey, Arrden and Reyna discovered they were expecting another child

-Naturally, they were ecstatic and Drayden decided to put off his Pokemon Journey by a few years to help with his new baby sister, Alveria

And so at fifteen years old, Drayden began his Pokemon Journey

-On his way to challenge the first Gym, he met Clay who challenged him to a battle. And Drayden thoroughly trounced him

--Clay challenged Drayden to a rematch after the second Gym, which Clay won

---And then they bumped into each other again and had another rematch, that Clay won again

----And another, that Drayden won

-----And another, and another, and another

------It seemed that no matter what they were doing, they’d always end up running into the other

------And battling each other was fun, they were very evenly matched, even with Drayden being three years older

When he finally reached the 8th Gym. Drayden was shocked to find out that the Gym Leader was his grandfather.

-His parents never told him and Eldrac always assumed he knew

After Drayden won the Gym Battle, Eldrac took the opportunity to ask if he still liked the old legends like he had as a child.

-The answer was an enthusiastic yes, and Drayden started to tell Eldrac about his favourite legends.

--All of which Eldrac knew by heart, but was happy to sit and listen to his grandson enthuse about in a way his son never did

-Then Eldrac mentioned that the stories Drayden had heard were passed down through the family, offered to let him look at the materials he had on them after the Pokémon League

--He respected Arrden’s stance on not trying to pressure Drayden into making any decisions but, at the same time, he wanted Drayden to know it was an option

--Drayden was, of course, ecstatic at the idea of learning more about his favourite subject

Finally it was time for the Pokèmon League Tournament.

-Both Drayden and Clay made it to the Quarter FInals before losing.

--If they’d both won that round they would have faced each other, so both were pretty disappointed at not getting to have another rematch

Drayden went home for a few months, stopping at Opelucid on the way back with a promise to return, and tells his parents he wants to go back to Opelucid and study the ancient legends more

-Eldrac had phoned Arrden as soon as Drayden left for the Pokemon League telling him about Drayden’s visit and that he’d made the offer.

--Arrden had already known it was coming, and he and Reyna had resigned themselves years ago to Drayden probably spending most of his time in Opelucid after his Journey

Drayden came home to visit fairly often, in the beginning at least; holidays, weekends, any special occasion

-Sometimes even managing to bring Eldrac with him

-But as the years passed and he got older, he grew up and by the time Alveria was old enough for her own Pokémon Journey, he was really only returning to Anville for holidays and birthdays.

Ten Years Later: Snapshots of Alveria

Alveria was never that interested in battling, much like her dad

-She still went on a Pokemon Journey, and did end up with a full team of six Pokémon, but she was far more interested in taking photographs of Pokémon than capturing them or doing the Gym Challenge

--This is how she met her soon-to-be best friend and eventual husband Duke

---He happened to be on the same hill as her with his own camera trying to get shots of a meteor shower happening during a lunar eclipse

----The two of them became rivals, in their own way, competing to get the best photos of every Pokémon in the region.

-----As well as just cool shots of beautiful landscapes or cool events

--She travelled with a large group of other kids, some of whom were doing the Gym Challenge, others were Coordinators, as well as one kid who wanted to become a Pokemon Researcher

---Her friends were beyond confused when, despite not really caring about any of the Gyms before, Alveria was practically rushing them to the eighth Gym

----They were even more confused when the elderly Gym Leader and his apprentice greeted her enthusiastically

-----They were mortified when they found out it was her grandfather and older brother.

------Well, less so her grandfather, but Drayden was young, fairly attractive, and semi-famous. Alveria had had to suffer her entire Journey with her friends talking about how attractive he was.

Alveria and Duke would continue to attempt to one-up each other the rest of their youths, singing postcards back and forth of their best and newest photographs, and meeting up to see who could get the best shot of such-and-such special event

-Duke would, in fact, propose to Alveria during one of these meetups when they were 19

--He signed them up for a bus photo tour while on vacation together, and arranged with the tour guides to have his Pokemon waiting around a bend on their path with signs

---Tour Guide: And we have a chance to see something special around this next corner, everyone! Be sure to get your camera’s ready!

---Alveria: *camera ready, staring through the lens, hyper focused*

---Duke: *Getting down on one knee and pulling out the ring box*

---Everyone else on the tour: *Noticing Duke and aiming cameras at him and Alveria*

They got married at 20, and would continue to travel Unova, as well as other regions, taking photographs.

-They stopped for a long while after the twins were born, when Alveria and Duke were 24, but once the twins turned four and were old enough to understand that they’d come back, they started occasionally leaving them with friends overnight for slumber parties and having ‘date day trips’

--They planned to start bringing the twins once they were 6, and would actually remember the trips

---Unfortunately, that would never happen, as Alveria and Duke would die when Ingo and Emmet were 5

Drayden and Alveria never had a truly close relationship

-He was her ‘cool older brother’ and she his ‘baby sister’, and they loved each other, but:

--There was 10 year age gap between them and he practically moved to Opelucid when she was three

---Meaning she only saw him on holidays and weekends

----He felt less like an older brother and more like a cousin to her sometimes

--He had little interest in photography, and she had little interest in battling or mythology

--And he was often very busy, having taken over the Gym shortly after she turned 12.

---When she got older and started travelling freely, she started making the effort to try and visit him whenever she was in the area for a trip, but their schedules seldom matched up

----Especially since the summer was his busiest time, since a lot of kids did their Pokémon Journey during summer break

-As such by the time she had Ingo and Emmet, when she was 24 and he 34, they really only saw each other once or twice a year, and phoned every few months

--At the time Alveria and Duke die, Drayden had met his nephews maybe a dozen times, only a handful of those that they’d actually be old enough to remember

---Though he did send them their first Pokémon for their fifth birthday.

----Much to Alveria's chagrin. When he said he wanted to send them Pokémon, she thought he meant like a Lillipup or a Purrloin to share

-----Not a Litwik and a Tynamo

------She was very vocal about that on their next phone call

At the time of their accident, Drayden would be the twin’s only living relative

-Eldrac having passed away in his sleep two years after Alveria got married

-Arrden and Reyna died in a shipwreck when the twins were two

-Reyna’s parents died when she was a bay and she was left in the care of her great-aunt who died when she was a teenager

#Uncle Clay AU #My ideas #Pokémon Drayden #Pokémon #character death mention #But it's all OCs made for Backstory Reasons

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