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wordsandrobots · 10 months ago

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IBO reference notes on . . . deals with the devil

As @gremoria411 rightly commented, I skipped over Isurugi in my essay on character parallels in Iron-Blooded Orphans, even though he's part of a fourth 'leader/follower' dynamic, after Orga and Mika, Gaelio and Ein, and Rustal and Julieta.

And I was thinking about that and why exactly I left him out of the previous essay (beyond tripartite symmetry) when I got to contemplating an aspect of the show of which he's an excellent illustration. So let's get Faustian and unpick the devil's bargains made throughout IBO. Spoilers, as ever, ahoy, and this was also partly inspired by a post from @ember-amber, so cheers for that!

An arm and a leg

I should start with the obvious. Mikazuki's 'deal' with Barbatos, unleashing the Gundam's full power in exchange for the loss of his motor functions, first in his right arm, then down his whole right side, is the bluntest example of a character bargaining for greater power. Indeed, we might press the point and say it's not just his body Mika gives up for the sake of victory but his soul, tying himself ever closer to his mobile suit to the exclusion of the things he once sought beyond the battlefield. He resigns himself to always being what Barbatos allows him to be: the gun Orga fires to destroy obstacles. The hints of livelier, more well-rounded person are subsumed by unrelenting warfare. A boy who cannot stop, even when there is nobody left to order him into the fray, bound to a mechanical nightmare.

Yet to single this out is to overlook that Barbatos isn't the first devil's bargain Mika and the rest of Tekkadan have made in their short lives. Employment as a child at the CGS is predicated on Alaya-Vijnana surgery, after all, and even if that doesn't cripple them, their elevation from the gutter is marked by exchanging one uncaring environment for another. The Third Group are mistreated by adults who see them as disposable and draw scant distinction between volunteers, like Orga, Mikazuki and Takaki, and Human Debris, indentured workers on whom the surgery is actively imposed.

There is an extent to which the distinct is scant in any case. A choice may still be an active one when it is coerced but there are reasons we consider coercion a factor in making moral judgements. Can people be held responsible for decisions made under duress? We generally agree responsibility is lessened or even mitigated in such cases. And what is more coercive than facing a choice between slow starvation and the offer of being fed and paid, albeit at the cost of risking a much quicker end?

Well. Except we also – socially speaking – judge harshly those who trade acts of violence for money. Even when circumstances are considered to mitigate some of the blame, are we ever prepared to excuse fighting and killing on the basis those responsible would otherwise have suffered in poverty?

I don't raise simply as a vague 'makes you think' point. Iron-Blooded Orphans does not overly concern itself with the morality of killing (I'd go so far as to say it actively dismisses the question as meaningless). It is, however, rooted in a world where killing is an ugly necessity, not just for the sake of various causes, but as an act of survival. That is what Tekkadan becomes, for the CGS Third Group. A means of surviving in the face of forces that really would crush them if they did not take a stand. Through their bargain with the adult mercenaries who augmented them, they entered a life of fight or be killed. A struggle for dominance at the bottom of the heap. And they are damned for it.

In the eyes of their society, they are monstrous aberrations. It does not matter that they are in many respects typical, reflecting the exploitation on which the world runs. Their brief stint as heroes is overshadowed by contempt and disgust, by the social taboos they break simply by existing, and by their status as scapegoats, sinking the entirety of the blame for the violence they were a party to. Isn't that the ultimate cost of the deal they made? Their innocence as perceived by others, tarnished such that they can never again be the children they were when they signed on the dotted line.

It is interesting to consider the implications this has regarding the Calamity War and the origin of the Gundam frames. We know, of course, that Gjallarhorn actively demonised (hur hur) the very technology that staved off humanity's extermination by the mobile armours. This appears to have been an act of self-interest, ensuring those advancements remained solely in their control, though the details are vague at best – as always, McGillis must be considered an unreliable source. Nevertheless, their efforts were only partially successful, with a cruder version of the Alaya-Vijnana becoming prevalent in the outer-spheres of Mars and Jupiter (and indeed the inner-sphere of Venus; basically everywhere outside Earth and the near-Earth colonies). They managed to make the thing taboo at home while failing to suppress its use abroad. Stop me if you've heard this one before.

And yet the fact remains: the Alaya-Vijnana and the Gundam frames ended the War. We get to see exactly what a fully-unleashed Gundam is capable of and if we are to parallel the deal Mikazuki makes with Barbatos to those Tekkadan as a whole made on entering their life as soldiers, what then can we say about the original Gundam pilots? They must have been under immense pressure to achieve victory, with the fate of the species on the line. Said victory depended on releasing limiters placed inside their mobile suits to protect them from the strain maximum power would put on their bodies. How many, therefore, willingly ended up in the same state as Mika – or worse?

We don't know. But I don't think it an irrelevant detail that Gjallarhorn's prominence as a military organisation is rooted in this possibility, especially since there are more direct parallels with Tekkadan. Ein opts to side with those who oppress his mother's home planet on behalf of a distant imperial centre and he too trades something for security with that decision, though what we call it may depend on well-disposed we feel towards him. Self-respect? Loyalty to his fellow Martians? Whatever the case, his fanatical tendencies were likely not mellowed by the weight of his choice.

Moreover, what the boys in Tekkadan materially are is at most an extreme version of what your average Gjallarhorn solider is: somebody selling their capacity for violence for the means to survive. For all that the show focuses on the likes of Ein, Julieta, and the other extra-loyal elite forces, we still get plenty of cutaways to troops just doing their jobs. The captain of the Sleipnir, grudgingly setting sail on his daughter's birthday. The CO on the bridge at Edmonton, refusing to waste his men's effort doing more than holding the line. The men deployed during the final episode, frightened and scrambling to survive Mikazuki's ferocity.

They all signed up to do violence. They must have had some idea about what they were getting into, likely more so than anyone who joined the CGS as a pre-teen. Again, this is their job. It could get them killed, or at least maimed, and will certainly lead to them killing others. But in the end, it beats poverty.

These characters exist on a spectrum of bodily sacrifice in exchange for material gains. From Human Debris (fight or die), through Tekkadan (fight to have basic human necessities), on to Gjallarhorn (fight or have less power within society) and to the original Gundam pilots (fight or watch the entire species die), the divisions are by degree rather than kind.

Even Gaelio, the most privileged and 'righteous' character (in the sense of being driven by moral indignation, not practical concerns), expends his body and personal beliefs to get what he's after. Though ending the series in a state comparable to Mikazuki is a personal decision rather than a direct consequence of his Gundam claiming a price for its power, it still stems from an embrace of the taboo.

A soldier is, definitionally, a paid gun. States and businesses exchange money with those willing to kill others – something otherwise generally agreed to be an act punishable by society's rules. This is, for better and worse, the transaction that defines our cast.

Dealing with the devious

In this context, the Gundams are admirably frank. As machines, they cannot dress up what they offer or will take for it. It is left to human characters to play the part of the deceitful tempter.

Via Hush's flashbacks to a cheery Builth heading off to join the CGS, we can form the impression that Arkay Maruba's men did not initially present themselves as the harsh taskmasters they proved to be for anyone who receive a successful implant. This may seem trivial compared to other lies witnessed throughout the show, but I don't know that the rest are much deeper. Honeyed words covering a brutal reality is par for the course when the world is brutal realities all the way down.

In this regard, there is a distinction to be drawn between those offering things at a terrible cost and those who do so dishonestly. Consider Teiwaz: their wealth is underpinned by cold, ruthless calculation and cold, ruthless violence. The conglomerate is staffed by perfectly nice people like Merribit Stapleton, but run by the likes of McMurdo Barriston and Jasley Donomikols, who will kill those who get in their way. McMurdo displays many endearing traits and an indulgent generosity. He also uses Tekkadan to remove a threat to his power, then cuts them off so this act cannot cause infighting between his other lieutenants. His breaking of the sakazuki cup Orga returns to him is a canny move, as by doing so he washes his hands of culpability in Tekkadan's actions. Given the structure of Teiwaz, the other subsidiary leaders would likely have felt threatened if he'd overtly squashed Jasley. This way, he gets that same outcome while also dispelling any notion he plays favourites, because he instantly expels those punk kids everyone was worried about, despite his proven soft-spot for them. Order and peace are restored; business can continue as usual.

Which is appalling and hardly counterbalanced by the aid he gives to Orga afterwards (although, to be clear, I don't think you can dismiss said aid either: he is taking a risk by helping Tekkadan out of the hole he shoved them into; he's just also the one who shoved them into it in the first place).

But we're told who McMurdo is from the word go. And so are Tekkadan. Naze makes very clear the Old Man is driven primarily by seeking profit. This has an upside in that he is not concerned with how said profits are made or who he has to deal with to get them. It also has a major downside for those exact same reasons. I don't believe he ever misrepresents himself. He is frighteningly blunt with Orga by the end. His actions, ultimately, are in line with everything anybody ever says about him (except Jasley, who makes the mistake of assuming McMurdo growing old represents weakness, not outliving challengers). The grandfatherly persona, the cannoli and the bonsai trees – these aren't affectations concealing monstrous depths. McMurdo Barriston simply happens to be a gentleman getting on in years, who enjoys good food and gardening, who will absolutely crush anyone who obstructs his interests.

No, for the real devious bastards we have to look elsewhere. Let's start with the Moustache Man. Todo Micronen is introduced in all his pot-bellied glory slacking off on beating Takaki, Danji and Ride over being too slow at their mine-laying practice. For a brief, shining moment, he gets to look semi-decent in comparison to the real bruisers of the CGS First Group.

Then he sells the newly-formed Tekkadan out to Gjallarhon.

Todo makes a show of being on Orga's side, ingratiating himself to the new leadership with his connections and greater life-experience. That experience, however, is predicated on looking out for number one. In the face of the space police stomping them all to get hold of Kudelia, Todo makes a deal to save his own skin. Unfortunately for him, he isn't what we might call good at appearing trustworthy. Orga and Biscuit twig he's up to something and Tekkadan escape the trap, leaving a beaten-up Todo for McGillis to find. This nicely demonstrates that our heroes aren't complete suckers: Orga follows Todo's suggestions because he's not in a position refuse the assistance if it's genuine, but he's smart enough to plan for the alternative.

At first, Kudelia's dealings with Nobliss Gordon lack this awareness. Where Todo gives strong used-car salesman vibes, Nobliss is more competent at wrapping other people around his little finger. Additionally, rather than trusting solely to gullibility, he positions Fumitan as a watchdog on Kudelia's actions, so that whatever he says, he'll always have final control of the outcome. And it seems he really would say anything, to anyone, to get what he's after. He deals with virtually every major faction in the show, assisting them by turns, the proverbial arms-dealer who will sell to both sides, willing to set in moment immense amounts of bloodshed if it increases his revenue.

Notably, when Kudelia eventually discovers his true nature, her reaction differs from Orga's jettisoning of Todo. Rather than breaking from Nobliss, she seeks to reverse their relative positions so that she is using him. Thereafter, she continues to take his money in spite of recognising his motives. If he wants her to be the face of a revolutionary movement creating profitable instabilities, he must keep giving her the resources to pursue her goals. It's a tenuous, strained relationship that ultimately proves a hindrance to saving the people she cares for. But it too is an demonstration, of how sometimes one cannot simply extract oneself from bargains that provide material advantages. For the sake of inching the world forward, it can be necessary to make deals you know benefit those whose aims run contrary to your own.

Which brings us to McGillis.

With McGillis, the lines between deceiver and deceived blur. It's hard to claim he's honest in his dealings with Tekkadan. There is a lopsidedness to the arrangement, whereby he exploits their combat ability for his own ends while offering little more than pie in the sky in return. His grand promises amount to nothing and for all the munitions he funnels their way, he never gives them anything that doesn't ultimately serve his goals alone. He simply provides the means to fight more effectively: the thing he needs from them, not what they require to prosper.

On the other hand, did he believe he would be able to fulfil those promises, eventually? McGillis spends the entire series working towards a dream of absolute control over Gjallarhorn, a position from which he would have the means to dispense boons to his supporters. Whether he'd have followed through on doing so is an open question. But his admiration for Tekkadan appears sincere, so he might well have tried, as poor an idea as it is to give planet-ruling power to a bunch of violent children and, by extension, their mafia benefactors.

We don't know for sure, because ultimately the person McGillis fooled most was himself. He sold his soul to an ideal taken from an old book and willingly embraced the cost, taking an active role in tearing apart everything good in his life. He is at once devil and bargainer, spinning fairytales from his own self-deception and becoming a Pied Piper, leading others inexorably to the same doom that awaits him.

Any star in the dark

Knowing what you're getting into is a vital component of Faustian pacts. Some people do, and work frantically to ameliorate the negative consequences. Some do not, and are struck down when things do not work out the way they imagined. Getting out of the bargain, or trying to, is usually the meat of stories that feature this device so it follows that it matters whether entering them is done with knowledge or ignorance.

I've discussed Kudelia, who starts out naïve and learns better, and Orga, who makes some bargains with full understanding (Todo, Teiwaz, Makanai too) and some with a mistaken belief in their worth (McGillis). Of these two, I would categorise Kudelia as a pragmatist who recognises the world is such that a successful path forward is built on compromise, and Orga as a gambler, always seeking the quickest route to the highest reward. I won't dwell here too much on stuff I've discussed elsewhere about what drives Orga to act this way except to say that it is as much about the desperation of his circumstances as the desire to possess greater riches.

This is a pattern throughout the show, with characters committing to long odds and risky activities to escape miserable situations. And it repeats once more with Isurugi Camice, McGillis' stalwart aide-de-camp, introduced at the start of Season 2.

It is clear from the word go that he is as loyal a supporter of McGillis' intentions to reform Gjallarhorn as you could hope to find. Furthermore, McGillis trusts him to an exceptional degree. Isurugi is party to all the technical details of the coup, serving as the means by which the moving parts are organised, representing McGillis when it is no longer possible for 'The General' to leave Earth unnoticed, and acting as his wingman in battle. Eventually, this dogged support proves Isurugi's undoing. He is fatally injured while intercepting a killing blow Gaelio meant for McGillis.

At this point, we learn what lies behind his loyalty: like Ein, he is a colony-born member of Gjallarhorn and without a well-placed patron, he would have no prospects. With McGillis' help, he was able to achieve a higher rank and consequently, as he puts it, in McGillis' presence he was able to dream of a better future. Even if it meant the bloodshed that comes of trying to overthrow the Seven Stars' historical control of the organisation – including his own blood, shed on Gaelio's knee-mounted drill bit – he believed it worthwhile to throw in his lot with his General.

Predictably, Gaelio reacts by declaring this a delusion perpetrated by McGillis, with no real possibility of coming true. And while he is broadly correct about the second part of that conclusion, it's worth stressing that Gaelio is textually Always Wrong™ about McGillis right up to their final scene together. He thoroughly misunderstands his ex-friend's motivations and fails to recognise where McGillis' priorities lie at key moments (see the business with the mobile armour; Gaelio takes a fully cynical view of it, not realising McGillis is about the only person to genuinely comprehend the threat Hashmal poses ahead of time).

Moreover, as Isurugi tells him during a dying monologue, Gaelio lacks first-hand experience of what it's like to have no future worth a damn. For all Ein taught Gaelio to look beyond his privileged life, he never has to live long-term with the knowledge that things cannot get better. Isurugi did. And when given the option, he chose a path offering a chance of improvement, however far-fetched and however costly.

Now, we are talking about another character who voluntarily joined the colonial police to improve his lot. Isurugi is presented more sympathetically than Ein but their similarities extend to partaking in the same moral compromise. Becoming a solider, specifically one tasked with enforcing imperial rule, is a way out of being just another oppressed citizen, sure, but the fact that oppression extends to the inside is perhaps not a sob-story stirring too much sympathy. At the same time, the structure of the dilemma echoes those faced by the members of Tekkadan or the people of the Dorts: when the stakes are (or are perceived to be) extreme, extreme responses become understandable.

Indeed, the Dort arc is a useful point of comparison, since it represents an opposing pole of reaction. Rather than seeking to escape via collaboration with the authorities, the workers aim to match strength with them, forcing conditions on the colonies to be recognised and resolved. Consequently, Mr Navona's union makes a deal with Nobliss Gordon, under the misassumption that he is a benefactor to their cause. In this way, they are set up to take a fall Gjallarhorn wipes out those who wanted merely to strongarm the Dort Company to the negotiation table and allows those in favour of more immediately violent solutions to run riot as an excuse for further executions.

Notable here is that the union commits to the threat of violence when they march on the Company HQ. There are no pacifists in this scenario, only a debate about the most effective use of the available weaponry. Everyone gambles that fighting the system head-on will bring a reward.

And the system slaughters them, because it has a far greater capacity for violence than they could hope to possess. It is only through the last-minute tying of Gjallarhorn's hands that anything good comes out of the uprising (and even this is tainted, both by the bargain Kudelia makes with Nobliss, binding herself closer to the devil she knows, and by the long-term consequences of Gjallarhorn's escalating action against colonial liberation movements come Season 2).

Perhaps having seen this kind of thing happen, it isn't any wonder Isurugi would look to someone within the system for hope. To him, McGillis is a bright spark of possibility, worth chasing because at least then he can believe there might be a better world than the one he currently finds himself in. McGillis has institutional power, he is charismatic and clever, and he wants to sweep aside those who administer an unjust structure without complaint. These are alluring qualities even when it is clear the endeavour will to lead to loss, violence and death.

There is no gain without cost. And sometimes, the cost is worth the prospect of the gain.

The final bargain

To an extent, Iron-Blooded Orphans is a story about how this is a fool's logic. In the end, even Mikazuki's honest bargain with Barbatos is a trap, stripping him of the capacity to be anything more than an instrument of violence. 'When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail' is not quite the phrase we want here, but Tekkadan are certainly a group of people who, via the deals they have made, lack opportunities to learn how to use other tools. In many ways, Kudelia, Ein, Isurugi, Naze, Savarin etc. are no different. So many people driven into arrangements that come around to harm them, because that is the nature of things. However pure or understandable or sympathetic the reasons behind the choice, there are always consequences.

And yet, in a world built from pacts between devils and fools, everyone is subject to the same traps. The figures we can identify as playing Satan to our many Fausts are each themselves someone else's supplicant. Todo becomes McGillis' cat's-paw. Nobliss is cowed by McMurdo's greater power, while McMurdo has to tread carefully around Gjallarhorn, as embodied in Rustal Elion. And Elion himself has to make his own deals. As he admits to Julieta, he is not some bastion of integrity but just another shady adult, doing what's necessary even when it conflicts with his stated principles.

At the end, Supreme Commander Elion, the one person we can confidently say came out of this whole business with his goals achieved, sits across from Kudelia Aina Bernstein, chairperson of a free Mars. The man who stood for a modified status quo, freed of disruptive influences, alongside the Maiden of Revolution, who has gotten a measure of what she sought despite everything he took from her.

Two pragmatists, making their compromises, for the sake of moving forward.

I don't mean to position Elion as 'just as much a victim' as the rest. He clearly isn't. What I'm seeking to highlight is a consistent thread whereby everyone has to make arrangements with forces that could destroy them. Which is a lesson worth taking with us to the real world. Compromise is often the death of good intentions, yes, but absent a socialist paradise dropping from the sky, the steps towards building a better world for the people living in it involves working around those who'd stand in the way. Bringing the beneficiaries of the system to the point where they have to make deals with you is a long, hard process involving a great many costs – including that of accepting it is going to be long, that things won't change at single stroke, and anyone promising such a speedy outcome probably can't or won't deliver the goods.

At the very least, I find something worth grappling with here, viewing the series through this lens. Iron-Blooded Orphans is uncompromising in its depiction of violence carrying horrific consequences. It places the callousness of the boardroom and the cabinet meeting on par with the casual brutality of a police baton or a pirate's gun. There is no 'good' fighting in this show and no untainted cause. Mythic heroes occupy a space defined by child-soldiers who know no reaction beyond 'kill the other guy first'. The result is a frank admission that it's rarely a question of if someone is going to sell their soul.

It's a matter of when, and to whom, and how far they can get before the price comes due.

Other reference posts include:

IBO reference notes on … Gjallarhorn (Part 1)

IBO reference notes on … Gjallarhorn (Part 2)

IBO reference notes on … Gjallarhorn (corrigendum) [mainly covering my inability to recognise mythical wolves]

IBO reference notes on … three key Yamagi scenes

IBO reference notes on … three key Shino scenes

IBO reference notes on … three key Eugene scenes

IBO reference notes on … three key Ride scenes

IBO reference notes on … the tone of the setting

IBO reference notes on … character parallels and counterpoints

IBO reference notes on … a perfect villain

IBO reference notes on … Iron-Blooded Orphans: Gekko

IBO reference notes on … an act of unspeakable cruelty

IBO reference notes on … original(ish) characters [this one is mainly fanfic]

IBO reference notes on … Kudelia’s decisions

IBO reference notes on … assorted head-canons

IBO reference notes on … actual, proper original characters [explicit fanfic – as in, actually fanfic. None of them have turned up in the smut yet]

IBO reference notes on … the aesthetics of the mobile frame

IBO reference notes on … mobile suit designations

IBO reference notes on … the Gundams (part 1)

IBO reference notes on … the Gundams (part 2)

IBO reference notes on … the Gundams (part 3)

IBO reference notes on … the Turbines, or ‘Tekkadan done right’

IBO reference notes on … the Gundams (Addendum 1)

#gundam iron blooded orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #tekketsu no orphans #spoilers #reference #notes #faustian bargains #pacts with the devil

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marinette-buginette · 16 days ago

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Love your sokkla fics! You’re an amazing writer 💕

Awww thank you anon, I'm glad you are enjoying the stories! Stay tuned, more is coming, hopefully at least as enjoyable as what I got so far.

#Idk what Faustian pact I signed when I fell down the Sokkla chute but it keeps my writing drive high #I don't know if I ever wrote this much in six months in my life lmao

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gu6chan · 5 months ago

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OKAY a quick little sketch of an OC before i go to bed..... his name is edwin (actually edward), and he likes books :) i think this is my first time drawing him on digital... 👀

Edit: thank you all sm for all the likes omg!!! QAQ💕

#gu6chan's doodles #gu6chan's muses #Edwin #i love him very much the LONG story is that he's a demon taking the form of.... a 14??? ish???? year boy to look after one SPECIFIC human #who happens to be a very touch starved religious son of a duke who's so sickly he needs a wheelchair to get around #(this is in England in early 1710 btw)#ofc religious boy doesnt know hes a demon or was even 'made' by demons he just loves his friend ❤️ edwin does not #he just wants to read his books and stories.......... :( he also has a sort of faustian pact with said religious boy's cousin/fiancée!!!#thats a whole different can of worms though lmao #i hope you like him :)))) annoy him (affectionately) for me lmao

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glacial-art · 8 months ago

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Wizards FIGHTING in the temple of Notor!!! (Gone WRONG) (NOT clickbait)

Characters from Seven Part Pact (patreon) by @jdragsky, a ttrpg about wizards maintaining balance

Audio from hamilton

#art shenanigans #wizards #seven part pact #in order of appearance: the faustian. the ex necromancer. the hierophant. the sorceror. and the fr necromancer #(for context cause its so silly: some guy told us he was the ex necromancer but got lost in death. we put him on trial without question #cause if the claims are true... technically he abandoned post. but the sorceror (me) had plans and so was fighting to keep him alive #but the faustian really wanted him super dead #also we were in a temple where you cant do violence/magic so the hierophant was trying to stop everything #and the necromancer was also there :v:)

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rainbowgod666 · 10 months ago

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LeL

🧝eldritch-blarst Follow

you're a mage but are you normal about invocations? do you support pacts? can you have a normal conversation with a warlock without bringing up Faust?

🧙 flarning-sphere Follow

nepo baby

🧝 eldritch-blarst Follow

this is exactly what I'm talking about this is the kind of harassment warlocks deal with EVERY DAY. you're not any better just because you went to college

🧝 eldritch-blarst Follow

reblog this version you cowards

🧌 doctor-glump Follow

doctor glump

🧝 eldritch-blarst Follow

typical fighter trying to make a post about a VERY serious issue into a joke

🧑‍🌾 bugbearhugemeat Follow

was anybody gonna tell me op was arrested for sacrificing a satyr in a blood ritual or was I supposed to find that out myself

🧙 flarning-sphere Follow

she WHAT

🧟 gabaghee-gabaghoul Follow

god forbid women do anything

#belated and incomprehensible opinion but #real warlocks dont make faustian pacts. they Get A Job

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lightdancer1 · 10 months ago

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1850 and 1877 have one very direct parallel:

Out of all the many instances of the fatal US tendency to compromise and can-kicking, the one of 1850 has the dubious distinction of being the greatest failure. It was also one of the ones where the US wound up very narrowly avoiding the outbreak of the war that began 11 years later much like its successor 27 years later in 1877. That was the motivation that led US leaders to draw back from a brink aided by the death of US President Zachary Taylor from gastroenteritis. The result of this bargain, however, was a chain of events that included both the first open armed resistance of free Black people, as opposed to slave rebellions, and the onset of spiraling violence that led to the war before the war, in the 1850s, and to the wave of terrorism that was the war after the war in the Reconstruction era.

It should be noted, again, that this compromise only delayed the war by 11 years and that if it had fallen through we would speak of the outbreak of a U.S. Civil War in 1850, not 1861.

#lightdancer comments on history #black history month #military history #us history #compromise of 1850 #yes a near-outbreak of civil war narrowly avoided by a pyrrhic compromise counts as military history #it was that narrow a margin and this is 100% of what led people to make the Faustian pacts in both cases

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thedarkmongoose · 1 year ago

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they shot these scenes in the funniest ways imaginable lol. also the music playing in the bg is tragically (and hilariously) on point.

Faust, Act II: Le veau d'or: "The erudite Faust is highly successful yet dissatisfied with his life, which leads him to make a pact with the Devil at a crossroads, exchanging his soul for unlimited knowledge and worldly pleasures. Faust and the adjective Faustian imply sacrificing spiritual values for power, knowledge, or material gain. Along the seductive path to riches and power, Faust realizes his salvation is tragically bound to others, including those he loves most."

#i could prob do a whole series just on the music in hannibal #hannibal #hannibal memes #hannibal meta #hannibal shitpost #hannibal crack #hannibal lecter #hannigram #music #nbc hannibal #sorbet #memes #meta #faust #media analysis #kennedy center #wikipedia

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irisfixation · 11 days ago

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it is generally understood within the adventuring community that some sort of contract should be preemptively made in order to protect oneself from an untimely death.

[original hypnosis fic, second-person narration from perspective of the subject. gender-neutral, little to no sexual content. please read accordingly, and enjoy.]

now, the act of seeking out such a contract, let alone the fact of its normalization, would have been taboo a few decades past. "we don't negotiate with pact-entities", the old elders crow; anti-demon and anti-fae rhetoric was accepted as the norm.

it only took looking at the rate of mortality, the expenditures of the local church, and getting over themselves to at last shake up the in-culture of heroics.

of course, that didn't mean they weren't diligent with their new protocols; information on prospective patrons was inscribed down in ledgers half phone book and half grimoire, noting the terms of agreement, the trustworthiness of pact-entity after pact-entity, any bargain a little too faustian struck through in red.

you'd watch your peers peer through the book, discussing the pros and cons of each. was an unlucky fate too much to pay? were compulsions too obstructive, did the bodily changes contrast too much with one's self-identity?

of course, they all ended up choosing sooner or another. better that than dying young and alone.

it was under this sort of necessity that you went to the house.

-------

it was closer to home than you expected, really - you anticipated some kind of ominous manor on the cliffs, or secluded cabin by the forest's edge, so the three minute walk from the town square came as a welcome surprise. its residence looked the same as any other lodging - you'd no doubt walked past it on your regular commutes countless times without batting an eye.

you knocked, and the door fell open, as if it had been awaiting your arrival; afternoon sunlight bouncing off the gossamer-thin threads adorning the hallway.

make yourself at home, she says. i'll be upstairs when you're ready to talk. you nod and ask if there's any consequences for eating any food or drink. i promise you this; all food i've set out here is yours to eat and drink without consequence comes the reply; perhaps a little verbose from anyone else, but necessary caveats for a pact-entity's trust. you oblige.

with throat wet and stomach sated, you ascend the stairs. the bedroom is small, humble even; you've seen more expensive homes by far from some of your more show-off rivals. more fit for a pauper than the-

"than Her Lady of Marionettes?"

yeah.

"i never cared all too much for the trappings of nobility. i'm satisfied simply living in peace here."

then why the contracts?

"it's mutually beneficial, no? i quench my thirst for control for a time, and you don't meet any horrible, lonely fates. it's no different from any other line of work."

more reasonable than any would-be evil queen you've ever met, let alone one considered an enemy to the hero's guild not so long ago.

"please. i never cared all too much for that arrangement."

she rolls in her bed to face you. despite her role, she looks little different from your sister or partner; eyes still closed, hands still set upon her crosses.

-------

you discuss business. she will string you up, she says; and then, if she were to find yourself in an otherwise fatal scenario, she will pull your body back, mend you, even clear your mind from any hostile entities trying to take it over.

what do each of you get out of this?

"i get to observe the world through your eyes. i get the joy of commanding a body beyond my own. you cede a small, negotiated amount of control, and in return you are freed from tragedy's grasp forevermore."

it sounded like a hell of a better deal than half of the faustian bargains you saw other contract-entities propose.

"if you'd like, we can provide a demonstration here and now. no permanent alterations, and you can back out any time you wish. is that amenable?"

it does indeed sound amenable.

-------

you're sitting by her side on the bed. she's set her crosses down in place of a needle she holds deftly between thumb and forefinger, pinched together like a bee ready to sting. "hold your left arm out, please? we'll begin now."

you do so, and she passes the needle through skin. you feel it travel up across the veins in your wrist, her other hand steadying you in place with the tenderness of lily-petals. your elbow twitches as it passes through; the nerves firing once in shock, but no more. up through bicep, then shoulder; and then out, a release in pressure from within as the needle finally leaves your insides, leaving a trail of silken fibres behind it.

she plucks the taut string left in its wake, and your arm twitches with it, pulled from within. "see? no pain at all."

next is the right arm, then the legs. she flutters around you like a sprite alighting upon forest blossoms, soft fingers and steel-precise nails moving you, adjusting your wrist or shoulders or rotation with studious diligence. the intimacy of being studied and guided like this is almost palpable.

"...and, done." she declares, finishing a line of thread across the shoulders and through the nape of the neck. "well, how is it? comfortable, right?"

"yes, miss", you are made to say; and then, immediately, recall the strings through your upper and lower lip alike, a third running through the seam in your tongue. right. you move your eyes to meet hers; she's smiling brightly, but it's more the naive smile of a child than the former evil queen's smirk you expected. the effect is equal amounts unsettling and genuinely cute.

"well, let's begin." she picks up her crosses again, and with one subtle rotation of a hand's balance, she guides you.

it's easy to follow through. your right arm raises with a poise and natural nature that shocks you, outstretched to one side. she returns her hand to neutral, and your arm falls back once again, more sudden and limp than you were expecting.

("excellent", she says.)

with that first test done, she guides you down the stairs. your eyes are still your own, so some reflexive part of you fidgets as your body glides down each flight of steps; you have no control over if you fall or not. she could throw you down the stairs now, and you'd be helpless; passenger in your own tumbling body.

but she doesn't. your hand remains firmly upon the balustrade, and your every footstep is delivered with care. by the time you reach the landing, your heart may be pounding, but you're just glad to have made it through.

("well done," crows her voice.)

the near-invisible threads all throughout your body continue to urge you forward - sometimes single strings tugging suddenly, but other times shifting in a steady unison, almost imperceptible from your body's natural movements save that no thought of your own guides it. you're in the kitchen, before too long - a rack of dried dishes shows that she, too, has been here recently. your fingers and palm grasp onto each bowl and glass, one by one, filing them away in procedure through the unfamiliar house.

with your body outside of your control, you'd think your mind would wander to idle thoughts; to the birdsong from beyond the window, perhaps, or to thoughts of how your companions are faring in their own attempts to find their own contracts. but all thoughts seem to be silenced by each consequent string's plucking, a resonance within yourself that numbs your brain under its force.

before you know it, the rack of dishes is clear, and you are ascending the stairs again. it's less scary going up, and she knows it; she takes each step faster now, with a fluidity of movement that your legs accept graciously. there is no joint pain, no hesitation - each step is placed with pinpoint precision, each movement following the next.

a puppet's dance, you think; then dismiss the idea just as quickly. you're just here to obtain insurance from danger, not to humor thoughts like that.

she's lying back down on the bed when you arrive - exposing her back to you, vulnerable. but her hands are still outstretched, each one holding those crosses linked to the many strings pulled taut across, within, and around you. "welcome back", she tells you. "i trust it wasn't too uncomfortable?"

"no," you say, "it was fine."

"i'm glad to hear it!" she says, turning to smile at you. "and you took to it so well, too! good doll."

there's something about meeting her eyes as she says those last two words that feels different from everything prior. something deeper, like the strings are mycelial network growing their own nerves to entangle around yours, setting them alight in a microcosm dance, your whole body twitching just subtly as you are affixed within her gaze, burning up from the inside out-

"oh, my apologies. old habits die hard it would seem."

she doesn't gesture you to sit next to her, but your body does so, so you can assume it was her will all the same. she turns to you and explains that the demonstration has concluded; that the act of forming a pact with her is something you can now think of on your own, that you can return to her any time you need and in fact she'll completely understand if she never sees you again. she snips off the strings, one by one, with a pair of ornate scissors - the ones within will dissolve organically, she notes, metabolized by your own body. nothing to worry about.

you're not worrying. you're not thinking much at all, in the aftermath of everything that's happened. but she is patient, and you have all the time you need to recover.

-------

she walks you to the door and waves you out with a flourish. you're reminded of how mundane the house is, and now you can see that same mundanity in the Lady's face; no different from any number of passers-by through the town square.

"safe travels~!" she says, and you walk out the door; your steps faltering just a little as you once more acclimate to control over your own body.

well, for a contract patron, that wasn't so bad. and she seems well-meaning enough. maybe you'll go back there sometime again, you think to yourself, and shrug as you make your way home.

#a humble actress speaks #semantic cognitohazards #we're experimenting more with trusting our gut and writing more self-indulgent fiction. we hope you enjoy it all the same #oh just realized this fits to be tagged as #empty spaces

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eponymoussquared · 2 years ago

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"You're kidding." Eddie glared at the Devil. He didn't look like what he'd assumed the devil would: No red skin, no hooves. A small pair of horns poking out from short-cropped hair was the only demonic thing about the suit-clad man sitting in front of him. The ruler of hell took a moment to answer, smirking all the while. "And why would I be?"

Eddie wanted to scream. "I came all this way, pushed through nine levels of infernal bureaucracy referring me to higher-ups, which is basically two hells rolled into one, and your telling me I'm here because I sold my soul when I was TWO?"

The Devil's smirk never left his face. "Two and a half, actually."

Eddie knew his glare wasn't very intimidating, but he tried his best regardless. "I could barely even speak when I was too, and your telling me I can consent to selling my soul? I wasn't just a minor, I was like—a mini-minor!"

This got a laugh out of the Devil. "I'm literally Satan, sweetie. You think I care about informed consent? You signed the contract. Thats that."

Eddie narrowed his gaze. "Did I know who you were?" The Devil's expression froze, the smirk now looking stiff. "Excuse me?" Eddie pressed on. "Did I know, when I was TWO, that I was signing a contract WITH THE DEVIL, along with the implications that this was an unforgivable sin that I should be sent to hell for? Did I even have a concept of sin to begin with?" The Devil rolled his eyes. "No, you didn't, but thats hardly my problem."

"Yes it is!" Eddie practically shouted. "Animals don't go to hell for killing other animals, or killing people! If I don't even have a concept of good and bad, then how the here is it a sin for me to do ANYTHING?" This got a raised eyebrow. "Are you sure animals don't go to hell?" Eddie paused, his determination wavering. "..Do they?"

More laughter. "No, they don't. Or very rarely, at least. Regardless, are you really trying to appeal to the embodiment of all evil's sense of fairness?" It was Eddie's turn to roll his eyes. "If you were the embodiment of all evil, you wouldn't be punishing people for doing evil things. You have SOME sort of code of honor." The Devils smirk finally dropped. He got up from his throne, and walked towards Eddie, his shoes thudding audibly with every step. He stopped an inch away from his face, and when he spoke, wisps of smoke came from his mouth. "And how much are you willing to bank on that?"

Eddie turned his gaze away before he could stop himself. He could smell the sulfur intensify as the Devil laughed at him. "I thought so. Lucky for you, you're not far off the mark. I don't cheat people: I give them what they want, they give me their soul. They know exactly what the price is. But I don't give things for free. You want your soul back? I get back what I gave you." Eddie paused. "And that is?" The Devil laughed again, smoke filling Eddies nose and causing him to cough. "If you don't remember, I have no obligation to tell you. However, it wasn't necessarily something just for you. So if you want, I'll take it back, but you won't know what I'm taking back until after." Eddie spluttered. "But thats the same problem of not knowing what I'm doing as before!" The Devil scoffed. "No, it isn't. You KNOW theres something you don't know, and you're taking the risk anyway. Besides, ignorance doesn't excuse everything, especially if you know you're ignorant. Are you willing to take the risk? You could've asked for some extra dessert, or maybe you asked for your parents to be happy. I'll let you take the gamble." Eddie paused, thinking. Surely he couldn't have asked for anything that important? And yet...he had few memories of childhood, but he remembered that his father had been sick for awhile, then gotten better. It had been bad, he knew that, but he wasn't sure what... But he couldn't stay here. The first days had been fire and pain and screaming, and it had taken weeks of begging before they'd let him out to speak to the Devil. And yet.....he remembered his mother crying. He remembered his father speaking less and less. And he knew what he had to do.

He sighed. "Fine, you win. Keep my soul." The Devils smile grew even wider, and with a twinkle in his eye, he said: "No, YOU win." Eddie paused. "What?" The Devil laughed, a much kinder sound than before. "You sacrificed your benefit on the possible chance you'd hurt someone if you did. Since my claim on you is already suspect, that's enough proof you don't deserve to be here." Eddie's head swam. "....Wait wait wait..this was a test?" The Devil scoffed. "Of course it was. Thats what I do: I test people's morality. Its my job. And you passed. Congratulations, sweetie, you get to go to heaven." With that, a bright light opened up next to them, and the Devil gestured to it. "Go on. I promise in the name of every god in existence this isn't a trick." Eddie, hesitantly, took a step forward. Then another. With a deep breath, he stepped into the light.

You die and discover hell exists. Worse yet, you find out that the only reason you’re here is because when you were 2 and a half years old, you accidentally made a deal with the devil.

#writing #writing prompts #demons/devils #faustian pacts #my first time trying one of these #I prefer the version of the devil that isn't exactly “evil”#more like the Torah's one #meaning his job is just to put people through bad situations to test their morality #hope yall enjoyed

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kaikoikei · 8 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝕯𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋'𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄

(⠀free gdoc template⠀)⠀&⠀kai's first doc post !!

⠀⠀a⠀BLACK BUTLER THEMED⠀prose template — minimal palette of black & white with a hint of red. five pages accompanied with visuals belonging to the manga; a fervent immersion into the depths of hell's greater pleasures—the manipulation of the soul. easy to use in the bounds of each page, utilise for info-dumping, rambling, introductory prose and or muse manuscription. ⠀⠀A CONTRACT⠀to be written⠀. . .⠀the last page featuring familiar concepts to Black Butler's⠀FAUSTIAN CONTRACT — a pact with the devil.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

⠀﹙ ✦ ﹚⠀any image featuring a gradient is a drawing, which you can customise to your liking by replacing the backing image with whatever visual you like ! ⠀﹙ ✦ ﹚⠀careful with how much you type as the foundation of most of the sections for writing are tables, so forewarning before you go experimenting how much you can put into it. ⠀﹙ ✦ ﹚⠀some main images are beneath text meaning you can't select them if you click on a table above it, try right-clicking above the image and selecting it on the pop-up—most, if not all, pngs are above text.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 !

⠀⠀DO NOT REMOVE CREDIT⠀the main credit source is a small four-pointed star ( ✦ ) either in the header of footer of the first page of my docs. ⠀⠀TO COPY⠀—⠀file > make a copy ⠀⠀TO COPYLOCK⠀—⠀share > settings icon ( ⚙ ) > uncheck "Viewers and commenters can see the option to download, print, and copy"

﹙ ! ﹚⠀all the art⠀used in the doc belongs to yana toboso's Black Butler. ﹙ ❤ ﹚⠀feel free to like & or reblog

#google docs template #rp resources #rp doc template #google doc template #prose template #gdocs #roleplay resources #rp template #discord rp #discord roleplay #black butler #sebastian michaelis #template #themed template #oc sheet #writing

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jessamine-rose · 7 months ago

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˚♱ଘ Faustian Bargain ଓ♱˚

Welp here we are with the fourth entry in my Yandere Church AU. Let’s fall into depravity once more, this time with Demon! Pantalone x Contractee! Darling (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Tw:: yandere, manipulation, blood, violence, slight self-harm for summoning purposes, spice, mention of nsfw, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion, guest-starring Demon! Scaramouche <3

♡ 2.5k words under the cut ♡

♡ Since their creation, humans have ruled over the mortal plane under the influence of spiritual beings. But while angels are venerated as divine saviors, demons are fallen sinners who corrupt humanity through temptation and curses. It is for this reason that humans live in fear of demons, with the Church condemning all forms of unholy covenant. But time and time again, that warning has fallen on deaf ears.

♡ Throughout history, several individuals have formed pacts with demons in exchange for divine favors. Favors vary across demons but in all contracts, the price is clear: The human gives up their soul and any chance at salvation. Once the pact has been made, the human is granted the ability to summon the demon as their lifelong companion. But upon the human’s death, the pact is broken and the demon is free to seek out new souls.

♡ It is through these contracts that the Harbinger of Fortune rose to prominence. He is a “young” demon in the sense that his earliest records only date back to three centuries; but in that short amount of time, Pantalone has tempted many fools and heretics with the promise of material wealth. And it is through this tactic that he attained power, recognition, your soul.

♡ In your defense, you had no other choice. Born to an elite family in Liyue, you had enjoyed a life of luxury until your parents squandered their fortune. After a failed attempt to flee to another nation, they were murdered and you were told to repay their debts lest you meet the same fate. It was a hopeless situation—you had no assets to pawn off and even then, your remaining days would be spent in poverty. So when you recalled the local stories about the demon who deals in prosperity, you were desperate to summon him.

♡ It is difficult to find authentic records of his summoning ritual, but you manage with what little time you have left. There is an illustration of his sigil, to be copied on the floor with blood from your own palm. A table is arranged with incense, gold coins, freshly-brewed tea, a mirror, and the dagger used to extract your blood. Once everything is in place, you clasp your bloody hands together and utter the sacred incantations.

♡ As soon as Pantalone’s true name leaves your lips, the incense sticks emit a dark fragrant smoke. The summoning circle glows violet and within it, a brilliant figure emerges. Dark horns, adorned with silver, curve back along his raven hair. His garments are styled with violet jewels, serpentine motifs, an iridescent cape embroidered with a scene from the Garden of Eden. He is beautiful, so beautiful that you feel unworthy when his bespectacled gaze meets yours.

♡ Before you can look away, he is already onto you. In a polite voice, he introduces himself and asks for your name. Next, he tells you to disable the barrier of the summoning circle; he prefers civil negotiations. It takes some reluctance on your part but eventually, the two of you are seated together at the table. There is a critical look on his face as he surveys his offerings and explains his contract in detail.

♡ Aside from the general rules, there are clauses specific to Pantalone’s pacts. He can only be summoned twice a week, and never on Sundays. Contracts with other demons require his permission. Any attempt at breaking the pact will incur severe consequences. All of this is said with honeyed words and a kind smile.

♡ So perfect is his facade that you fail to notice an undertone of condescension. A glimpse into your soul was all it took for Pantalone to regard you as a hopeless fool hindered by your worldly upbringing. But that is fine—fools are easier to deal with, and you’d make a pretty addition to his collection of souls. Plus, it was only yesterday that his previous human died, and he is always quick to move on to the next pact. With that, Pantalone tells you to make a choice.

“A fair exchange, don’t you think?” he asks. The smile on his face is deceptively angelic. “In return for your soul, I will provide you with wealth, prosperity, everything your heart desires. Do you believe it is worth the price, ______?”

♡ You say yes. That is when Pantalone takes off his rings then his gloves, revealing multiple scars slashed across his palm lines. Gracefully, he picks up your used dragger, draws a new line, and clasps his wounded hand in yours. Then he wraps the same hand around your neck, staining it with a mix of your blood.

♡ There is a burning sensation followed by a burst of pure ecstasy. Once the euphoria subsides, Pantalone lets go of you and holds up the mirror. The front of your throat is branded with his sigil while a diamond pattern encircles your neck. It glows violet before disappearing altogether, a sacred collar invisible to mortal eyes. Thus, the pact has been formed.

♡ The next few minutes are calm. Pantalone’s scars are concealed once more. The two of you finish your tea. He takes a coin from his offering, now magically engraved with his sigil, and explains that you need only flip it to summon him. Then he offers one last smile, says he will look forward to your partnership, and disappears with the remaining coins.

♡ In the morning, you wake up to find bags of coins and jewels on the table, the exact amount needed to pay off your debts. Once the money has been given, you eagerly summon Pantalone to thank him. He merely smiles, leads you to your parents’ office, and tells you that the next step is to rebuild your family business. After all, while he can create material riches out of nothing, a mysterious source of wealth may attract the suspicion of your fellow humans.

♡ Soon enough, the company is flourishing under “your” authority. In reality, it is Pantalone who instructs your decisions and eliminates competitors. During meetings with clients, he attends in his invisible form and whispers to you the necessary responses. With success comes your return to high society, and Pantalone is all too happy to escort you to galas as your plus-one. His human form attracts several admirers, but his attention remains on you.

♡ He is also pleasant company. You can’t help but summon him often—your house feels empty without your parents. As for friends, you refuse to trust anyone after they turned their backs on you during your financial crisis. Pantalone is always nice about it, listening to your woes and participating in your hobbies. Once in a while, he will activate your pact mark and comment on how needy you are.

♡ He even fulfills your carnal desires. Over the months, Pantalone has toyed with your physical attraction towards him, teasing you with light touches, seductive whispers, sinful smiles…and a deep kiss when you shyly proposition him. That kiss is soon followed by heavy makeouts, long nights in your bed, physical marks all over your body. Greedy as he may be, he always makes sure to repay the pleasure you’ve given him.

♡ One night, you ask him about his divine nature. He confirms the popular belief that all demons are fallen angels; in his case, he was created for the Ninth Order, the lowest rank in the angel hierarchy. For the first century of his life, he could only settle for the inferior powers and duties assigned to his status. Neither could he enjoy the freedom which humans were born with.

♡ Thus, he set his sights on Hell. For angels are not created equal but demons can earn their powers through individual efforts. But leaving God always comes with a price, and Pantalone’s was paid in blood and tears.

⬩◈⬩

“Is that how you lost your wings?”

In the dark, your demon’s scars remain apparent. A pair of rough, featherless, ugly lines which you are careful not to touch, lest he flinch—from pain or shame? During your first night together, Pantalone refused to talk about it and you took the hint.

Even now, he flips over in your bed to hide his imperfections from you. When he answers your question, his voice takes on a light tone.

“Yes. It was God who ripped out my wings, and He even had the ‘mercy’ to cast them out of Heaven after me. But that was a long time ago, and I’ve since put my old feathers to good use.”

His capes, he means. They are his signature accessory, all crafted with sheer fabric, tiny jewels, and iridescent embroidery. Each cape is its own masterpiece, bearing fantastical images of God’s creations. It was during a casual conversation that Pantalone told you the threads were sourced from his old feathers.

He looks past you, and you know his gaze is on the coat rack. Tonight’s cape depicts a celestial paradise filled with winged figures. Beneath Heaven, separated by dark clouds, demonic figures descend into a fiery sky.

“Still, it must’ve been painful,” you tell him. Hesitantly, you add, “I mean, you didn’t only lose a body part that day. You also lost your former appearance, your ability to fly, your siblings—”

At that, a smile makes its way to his face. A large, genuine smile that isn’t directed at you.

“My former brethren were not dearly missed,” he replies. He sits up, combing the strands of hair tangled around his horns. “After I landed in Hell, I was taken in by an older demon. Let’s call her Jiejie, since she does not appreciate needless declarations of her true name. She is the one who treated my wounds, the one who cared for me using her own resources, the one who welcomed me into her home with open wings. And for that, I am eternally grateful.”

A soft breeze rustles the cape, threads glittering in the moonlight. Some threads, however, lack the iridescent quality of Pantalone’s feathers. Instead, they are silvery shades of black and gray.

His tone softens. “I will confess that I had an easy start in Hell thanks to her influence, as did Scaramouche who fell before me. But everything else—my contracts, my current status—are the fruits of my own labor. Perhaps someday, I may even reach Jiejie’s level of power.”

“I see…” You look into his eyes this time. “So what do she and that Scara demon specialize in? They sound nice; am I allowed to form pacts with them?”

“No.” He says it firmly, with no room for argument. Bare hands pull your body closer to his. “Even speaking as their brother, that sounds very unconscionable. Don’t get too greedy now.”

“Oh, I…okay!” you squeak. A faint violet light takes up your peripheral vision—your pact mark? “I’m sorry for asking. I’ll remember that.”

“Good.” His hand moves to your throat, tracing your sigil. When your eyes meet, his are bright with desire. “Never forget, you are mine first and foremost.”

⬩◈⬩

♡ In the following years, Pantalone grows more fond of you. Gifts begin to appear in your hands, from violet jewels to stylish garments. He accompanies you to more meetings with your fellow humans, his arm wrapped around your waist in a possessive gesture. His physical affection intensifies. On a few occasions, he even visits you despite not being summoned.

♡ It’s a nice change, but an overwhelming one. As time passes, you meet new friends and suitors, only to reject them after Pantalone claims to have glimpsed malice in their souls. Neither can you summon other demons, not when he is confiscating your demonological texts under the pretense that you’re too “impressionable” for another pact. And who can forget the time you were caught looking for information on the Tree of Life?

♡ It wasn’t your intention to seek a way out of your debt. It was by pure coincidence that you ran into the heretic who sold you the grimoire with information on Pantalone; and the conversation naturally shifted to the topic of your eternal damnation. Unsurprisingly, many humans have attempted to go back on their deals; and according to your “friend,” the best solution is to become immortal through the Tree of Life. You only asked them to contact you if they ever find the mythical tree, but that was enough to anger Pantalone.

“Do not lie to me, ______,” he snaps. His smile appears calm, but his tone sounds absolutely venomous. “I glimpsed your memories of last night, and I know you tried to violate our contract.”

“I…” You fearfully shake your head, only to cry as your throat constricts. It hurts, as though his sigil is burning your flesh, and your knees hit the floor. “I didn’t mean to…”

Your voice trails off. A gloved hand tilts your head upwards, forcing you to meet his death glare.

“Speak up, darling. My time is precious.”

♡ After that, you apologize and make no attempt to evade your fate. The next time Pantalone becomes angry, you at least have the luxury of not being the target of his emotions. It is a seemingly normal day, and you are served tea by a long-time servant. Suddenly, Pantalone appears and pulls you away from the individual, not bothering to hide his true form. When he tells the servant to “drop the act,” there is an indigo glint in their eyes.

♡ And that’s how you learn that the Puppeteer specializes in demonic possession. The servant’s body falls to the floor, unconscious, and it is Scaramouche’s turn to make himself known. He has asymmetrical horns, a single skeletal bat wing, and an expression which is far from friendly. A silvery black-and-gray feather dangles from the brooch pinned above his heart.

“Tell me, Scaramouche, what are your reasons for spying on my precious jewel?”

“Hmph, as if you need to ask. I just wanted to see if your little pet is worth Nee-san’s blessing. If you still desire them when that time comes, you’re on your own.”

♡ You don’t understand what they’re talking about, but it’s clear that you have no part in the conversation. After a few insults, Scaramouche leaves, but not without telling you to “know your place” in the future. That is when Pantalone sighs, pours a cup of tea for himself, tells you that it is none of your concern. Don’t worry, darling, he has it all under control. So just sit down, drink your tea, talk to him about anything under the sun. You still have a long life ahead of you, and he shall give you Heaven on earth until the day your heart ceases to beat.

♡ And perhaps if you are good enough, he will act on his desire to keep you as his pet in Hell. It’s been centuries since Pantalone has tortured a sinner, but he does know the best ways to break your mind. And is eternal suffering in his home not preferable to another demon laying their hands on you? At any rate, it’s not like you have any other choice.

“In the name of love, I will respect the contract between us and the fate you put in my hands.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pierro ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

Aahhh I hope y’all enjoyed my take on Demon! Pantalone!! He ended up with the most tame + lore-heavy fic, and I swear that the character of “Jiejie” will make more sense when I write the remaining stories for Church AU. Also, fun fact, Pantalone’s capes are inspired by Rusly Tjohnardi and Hieronymus Bosch’s triptychs~

Moving on, thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this and supporting me through every step of writing hell. Now if y’all excuse me, I’m must avenge myself and whack Pantalone with the biggest cross I can find o(^▽^)o

Tag a Pantalone enjoyer!! @navxry @beloved-blaiddyd @leftdestiny-posts @meimeimeirin @euniveve @lychniis @teabutmakeitazure @stickyspeckledlight @mochinon-yah @zhongrin @harmonysanreads @oofasleep @theinnerunderrain @ddarker-dreams

#pantalone #yandere pantalone #yandere pantalone x reader #pantalone x reader #wanderer #yandere fatui harbingers #scaramouche #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: sh mention #spicy warning #mdni #g/n reader #jessamine-writing

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