#the master project lament
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just noticed there's already three scenes in which a large figure is looming over my main character and i'm sure that's implying something about me and my psyche or whatever but let's not dig too deep there
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don't mind me... just thinking about the dateables slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...
diavolo // barbatos (you are here) // simeon // solomon -- x gn!reader, NSFW below the cut
barbatos, who will always be there for lord diavolo. when the idea of an exchange program first popped in the prince's head, barbatos was the backboard in which diavolo bounced his ideas off of. humans and angels in the devildom? how would we keep them safe? what would their curriculum look like? the program slowly molds into shape with each of these conversations. he watches as the idea grows to a proposal, then a plan, and finally, a real project to work towards. the prince is always chipper when discussing the program. a few nobles doubt that the plan will come to fruition, but barbatos has long since learned that doubting the prince will only motivate him more. when the day of the exchange program begins, barbatos watches with a small, almost entirely smile as the future king of the devildom welcomes the new students to his academy.
barbatos, who lives to please. it's his purpose, his sole duty in the devildom day in and day out. when lord diavolo orders him to make sure you feel welcome, he does the job with flourish. your favorite desserts are always at tea when you visit. he's sure to answer any questions or concerns you have promptly as you tour the castle. he even loosens the leash on the young master just a little as the two of you grow closer, giving him some grace to spend time with you over staying cooped up in his office-- so long as you continue to enjoy yourself. maybe somewhere along the way affection blurs into duty, obligation fading into genuine interest. he's there to lend a listening ear, to be a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold should you so desire. barbatos never oversteps his bounds, for that would be wholly unprofessional. but he never speaks up when you linger in the kitchen, shuffling in your spot as you babble on about whatever comes to mind. he never rushes you out after a long day at the castle visiting the young master, even when the skies are dark and lucifer is impatient to know your estimated arrival time back at the house of lamentation. it's the little things that let you know he cares... maybe even a little more than he believes he should.
barbatos, who doesn't mind your company-- even if you're a little distracting. your laughter echoes through the garden, giddy chirps quickly becoming loud, joyous barks of noise as little d's bound around your feet. their voices overlap, all too excited to be avoiding their gardening duty, as they bombard you with jokes and stories. barbatos should send them on their way. but you look so happy. you once said that they reminded you of dogs from the human realm with the way they darted around and got into trouble. the metaphor wasn't perfect, considering they were still conniving little demons, but they'd suffice. anything to ease your homesickness, after all. he doesn't even realize the tree trimmers in his own hands have stalled until you cry out-- how long had he been watching you? in a moment of darting demons and misplaced footsteps, you tumble to the ground, tripped by one of the little d's. he knows it's an accident, but his tone is venomous as he tells the demons to get away from you. they scatter like roaches. he's quick to make his way to your side, and you laugh, brushing off his concerns as he helps you up. but look. your palm is red and irritated from the impact. it's not enough of a scrape to draw blood, but you still got hurt. barbatos bows deeply to apologize for allowing them to take things too far-- he should have been watching better. he'll find a fitting punishment for them, although he doesn't share that with you. your hands wave in panic as you assure him no, it's okay, don't apologize! he inspects the injury again, gloved fingers gliding against the wound, watching your face from the corner of his eye to see if he's causing you any discomfort. you appear to be fine. barbatos does the courteous thing-- surely, that's the only motivator for his actions, nothing else-- and presses a soft kiss to the wound as a final, silent apology. your eyes are wide when he meets them again, lips curling nervously into an uncertain smile. if he didn't know any better, he'd say you look like you're already plotting your next injury. maybe that's just his imagination.
barbatos, who has grown. who has lived a long, long life, and will continue to live far into the future, where the human mind can no longer perceive time. he was around long before you were a fruit on your family tree-- hell, he was probably born before it was even planted. he's seen civilizations rise and fall. greed has swallowed whole kingdoms under his silent watch, castles crumbling under the weight of their own hubris while he didn't say a word. humans are so flawed, so sinful. he's never cared much for their weight in his life. he used to think the realms were better off separate-- until he met the young master, of course-- but now he knows where he was wrong. your clumsy fingers fumble with the ingredients, their foreign colors and textures tripping you up as you follow the recipe he wrote out for you. he has to stop himself from micromanaging you. barbatos watches you from the corner of his eyes as he kneads out the pastry dough in his hands. the cultural exchange must be hard for you, even after all these months you've been immersed in demon culture. he doesn't think about it, didn't think about it, until one of the brothers brought it up in passing. how strange. you've adapted quite well to everything. his mind wanders as he watches you look between measuring cups. how long as it been? how long have these sorts of feelings been dormant in him, this level of passion for another living creature? you captivate him like no other. when he was a younger demon, he spent years wandering, indulging every hedonistic desire he had. there were countless lovers left in his dust, tangled bedsheets and broken hearts trailing back to the dawn of time. it'd been a long time since he bothered to look at anyone romantically, even longer since someone stirred these feelings up on their own. yet here you were. special, truly. a grin split your face, and barbatos watched as you did a little dance to celebrate your successful attempt at completing this portion the recipe. praise flowed like warm honey from his lips. his words made your grin wider, if at all possible. you crossed the counter to press a giddy little kiss against his cheek, and he stilled for a long moment. how did a little kiss affect him so? this, he might never realize. he broke the spell with a small chuckle and returned the favor-- properly, this time, pressing his lips against yours for a moment before refocusing your attention on the desserts you had yet to finish. he'd met a lot of humans in his lifetime, and yet there was something about you none of the rest of them had. but what? he'd gladly spend as long as he needed to in pursuit of that answer.
barbatos, who will never get tired of a quiet morning. they're rare in his profession-- usually he's up early, silently pattering about as he begins preparing to wake the rest of the castle. but today that is not the case. today he's curled around you like vines on ruins, body intertwined with yours until he hardly knows where he ends and you begin. the crypt he calls a room is dark at all hours of the day, only illuminated by candles and other such lights when someone walks in. but you've got a special lamp from the human world that brightens your room in tune with the time of day, like the sun in the human realm does naturally. the warm light caresses the curve of your cheeks, the curl of your lips, the fluttering of your eyelids as you begin to stir. there's a part of him that wants you to stay asleep. he wants to observe your drowsy form a little longer, to burn the shape of you into his brain so he'll never know another moment without your face. but your eyes open, and you smile-- maybe having you wake up isn't such a bad thing. you rasp a good morning. he returns the favor. and when you kiss him good morning, he again follows suit. it's lazily, all warm lips and breathy chuckles as your hands come to his cheeks. his arm was already wrapped around your side, and barbatos takes the opportunity to rub circles into your back. neither of you pull away, and lazy kisses grow more heated when left to progress. his lips trail across your skin, breath tickling your collarbone, your sternum, your stomach, until he reaches the waistband of your sleep shorts. he spares you a quick glance to see you nod, easing yourself out of your lower garments with his assistance. his tongue laps softly at your sex, eliciting a content sigh from you. your thighs wrap carefully around his head, and his arms link around them to hold you close. sleep clings to your skin like his touch. it's all light, all careful, his lips wrapping around your sex and sucking just enough to make you whine. it's a gentle build up of pleasure inside you. his fingers replace his lips somewhere along the way, stroking you as his tongue moves instead to your hole. his tongue pushes shallowly inside you, alternating between lapping and thrusting in a way that leaves you squirming around his head. trembling fingers grip his hair when you eventually climax. there's love in his eyes and in his smile as he licks his mess clean, his spit mixing with yours juices around his mouth and between your thighs. he only moves when you murmur something about wanting him inside you-- that catches his attention, and he's quick to finish cleanup before slipping out of his own clothes. he needs nothing more than a simple kiss to be prepped for you after such a wonderful show. your pleasure is his pleasure. his lips meet yours, and he lines himself up carefully before pushing into your hole with a few languid, easy thrusts. a sigh catches between your joined lips-- is it his, or yours?-- and he waits a moment before moving inside of you. you exist in many timelines, many worlds, all living different lives with different people. but he is eternally grateful he lives in this one. he couldn't imagine every being content after having you like this, ever craving someone else like he does you. a lifetime without you is simply not worth living in-- that, barbatos is sure of.
taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable // @deepseafragments // @niinian
#my apologies for dropping this a day late i wanted to do him justice#this is not as smutty as some of the others either but i genuinely don't picture him to have a real roster like the others#also i'm just now looking and this is Long As Hell#obey me#obey me shall we date#omswd#obey me nightbringer#obey me nb#obey me barbatos#obey me x reader#obey me barbatos x reader#obey me smut
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🍵𝐁𝐟!𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 🍵
; Fluff.
♥︎First impression ->
• Barbatos got to know about your esistence when Lord Diavolo picked your name up as the human exchange student. He didn't really cared about knowing you, since you were just an ordinary human who his Young Master required for his project.
• When you found yourself in front of all of them, and of course, Mainly Lord Diavolo, you felt shocked. Scared. And surely, your first thought was that you died; literal demons towered over you, after all!
• Barbatos was just behind everyone, checking if everything was going good and how your behaviour would be respectful towards his Lord. Once he settled eyes on you, though, he felt something indescrivable coming right from his chest. He was sure he never felt something like that with no one else.
• However, he stayed calm and focused on what was happening, and what Lord Diavolo was informing you about. As seconds flew by, tho, Diavolo's voice became just a vague sound in the background, as he started staring at you in a some kind of daze. And you, noticing that, started to feel even more anxious. Why was he staring at you like that?
• He wasn't losing his posture, keeping his own actions in check; he didn't really know what was happening to him- he saw nothing like that happening in the future the last time he gave a look- and desired to see clear on the situation.
• After that, you were brought over the House of Lamentation, and it passed time before you two could have the chance to meet again. However, Barbatos's feelings didn't pass or fade at all, and he just patiently waited to see you again, accomplishing all the works Diavolo had for him to do.
♥︎When you two engage ->
• It was your birthday. Before that, you were planning if do the party at home or do it there, but the brothers complained so much about "always had the chance to party in the earth, but not there with them", so you gave up on the thought, deciding to make them happy.
• Honestly, everyone were happier to know you would want to have your birthday party there, and everybody insisted on coming: Solomon, Simeon, especially Luke were more than happy to assist your party, and Lucifer tried asking Diavolo for a "free day" from work with him since it was a special day, and he decided to make it even more special.
• His answer to Lucifer's request remained a secret until your birthday day came; Levi lend you a special outfit, saying that it "had a piece of every heart that loved you", and once you wore it, you were enchanted.
• All the brothers left you in Solomon's hands, since they had business to attend to, they said. He accompanied you to the Lord's castle keeping your arm in his, complimenting your outfit. You didn't mind his company, he was funny and entertaining after all, and his teasing was never near hurtful or mean at all.
• Once in the castle, you were surprised to see how the party was set up and decored in all kind of beautiful things, and the choosing of colors was just perfect. Next to the big, long table on the wall, were a lot of presents; like, literally.
• Of course everyone once you got in, screamed happy birthday; The brothers were right in front of you, and Mammon and Levi jumped to give you a bone breaking hug.
• When everyone leave you alone, Diavolo and Barbatos got closer to you, and Diavolo annunced how happy he was you were going to celebrate there; after all, the Devildom seemed to have a stronger harmony when you were there.
• Barbatos also wished you an happy birthday, and then asked Diavolo if he could have one time alone with you. It was strange, since usually Barbatos didn't request such thing, and he had nothing to talk about with you, or at least he didn't tell Diavolo anything about it.. but since Diavolo wasn't someone to forbidden such sane thing, he just agreed and left.
• You talked a bit and ended up enjoying his company pretty much; he was funny, sweet, and gentle. And since he was Diavolo's loyal butler, he surely was trustworthy. You truly had a great time with him.
• After the beautiful party, Barbatos politely asked Diavolo for a special permission; explaining that he developed a strong friendship with you, and if it was possible to have some moments that he could spend with you. With no doubts, Lord Diavolo agreed and also was happy that you two were getting along just fine.
• Getting engaged wasn't as hard as you thought; after noticing you had a crush on him, he didn't even left you time to make you have the problem to say it to you; One night, you got out the House of Lamentation (with the brothers unaware of anything), to meet with him. He told you he had something to communicate
• His polite manners always made your heart spin.
♥︎ "Mc, I think this is the proper time I confess something important." ♥︎
• His gentle words leave his tongue so smoothly, that even the simpler sentence could make you blush. But what he was about to say was out of your expectations; it was one of your hopes, tho. A hope you never would immagine could become the reality you were on.
• But there you two were, melting into each other's touch. His hands holding softly your waist, while your hands grabbed his shoulders, letting him fulfill the desire you two shared.
♥︎How's him as your boyfriend ->
• First of all, he would be caring. Caring, lovely, and gentle. You would find yourself going into Lord Diavolo's castle more often than you ever planned (asking permission before doing that), just to see your boyfriend.
• Maybe it didn't even seem like it, but Barbatos was a busy man; he did his best to fulfill Diavolo's needs and desires, but he also had enough free time in his hands.
• If you hurt yourself, he would be there to assist you. Cure you in the best way he could, and wouldn't be ashamed to ask help if he can't do it alone.
• He would even go himself in the House of Lamentation, to stay with you a bit in your room, maybe reading a book in silence with you, chilling together, or cuddling on the bed. Of course, this wouldn't happen too often, since he doesn't have that much hours to spend outside the castle.
• He wouldn't manipulate timelines when things go bad for you, but he would warn you to not do mistakes after seeing the future if you do them.
• Diavolo would also be very supportive over the relationship, leaving you to freely come in the castle whenever you wanted to, and even giving Barbatos some more free time (when It's possible) to spend with you.
• The brothers were a bit shocked. Of course, THE Mammon was the one who would complain about choosing him other than any other demon, Levi would accept it, Lucifer would be surprised things turned out that way (and Diavolo didn't tell him).
• Barbatos would be such a sweet boyfriend, with gentle manners and a soft smile.
♥︎ "Welcome back my love, would you like me to bring you your favorite tea? I was about to prepare it for the young lord, but now that you are here too, you shall enjoy it as well." ♥︎
[Picture source; Pinterest. It belongs to whoever made it. I someone knows who is the artist, please inform me so I can credit them.]
#obey me#obey me x mc#obey me x reader#lucifer obey me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#solomon#mammon#obey me funny#obey me x you#barbatos#barbatos headcanons#barbatos x reader#barbatos x mc#obey me barbatos#barbatos x you#om barbatos
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I think we (Queer Christians) should bring back the Feast of Fools! Here's my pitch:
Medieval Christians celebrated the days following Christmas with societal inversion. If God became a vulnerable child born into poverty, then the best celebration should invert the social order: master and servant, clergy and laity, man and woman. The Feast of Fools–held on January 1st–was the most notable celebration of cosmic inversion. Developed in the late 12th and early 13th centuries, the tradition of the feasts continued until the 16th century. (1)
The festival is popularly misunderstood as a celebration of sacrilege, a result of its apparent burlesque of religion. Yet, the festival’s role reversals were prescribed by clergy, and the "fools" represented those chosen by God for their lowly status. From surviving 13th century manuscripts–notably, the Play of Daniel from Beauvais Cathedral and the Office of Joseph from Laon Cathedral–it is clear that some Catholic Churches in France sanctioned cross-dressing for liturgical purposes. (2) In fact, the Feast of Fools is remarkable for being sanctified rather than sacrilegious.
Many anthropologists of religion have argued that “sacred play,” or “ludic ritual,” is central to how religious behaviors function. (3) Although play may seem counterintuitive to religion, absurdity and holiness often go together, especially considering the role reversals and revelry of the Feast of Fools.
Literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin made a similar argument about the “carnivalesque.” (4) When absurdity is celebrated in religion–when a society’s usual rules are suspended–observant revelers can stretch the boundaries of their identities or reverse their social roles. Men become women; laity become clergy; God becomes a helpless infant; death becomes life. It is on the strength of the absurd that religions delve into hope and new ways of becoming. (5) “Sacred play” is reality altering work, a cornerstone of religious enlightenment and religious embodiment.
In 1969, theologian Harvey Cox proposed that an imitation of the medieval Feast of Fools could rejuvenate modern Christian spirituality, lamenting that the tradition has forgotten sacred play. (6)
As found in the Medieval Feast of Fools, the joy of inversion and freedom of death were, at one point, celebrated in Christian tradition through cross-dressing. Drag exists in Christian tradition as an artform that is capable of embodying the Divine. Sharing in Christ’s martyrdom is only part of Christian embodiment, and redemption and resurrection are essential to any imitation of Christ. Through embodying Christ, religious drag can become a project of resurrection.
(Taken from my Master's Thesis in Art History, "Crucifixion Can Happen To Anyone: Embodying Christ Through The Queer Artist")
1: “Feast of Fools.” n.d. Encyclopædia Britannica.
2: Harris, Max. 2011. Sacred Folly: A New History of the Feast of Fools. Cornell University Press. 113-127.
3: Turner, Victor. “Liminal to Liminoid, in Play, Flow, and Ritual: An Essay in Comparative Symbology.” Revista Mediações, vol. 17, no. 2 (2012): 214–57.
4: “Carnivalesque.” n.d. Oxford Reference. Accessed 12 July 2023.
5: Kierkegaard, Søren. “Fear and Trembling.” From Selections from the Writings of Kierkegaard. University of Texas, Austin, Texas, 1912.
6: Cox, Harvey. 1969. The Feast of Fools; a Theological Essay on Festivity and Fantasy. Harvard University Press
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Vashtember (A Writer's Hijacking) Day 2: Knives
Okay, so I cheated a tiny bit. Its technically about @aidakhar 's dad!Knives au. But how can I resist Knives being a doting father?
"Azrael, that's the third Toothbrush this month." Knives frowned as he looked at the small disgruntled boy who presented him with yet another mangled toothbrush.
"My teeth are just too sharp, Papa." Azrael moped.
"I see that. I'll have to talk to Dr. Conrad about this…" Knives mused to himself, as he comforted his son, "For now, why don't we just keep doing our best until we can figure something out, okay? It's not very efficient as far as the lifespans of toothbrushes go, but it'll keep your teeth clean in the meantime."
"Fine." Azrael huffed as he stalked off, going to his room. Knives was frustrated as well. It was important to maintain oral cleanliness. How was his child supposed to do so when his teeth were ripping through each toothbrush at such a rapid pace? He pondered these things as he too stalked down the hall towards Dr. Conrad's lab.
"Ah, Master Knives. What brings you around this time?" Conrad asked, sitting at his desk, a beaker of coffee still steaming close by.
"Azrael just gave me his third decimated toothbrush this month. I need something different than this archaic stick." Knives complained to Conrad.
"Well, the evolution of the toothbrush hasn't really changed since the Earth's 1800's… they even used them in the ancient Egyptian era. It's one of those "If it's not broke, don't fix it" kinds of things." Conrad explained.
"Then we have to make something those stupid humans couldn't." Knives snidely replied.
"Of course, Sir. When I was a child back on Earth, they did have these chewable toothbrushes, but I fear the boy will just chew through them."
"What were they made of? Could we improve upon whatever material they used? Make them reusable, or recyclable?"
"They were just silicone, but, again, I fear he would just rip through Silicone like a shark eating a seal." Conrad lamented, taking a sip from his beaker of coffee, "I could improve it to withstand the psi of his bite strength strength. I can probably project 170 psi at the most, so I can make a silicone that withstands up to 200… Can you bring The Boy in to run some tests? He might enjoy it, since he'll get to bite stuff." Conrad began to write calculations and equations down on a piece of paper before asking the question.
"Yeah, I can bring him around, but… in the morning. He needs his sleep." Knives said, noting the time. Conrad chuckled, realizing what a doting father his fearsome boss had become. It made Conrad miss the daughter he'd wronged so long ago as he sipped his coffee once more.
"Of course, Sir. That will give me time to experiment with the silicone before I can run my tests for the prototype. This is a welcome distraction. I was beginning to feel burnt out on my previous experiments." Conrad shrugged.
"Wonderful. I know you won't disappoint us, Doctor. I shall return with Azrael in the morning." Knives nodded before leaving Conrad to his work.
***
When Knives and Azrael returned the next morning, Conrad was still hard at work.
"What is your progress, Doctor?" Knives asked as He reminded Azrael to be mindful of his surroundings, as not to collide with anything within the lab.
"Ah, Master Knives. You're just in time. I just finished with the silicone that can withstand 200 psi. I still want an average bite test from him. I may be able to adjust the longevity of the silicone, and we'll be able to recycle them, combine them together to make new ones. Silicone is surprisingly easy to make on this planet, since silicone is made from sillica particles in sand. We live on a planet covered in the stuff!" Conrad said triumphantly, pulling a lever for dramatic affect as a compression machine squished a rubbery piece of silicone. A little machine attached to it beeped, calculating the integrity of the small marble, and the he lifted the lever, to show the marble still intact. Conrad took the marble to a nearby sink, washing it thoroughly, before handing it to Azrael.
"Here, chew on this for me. Please do not swallow it." Conrad instructed. Azrael paused before taking the little marble from Conrad's hand, and popping it into his mouth. He munched on it, his eyes brightening a little at the bouncy resistance the marble gave.
"Should I try to rip it apart with my teeth?" Azrael asked as he chewed.
"Give it your best shot, kid." Conrad nodded, giving Azrael permission to destroy his prototype in the name of science. After a minute or two, Azrael spit the ball back into Conrad's gloved hand. Conrad gave the silicone ball study under the microscope, investigating the small tears made by Azrael's teeth.
"Was it hard to chew on, Azrael?" Conrad asked as he gazed into the microscope.
"Not really. It was like… chewing gum." Azrael explained. Conrad nodded, standing from the microscope.
"Okay. I figured Independants had a harder bite force than humans, but I didn't expect harder than 200 psi, damn. Good thing Silicone can go up to 1,500 psi when using the right formula." Conrad sighed. "My goal is to create a silicone that won't tear under his bite force, but is still easy to chew on." Conrad explained. He picked up a small device that had a rubber mouthpiece attached. After sterilizing the piece, he asked Azrael to place it in his mouth, and bite down as hard as he could. Conrad frowned at the results.
"Hm, 220. Yep, gotta make a stronger silicone. Alright, I should have the prototype ready by tomorrow morning." Conrad concluded, writing some notes. Knives and Azrael went about their day as normal.
***
"Okay, I think I've got it this time. Try this one." Conrad handed Azrael a small ball with little silicone bristles, sterilized of course. The middle was hollow for toothpaste to fit inside. Azrael chewed on the ball, purposefully trying to mangle it with his teeth. After a few minutes, he spit the ball out as before, and after a study by Conrad, the item was complete.
"Yeah, this new chewable toothbrush should last you two months, or about sixty teeth cleanings. I'll have more made, and ready to go within the week. They're easy to recycle, so I'll be able to make a sustainable stock of them." Conrad was nearly giddy at his success, "I recommend using this with supervision due to the potential choking hazard, but that's just a precaution." He noted to Knives, from one father to another.
"I'll be sure to do so. We can brush our teeth together, then." Knives nodded, internally excited to have a new style of cleaning for his son.
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Chapter 5: Insight
During the Clone Wars, the Bad Batch is tasked with a variety of missions across the galaxy. An unexpected addition to their team throws a wrench in the mix, particularly for Tech, who finds a particular connection with this disillusioned Padawan-turned-mechanic named Vel throughout the events in this action-adventure romance.
COVER ART BY @zaana!! And this was my first fanfic ever, y'all! :D
Master List of Chapters
Another mission, another risky departure. This time, the hyperdrive wasn't working, and as a last resort, Tech asked Vel for help. Once again, she came through, in another impossible situation. The team was amazed at her mechanical knowledge. As soon as they had a break between missions, though, they had their orders to drop her off.
But she had so much knowledge. All mechanical, delivered dryly and peppered with laments about her now-useless status to both the Bounty Hunter's Guild and the Jedi Order. After much deliberation, the team asked her to stay, as a ship mechanic, until she decided where she wanted to go.
At this point, it had been long enough that she agreed, having grown accustomed to the ship's little nuances and quirks. But it came with one stipulation: she wasn't to be a prisoner anymore. She had no reason to turn against them and she was grateful for their help, though still hopelessly jaded about her future and resentful about her past.
She fashioned some makeshift quarters in the hold, still dark but better than bars and a stark cell. She had no personal items except a pouch with some credits, a basic medpack, and the multi-use weapon that Crosshair had relieved her of upon her capture, which wasn't returned to her just yet.
The ship was under constant need of repair or maintenance, so she worked frequently alongside Tech, as well as the others, depending on what was needed. She was quiet and efficient, grateful for the lack of conversation when she assisted Hunter or Crosshair and chagrined at the constant questions and thoughts that accompanied any project with Wrecker.
Tech, however, was hard to discern. He spoke factually -- only when needed and immediately applicable. He did sometimes tend to explain a single topic in far too much detail, but she found it preferable to any questions or conversation directed at her, so she didn't make any effort to stop it. She found her interests piqued at his different approaches to certain processes, and they both shared an endless curiosity for the various intricacies of the galaxy.
They spoke of past missions, of their childhoods and experiences. Vel divulged bits and pieces here and there, and Tech began constructing a mental map of her story. Born on a lush forest planet, she was taken to the Jedi temple as a youngling when her Force abilities had surfaced, but throughout the Padawan training, it became painfully apparent that she was insufficient.
"Diplomatically dismissed," Vel said, rolling her eyes and waving the spanner in front of her, "Although I'd just call it what it is -- I wasn't good enough."
Tech remained silent, considering the ramifications. He was lying flat underneath a control panel, welding some rough edges while she rerouted the wires to avoid damaging them.
"I went back to my dad, but he had moved to Corellia," she continued. "He tried to hide his disappointment, but it was apparent. So he thought he could make me the best mechanic in the shipyard instead. He hired me out as an apprentice to every specialist he could find. I worked during the day and studied in the evenings."
"It sounds quite intensive," Tech responded, momentarily pausing from the flying sparks in front of him.
"He was trying to do whatever he could to make me useful," Vel answered, her voice tight to conceal the deep pain. Tech remained silent, keeping his thoughts to himself, partially due to the emotional precision required and partially due to the discomfort of the situation. He lifted the face shield to rest atop his head, patiently awaiting any further revelation.
"Anyway," Vel continued, clearing her throat and regaining an air of carelessness, "It was never enough. I made him so much money, got him known throughout the system for ship modifications, but I made one small mistake on a Techno Union transport, and he kicked me out."
She shared the story factually, as if it meant nothing to her, but the constriction in her throat was unmistakable. "His own daughter -- imagine that," she said, returning to her work with a clenched jaw.
Tech felt deeply unsettled, not having much training on this sort of situation. He racked his brain, searching through the literature and studies he had consumed regarding human interaction and family dynamics before settling on his best attempt at encouragement: "The hardcell-class interstellar transport was a notoriously unique model, especially since it did not use conventional repulsorlifts for flight but opted for--"
"--rocket propulsion for atmospheric and stellar travel," Vel interrupted, "I know... Now."
"Ah," was his only response. He regarded her for a moment, and considered returning to his welding, but felt a compulsion to try again. He considered what she had shared, noting her body language, and decided on a different approach.
"I am sorry that your father failed to exhibit the loyalty one would traditionally expect from a birth parent," Tech said. "I would posit that it had more to do with his own ethical shortcomings than your perceived incompetence. If I had been born in the traditional human method, I would likely feel similarly disenfranchised by a lack of a secure attachment."
Vel didn't expect to laugh at this, but a chuckle burst out nonetheless. First of all, she had never expected to be sharing her aches and pains with a random clone engineer, and second of all, she had never guessed she would be comforted by a factual analysis of her developmental psychology.
She looked at him, staring solemnly right back at her without a trace of sarcasm or judgment, and couldn't help but smile. "I don't even know what to say to that," she said.
"No response needed," Tech responded matter-of-factly, pulling his face shield back down and returning to his work. Sparks began to fly again, and not just in the literal way this time, yaknowwhaddimean? ;)
Tag List: @merkitty49 @vimse @arctrooper69 @dystopicjumpsuit @starrylothcat @ghostperson69 @dreamie411 @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff (If you're on my regular tag list, let me know if you want to be tagged in this; I didn't want to spam ya!)
Click here to join or leave the tag list. <3
#the bad batch#tbb#star wars fanfiction#the bad batch fanart#bad batch#star wars the bad batch#the bad batch fanfiction#tech fanfiction#tech romance#tech x oc#slow burn romance#tech#tech bad batch#tbb tech
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"Kaeya?
He jolted with surprise, the roll falling to the floor with a muted thump.
"Master Diluc." He said smoothly, moving into a more natural position to try and hide his wound and his near complete lack of a shirt. He forced the grimace of pain that came with the movement into a smile. "I didn't expect to see you here this early."
Whumptober Day 15: "I don't need you to help me, I can handle things myself." | Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | "I'm fine."
The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon when he stumbled into the bar.
Of course, he knew that this wasn't the best place to go after an Abyss Mage and its lackeys decided to use you for target practice, but it was the closest– Diluc kept medical supplies behind the bar for when his, hm, less than legal activities were more dangerous than anticipated.
The door wasn't even locked, and he tsk'ed at that. Honestly, it felt like Diluc didn't even realize the value of some of the things in the bar sometimes. Nevermind that, though– Kaeya was more than willing to sample it all and let him know.
He walked behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine and uncorking it. It was some of the cheapest stuff, and he grimaced as he drank it, but he couldn't afford to try and reach the higher shelves, not right now. The point was to dull the pain, not to enjoy the Angel's Share's wares.
He pulled aside the ruined remains of his shirt next, wincing with every feather-light touch of fabric. The burns weren't quite as severe as he had first thought, although they covered more of his torso than he previously thought, and the arrow didn't seem to be barbed, although it wasn't doing its job of keeping his blood in very well.
(He briefly lamented the loss of his clothes– that had been a new shirt, Archons damn it.)
He reached down, pulling out the small medical kit; it didn't contain much more than a needle and thread and a few rolls of gauze, but he didn't need much more than that. He set to work cutting the fabric away from what remained of the arrow shaft– although that left little fabric left to cover the lower half of his torso. He took another swig of the wine, aware that what was about to come would be unpleasant, and picked up the roll of gauze.
"Kaeya?"
He jolted with surprise, the roll falling to the floor with a muted thump.
"Master Diluc." He said smoothly, moving into a more natural position to try and hide his wound– and his near complete lack of a shirt. He forced the grimace of pain that came with the movement into a smile. "I didn't expect to see you here this early."
"Someone broke a table. I stayed here to fix it." He crossed his arms. "You should not be here at all."
"Perhaps I just wanted to pay my dear brother a visit." He put on one of his most charming smiles, gesturing to the bottle next to him. "Although I admit, I might have had an ulterior motive."
He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "At this hour? My, maybe I should have a talk with Master Jean about your drinking problem."
"There's no need for that, I'm sure." He leaned over the counter, and barely managed to hold in a scream as the arrow shaft hit the underside of the bar.
"Are… you alright?" He stepped closer, the barest hint of concern on his face.
"I'm fine, Master Diluc, truly." He said breathlessly. The taste of iron filled his mouth.
His gaze moved farther down, and his eyes narrowed. "Those burn marks on your clothes say otherwise."
He was sure that if he wasn't wearing gloves, his knuckles would be white. "Just an accident with Klee, you know how she is. I haven't had the chance to change my clothes, is all."
"Right." He said. "I'm sure the blood on that wine bottle is actually, what– jam?"
He looked at it, and, sure enough, there were bloody fingerprints on the side.
He waved a hand, ignoring the pain that came with the movement. "It's nothing serious, I just didn't want to trail blood through the streets."
"So you decided to get it all over my bar?"
"My apologies, Master Diluc. I'll pay for the costs of cleaning, if you'd like– and the cost of the wine, of course."
"Ugh." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Patch yourself up and get out."
"Your hospitality is ever generous, Master Diluc." He rested one hand over his heart, giving a short, mocking bow.
He leaned down, gritting his teeth against the pain, and picked up the roll of gauze. When he stood back up, Diluc was frowning at him.
"Wait." He said, reaching up towards his face. "You might have a concussion, there's blood in your hai–"
Memories flashed through his mind– another time with Diluc, another time he had been burned, another time he had studied his face with such scrutiny– and he jerked away from the bar. "Don't touch me!"
Diluc stared at him, hand still hanging in the air. Kaeya squeezed his eye shut; moving so quickly had been a bad idea, and what little bit of pain the wine had dulled was coming back in full force.
"I–" He tried to laugh it off, but it was hard to even speak. His head was starting to spin. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that–"
"You idiot, how are you still standing?"
"Huh?" He blinked his eye open in surprise.
He waved down at his wounds. "Look at yourself, you're going to–" He moved around the bar, and Kaeya took a step back.
He stopped, a brief look of hurt flashing across his face. "What are you–"
"I don't– I don't need you to help me, I can handle this quite well myself."
Why was he– why was he scared of him? The bar didn't resemble that day in any way, neither of them had weapons– he didn't even think Diluc was wearing his vision.
"Kaeya– you're–"
Why was he trembling? Diluc– Diluc didn't scare him, he never had, why was he–
"I won't hurt you, I promise." He raised his hands, taking a step forward. Kaeya flinched away, back hitting the wall and sending another horrible wave of pain through him.
He didn't remember getting hit in the head– although between the burns and the arrow, the fight had started to get a bit fuzzy; it was possible, he supposed, and would certainly explain why he was acting so– so– so scared, so paranoid.
"I know that– there are a lot of things in our past that you can never forgive me for." He said slowly, speaking as though every word pained him. "I know that you– you probably hate me for what I've done. But please, you need help."
Why would– why would he be mad? Diluc hadn't done anything he hadn't deserved, really– Kaeya was sure he would've reacted in much the same way, especially in his circumstances.
When he didn't react, Diluc stepped forward, picking up the abandoned emergency kit. He stepped towards him slowly, hands up like Kaeya was a scared animal, ready to flee at any moment. It was an apt analogy, he supposed, considering his behavior of the last few minutes.
"Sit on the counter." He said. "You shouldn't have been standing for this long."
"That really isn't the bes–"
"Do it." He said sternly, grabbing his arm.
Kaeya stared down at his hand. "...Right."
With a bit of difficulty, and quite a bit of pain, he managed to get up on the bar. Diluc headed to the backroom, and returned a minute later with a rag and a bowl of water.
"I'm going to clean your burns first." He said. "Unless you have any other injuries you neglected to mention?"
He looked down. It seemed that, at some point since he had entered the bar, the arrow wound had started bleeding again– bleeding quite a lot, actually, probably why he had started to feel lightheaded. Or it could've been the concussion he likely had– now that he focused, he could feel the dried blood in his hair.
"None that I'm aware of." He said. "Unless you count what happened to my clothes."
"I don't." He said curtly.
"Nothing at all, then."
"Here." He said, grabbing a bottle of wine and uncorking it. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain."
He looked at the label on the bottle. "This is–"
"Just drink it. You can pay me back later."
He took a swig of the wine– it was quite fine, one of the most expensive ones in the bar, although the lingering taste of blood ruined any enjoyment he could've taken from it.
Diluc inspected his wound, hands hovering over his torso. Kaeya could feel the heat radiating from him– although it also could've just been the heat from his burns reflecting back.
"How long has it been?"
"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps an hour?"
"And you… left the arrow in the entire time."
He took another drink. "I couldn't very well pull it out, could I? I'm afraid most of me would've been left behind before I had even reached the city."
He grimaced. "...Yes, I'm sure."
"Besides, I froze it over. Everything managed to stay intact well enough, didn't it?"
"If that's what you would like to call it, then yes." He said, a hint of frustration in his voice. "It's intact."
"I would like to call it that, yes."
His hand hovered over the arrow, ready to grab it, but Kaeya stopped him. "Wait."
He pulled off one of his gloves, shoving it into his mouth, and gave him a nod. The taste wasn't very pleasant, but it would certainly be better than biting his tongue off.
Diluc nodded once, the slight hesitation on his face replaced with determination, and pulled the arrow out in one swift movement. He screamed, and Diluc flinched at the noise, the arrow falling from his hand.
"You know, Diluc." He said, when he had managed to regain his breath somewhat– which was several minutes later. "I didn't hate you before, but I might start to now."
"You didn't… what?" He paused, the rag halfway between Kaeya and the bowl. The water was already starting to stain pink, which probably wasn't good.
"Is now really the best time to have this conversation?"
"...No, I suppose not."
He continued to clean the wound in silence, the only sounds Kaeya's muffled exclamations of pain and the dripping of water from the rag.
"You shouldn't need stitches…" He said, setting the rag down in the bowl. "But I'm worried it'll start bleeding again if I don't."
"I'll go see Barbara in the morning. I'm sure I'll be fine until then."
He frowned. "Are you really going to?"
Diluc hadn't been this worried about him in years. Maybe he should be the one to go see Barbara (he didn't say that, though).
"Take me there yourself, if you're so unconvinced." He said.
He nodded. "Alright."
Alri– surely he hadn't seriously meant that? Willingly spending time with Kaeya that he didn't need to? Even helping him with his wounds was odd enough; maybe he really was ill.
He picked up the gauze. "I suppose you're doing this for me too?"
He huffed. "Of course. How did you even plan on doing this yourself?"
"I would've managed just fine without your help, Master Diluc. I'm not some helpless child."
He rolled his eyes, ignoring him in favor of starting to wrap his torso. It was a painful endeavor, and by the end of it, his breath was coming in gasps of pain.
"It's alright, I'm almost done, it'll be over soon." Diluc whispered after a particularly loud gasp, winding the gauze around just a bit faster.
It reminded Kaeya of another time, when he was still a child and had fallen. Diluc had held his hand, telling him much the same reassurances as Adelinde cleaned the wound and bandaged it. It was the first time he truly felt like a big brother, Diluc had confided years later, and it was for that very reason that Kaeya held that memory dear.
"You've always been a horrible liar, 'Luc." He said through gritted teeth.
He laughed, but there wasn't any joy in it. "You used to be just as bad."
"Maybe so." He said. "I'd like to think it's at least one thing I'm better at than you."
He secured the gauze, and leaned back slightly to inspect it.
"You should be fine for a few hours." He said, starting to clean up.
He inclined his head towards him. "My thanks, Master Diluc."
He put the kit back behind the bar, standing up and grabbing the bowl. Kaeya rested his hands on the bar, getting ready to stand.
"Were you serious?" Diluc asked suddenly, turning around. "About what you said earlier?"
"What?" He paused, halfway up.
"About…" He scowled, looking away. "...not hating me."
"Oh." He blinked. What an odd question. "No. You're the one who hates me. It's easier just to go along with it."
"I don't–" His mouth snapped shut, and he stared for a moment, finally setting the bowl down and crossing his arms. "I've never– hated you, Kaeya. I assumed that, after I… returned, you wouldn't want anything to do with me, and I… kept my distance."
"Well." He sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're certainly not very good at this, are we?"
He snorted. "No."
"Let's just… do this another day, alright?" He rubbed his forehead. "I can't…"
"I still have a table to fix, anyway." Diluc said. "Before you so rudely interrupted me."
It was clear that he was trying to rile Kaeya up, but he didn't have the heart to make it sound believable.
"I'll help myself to your fine collection here, then." He gestured to the bottle of wine still on the counter. "Unless you plan to deny your poor, dear brother a respite from his pain?"
"Just… try not to get drunk."
"Well, I can't make any promises." He tipped the bottle in his direction.
He sighed, shaking his head, and started to head towards the stairs. He seemed to change his mind halfway through, though, and went to the back room again, carrying his coat with him when he returned. He held it out to Kaeya. "Here."
He set the bottle down, and took it from him gingerly. "And… What am I supposed to do with it?"
"Wear it, obviously. There's nothing left of your shirt but the sleeves." He crossed his arms. "I didn't help you just so you could catch a cold before we get to the cathedral."
"…Right." He stood up, shrugging the coat on. The sleeves were just a bit too long, the cuffs hanging down over his hands.
Ah, well. At least it was warm.
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servant guda summoned in a holy grail war
caster guda who seems to have the most obvious class. the more generations come, the more a story changes - of course the savior of humanity would be a brilliant caster. but no, they aren't your typical mage. they use an advanced form of projection magic, making them the perfect decoy. they switch between a sharp red bow, a silver broadsword, and oddly, a yellow paw shaped club. when caster activates their noble phantasm, their arms glow in strange patterns of gold. an anti demon measure that can be used best with a command spell: ars exitio daemoniorum.
rider guda who laments their class. they have the worst mount, a giant tank they call the shadow border. they claim to not even know how to operate it - but it's not like you could get around in it without gaining a crowd. rider’s version is externally smaller than the original and has no access to the paper moon. with practice they manage to condense it into a motorcycle nicknamed shadow bear. it growls at you when you try to touch it and zaps when you stand too close. that chrome colored monster is scarier than its user…
assassin guda who comes wrapped in a black cloak a bit too broad for their shoulders. "just because i can technically shoot a target," they whine, "doesn’t mean this should be my class!" though an assassin, they are no good at covert ops. their method is guns blazing - literally. their primary is a semiautomatic firearm lovingly called calico. paired with their scope farflier, which can serve not only as an aim assistant but can sense their target. they say they trained under the warrior goddess scáthach. you don’t believe them until you have nightmares - memories. you are on a shooting range getting hit over the head by an intense fuchsia haired woman when you miss a target. you don’t ask about those.
berserker guda who is startling normal. something in your gut says this is wrong. when you ask if they really are a berserker, they shrug and smile. you see their madness when they let loose in battle. they are virtually unkillable. they will keep going until the head is separated from their body. they were loved deeply by death in life - it still follows them like a loving specter, as part of their soul. otherside blessing is what they call it. a warning for berserker's future or current master; occasionally they might slip up and call you “doctor”. please ignore this mistake.
avenger guda who never existed in the first place. they are older, tall, with piercing red eyes. they move silently like a serpent. it's hard to detect their presence, even for their master. their katana is stained crimson that doesn't scrub off. but the blade never rusts. they wield an anti-world noble phantasm: dreams end, lostbelt. they deeply love this world and will do anything to protect it. they will put an end to this war. no one needs a tool so destructive. the deaths of millions are on their shoulders, what more should twelve bodies be?
#guda#gudao#gudako#fgo#fate grand order#servant guda#servant ritsuka#avenger guda#ritsuka fujimaru#servant guda au#astral writes things#caster guda#assassin guda#berserker guda#rider guda
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A Ghoul's Cry
Omega Ghoul
Preface: Omega Ghoul, the most loyal and faithful servant – who is known to have had more than just a professional relationship with third son Emeritus – had the worst and most agonizing reaction to the death of his master and lover.
warnings: mentions of blood, self-mutilation, Emeritus Brothers death, aggressive and uncontrolled behavior
[SECRETS FROM THE CLERGY]
The death of the three Emeritus brothers was not easy to recognize and accept to anyone in the world. Whether it is members of the high clergy, Brothers, Sisters or Siblings of Sin, fans of the Ghost Project; it was not easy for any of them.
Although, I say it was much less easier for the Ghouls who, while seeing themselves self-destruct, felt the pain of not knowing what was happening, but feeling everything in their body and soul. Part of special Summoning Ritual requires that the Master whom they will serve donate part of his blood so that the summoned creature can be part of the Master's body.
In addition and many other things, Omega was the hellish creature who showed the most pain with loss – but not just physical pain. He felt much more than that.
The chronicles that I present to you describe what happened moments after Omega discovered that Papa Terzo had died.
----
The Abbey was never as afraid of a Ghoul after what happened in 1976¹ as it was that day.
It was frightening. Terrifying. Shocking. Alarming. Daunting. Agonizing... especially as everyone feared for their lives to come closer.
Not even the Ghouls themselves dared to enter that Hall, even before each of one cringed and slid down the wall, clinging to everything they could to try and save themselves from self-destruction. One by one.
Omega entered the great hall and left the door wide open behind him. He began by looking around in an almost primitive sense, wild growls reverberating through the walls and mirrors; then fell fragile pieces of crockery, metal carvings, stewed wooden chairs, the large solid wood table, a marble stand. Before long, whatever was left unharmed was used against the mirrors and centuries-old paintings. Damage was mostly irreversible.
Animalistic sounds echoed through the corridors mixed with inconsolable weeping. Every inhale was turned into a growl; every exhale was a cry of despair and lamentation. He had no room or time to breathe.
The Ghoul only stopped when he approached the only two things he left intact besides the lamp – which he had the wise decision not to hang on to, only to have thought it over several times: a mirror, and the vinyl player with the vinyl record heard just hours before.
'Popestar'. The stopped needle halfway through two songs denoted the last one that had been listened to. The one that was not so secretly their song, the one that was not so secretly the soundtrack to a silly slow dance of after dinner, of before bed, of a cold late afternoon when it was dark outside too early. 'Nocturnal Me'.
There was lull. An audible cry, muttered wails, but no rooms to be destroyed. Maybe that was because Ghoul defanged like his bandmates, creatures of his kind who didn't even have time to mourn before they themselves fell into a misery.
He clutched his chest, tearing at his black garment with the long claws. He looked at himself in the mirror blinking several times lest the stain of black blood cover his kiss mark in black ink that the third son Emeritus had given him before meeting his brothers. So faded and smudged that, if it wasn't something somewhat usual to the discerning eye, one would never realise what it meant.
Suddenly, he let out a cry of pain and ran out of there. The few who dared to remain in the hallways followed the outcome of their beloved Papas. And the Ghoul continued to run, undressing as if the clothes suddenly caused him allergies, slipping in his own black blood that oozed both from his eyes and his mouth, from the deep scratches on his torso caused by his claws that tried uselessly to relieve the pain that, as physical as it seemed, not even if they took his heart out would stop.
He threw himself against the double metal door, too heavy for him to push even if it was unlocked².
Wild sounds were heard again. They started out like those of a predator, but subsided until they sounded like a wounded animal. Wounded, but not enough to die a quick death.
No one dared to come out. Absolutely no one came out of their rooms or wherever they hid, even though the Ghoul was visibly weak and shattered. A hare caught by the hawk that dropped it from the highest heights.
But what could be done? Hug him? Comfort him? Help him lie down properly on the floor instead of the awkward half-sitting, half-lying position against that frigid double door? Hand him a silver dagger?
Nobody did anything.
Even without knowing so, they all obey Sister Imperator's orders. And she gets happy when things work out the way she planned and envisioned.
– Chronicles of a Sibling of Sin, signed as E.D., dated 01st May 2018.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
¹ It was in 1976 that an Earth Ghoul named Rime died from a failed ritual of return. This event resulted in the biggest revolt of the Ghouls ever recorded in the millennial Emeritus' Abbey.
² represented in @vanmec art
Not just the Abbey, but the entire Ministry has suffered from the Profane Brothers' mysterious deaths. A situation that took everyone by surprise, and left sequels that are still present today.
I can tell you that the Sibling who wrote this letter left shortly after I wrote it. Sibling E. knew things that perhaps should not have, so the question remains whether they left the Abbey willingly or was "invited" to leave. The doubt rests on the fact that Mr. Saltarian was seen chatting with them before they left.
For all intents and purposes, what has been reported is true. There is purposeful silence, but you could easily hear the same a testimony if you ask to a Sibling of Sin you pass in the halls nowadays.
His Eminence Papa Emeritus III and his Ghoul Omega had a very intimate relationship. As much as this is against the law, it was no secret to almost anyone that they saw each other as someone that they nurtured a lot of affection and care for... and desire. However, it cannot be denied that Omega was a key to Papa Terzo becoming the phenomenon he has become and paving the way for His Eminence Papa Emeritus IV to continue to spread His word.
Misfortunes mark the floor, the walls, the air and the pages of many books that exist in here. I will bring you more soon.
Until then, go in sin.
May the Lord Below guide you into the night,
Nuntia
#nuntia's bat echo#band ghost#ghostband#ghost bc#the band ghost#ghost the band#ghost band#papa emeritus iii#papa terzo#terzo emeritus#ghost terzo#terzo#omega ghoul#omega x terzo#nameless ghouls#nameless ghoul#ghost#cardinal copia#papa 3#papa emeritus 3#papa emeritus fanart#papa emeritus iv#sister imperator#ghost band fanart#sister of sin#ghost fanfic#era 3 ghouls#ghost headcanons#papa emeritus i#papa emeritus ii
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as i'm storyboarding i caught a glimpse of myself in my laptop screen, absolutely seething, you'd think storyboarding killed my family
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Dreamt I was sitting out under a clear night sky. The card deck that [that one entity] wanted me to get was in my hands. I noted that despite the theme of the deck, there was only an artistic connection to the visible stars. As I idly shuffled the deck, I would stop at random moments to see which card was on top. I noticed that [a particular card] kept reappearing and realized that the card was also a repeat shower in the waking as well. [That one entity] had already made it clear that I was not to use any already established system of card reading with this deck, so I had no context with which to frame this card's appearance.
Adiutor was sitting quietly on my shoulder in her doll form. So quietly in fact, that when she spoke up, she startled me. How I did not fling her into the abyss of night, I am not sure.
"Still don't know what to do with this deck?"
"Not one bit."
"Well, you know you're dreaming, so why not ask the card that keeps showing up?"
"That makes sense, Adiutor. Too much sense. It means engaging with a whole new class of spirits that I am not equipped to understand."
"You engage with humans at your work that you are not equipped to understand. What's the difference?"
I turned my head to stare at her while her form's blank face radiated barely tolerable smugness. "There's a difference between Willfully Ignorant and Willfully Not Human. The former can be herded. The latter can herd me. I'd rather not be a pawn in someone else's game again."
Despite my rebuttal, I picked up the card and studied it. In the dreamscape it was identical to the physical card on my desk. I held the card out and looked up to the night sky. "Well, if I'm supposed to be making contact with you, it would help if I knew more about you."
The card vibrated in my hand. I looked back at it and examined the printed figure. The head of the figure suddenly turned to face me squarely. It winked and smiled a little and then turned back to the static image as before. But in that wink, it relayed some understanding.
"Ah, fuck."
"What's wrong, Master?"
"I can't do this."
"Can't do what, Master?"
"Don't you start playing Little Miss Naive with me. This is the start of something new, something unique, something that I won't be able to find in a book."
"Isn't that the point, Master? I do recall you bragging about how you can't be found in any book."
"It wasn't bragging, you little shit, it was lamenting. If I were twenty years younger, yea, I would take this as a challenge. But I'm not twenty years younger. I can't handle anything new like this. I can barely handle myself right now."
I closed my eyes to the card but I couldn't forget what I was told no matter how hard I tried. Useless. What good is giving me something that will never be put to use and can't be passed on to someone who can?
I'm so tired.
"Master."
"... Hm."
"If you can't handle anything, does that mean you don't want to change? Because if your life is going to get better, then it will change from how it is now. Are you saying that you don't want that?"
"... Adiutor, the only reason I'm not throwing your doll body into a fire is because I know I'm dreaming, and I don't want to piss off the entity that gave you to me. That's bullshit reasoning, and you fucking know it, you manipulative little fuck!"
"Of course, I'm being manipulative. I would worry if you didn't see that. But, the challenge still remains. Are you so content with how your life is now, that you don't feel it is worthwhile to change it?"
"There's a difference between what this deck is offering and trying to improve my situation."
She laid down on my shoulder in a way that made me wonder if she wasn't part cat. "Please tell me, oh wise and all-knowing Master, all the ways that your life can change in an instant and why it isn't worth trying to make the best of any of those possibilities."
"Adiutor, I have so many projects and works in progress. I can only attempt to finish one thing if I am willing to abandon five others. I'm stretched to my limit. I can't handle One More Thing. I don't have the time or the access to research this. I don't have the time to set aside just to entertain this. I can barely keep my head above water and shit like this makes me wonder why I haven't given up and drowned already? Or did no one tell you what happened when I moved here. When it was revealed that a significant engrossing matter that I was engaged in was really just a stage play to keep me from cutting my throat back then? How many times am I going to be something else's entertainment? I'M FUCKING TIRED, BITCH! I'm so tired. And what this card is offering, I can't accept. I don't have any room for one more new thing."
She slid off my shoulder and scrambled down my arm. "Yes, you are very tired, Master. It is good that I am your adiutor. My name is a Latin word, if you forgot, it means 'helper', among other things." She pulled the playing card easily from my fingers and held it in front of her as if to study the artwork. The regular sized playing card was a massive poster to her.
"So, I know some of what this is about. And while the presentation is new, the subject is not. You just never had a clear way of connecting to this before." She laid the card in my hand and pointed to the value in the corner. "This is a King, so you know this represents a ruler or controller of an area, situation, or pathway. And the suit is Clubs, which you already associate with [certain things]. Therefore, this card is representative of the ruler or lord of [certain things]. And I am willing to bet my stitches that you made contact with a spirit representing your personal King of Clubs, and that now that this contact is made, there is a call to complete the court."
There was no spite or smugness in her words, which surprised me. There was only a soft gentleness that I was not used to coming from her. "Yea. That's what happened. Just all in a blink of an eye, but yea. I thought I was just peeking through the keyhole when the door was snatched open, and so much came through that I was just overwhelmed. But now that you've laid it out, it doesn't sound so daunting. ... It's still a lot though."
She nodded and settled herself in the palm of my free hand. "It is, and it isn't. This is you picking up what has always been yours, but you were never taught how to do it. So you're learning the hard way, and hard things are hard, but new things are necessary if you are going to make your life better."
"... I guess."
"I know, Master."
Together we looked up to the clear night sky. Nothing else happened, so I allowed myself to slip away into a deeper sleep.
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For those who were wondering what kind of upbringing Silver had, I feel like Pokemon Masters indirectly gave us an answer:
At very least, we know that Silver didn't have a normal upbringing. The line "don't assume for one second, Nate, that others have had the same upbringing as you" is interestingly immediately followed by him lamenting about how "rough" it can be to have a narcissistic prick for a father (which is obvious projection as noted by N), which seems to indicate that he had an unhappy childhood, not just a "different" one. This also suggests that his upbringing is one of the many reasons why he's unsure about what he would do if his father ever decided to turn himself around and ask for forgiveness, so he's curious about what N would do, now that the latter is seemingly in similar situation with Ghetsis.
Also, Silver's lodge dialogue seems to imply that he never had any friends growing up (which was already obvious):
"Ethan and the others are always going on about "friends," and I wanted to hear what you thought about that. I'm not talking about the definition of the word. Of course I know that. But if a friend is just someone you can laugh and joke around with, that's such a weak connection that I don't see the point. I mean, it's fine to spend time with someone if you're competing and getting stronger together...But what's the point of acting all buddy-buddy, like Ethan and the others? After all, the point of competing is to beat the other person, right? I've got no use for any sickly sweet feelings. But everyone else seems so happy with the idea of being "friends," like they want us all to run around holding hands or something. If you expect me to do that...forget it. So you're saying a friend is someone you can...be yourself around?"
This combined with the implication that he had a different upbringing seems to suggest that Silver grew up sheltered just like N was . Though, I highly doubt that Giovanni did it out of pure malice. At worst, he was trying to groom him to make him the heir of Team Rocket. Or he was simply overprotective of him (and for good reason because Silver is the son of a crime lord after all).
Personally, I believe that he was just trying to preserve the "ideal" image his son had of him as it would fit with the narcissism he displays in the games, one of these instances of display being:
"You told me… you were the number one in the world! "
Giovanni made Silver believe that he was the “number one in the world” which seems to indicate that Giovanni wanted to feel admired by Silver (perhaps it also explains why he didn't admit that he was leaving to train to get stronger but instead told Silver he was leaving to build a stronger organization: he was still desperately trying to maintain the illusion rather than plainly admitting to his son’s face that he needs to get stronger, as it would confirm to Silver that he was never the strongest trainer he claimed to be). After all, narcissists seek external admiration as it helps them to validate the false image they made up about themselves. Giovanni likely knew that the truth would hit Silver hard and that he would lose all his respect as a result, so possibly isolated the kid out of fear that he might find out about his lie (as anyone could contradict his version), at least untill he proves his point to his son by conquering the world with powerful 'mon and ensures that no one and nothing would make Silver question it anymore.
#pokemon#rival silver#giovanni#pokemon masters#pokemon speculation#speculation#this would reinforce the parallels between n and silver so much#both sheltered by their dads to help them validate their narcissistic delusions#which also skewed their perception of pokemon and their relationship with humans#but also learn to outgrow from it and make friends along their way
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The Oyneg Shabes Archives
This was the code name of a secret project Jewish Historian Emmanuel Ringelblum organized, managed, and carried out in the Warsaw Ghetto. As a historian of the Jewish experience, Ringelblum understood very early on in WW2 that Warsaw’s Jews were living through an exceptional historical moment which desperately required documentation. And so, he gather a covert team of writers, reporters, diarists, and researchers, and sent them out into the Ghetto to write, record, and take testimonies.
The Nazis began their first attempt to “liquidate” (that is, get all Jews onto a train out of a ghetto, which would them take them to the Treblinka extermination camp) the Warsaw Ghetto in July 1942; this “aktion” would last through September 1942. The Oyneg Shabes team understood that they were unlikely to survive to see the end of the summer, much less the war.
Three of them set out to bury the 11 crates containing the Archives. With the burial, the three men included messages for the future generations they hoped would find and learn from the archives. One of these men, Israel Lichtenstein, wrote the following message to the future:
“I do not ask for any thanks, for any memorial, for any praise...I only wish to be remembered...I wish my wife to be remembered, Gele Sekstein. She has worked during the war years with children as an educator and teacher, has prepared stage sets, costumes for the children’s theater...both of us get ready to meet and receive death. I wish my little daughter to be remembered. Margalit is 20 months old today. She has fully mastered the Yiddish language and speaks it perfectly. At nine months she began to speak Yiddish clearly. In intelligence she equals children of 3 or 4 years. I don’t boast. People who witness it and tell me so are the staff teaching at the school at 68 Nowolipki Street—Dr. Pola Foilman, Mrs. Blit Herzlich, Mrs. Zagan and others. I don't lament my own life or that of my wife. I pity only this little nice and talented girl. She too deserves to be remembered.”
Israel, Gele, and Margalit were last seen alive trying to return to their hideout in the opening days of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, April, 1943.
The archives were recovered and dug up by the few Oyneg Shabes survivors on September 18, 1946. One crate is still missing. There is much more to say about these archives and their collectors, guardians, and survivors. I’m still learning much of that material--indeed, my brief treatment of it above is incomplete--and a good chunk of the story will play a role in my book.
The content above is all from Who Will Write Our History? by Dr. Samuel Kassow. He’s a really lovely, generous man, an incredible scholar, and a kind colleague/mentor; he even shared some of his Yiddish translations with me.
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Accidental Mistress - Broken
Today's release sets up an arc of around five fics that will serve as a sort of "season finale" for Accidental Mistress. Once this arc is over, I'll be putting the series on hiatus while I take a break and focus on other content (like wavs). That is not to say that Accidental Mistress will be ending. Rest assured, I have no plans to end the series yet.
This fic is one of my favorites. I'll let it speak for itself.
(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)
Title: Broken
Word Count: 6,101
Content and Warnings: snz (M & F), some light mess, whump, blood, injury, mention of assault.
In which wounds both seen and unseen are tended, hearts are laid bare, and a glimpse is caught into Oraion's distant past.
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Sunset lit the sky in hues of fiery orange and blush pink, cut with streaks of cool violet fading into deep blue. A low cloud, backlit and shadowed, hung in the sky like a bruise. The rough-edged call of a crow broke the stillness of the chill, autumn air. Though the rain had passed, the damp remained, and the breeze sliced through Noelle's wet clothes like a blade.
With any luck, Oraion was reading in the newly-reconstructed library or lounging somewhere else in the higher levels, and Noelle could sneak inside the tower and head straight to her room. The last thing she wanted right now was to see him. Rather, she reflected, it was for him to see her own sorry state.
Her ankle protested with white hot lances of pain as she limped up the gray gravel walk to the aged stone tower that served as her home. A bitter laugh passed her lips: this was not unlike the first time she had stumbled upon the structure, damaged and abandoned in the middle of the forest. At that time, she and the tower had shared those qualities in common.
Over the intervening years she worked on restoring the tower, and it was ever an ongoing project. At first she did everything on her own. She wanted to keep a low profile and feared anyone discovering the location of her hideaway, so materials and necessary supplies were the only things she sourced from the nearby town of Chambelf.
It wasn't until Quinns, hopelessly lost and on the edge of delirium in the forest, happened upon her tower by chance that Noelle gained an aide in her efforts, and, in the end, a friend. Together, work on the restoration proceeded at a much faster pace. When Oraion later came into her life, the Greater Demon's power sped things even further along, to the point where now the tower was quite a livable and cozy space, with only a few minor projects left.
One thing she had never quite gotten to fixing was those damnable squeaky hinges on the front doors. They groaned like the lamentations of the damned as she pushed the heavy oaken doors inward. She may as well have rung the disused bell.
Still, perhaps Oraion was further upstairs or sleeping, and if she hurried she could make it to her room unnoticed. Those hopes were dashed almost immediately when his voice reached her from the kitchen as she closed the doors behind her.
"Ah, welcome home, Mistress. With that storm that passed through I was starting to think I ought to come—" She heard his footsteps stop short in the doorway. "What happened to your clothes?"
Her mind raced as she pulled the hood of her cloak forward, keeping her head bowed and her gaze on the stone floor as she turned towards him.
"Oh, I, um, I tripped and fell on my way home. It got quite muddy, you know, and I- I slipped."
The concern in his voice deepened. "Are you all right? You aren't hurt, are you?"
"No!" Too late she realized her denial was too quick, too forceful. She cleared her throat and tried again, more calmly. "No, I'm fine. A scrape or a bruise, perhaps. Nothing serious."
Tears threatened the corners of her eyes. It was true enough: she wasn't seriously hurt. Physically, anyway. If she kept her hood up she could conceal the bloody split on her lip, and if she moved carefully she could walk without a limp. She could escape to her room, take a hot bath, give herself time to calm down.
"Mistress…"
He sounded closer now. Damn but he could move quietly when he wanted to. She dared not raise her face, not looking the way she did. Clean. She needed to get clean.
"I really ought to take off these wet clothes and get washed up, you know." She forced a laugh, a brittle thing that shattered across her tongue. "So just, um, hold that thought, will you?"
She made for the stairs as though they were a lifeline thrown to her in the sea.
"Are you limping?"
"I must have twisted my ankle. I'll be sure to rest—"
"Mistress, wait—"
"Please, I just— I-I need a moment to—"
"I said wait."
His form materialized in front of her, blocking her way. She ducked her head further towards the floor and grabbed the edges of her hood. Fat tears spilled from her eyes, unable to be held back any longer.
"Please, Oraion. I just want to go to my room."
"Is that an order?"
She almost said yes. If she ordered him away he would have to obey her and leave her alone, and yet something inside her welled up and stilled her tongue. Silence was her answer to him, and the shadows deepened as he drew closer. His fingers touched one of her wrists. Gentle warmth banished the wet chill on her skin.
"Noelle. Let me see."
A little hiccupping sob jumped in her chest as she dropped her hands and allowed him to lower her hood. His other hand went to her chin and tipped her face towards his. Shame roiled in her gut, and she could not meet his eyes. Weak. She was so weak. What kind of witch allowed herself to be bullied and beaten? What further proof was needed that she was not fit to be master to a Greater Demon? She wasn't sure she was even fit to be a witch anymore. Had she ever been?
Oraion slipped a finger beneath her glasses and traced the tears down her cheek, wiping them away with a gentle touch. Drawn by the gesture, Noelle at last allowed her gaze to rise, and when her eyes met his they were as locked together as the earth and the moon. At first she thought it a trick of the light or her own imagination, but no—his crimson eyes glowed as two red-hot embers.
"Who did this to you?"
The softness of his voice belied a primal undercurrent of rage, boiling pressure building towards violent eruption.
"I-I told you, I tripped on the road–-"
"The road does not leave boot prints on a woman's clothes. I ask again: who did this to you?"
As his Master, Noelle was immune to the incubus's powers of persuasion, but under the heat of his gaze she could no more hide the truth from him than she could lift the tower over her head.
"It was… some young men in town. Hardly m-more than boys, really. They—" A wave of pressure gripped her chest like a vice as her vision blurred with more tears, and with them a torrent of words gushed forth, punctuated by little sobs. "Th-they said that- that I was a dirty witch, and that I… that I belonged in the dirt! I tried to- to get away, b-but they grabbed me, and struck me, and threw me to the- to the ground. They dumped my bag, a-all of my things on the road, and they- they stole the money I got f-from selling mooncaps. Gods, I was so scared! I thought they were going to- to f-force me-” She couldn’t even finish the thought aloud as another sob cut her off and she dropped her face into her hands. After a moment she made herself continue. “But they- they only kicked me and spit on me… -snf- I-I can't believe I actually thought I was lucky that beating me and robbing me was all they did!"
The embers in Oraion's eyes glowed brighter, stoked by her account of the assault. The demon trembled, his clawed fingers flexed as if ready to strike something. His voice, for all his burning fury, was like ice when he spoke.
"I see. Then I believe these 'boys' must be taught a lesson."
He strode past her towards the doors with grim purpose writ in every inch of his tall frame, and a flare of alarm rose in Noelle's breast.
"What? No! You can't!"
The demon stopped dead, as though a wall of stone had appeared before him, but he did not turn. His long tail gave an irate lash.
"... What did you just say?"
His tone almost made her balk, but she took a breath and repeated her command.
"I… I said you can't go."
Oraion turned his head aside, a snarl on his lips, hands balled into fists. His enraged voice became tinged with disbelief.
"You would stop me from bringing retribution to those who harmed you?"
She wavered, but managed to squeak out, "Yes."
"Let me go, Mistress."
She shook her head. "No. I forbid it."
He spun towards her.
"They must be brought to justice!"
"I don’t care about that! You’re not allowed to go!"
"Why?!"
"Because I don't want you to leave!" The words tore out of her in a scream, harsh sobs bringing fresh tears to her eyes. "I don't want to be alone… Please… please don't leave me here all alone."
She sank to the floor as the last of her strength fled, and she gave herself over to her tears with her arms wrapped tight around her chest. The effect on Oraion was as though she had doused him with ice water. By the time her knees hit the floor he was at her side, the furious light in his eyes extinguished, and he pulled her close to his chest in a fierce embrace.
“Oh, Noelle, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I just— The thought of some filthy degenerates putting their hands on you…” He held her tighter and took a shuddering breath. “I won’t leave you, I promise. I’m right here. I… I’ll always be here for you.”
He stroked her hair and down her back with one hand, his touch suffused with warmth and comfort.
“Gods, you’re soaked.” He leaned back and cupped her cheek, searching her face with worried eyes. “And frozen, poor thing. Come, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and into a hot bath.”
A snap of his fingers cleaned and dried her sodden clothing, though the damp chill still lingered in her flesh. Noelle simply sat there, chest jumping with sniffles and quiet sobs, as Oraion fiddled with the clasp on her cloak before peeling the garment off of her. Next came her blouse, his fingers making quick work of the buttons for different reasons than usual. With her ankle still throbbing, Noelle needed help getting back on her feet to remove her skirt, which was left on the floor with the rest of her clothes. Only her underthings remained, and these Oraion left on her as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs.
The bathroom had undergone some recent upgrades thanks to Oraion’s aid and tutelage. Water no longer needed to be drawn cold from the well and heated manually: a brass spout on the wall shaped into the head of a lion contained a rune deep inside the open mouth that, when activated, summoned water that was already at the perfect temperature for a soothing bath. A wooden rack nearby contained many small jars and bottles filled with herbs, salts, and oils; which Oraion seemed to have a sixth sense for combining into luxurious soaks that relaxed the mind, soothed aches and other hurts, and delighted the senses.
A small stool sat on one side of the bathroom, where Noelle waited as Oraion busied himself with preparing her a bath. She felt a little silly sitting there in her underwear and boots. She leaned over and started to unlace them but found she couldn’t get very far on account of her trembling fingers. Oraion was right: she was freezing. If she wasn’t already sniffling from crying she probably would be anyway from the cold. She quickly sat back up as some mess threatened to drip from her nose from leaning over.
“heh-ishoo! Ishoo!”
Two kittenish sneezes seized her without warning, and she just barely managed to catch them in her hands. When she opened her eyes she groaned as she found that the mess she’d been trying to avoid now coated her fingers.
“Here.”
Oraion came over and took a knee before her, then pulled a handkerchief from the air with a snap of his fingers. It wasn’t his usual burgundy one, but a cloth of soft, white cotton. Noelle thought he was going to hand it to her, but instead he took her hands and started wiping them clean. Heat rushed into her cheeks.
“W-wait, I can— It’s gross—”
“Hush. You’ve cleaned me up plenty of times.”
“Well… I guess that’s true…”
He glanced up at her face a few times as he cleaned her hands.
“I’m not sure you want to be blessed by a demon, but… bless you.”
“Oh… thanks.”
As her own face grew hotter, she thought she saw a bit of pinkness come into Oraion’s pale cheeks as well. He caught her looking and smirked.
“You’re still incredibly cute when you sneeze, you know that?”
Before she could respond he stood and went over to the tub to dip a hand in the water. He shut off the tap and added a few more drops of one of the oils before declaring the bath ready. After helping Noelle out of the remainder of her clothing, he picked her up and lowered her into the tub.
Luxurious was indeed the best description for the bath he had prepared. The warmth sank into Noelle’s skin, through her aching muscles, right down to the bone it felt. Her ankle already felt lighter, the places she’d been struck and kicked that were certain to bruise by morning melted to a dull pain instead of a fresh sting.
Oraion pulled the stool up next to the tub.
“Now. Let’s clean up that cut on your lip, hm? We don’t want a scar on those lovely lips of yours, after all.”
With a clean washcloth snatched from a shelf, he dabbed some of the bathwater onto her split lip.
“This may sting a bit, but the herbs I added to the water will cleanse the wound and promote healing.” His touch was achingly gentle, and Noelle almost started crying all over again.
“Does it hurt? I’m sorry, it’ll only be for a moment.”
She gave the tiniest shake of her head so as not to disrupt his ministration, her words coming out slightly slurred as she tried not to move her lips too much.
“Mm-mm, doesn’ ‘urt.”
Oraion smiled, a fragile thing that Noelle had never seen. Not like his rakish grin when he teased her, or the coy smirk he used to lure her to bed, or the joyful smile that lit up a room with his laughter—this was a small, sad smile, ghostly and fleeting like a candle’s flame in a storm. It was gone nearly as soon as it appeared, replaced by his usual, self-assured persona.
“Well, looks like I won’t be getting any kisses for a while. Suppose I’ll need to find new places to kiss you, but that won’t be difficult.”
He winked at her, but Noelle could tell it was only theatre. He was trying so hard to cheer her up—why couldn’t she just buy into it? He soaked the cloth in the water again.
“I saw some scrapes on your hands; let me take a look.”
He dutifully checked her over, cleaning all of her cuts and scrapes. The longer she sat in the bath, the more her pain lessened.
“How do you know so much about baths, Oraion?”
A far more genuine smile tugged his lips, and a tightness in Noelle’s heart eased.
“Heh. While I’d like to say that knowing how to draw up a fine bath makes one popular with the ladies, it’s actually more of… an old hobby of mine. A long, long, long time ago I knew someone who absolutely adored a good bath. Knew where to find all of the best hot springs and what the properties of the waters were. I’ve always known a thing or three about herbs and such, so we simply put our heads together. Probably could have made a killing if we’d tried, but that sort of thing wasn’t on our minds back then. It’s just sort of stuck with me over the years. Gotten a bit more refined as times have changed.”
Noelle listened with rapt interest. It was rare for Oraion to talk about his past, especially the distant past.
“Um, your friend: were they a demon too?”
“No, not as such. More like… a spirit, I suppose.”
“Are you still friends now?”
His hands froze for just a moment before resuming tending to her wounds.
“No… No, they passed away quite some time ago.”
“Oh… I-I’m sorry.”
“Oh don’t be—it’s ancient history now. In a life as long as mine, death is the only truly constant companion. You get used to it.”
That seemed to be as far as he was willing to go with the topic, and he placed the washcloth aside so he could move the stool directly behind her. Then he took up a small pitcher in one hand and brushed gently through her hair with the other.
“Now, would my Mistress like for me to wash her hair?”
“Huh? Y-you don’t have to do that…”
He rolled his eyes. “I know I don’t have to, I’m asking if you’d like me to. You know what—I shouldn’t have asked. I’m going to wash your hair.”
“B-but I—”
“No ‘buts.’ Which one of us is the Servant, again?” He fingered the red leather collar around his neck. “Me. And right now I’m going to serve my Mistress.”
“You hate being my Servant, though,” she protested, her myriad hurts dredging her deepest doubts to the surface, “And you’re right to! You shouldn’t be serving someone like me. You’re a Greater Demon—a noble! And I’m… I’m nobody. I’m not even a proper witch. You deserve better.”
His hand cupped her cheek and turned her face slightly towards him as he leaned in and kissed her softly on the corner of her lips opposite the split. Then he pulled back and gazed deep into her eyes.
“Noelle… that just isn’t true. You are a fine witch, and you have such potential, far more than you realize. There may be some things about our arrangement that I’m not fond of—this collar limits me and it can be damned uncomfortable at times—but you are not one of those things. The time I’ve spent here with you… I have not felt a sense of peace like this in thousands of years, and I want you to understand that I mean that literally. I have watched civilizations rise and fall in the interim.
“My life before now has been an endless parade of hollow, lifeless days that all blended together, one into the next, because all I did was seek out distraction after distraction to make myself forget the fact that my existence had no meaning anymore. And yes, I was a selfish git when you first summoned me, but I know now that you have given my life a purpose for the first time in aeons, and I dearly wish you would stop convincing yourself that somehow that is wrong.”
Any response Noelle may have made withered and died in her throat before it ever reached her slightly parted lips. Never had she heard Oraion speak with such raw, honest emotion. Tears stood in his eyes. A Greater Demon, a Lord, a being thousands of years old, was on the verge of tears—for her.
“Oraion, I- I’m—”
He shook his head. “I don’t want you to apologize, just please promise me that you won’t speak so harshly of yourself so often.”
“O-okay, I promise. I’ll try.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up, then he leaned in and gently kissed her forehead.
“That’s my girl. Now, I believe I was going to wash your hair.”
“Oh, I…” She caught herself and resisted the urge to shy away from his offer again. “I-I would like that very much, thank you.”
He had her lean her head back as he dipped the pitcher into the water and poured it over her hair. The warmth across her scalp was heavenly, like it was banishing the chill from her spirit as well as her body. Oraion then took up her hair soap and rubbed the bar into the lengths of her hair until it formed a nice lather. Noelle wasn’t sure what to expect with his claw-like nails, but it actually felt amazing when he massaged her scalp.
“My, you- you certainly, ah, like l-lavender scented things, d-don’t you Mistress?” Oraion sniffled behind her before his hands paused for a moment. “eh… heh! … HAE’shiu! Nguh -snf- Sorry.”
“Gosh, it really does set you off, doesn’t it?”
“A bihih- bit. heh-IISSHU! mnh -snff- I wonder: do you like lavender because it mmhehh- m-makes me sneeze, or does- does lavender make me s-sneeze because you- b-because- be-heh! HEHTCHIU! Ngh… Because you like it?”
Noelle laughed. “Well, seeing as I already owned a lot of lavender scented things before I met you, I suppose it must be the latter. Although perhaps now it’s a little of both.”
“Ah, quite so, quite s- seh heh-CHIH! Guh…”
Despite his frequent sneezing, Oraion gave Noelle’s hair a thorough washing before massaging a blend of rich oils into her scalp and hair. She’d never felt so pampered, so… taken care of.
“So this is what it’s like…”
“And what is ‘it’?” Oraion asked with a slight sniffle as he finished blowing his nose into his own handkerchief.
“Huh? Oh, um…” Noelle blushed—she didn’t realize she’d said the words aloud. “Just to, you know, have someone, um… care for you.”
He seemed at a loss for words.
“You’ve… never had someone care for you?”
“Um, w-well, obviously Quinns cares about me, and they do try to watch out for me as best they can, but… not like this.”
“What about family?”
“I don’t have one. I never knew my real parents, and I was raised in a coven. It wasn’t exactly a very ‘caring’ place.”
He was quiet for a few moments, then he put his arms around her shoulders and drew her back into a somewhat awkward and damp hug.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Huh? For- for what?”
“That this world cruelly kept you from knowing a loving touch for so long.”
She touched the outside of his arm with her fingertips. Loving. Was that what this was? Was this what being loved felt like? She’d always thought it would be more… profound or something. Having never known love, though, Noelle wasn’t even sure how she would recognize it. Yet the thought that Oraion might be in love with her thrust a spear of anxiety into her heart. Before she could go too far into that particular rabbit hole, a sudden prickle in her sinuses derailed her train of thought.
“Oh, I’m gonna- ih-! ishoo!”
This time it didn’t quite catch her by surprise, but it was still awkward to cover with Oraion’s arms around her. The water splashed a bit as she pitched forward.
“Well aren’t we sneezy tonight?”
“-snf- You’ve sneezed a lot more than me.”
“Yes, but that’s normal for me at this point. You hardly sneeze at all, and now you’ve sneezed thrice since you got home. Not that I’m complaining, of course. It’s adorable.”
Something about him complimenting her sneezes made Noelle both giddy and bashful. Oraion was right, though, it was unusual for her. It would truly be the icing on the cake if she’d caught a chill on top of everything. She kept that particular thought to herself, though, and hoped that with some herbal tea and a good night’s rest she would feel recovered in the morning. After all, Oraion had worried himself over her enough for one night, and she would feel guilty to make him fret even more if she then slept it off and was fine.
Once she’d had enough soaking and her fingers were pruned, Oraion helped Noelle out of the bath and wrapped her in a soft towel. With the help of a little of Oraion’s magic, she was completely dry as quickly as he could snap his fingers. The demon then took her gently into his arms and carried her to her room, and she didn’t even try to stop him or let herself feel guilty about it. He was buttoning up her nightgown for her when she couldn’t help but giggle. Oraion looked up at her with a smirk.
“Something funny?”
“Only that you’re usually doing the opposite of this.”
“Ah, yes, I suppose this is a rather strange reversal, isn’t it?” He shot her a come-hither glance and waggled his eyebrows “I could always undo them again, if you’d rather.”
Another giggle from Noelle. “Not tonight, I don’t think. Could you make me some herbal tea instead?”
“Of course.” He kissed her softly on the cheek. “You know, I think this might be the first time you’ve ever directly asked me to do something for you.”
“I ask you to help me with my studies all the time.”
“Oh, fine, something that isn’t work, then.”
“Well… It must be because you’re spoiling me tonight.”
“Hm. If that’s the case, then clearly I need to spoil you more often.”
He gave her another kiss and left the room. Noelle watched the door for a few moments after he left. She had no idea Oraion could be so… domestic. He seemed less like a demonic lover and more like a doting husband from a romance story. She recalled how furious he had grown when he realized someone had hurt her. Gods, what if he really was in love with her? He was an immortal demon, and she a mortal human. Plenty of witches found ways to considerably extend their lifespans, but one day she would die all the same. He had said he was used to companions dying, but was that really something one got used to? And when she grew old and feeble, would he even want to stay with her? If she couldn’t feed him anymore, what then?
The more she thought about it, the more anxiety tightened its grip on her chest and closed its fingers around her heart.
She sighed and settled further into her pillows, telling herself that she was overthinking things, as usual. Just because he was being kind to her didn’t mean he loved her. Could an incubus even feel love? Or was it simply in his nature to be the consummate partner in any given situation? What if it was the influence of their contract, that he felt obligated to serve his Mistress? There were any number of possibilities, and she shouldn’t presume anything just because she’d never experienced this sort of care before. Whether it was love or not, Oraion was indeed doing his best to care for her, so couldn’t she simply enjoy that, at least for this one night?
Presently Oraion returned with the tea she requested, a lovely deep blue against the white cup he handed her as she sat up.
“Is this noctisia root?”
“Can’t get anything past you.” He smirked as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “I also added a few herbs to help you sleep, so you’re going to get pretty drowsy once you drink that, all right?”
“Mm, all right.” She nodded and took a sip. The tea had a bright, almost fruity flavor that masked a hint of bitterness from the herbs. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she might have trouble sleeping, but now that he mentioned it she was sure sleep would have eluded her otherwise with her nerves. He’d been so adept at anticipating her needs all night.
“Thank you so much, Oraion.”
“Ah, it’s only tea. I mean, I’m glad you like it, but I don’t know that it deserves that much praise.”
“No, I mean for everything tonight. For staying here with me, and getting me cleaned up and warm with that wonderful bath, and… and the lovely things you said to comfort me. And the tea, of course. I don’t know what I would have done without you here, or really how I ever got by on my own for so long.”
The demon looked down at his hands in his lap, and his face fell. A knot formed in Noelle’s stomach as she struggled to figure out what she had said wrong. His voice came out quiet, almost ashamed.
“I had to do what I could to make it up to you.”
“I-I don’t understand. Make what up to me?”
His full lips quavered, like the words were thorns stuck in his mouth, before he finally spoke in that same quiet tone.
“I wasn’t there when you needed me. I should have been there. If I had, then no one would have dared hurt you.”
“Oraion, you can’t blame yourself for this—”
“I chose to stay behind.” His voice rose in both emotion and volume. “I let you go out on your own when I should have protected you. What kind of Servant allows his Mistress to get roughed up by common hooligans?”
Noelle touched his arm. “You couldn't have known.”
“No, I should have known that a young woman traveling alone would not be safe. I only wanted—” A sad chuckle cut through his words. ”I was trying to surprise you.”
Noelle tilted her head. “Surprise me?”
“Yes, I… Well, today is…” The demon ran a hand through his long, scarlet hair and sighed. “It's been a year. You summoned me one year ago today.”
Noelle's mouth fell open.
“A year? It’s… It’s already been a year?”
“Time certainly flies, doesn't it? Especially when you're as old as I am. One year out of thousands… It goes by so quickly.” He shook his head with another sigh. “Ah, this isn't at all how I'd planned to spend the evening. I had a lovely bottle of wine for us, and— Well, I can’t really cook, but I managed to put together a simple dessert. I’ll have to put those away for later, I suppose. Of course, I'd also wanted to sweep you off your feet and carry you to bed, but… Well, not like this.”
The barest flush of color came to his cheeks as he reached a hand into his pocket.
“Oh, there is… one more thing.”
He leaned towards her and reached behind her neck for a moment, taking the opportunity to kiss her forehead. When he moved away, something glistened against the bare skin on her chest: a crystal pendant.
“There… Happy anniversary.”
Noelle took the pendant and held it up between her fingers. The stone was smooth and almond-shaped, and still retained some of its natural imperfections. It was wrapped in delicate swirls of wire and strung upon a fine chain. The crystal shone a deep crimson in the low light of her bedside lamp while the wire and chain gleamed gold.
“Oraion… It's beautiful. Where did you…?”
A soft smile curled the corner of his lips.
"You remember how I taught you about how I summon my handkerchief? How it's easier to summon things that already belong to you?" He nodded to the pendant. "That once belonged to a dear friend of mine… until it came into my possession. Now it's yours."
Noelle’s mouth opened and closed a few times as she turned the crystal over in her hand, but the moment had stolen her words and her breath.
“Don’t worry, it isn’t cursed or anything,” Oraion told her with a smirk, “It’s quite ordinary, I assure you… Do you like it?”
His question at last loosened her tongue. “I absolutely adore it. Thank you so much, Oraion, and… h-happy anniversary.”
The last two words she blurted out in a mumbled rush as her cheeks flared with heat. The demon beside her leaned in close to give her a tender, careful kiss on her wounded lips. Then he looked into her eyes and murmured, “I hope you do realize that I am never letting you go into town by yourself again.”
That drew a soft laugh from her. “I think I’ll hold you to that, actually.”
She took another few sips of tea and yawned. Exhaustion and the soporific herbs in the tea were beginning to take hold.
“Oh, I’m sorry. This tea must be working quickly.”
“Did I make it too strong for you?”
“No, no, it’s rather pleasant, actually. I think I was also more tired than I thought.”
He reached over and brushed a hand through her hair to settle on her cheek. “You have had quite a hard day, my dear.”
She placed her own hand over his and leaned into his touch with a sigh. The room was starting to waver a bit.
“Will you lay with me until I fall asleep?”
“Yes, of course. Do you want me to stay with you all night?”
“Oh, that would be nice, but, um, you don't have to if you don't want to.”
He smiled softly at her.
“Don't worry: I'll be here when you wake up.”
A content smile tugged her own lips, and she winced as the split in them stung.
“Ow. Need to be more careful about that. Gosh, I’m so sleepy… I dunno if I can finish the tea, Oraion.”
He took the cup from her hands and placed it on the bedside table.
“That’s alright. Honestly it seems like you probably shouldn’t have any more. I must have made it too strong—I’m sorry.”
Why was he apologizing? Her body felt so light and warm and… fuzzy. All of her hurts were retreating to the background, almost like they were happening to someone else. Even her anxieties were much quieter than usual. She settled back down in the bed, wiggling her shoulders back and forth as she snuggled into her pillows.
“It’s fine. Now come lay with your Mistress.” Her voice was starting to sound drunk.
Oraion laughed. “Oh my, yes ma'am.”
He kicked off his boots and lay on his side next to her with his hand on her arm, rubbing gently up and down. His tail wound its way over their legs to curl up along Noelle’s back. The room grew darker around the edges as Noelle struggled to keep her eyes open.
“Mmmn… Oraion?”
“Yes?”
“I’m really glad I messed up that spell so badly that I summoned you.”
His face broke into a sweet smile that made Noelle’s heart flutter.
“Me too.”
“Are you still gonna take me away to the Demon… place?”
“Heh. Of course I am. I can’t very well leave you here alone, can I?”
“You could always, um, stay here with me. We can just… live like this.”
He stroked her cheek. “I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad either.”
Noelle’s eyes just wouldn’t stay open anymore. “I know… I’ll just become a demon… Then I can… stay with you… forever…”
Within a few moments her expression relaxed as her breathing evened out. Not long after she even began to snore lightly. Oraion leaned forward and kissed her forehead once more.
“Good night, my dear Mistress. I hope you can forgive me.”
He sat up and retrieved the cup of tea from the bedside table. The strength of it was no accident. He needed to ensure that Noelle would fall asleep and stay asleep—she couldn’t know that he left the tower. Luckily he'd managed to get her to say he didn't need to stay all night, else her earlier command forbidding him from leaving could still be in effect. He donned his boots and made his way down to the ground level, discarding the rest of the tea before he grabbed his coat and made for the great, wooden front doors.
It was fully dark. The full moon hung low on the horizon, glowing burnt orange like a copper coin hanging in the black velvet sky. Good. The moon would give him enough light to make his way, while the darkness of the night would conceal him from his quarry. He’d picked up their scent from his Mistress’s belongings. It would be easy enough to find them; Chambelf wasn’t a very large town, after all.
The Demon Lord extended his leathery wings and leapt into the night.
#accidental mistress#oraion the allergic incubus#noelle the awkward witch#snz ocs#snzblr#snz#snz kink#snzfic#sneeze kink#whump#whump fic#sneeze fic#sneezefic#snezblr#snez
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Omg actually very excited about this WIP game that @ltwharfy tagged me in
Anyways the rules go that in a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it. And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
I've not been active on here the past week or two and have no idea who has done this or not, so if you see this and you haven't been tagged yet, consider yourself tagged! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
Funny enough I don't have a specific wip folder, but rather I break things down by fandom/universe so I'll be doing my best to compile everything under Bob's burgers/not Bob's burgers. That's really where my focus is right now lol
I'm also very much a believer in valuing having story ideas even if they go nowhere, so more than a few of these are just that, but please ask anyways! I'm excited to tell people about the things I'm working on
I've also got 'master docs' for my longer stories, which I use to draft plots and create a continuous first draft, so I'll leave those out for stuff that has individual chapters in the works
I also have different naming criteria for plots/second drafts/final drafts so this is going to be really fun to decipher (≧▽≦)
Bob' Burgers:
Chlouise meetcute
couldnt-be-feta
GAC Pack - L&R Prequel
JJ/Tine - Jealousy
L&R Epilogue: The Beach
L&R LastCh: Everything's Brie Alright
Louise Internship
Satisfied AU
Throuple
Tina Randomness
Tina/Zeke - L&R Prequel
TM Ch6:
Other:
Comic > Untitled document
Dive (bar) > Premise
DND > Castellan Knighthood
DND > Castellan Laments
DND > Castellan Origins
DND > Story concept
GO Role Reversal
Librarian Quest
Strong Unreliable Narrator
S&D Tier > Burn Down the World
The Pearl RD
Untitled PNF Project
Untitled Teenage Mystery
Witchy Business
#writing stuff#fanfic#bob's burgers#wip#original works#original writing#s & d tier#phineas and ferb#v excited to see what yall ask about#but yeah theres some stuff on here that i havent thought about in years (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)
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Precure Day 233
Episode: Yes! Precure 5 Go Go! 35 - “Bunbee’s Shocking Proposal!”
Date watched: 12 March 2023
Original air date: 12 October 2008
Screenshots
Precure Metamorphose Gallery | Sky Rose Translate Gallery
Project info and master list of posts
And when I’m leader, there will be changes. That day, all female officers will be required to wear TINY MINISKIRTS!
wait...
As fall kicks into gear, the girls are spending a bit less time together, and Nozomi laments this. At the same time, Bunbee is really starting to consider if he has a future at Eternal,a nd happens to catch wind of Precure’s predicament. An idea forms in his head. What kind of idea? Well, you can probably tell from the title and the above screenshot, but let’s just dive in.
The Plot
Nozomi feels lonely at Natts House with nobody but the fairies around. Coco, Nuts, Syrup, and Kurumi remind her that everyone is working towards their own dreams (including her), and they're grateful to her for helping find the Palmins.
Over at Eternal HQ, Mucardia sucks up to Anacondy, upstaging Bunbee and making him feel left out by the radically different treatment. Bunbee notices his last report in the trash, unread, and is speechless.
A little later, he takes a stroll and sits on a bench, failing to notice that Nozomi is sitting on the other side. They each murmur to themselves about their situations and play off each other for a moment before Bunbee recognizes Nozomi and hides.
Bunbee goes around to spy on the other girls and realizes the team is under stress, both from their individual goals and from the separation.
Everyone who's off doing their own things admits they haven't been to Natts House in a while and they decide to visit.
Rin and Urara meet up on a bridge as Rin catches a Palmin
Komachi and Urara are at a bookstore buying books
Kurumi is food shopping with Syrup to replenish Natts House, because everyone eats them out of house and home, definitely not because she enjoys the company.
Bunbee appears at Natts House and teases Nozomi about her quandary, then everyone else shows up and accuses him of being up to no good. (a reasonable and ultimately correct assumption.) He protests but says he has an important announcement, after these messages. Cue CM. Yay fourth wall breaks.
After the commercial, Bunbee declares himself Precure's new leader. Everyone is confused and they naturally don't trust him. When they refuse to hand over the Rose Pact he turns his book into a Hoshiina.
The book Hoshiina shoots pages at them. Rose kicks it aside and everyone else attacks Bunbee directly, so he retaliates with his machine gun spray. Dream throws hands but he is able to ward her off. He's stronger than normal, and they notice. He crucifies them in book pages (seriously) and tries to lecture them on how he'll lead them to the Cure Rose Garden.
Dream objects that they don't need a leader (I know what you’re thinking, more on that later), they don't need someone telling them what to do, they'll go to the Cure Rose Garden because they want to, not because someone told them to. They break free of their imprisonment. Bunbee tries to bring up their worries but they brush him off.
Nuts helps Rose perform Milky Rose Metal Blizzard on the Hoshiina, destroying it. Bunbee is upset and tries to shoot the team but Coco jumps in and helps the Cures perform Rainbow Rose Explosion. Bunbee teleports out of the way at the last minute, but tells the Cures to look him up if they change their minds.
Afterwards, everyone hangs out at Natts House. Urara admits she's having trouble getting auditions and Komachi encourages her by saying she'd like to see her perform. This turns into everyone talking about their accomplishments and offering to help each other out. Nuts tells Rin that the bracelet she designed for the store is already sold out.
Kurumi brings in a huge plate of cream puffs, mame daifuku, and pancakes for the group. She acts a little indignant when everyone digs in but then smiles.
Nozomi looks at the atmosphere and brings it full circle by confirming with Coco that it's "Harmonious" (wakiaiai), a word she was struggling to understand at the start of the episode.
The episode closes on Syrup protesting about everyone eating all the pancakes, while Coco looks warmly at Nozomi.
The Analysis
What I Liked
It’s corny but the throughline of all the girls working on their dreams is really, really nice. And the remarks that they miss each other pay off well when they sit down together at the end and bounce off each other so well. They come alive when they’re together.
Nozomi in particular is at her best this episode. You can see her commitment to learning, and this is the girl who was getting terrible grades at the start of last season. She wants to learn, and she wants to pass on that passion for learning. We saw her practice her teaching skills in an earlier episode, but this is the first time I think we’ve really seen the other side of it. She’s studying grammar and vocabulary, and gets to a word she doesn’t know, and tries to figure out how to apply it. It’s small but it’s big because of who Nozomi is.
Also on the subject of Nozomi, I like her speech during the climax. Bunbee is going on and on about how he’s their leader and he knows what’s best and they should listen to him, and she’s just like “We don’t NEED a leader because we decided TOGETHER to do this” (never mind the fact that she was voted leader in the last season)
somewhere between 6 months and 2 years ago...
Make of it what you will
Bunbee is hilarious in this episode, for the right and wrong reasons. His character has pretty much been a joke since Scorp died, and it’s really driven home here. It’s a half step forward on his redemption arc, but I truly can’t tell if he actually buys what he’s selling. I have an easier time believing he saw an opportunity to take the Rose Pact back to Eternal and redeem himself there, as he brags about working his way up the ranks. Either way the idea that he can suddenly become Precure’s leader is so absurd it’s great, and he seems completely oblivious to the reason anyone would be suspicious of him as he tries to mansplain his way into authority. Also, dang dude you couldn’t get a promotion at your company so you tried to take charge of a group of teenagers? Not exactly moving up in the world.
What I Didn’t Like
Everyone talking about how they haven't been to Natts House in a while is ironic after what we saw two episodes ago, where they were all there except Urara and were so sad she was busy.
I know Karen is very studious but the way she stresses over her career path, you’d think she’s graduating medical school tomorrow when she’s at least three years away from even enrolling in university. Yet here she is with a book on pharmaceutical law.
typical middle school reading
If she started college immediately she’d still be 7-8 years away from earning her doctorate at minimum. I don’t claim to know much about Japan’s medical system, but I feel confident enough to say the girl is putting the cart well before the horse. I am not trying to say education and the pursuit of knowledge as a passion isn’t important, but she’s stressing way too much over this at the age of 15.
Miscellaneous
Mucardia starts to tell Anacondy about his plans for his next move, but we don't hear them. This is a teaser for the upcoming two-parter.
Bunbee is looking for job listings in a book called "WORKS". Very on the nose. The font and style of the cover is very childish. Karen’s book about pharmaceuticals is similar. They’ve drawn realistic book covers before so I have to assume this is either an artist who isn’t as stringent about that, or it’s an intentional effort to play to the show’s audience of young children (with books way out of their reading range, go figure)
Bunbee breaks the fourth wall by announcing the commercial break.
THIS IS NOT EDITED.
The preview for this episode implied that the bit where Nozomi and Bunbee talk to each other would last longer. That’s what I get for trusting the preview.
The transformations are a bit sped up compared to usual I think.
Milk does not appear in her fairy form in this episode.
Both Milky Rose Metal Blizzard and Rainbow Rose Explosion are used in this episode, a first. It’s also the first time Metal Blizzard has been used since its debut in episode 31.
Conclusion
It’s a really solid episode with a fun and kind of stupid gimmick as Bunbee tries his hand at leadership but does so in all the wrong ways. He’s trying to follow the tactics of Sun Tzu: “In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity” but he misreads the chaos and doesn’t really act any differently from normal. The cures are all the better for it, and we get to see them rebuke his idea and come together as a team, while also seeing how they’re progressing on their individual dreams. We’re nearing the last quarter of the series now so it is time to start tying up those loose ends.
Next time, the first half of a two-part episode that isn’t the mid-season or finale as Mucardia makes his move and traps the team in a sinister game show. Look forward to it!
Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 0 kettei!
P.S. Yes, I heard about the Go Go sequel for adults. I’m as amazed as you all probably are.
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