#obey me characterization notes

[smoft-demons]

Auva’s relationship dynamics: (In pact order)

Characterization notes.

Mammon:

Auva’s super attached to Mammon. He was her first friend in the Devildom as well as her first pact. She thinks of him as her best friend, her big brother, her guardian, her partner in chaos and bullshit, her safe place, her home. She LOVES him. She would kick anyone’s ass for him. She regularly scolds his brothers for being too mean to him. Mammon can’t resist big-brother-ing her, especially when she’s feeling a bit clingy.

Mammon saying she’s “his human” and “his baby” always makes her smile, because it makes her feel loved and wanted and safe. She responds to that by referring to him as “her Mammon”. It has the same effect on him. Whenever she’s scared or sad or sick, she wants Mammon.

She adores him, but can’t match his energy level. She tries, and he’s patient about it, but sometimes she overdoes it and needs to recharge. He learns to understand that, and slows down for her when he can, because he’s the best.

Mammon’s really helpful to her with math! He’s actually a living calculator! Whereas, she might have discalculia. She hates math. She insists he doesn’t do it for her though, because she genuinely wants to learn, so he has to put in the effort to actually teach her—AND reassure her that she’s not stupid, and calm her down when she gets frustrated with it. It takes a lot out of them, but it does help! He’s better at the emotional support than the explaining, but pretty capable of both, to his own surprise. Auva’s very good with written word, she is living spellcheck, so she helps him out with his own homework too by fixing all his spelling and helping him edit his essays.

His tsundere tendencies caused a bit of trouble early on, because Auva tends to take things literally and not pick up on subtext. There was a situation between the custard incident and the retreat when Mammon said something too mean out of defensiveness. Since he hadn’t said anything like that in a while, she believed him and took it hard. Mammon had to take it back, apologize, and explain himself. He learned that he HAS to be honest with her, because she will just believe what he says. It’s good for him. Good practise with admitting his feelings and thinking before he speaks.

She makes him more responsible and self-aware. She is a living reminder that he’s actually very good at being a responsible guardian figure, he’s not just some idiot who’s only good for taking roasts from his brothers. No, there is in fact someone in the family who genuinely thinks he’s awesome and would rather die than be subtle about it. He needs that.

Levi:

Auva loves Levi a lot. His room is a sanctuary for her. They bond over a shared love of video games and involvement in fandom culture. She can be as weird as she wants to be with Levi, he’ll never judge. He understands her in a way most don’t. She also doesn’t like parties and crowds and loud, bright places. She gets sensory overload and panic and depression episodes too, and she connects with him about it.

Auva absolutely revels in being Levi’s player two. It makes her SO happy.

Her mental health isn’t the greatest either, but that’s another point of connection. Their issues usually contrast with the other’s personality just right for helping each other. Levi struggles with feeling like he’s not good enough to be loved, Auva proudly flaunts her devotion for him and all her friends. Levi thinks no one cares about his interests, Auva listens happily and sometimes asks him to infodump to ground her. Auva is forgetful and has the emotional object permanence issue that makes her forget that people love her, Levi doesn’t forget a thing and insists on spending lots of time together to remind her that she’s loved. Auva feels no envy to the point of sometimes being a pushover, Levi helps with that. Auva helps Levi struggle a bit less with his envy too. They balance that way.

The main thing they don’t align perfectly about is, they’re both touch starved and enjoy contact, but Levi’s real shy and self conscious, whereas Auva is real clingy and also self conscious about that specifically. That’s a thing they have to work on together… and Levi HAS to take the lead about it, because Auva is scared to overstep.

Once they HAVE discussed it and come to an understanding, when they’re fully comfortable and open with each other, a very common thing in their interactions is like this:

Auva: (vibrating in place) “Hi Levi hi Levi!!”

Levi: (waiting for it) :)

Auva: “can i touch??”

Levi: (nods, unfolds arms)

Auva: !!! :D (launches herself at him)

Levi: …<3 (squeezes her)

Beel:

Auva ADORES Beel! She’s about as attached to him as she is to Mammon. Beel, as well, understands her on a level most don’t.

They have similar guard dog complexes. They’re both major foodies. They have the same earnest, gentle, protective disposition. They find each other refreshingly blunt and sensible. They’re both softhearted and open and introspective and understanding. They find it easy to talk to each other, to the point where they’re each other’s go-to confidant—sometimes even over Belphie (for Beel) and Mammon (for Auva). They’re emotional support besties.

When Beel feels bad but won’t talk about it because he doesn’t want to disturb anyone, Auva can pry it out of him. She gives him the same soft, worried, puppy eyes expression that HE uses to make his family (Auva included) open up to him. God demon king someone help the poor bastards that Beel and Auva team up on to get them to talk, they’re too powerful together!

(Like, an example interaction that could not happen with anyone else):

(In the kitchen at midnight, eating a snack together)

Beel: (observes Auva for a while)

Beel: (with big, concerned eyes) “…are you sad?”

Auva: (composure breaks instantly) :’(

Beel: “oh… come here, baby.”

(Auva stumbles over to Beel, crashes into him. Beel picks her up. Hugs her tight, takes her to bed and holds her for as long as it takes for her to calm down and talk to him. Listens quietly. Encourages her to fall asleep on him, then doesn’t leave once she has.) (He is PERFECT)

Their dynamic is like, big pitbull and small mouse who have adopted each other. It’s touch starved (needs to hold someone) & touch starved (needs to be held). It’s super fluffy found family. Her favourite place to sit is in his lap. He likes having her there too. They also both enjoy when Beel picks her up and carries her around. Auva wholeheartedly believes that more people should be like Beel (with less appetite though, the world can only handle one Beel sized appetite) and that’d make the world a better place. She looks up to him, trusts him, happily accepts influence from him. She takes his opinions seriously.

She only looks forward to going outside with Beel. She’s not usually a fan of outside, but with Beel it’s good because they’re either taking a nice walk somewhere quiet and peaceful, or they’re going to buy food. He motivates her to exercise too, and she’s surprised to discover that it’s fun when it’s with him. Auva makes Beel happier, and Beel makes Auva better.

Asmo:

Asmo’s first impression on Auva wasn’t great. She found him tiring, scary, and too pushy at first, but as she observed him and got to know him, she realized he meant her no harm and grew fond of his boundless bubbly energy. She saw through his facade of vanity and self-obsession pretty quick. It’s obvious to her that Asmo’s trying to cover up some fucky self esteem. His drive to be beautiful enough to be loved makes her sad for him.

She really grew to love him though! His generosity to his loved ones, his emotional intelligence, his kindness and big, caring heart, his self expression, his sugary-sweet disposition that’s on par with his raging sweet tooth… even his sharp, vicious wit. It all becomes wildly endearing to her.

After they pact, she finds out that the avatar of lust is actually pretty ace positive! He’s a good friend, too. Platonically attentive. Asmo and Auva are by far the two most affectionate people in the house, and it makes them both really happy to have someone else around who is reliably willing to provide all the love and attention they need.

Auva’s style is pretty plain and simple, her skin is sensitive and always super dry, she finds makeup to be a sensory nightmare usually, and she’s big on body neutrality. Like, she barely cares to remember what she looks like. She gives zero shits about if she might be ugly, because she wholeheartedly believes that’s not her problem since she’s not the one who is looking at her. All she cares about is being comfortable. Asmo doesn’t understand that at first, but he’s determined to spoil her anyway. He makes it work. He finds her soft clothes in colours she likes that fit her properly, he finds skincare and makeup products that feel nice, sit lightly on her skin, and don’t smell too strong. He’s careful not to go too crazy and make all this less fun and comfortable for her. Eventually, to Auva’s surprise, she finds that she… really likes the clothes, and enjoyed the spa treatment a lot. She is a bit mystified to find that she… actually feels kinda pretty? And that’s actually a nice experience?? Wild!

She never quite warms up to makeup, mostly because she doesn’t care to learn how to do it herself… and she’s sure she would constantly ruin her makeup by smushing her face against her friends when she hugs them. She’s happy to let Asmo put makeup on her on special occasions though.

Satan:

Auva gets along great with him! They’re both nerdy bookworms, they both love cats, they both take issue with unexplained orders and bad instructions and condescending assholes… they get each other.

They’re well matched in cold logic. They never genuinely fight, because Auva is good at containing her emotions too, and explaining issues very clinically BEFORE they have time to snowball into big, emotional landmines. If they ever argued, it would sound like an academic debate. Usually, if there’s any problem, there’s no argument, just negotiation.

(Example of what I mean):

Auva: hey, man. I’ve been having this issue [explains it very clinically]. If you wouldn’t mind, I would like [these adjustments]. If this isn’t possible, let’s figure out what would work instead.

Satan: Thank you for telling me. I will [make these adjustments]. I think it will be difficult to [make other mentioned adjustments], so I will consider what will work instead and get back to you.

Auva: thank you for making an effort for me. I love you :)

Satan: thank you for trusting me. I… also love you.

The two of them have a standing policy of informing the other as soon as they start to get frustrated or angry in a situation like that, BEFORE it has a chance to build. They go into different rooms to scream at the walls or write stuff down or whatever they need, then text to check on each other in 20 minutes. It’s a very effective policy! They NEVER fight with this system in place.

This unnerves the others though. It runs counter to a lot of their personalities. They get worried. Auva and Satan both find that pretty funny, which further defuses any drive to fight.

Usually though, any thought of them fighting is irrelevant. They hang out a lot! They do homework together. Satan helps with everything Mammon can’t. Auva refuses to do math with Satan because she expects that they’ll both get angry. He’s the best person to go to about magic by far.

They also watch shows together! Satan likes mysteries and high stakes dramas, Auva likes documentaries and D&D shows. There’s some overlap there, and they’re both willing to go a little out of their comfort zones to see the other happy. Auva is very sensitive to second hand embarrassment though, and she always hides in his shoulder when that comes up. He only laughs at her a little.

Auva brings her love for very poetic and lyrical music to him too. They have a lot of fun analyzing good lines together. He breaks out the poetry books and the novels he finds interesting enough to do character studies for, and they have the best time.

Auva’s favourite thing, though, is when they curl up together and he reads aloud to her. It’s comforting. She snuggles up to him and blocks out everything but the sound of his voice, his breathing, his heartbeat. The warmth of him. The relaxing smell of him: the ink, leather, and old paper vanillin smell of old books, plus the peppermint scent of tea he likes, all over the fire and ozone smell of his magic. His hand strokes her hair as he reads, only pausing to turn the page. It’s peaceful. He is peaceful, when he’s around her.

Belphie:

Belphie and Auva are really similar. They have a lot of favourites in common—astronomy, trivia, performance arts, sushi, napping, cuddling, Beel, etc etc.

They’re both sleepy and clingy and babie. Their speech patterns are a bit similar. They even dress similar! Before she got Belphie out of the attic, the others would occasionally double take just looking at her, because she reminded them so much of Belphie.

Auva got attached to Belphie pretty quick. She knew she was being lied to immediately, knew he was obviously sketchy from the start, but warmed up to him—at first because Beel misses him, but then… just for himself. She thinks he’s shaped like friend.

Auva made a point of sneaking up to the attic to see him as often as possible. To update him about her progress with the pacts, yes, but more just to… hang out with him. To update him about what’s going on with his family, to complain about Lucifer, to remind him that Beel misses him every day and that he’s loved, that no one has forgotten about him.

She feels for him, really. He must be lonely and bored. SHE wouldn’t be coping well in his position. She can’t help but grow fond of the sleepy cow guy. He’s very cute. Looks huggable… and he’s trapped ALONE, no one is hugging him!! She would NOT be doing okay if that were her! And… they’re SO similar.

She thinks he’s funny, too. His snarky sense of humour is pretty entertaining to her. She spends hours just sitting across from him, leaning against the attic door, lying down on the floor, just chatting. Vibing in silence. Humming quietly to herself, spending time keeping him company.

She slips him snacks and little items through the gaps in the door. His tail flops through sometimes, and she combs through it with her fingers. Sometimes, when he seems particularly lonely, she reaches through to hold his hand.

She got really attached to him. She cares about him a lot. So… even though she smelled danger from the moment she met him, she discarded her suspicions. Even after she learned about his hatred for humans, she felt optimistic. Even though she… had a bad feeling about opening the door… she wanted to trust him. She was excited to meet him properly! She wanted to be real friends, without the complications inherent to the situation. She wanted to see him smile and be reunited with Beel. She wanted to hug him.

…well. She got to hug him.

The recovery was long and difficult. Repairing the relationship was delicate. Tricky.

It got done, though. After all that, Belphie is… exceptionally soft with Auva. Very gentle and sweet. He won’t be a brat to her. Won’t push her or prank her or be mean or treat her roughly. He won’t even be mad when she wakes him up for no reason.

He’s almost unrecognizable to his brothers (except Beel), seeing how gentle and patient he is with her. Personally, he thinks it’s the least he can do. Just to himself, he can admit that he’s wishing to be real friends with her too.

Lucifer:

Auva’s feelings about Lucifer are… complicated. She loves him, she looks up to him, she admires him, she wants to hide behind him, she can’t help but think of him as a sort of father figure.

But also, she’s consistently frustrated with him, because she HATES when people are mysterious on purpose! She hates when people expect blind obedience, she hates condescension, she hates being confused for no good reason. She hates when people think they’re above help from those who love them.

And she DOES love him. She worries for him, too. She thinks he’s too stressed, she thinks he needs a therapist badly, she thinks he could really use a hug and a nap and perhaps a juice box, if only he weren’t too damn proud to accept them.

She tries to convince Satan and Belphie to soften their tricks on him, to just confuse him instead of stressing him out or hurting him. It works sometimes.

But also she wants to drag him down to her level by his ear and lecture him until he decides to be nicer to his brothers AND to himself.

She’s so tempted to yell at him sometimes… sometimes she can’t resist telling him what she thinks, even though she expects that it’ll piss him off. She doesn’t like fighting with any of her friends, but… sometimes she HAS to call him out on his bullshit!

Still, she loves him. More than anything, she wants to be honest with him. That’s where that frustration comes from. She wants to trust him, and be respected and listened to.

Also, she wants to curl up in his lap and feel safe. She wants to hide under his wing and know that nothing can harm her, because like… be so for real, NOTHING in all three realms can out-scary Lucifer. She’s confident about that! (So is Mammon.)

And she wants him to relax! She wants him to rest, and delegate some of his work, and believe her if she ever works up the nerve to tell him that he doesn’t have to keep up his perfect performance at home! That she loves dorky big brother Luci more than impressive, scary work-Lucifer. That his brothers love him that way too.

She wishes she could ask him, just for a while, if he would put the mighty firstborn aside. Only at home, only when he’s not too busy… Don’t be the Morningstar, the right hand of the demon prince, the impressive avatar of pride. Just for a while. Maybe for a day off. Just be their Luci. Just hang out, chill, and let his family love him.

[roronoacherries]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘢 𝘻𝘰𝘳𝘰 𝘧𝘵. 𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘺

3.404 words — inspired by anon request

content: nsfw, fem. reader, slightly non-con, unprotected, degradation, implied daddy/breeding kink, choking; y/n cheats on zoro with luffy and the swordsman decides that if she wants to be a slut, they can share her.

note: this has been in my drafts for too long i don't even know if it's good but i tried. the characterization and plot are terrible but i'm just tryna get fucked by the captain and his first mate, okay?

luffy would understand. he would. all you needed to do was tell him; tell him that your heart belonged to zoro, that you were his in every sense of the word. he’d drop the subject without hesitation. 

he was betraying his first mate without knowing it, all by your cause – the thought weighed on you as you lay breathless in the captain’s arms. the straw hat didn’t know any better – it was on you to let him down, to deny his indecent proposal. but when you felt him pressed against your backside, slurring as he whispered crudities in your ear, all you   do was think with your heat, too tipsy to listen to your head or your heart. 

the first time should have been the last time. you swore to yourself that it would be when you came to your senses… but didn’t zoro constantly reproach everyone about it being the duty of the crew to fulfill the captain’s orders, regardless of what they may be? and if the captain wanted you on your knees for him, his fingers tangled in your hair as he used you to chase his own pleasure, who were you to deny him of it? if he wanted you to sit on his face while he feasted on you, insatiable from between your thighs, what right did you have to say no? 

he was your captain; it was your obligation as a straw hat to obey his orders. all he needed to do was say the word and he could have you – whether he wanted you to ride him, to watch you whimper incoherently as you bounced on his cock, a sweaty, needy mess; to be balls deep inside you, fucking you mercilessly into the mattress, gripping your ass tightly as you moaned incessantly against a pillow. 

what zoro didn't know wouldn't hurt him, you reasoned. and this was the last time. you promised yourself you'd tell luffy the truth next time – but time and time again, you couldn't bring yourself to deny your captain. it was too intoxicating, the way luffy could fuck you senseless, using your cunt as his plaything – it was too good to give up. 

you loved zoro — he treated you like a goddess, all but worshiping you in bed; he knew your body better than you did and could prove it in a thousand different ways. there was no one who could make you feel like he did, no one who could please you more than he could. the swordsman was a passionate lover; the captain was a selfish one. so it should have been enough for you – it should have been easy to reject luffy’s advances if all he did was use you for his own pleasure, but you liked being used. 

you tried to make sense of it, to find reason in your wrongs, but to try and be sensible with luffy’s cock hard against your ass was futile. 

“yes, captain”; “please, captain”; “fuck me, captain,” we’re the only coherent thoughts you could form when he came to you, his eyes heavy with lust — the guilt and shame of it all only weighing on you after committing your sins. 

and it was guilt-ridden that you always made your way back to zoro, begging to get on your knees for him. you'd please him in all the ways you knew best, never letting him return the favor. 

“just let me make you feel good, baby.”

but the swordsman was no fool. he knew that if you were coming to him, asking to suck him off for nothing in return, it wasn't because you wanted to be a good little slut for him. he wasn't blind to the weakness in your step after your disappearances or oblivious to the lingering scent of sex on your skin when you came to him. nor did he miss the hunger in luffy's eyes whenever you strolled past him.

no, but zoro didn't think of confronting you about it. if you wanted to be a whore, he'd let you be one — though not without reminding you who your sweet cunt really belonged to. 

you could spread your legs for whoever you desired, it wouldn’t change that he had you wrapped around his finger. all it ever took was one look and he could have your heart racing; he never had to say a word, only to meet your eyes…to absentmindedly drag his fingers along your thigh as he took a swig of sake and you’d stumble over your words, excusing yourself from the dinner table, eagerly awaiting him below the crow’s nest. 

“how’s my girl doing?” zoro murmured against your lips, returning the kiss you greeted him with before pulling away, his hands resting on your waist.

“never leave the ship without me again. i missed you,” you pouted, pressing your lips to his once more. wrapping your arms around him, you dragged your lips along his jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck. “someone might see…” zoro warned quietly, though not pulling away from you either.

“don’t care.” with pleading eyes, you looked up at the swordsman. “i need you.” 

“‘s that right?” the swordsman teased, feigning a smirk in spite of the tightness he felt in his chest. he’d already decided this would be the last night he spent with you; why, then, did your words make him falter in his resolve? why did his subconscious hold out for the hope that in asserting that you didn’t care if this relationship was no longer a secret, you were choosing him? 

he forced the thought out of his mind. what did it matter, if the damage had already been done. he met your eyes, those he’d lost himself in so many times before. “how badly?”

“so badly,” you sighed, holding his face in your hands. giving into you, zoro closed the gap between you with a feverish kiss. your legs wrapped around his waist, your body aching so desperately for his touch that if he wanted to, you’d let him have you on the deck. 

“hold on,” he said, breathlessly, placing a hand on your waist as he stepped toward the ladder of the crow’s nest. you held on to him tightly as he climbed, resting your head comfortably against his shoulder, a soft smile tugging at your lips at the sight of him. “i love you, zoro,” you whispered, closing your eyes and missing the way zoro’s widened at your words. 

love. 

the word had come easily to you, as if you were worthy of loving him. you tried to push the thought out of your mind, planting soft kisses along zoro’s cheek as your lips made their way back to his the moment you entered the crow’s nest. 

you kept your legs locked around him as he gently rest your back against the floor, rolling your hips against his fervently. “please. zoro.” 

was it the guilt that made you so desperate to have him? 

“so goddamn needy for me, aren’t ya?”

the desire to forget that you’d let someone else stand between your thighs? 

“i need you, ‘ro…” 

“who’s this pretty cunt belong to?” zoro pressed himself against you, spreading your legs further, the throbbing of his length alone making you feel weak. 

“it’s yours, zoro. all yours.” you didn’t deserve him. 

“y’ hear that, captain?” 

you stiffened, feeling a sudden weight in your chest as zoro stepped back. his gaze stayed fixed on you as you failed to hide the panic and shame on your face. you had no right to look away, to avoid seeing the hint of pain that hid in his eyes — the pain you had provoked — but you feared that if you didn’t turn away, you wouldn’t be able to fight back your tears. and you had no right to cry. 

your eyes met luffy’s who stared back at you blankly from where he sat, his legs spread apart, arms resting against his knees, before looking at zoro, “didn’t seem that way when i was fucking her.” 

“zoro,” you struggled to speak, knowing it would be useless to. “i can explain.”

“and what’s there to explain?” the swordsman gripped your chin, his tone cold but calm as he forced you to face him.  “that you’re a filthy slut?”

there was nothing you could say, nothing you could do but stare back at him in guilt and take his anger. “that you’ve been lettin the captain fuck you whenever he wants like you’re his toy?”

“i’m sorry,” you spoke in a whisper, knowing your words could fix nothing. zoro was right, after all. 

“guess one man isn’t enough for you.” he removed his hand from your face before turning his back to you, not bearing the sincere look of regret and heartbreak in your eyes. despite the coldness in his demeanor, he had still held you with the same gentleness as always. 

“that’s alright. if you want to be a whore, we can share. ain’t that right, luff?” you looked at the two in confusion, certain that you must have misheard. luffy’s eyes were on you now, eyes alight with a hunger that reminded you of the dripping sensation between your thighs from moments ago. they couldn’t be thinking…

“why don’t you start with her, captain.” zoro took a seat across from you, leaning back and spreading his legs as he stared down at you still on your knees. “go on, y/n. show the captain what a good girl you are.” he taunted. 

your attention turned back to luffy and you opened your mouth to protest, to beg zoro for forgiveness but all words were lost on you as you found yourself at eye-level with your captain’s protruding boner. even through his shorts, the sight was enough to make you hold back a whimper. 

but you couldn’t. not like this. what kind of person would that make you?

“show me what a little slut you are, y/n.” zoro smirked. you felt your heat pulsate at his words. morality and reason told you one thing, but your body – the drool pooling in your mouth, the throbbing between your legs, the burning sensation of your skin aching to be touched – told you another. 

“c’mon, y/n, don’t be shy. ‘t feels so good when you have my cock in your mouth,” luffy coaxed. face hot with shame, you slowly tugged luffy’s shorts down, his thick length swollen red; you spared a glance at zoro while luffy’s hands gently grasped your hair, noticing his hand palming his own length through his pants. 

“put that mouth to good use now,” zoro spoke, his voice deep and commanding. 

obediently, you took luffy’s cock in your hand, squeezing gently as you licked and sucked softly at the tip. you looked up at the captain, admiring briefly the way his breath hitched, mouth agape as his eyes shut in pleasure. but luffy wasn’t one to let you tease or take him slowly; he was impatient and rough, and though you’d expected it, the feel of his hand pushing you forward suddenly still caused your eyes to tear. 

“she’s good, ain’t she luff?” the pair admired the sight of you, cheeks flushed, watered eyes staring up helplessly, mouth stuffed with luffy’s cock. “so good,” luffy slurred through quiet grunts. “t’s like her mouth was made just for this.”

“…and i bet the whore’s dripping wet,” zoro thought out loud. you could have sworn you heard a low moan escape his lips. “fuck, i need a taste.” 

your eyes widened at his words and a whimper definitely left your lips then, provoking a thrust from your captain that made certain tears fell from your eyes. 

you felt zoro behind you, his hands firmly grasping your ass after lifting your skirt. he didn’t bother to remove your panties, licking through the already-soaked fabric. you fought in vain to hold back the moans this sensation arose, evoking a slew of curses from luffy. you couldn’t keep from digging your fingers into his thighs, eyes weeping as you feel him deep against the back of your throat. 

if you could have, you would’ve pouted when zoro pulled back; though he only did so to tug your underwear down with his teeth, making his way back to your cunt slowly, leaving a trail of kisses along the inside of your thighs. you could swear that no other man knew how to use his mouth as well as the swordsman. and, god, did he love to use it on you, his cock throbbing as he grew intoxicated on the taste of you. 

you knew you couldn’t last long – you never did when zoro had a say – and you could feel your legs begin to shake as the swordsman spread your legs, giving his tongue a better entry. if it weren’t for his hands squeezing your ass so tightly they were bound to leave a mark, you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up. 

“shit. let me finish inside her, zoro…” luffy grunted and you couldn’t help but whine as he pulled out and zoro obliged, pulling away, leaving you so close to coming. his hands left your ass, but not without one coming down again with a rough slap. “what’re you thinking, pretty little slut? want the captain to stuff you full?”

“please,” you begged, nodding desperately as you stared up at luffy, dumbfucked and doe-eyed. the straw hat wasted not a second shoving his cock deep within you, his pace as selfish as ever as he sought only his own release. 

“she’s so fucking wet. shit feels so good,” luffy huffed, a grin tugging at his lips as he left you breathless. you couldn’t help but love the way he stretched you and the merciless pace with which he pounded into you. he was undoubtedly a selfish lover who knew no restraint, overwhelming your senses without remorse. 

“luffy, ‘m so close,” you moaned, your voice needier than you intended it to be; every inch of your body felt like it was on fire, your walls tightening around luffy as his cock pulses deep inside your wet heat.

“i’ll fill you up and make you come so good if you call me something else…” he teased, ecstatic at the sight of you whimpering under him. you didn’t 

“captain- fuck. please, captain.”

“you sound so pretty when you call me that,” luffy praised, pressing his lips to your cheek before quickening his reckless pace. his eyes shut in bliss and his breathing grew heavier as he reached his high, ​​the feeling of his hot cum pumping into you more than enough to push you over the edge. 

“thank you, captain.” you mumbled, a weak and whimpering mess. 

“thank you, y/n. you’re a sweet little slut.” luffy left a trail of kisses along your cheek as he slipped out of you, your pussy dripping with his seed, but even in your fucked out state you turned away when his lips came too close to yours. despite everything you’d done – all of the times you’d let luffy fuck you senseless – you’d never let him kiss you. that was, however small and insignificant, the one thing you wouldn’t take from zoro. 

this detail was not lost on the swordsman, who moved from where he’d sat admiring you drunk on luffy’s cock to press his lips to yours hungrily. it was far from a romantic kiss, but something carnal and possessive; a claim that you were still, and would always be, his own – even if he decided he wanted nothing to do with you. 

you could feel his hard cock pulsing against your thigh. “don’t think you’re done yet,” he huffed, pressing himself further against you before releasing his thick length from its constraints, leaking with pre and flushed red with the need to feel your walls tightly around him. “let’s put on a good show for the captain.” 

there was little more you could do than stifle a moan and nod pathetically in response. you didn’t know if you could take him, still far too sensitive from luffy, but you desperately wanted to feel his pretty cock inside you nonetheless. 

zoro pressed his tip against you and you groaned at the sensation. slowly, he pressed himself further into you though still without giving you the pleasure of feeling him stretch you completely. you wanted to beg him to move faster, but you were afraid all you would be able to do is mumble incoherences. regardless, you knew zoro was well aware of your desperation; the swordsman always knew exactly what your body desired, often before you knew yourself. 

a smirk spread on his lips as he leaned forward, biting gently at your earlobe. “no one can fuck you like i can.” he whispered. 

threat or gentle reminder, you weren’t given time to process zoro’s words before he thrust roughly into you, bottoming out without warning. zoro took only a moment to indulge in the familiar feeling of your soaking cunt clenched around him, hissing at the pleasure, before thrusting into you at a pace rivaling the captain’s in ruthlessness. 

the swordsman, however, was more precise, more intentional with his movements. he rolled his hips against yours, purposefully hitting all the places he knew would draw out the most sinful whimpers from your lips. 

his hands, too, moved along your body, touching you in ways that consumed your senses; cupping your breasts in his hands, toying with your nipples; inching one hand slowly down your torso as it found its way to your clit while the other moved to your neck, not applying any pressure but making your breath hitch anyway. no, he knew to wait until he felt your walls squeeze around him after his cock took a couple of rough hits against your favorite spot; until you let out a guttural moan cut short by his fingers tightening around your throat. 

“how’s my babygirl feel?” zoro hummed, pulling you into his arms as he repositioned you both so that you were seated on his lap. “think you can fuck yourself on my cock like a pretty little whore?” 

part of you wanted to shake your head, but you were too close to your climax to argue. holding onto zoro, his face buried in your chest as nibbled and sucked on your chest, you moved your hips against his, slowly despite yearning for the intensity of the swordsman’s thrusts. 

“look ‘t how you’ve got luffy fucking his fist just watching you. it’s no wonder he couldn’t keep his hands off a slut like you,” zoro said, feeling his warm breath against your neck as he left a trail of kisses down to your shoulder. 

“zoro, ‘m close,” you whimpered, a tight sensation growing in your abdomen as you bounced on his cock inconsistently, fighting to keep your thighs from giving out. 

“ride it out, baby, you’re doing so well.” zoro held your waist for support, restraining himself from fucking the lights out of you. if you couldn’t come on your own then that would be part of your punishment. 

“please, daddy, let me cum with you.”

you knew well that this word would flip a switch within the swordsman; that he would groan at the sight of your eyes pleading him to fuck you as you halted your movements. you knew well that his eyes would darken and he’d press your back against the floor again as he pushed your thighs up to your chest, thrusting into you hard as he neared his high. 

“fine. in that case, you’re gonna take every last drop of daddy’s cum. got it?” 

you nodded desperately, wanting to feel him empty himself inside you, shoving his cock into you mercilessly to make sure you didn’t let any of it drip out. 

“fuck. you might be a dirty slut but this pretty pussy’s still all mine,” zoro groaned, giving his last few thrusts before pressing his lips to yours. you held him close, legs wrapped around him, your body aching at the mere thought of him pulling out. 

he was right; no one could fuck you like he could – no one could make love to you like he could. but you’d been too much of a whore to think with your head (or your heart, for that matter) instead of your cunt. and you’d have to let go, sooner than later.

─────────────────────────────

taglist: @zorobraun @maaarshieee @lyriczhou @tinkywinky27 @dimimyth @gaby-chwan @tk6uro @zoros-4th-sword @idiotlittleme @zoronnoa

masterlist | taglist

[vampcubus]

Not sure if you had been asked this before but do you have any writers who only writes dom readers?

i haven't done one of these in a while! strictly dom reader writers are sadly few in number, but i'll list some that have an abundance of dom reader content. will update as i find more!

(also note that some of these blogs are no longer active)

𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒

@mysicklove (mha/jjk/kny/bllk+)

@laraleafs (mha/kny/jjba)

@lunerab0 (kny/jjk) new blog -> @lunerabo

@crysatoru (kny/jjk)

@levmada (aot/levi centric blog)

@chaepink (hq/kny/mha/csm)

@starrierknight (jjk)

@majisyen (hsr/genshin/twst)

@subbyalbedo (kny/mha/genshin/hp)

@sorrowfulrosebud (mha/kny+)

@archer-fb (kny/mha/om/jjk/genshin)

@lovelyless-fiction (kny)

@plaguechyld (kny)

@aki-simp (kny/csm/hq!/jjk+)

@snowshail (twst/genshin/kny+)

@flametrashira (kny + levi ackerman)

@j-nxx (twst/genshin+)

@brayneworms (aot/om/the arcana/genshin+)

@kyojurismo (kny)

@phantasmiafxndom — and check out their ao3 pls! (kny)

@claynine (kny/aot/mha/hq/jjk+)

@pastelclovds [male/gn!reader] & @spookyxcupid [fem/gn!reader] (kny/mha/aot/csm/naruto/slashers+)

@rengoku-loves-you — no actual nsfw yet but they have my favorite characterization of rengoku to date, and they like sub rengoku so ❤︎ (kny/rengoku-centric blog)

@vitamin-cunt / @dekuskeeper (mha/csm/jjk/hq/obey me)

@minkmousesworld (kny)

@bibblelevi — writes for sub levi!!! ❤︎

@mommypieck (aot)

@prettyboykatsuki / @fang-wife / @luvsicksubs (mha/hq/aot/jjk)

@dorimena (mha)

@niilue (kny/aot+)

@cleewii (mha/csm/aot+)

@onyxoverride (aot)

@pickmans-muse / @friendly-local-eldritchite (kny/aot)

@binnieswings (aot/skz+)

@submenarehotties (jjk/mha/obey me+)

@bummie (aot/jjk/mha/kny/naruto/csm+)

@lemon-muncher (csm/hq/mha/kny/aot+)

@izukus-bby (sub!izuku heaven)

@galaxychaos78 (naruto/mha/dragon ball/jjba/aot+)

@4biddenleeches (the arcana/julian-centric)

@genacity

@dommyqueenwrites

@kumzume

@dxmmymxmmywrites

[coff-in]

We can have Toxic!Siblings Graves x Y/N (Andrew and Reader Romantic) (Ashley and Reader platonic)

Y/N would have been the babysitter when they were just kids, it wasn't by choice obviously, as Y/N's parents were working all day and couldn't leave a child alone all day, while Mrs. Graves simply couldn't. He wanted to take care of his own children.

So they decided to make Y/N a full-time babysitter for the Graves family, she gets food and isn't left alone while the Graves Siblings are taken care of, everyone wins :D (Sarcasm)

Their relationship was a little tense at first, Leyley was a pest to Y/N, calling her several names and accusing her of stealing her brother, which resulted in the two fighting all the time.

Even so, she didn't understand why Leyley still insisted on staying close to her, she didn't know that for Leyley, Y/N was the closest thing to a mother she had.

While for Andy, he found it strange to obey someone who is only 1 year older than him, but he liked the idea of someone looking out for him.

Until the infamous box day arrived.

Andrew felt so overwhelmed by that day, that he started to become more clingy/protective towards Y/N, as she was the only one who was understanding of his feelings, who became his safe haven and he was afraid of losing that. .

It got to the point where he and his sister created false rumors about dating/friends so that Y/N wouldn't abandon them.

The two siblings didn't know that Y/N knew that they killed Nina, she just didn't tell them because Mrs. Graves (out of a minimal maternal feeling) threatened her by saying that she was also an accomplice, since she should be taking care of them.

Because of this, as time passed, Y/N began to behave colder/aggressive/distant towards most people, especially her parents. Since they were responsible for her being practically abandoned and for practically selling her childhood to be a "mother" of two brats that no one wanted to take care of.

Until we reach Chapter 2, after sacrificing Mr and Mrs. Graves, Y/N received an amulet from the Demon that is capable of entering the dreams and memories of others while she sleeps. Then she accidentally manages to see the memories of Andrew and Ashley that they made with her behind her back.

note from coff-in: GOD THIS IS SO YUMMY!!! i love how long and detailed the ask is as it gives me something to build off of (which is always welcomed, i’m not always the creative i want to be). thank you so much for requesting! i think my characterization of andrew and ashley was a little wonky. i tried watching playthroughs of the game to see how they talk and think but i literally get too flustered to look at them whenever they're on screen, hahaha!! more Ashley focused than what you migh've hoped for but i tried my best to keep her interactions and thinking platonic and andrew's romantic. this was a wonderful idea and i have to thank you again so, so, so much for requesting. please enjoy!!!

[fem] reader-insert, reader is older than andrew by 1 year

Like a worm to an apple, they've carved their way into your life.

[reader] fucking hates the Graves siblings, hahaha!

Okay, maybe she doesn’t hate them, but [reader] definitely has a strained relationship with Andrew and Ashley. I don’t think that the quarantine helped them out much either. [reader]’s parents not only abandoned her and left her to become a parent of kids not that younger than her, but they actually sold her off. They probably heard of the quarantine from Mrs. Graves and decided that it sounded fun, I guess.

Ashley mellowed out her hatred towards [reader] as they grew up together. I don’t think we’ve ever seen Ashley interact with someone she sees as a friend (besides Andrew). I think she’d be very possessive over them. [reader] is her friend! She should be focusing on her and Andrew and no one else!

She and [reader] probably share clothes in the quarantine since [reader]’s clothes would all be at her home (wherever that would be…)

Andrew’s fucking living the dream. The rumors he and Ashley spread of them and [reader] worked to keep [reader] close but I don’t think that [reader] actually dated Andrew. I mean, if the boy you babysat during your childhood killed a little girl and got away with it, would you date him?

The quarantine has given him and [reader] that forced proximity that he hopes would work to get her into his arms. (And maybe under the sheets, too…? Hehehehe!)

He would go to [reader] during the night to sleep in the same bed during his nightmares. I think he would also go to Ashley for comfort from his nightmares, too, since she was actually there when Nina died (I’m pretty sure that’s what the nightmares were about) but this is just a personal thought/headcanon of mine.

Overall, they’re both clingy, possessive and kinda obsessive over [reader] and she hates it. Their relationship changed once they killed and cannibalized their cultist neighbor. With Nina, [reader] didn’t really have a choice… she wasn’t there in the room when they killed her in that box and Mrs. Graves didn’t allow her to tell the authorities to rightfully send these fuckers to jail!

“You’re an accomplice” my ass, [reader] thinks to herself.

But now? Sharing a meal with the two people she despises the most next to her parents, made with the blood and flesh of another human? Yeah, she can’t possibly say that she’s an innocent party now.

Once the gang pulls up at the hotel [reader] is ready to leave the Graves’s asses. This is her chance at freedom now! She doesn’t need to babysit them anymore, they’re fucking adults now!

Her chances are dashed once the hitman comes over to try and kill them. I never mentioned the demon and the vision trinket but I’m sure [reader] tries to block it out from her mind as much as possible. Kinda hard to do it now that she knows that yes, the trinket does work, and yes, there are actual fucking demons that exist in their world.

At the Graves parent’s house, [reader] probably wouldn’t do too much there. Obviously she can’t talk Ashley out of sacrificing them and Andrew is more-or-less aboard with the idea. [reader] just kinda stands out of the way when it comes to the bondage and actual killing/sacrificing part. I think [reader] would sleep with Ashley in the basement much to Andrew’s chagrin.

“[reader]? Are you okay?” Ashley looked at [reader]’s side profile as they lay on the floor next to each other. “You haven’t said much since we got here.”

[reader] stayed quiet. In all honesty, she was probably disassociating at that moment. Looking back at her memories in hopes of finding a piece of happiness lost somewhere so she can grab it. This whole fucking ‘adventure’ has been a total shitshow… 

“If it’ll make you feel better, we could kill your parents afterward.” Ashley offered carefully.

“Why the fuck would we do that…?” [reader] didn’t look at Ashley and continued to stare at the ceiling. She tried to focus on the cool concrete of the ground, the darkness that covered the walls, and their victims sleeping just upstairs.

“They weren’t any better than our parents, were they? I heard our parents talking when you were younger… you’re another child that wasn’t wanted. Just like me and Andy!” She smiled at [reader] as she got up to sneak towards the staircase. “It’s something that’ll bring us together! We’ll be orphans and friends! Unwanted children to the very end!”

When they finally sacrifice the Graves parents, everyone is shocked that the demon decides to give [reader] a trinket of her own. It’s a simple trinket in the shape of an eye with three stars dangling from it. It looks very similar to Ashley’s trinket.

That night (or day, I guess?) [reader] wanders about the demon/dreamscape and finds the memory of Andrew and Ashley spreading rumors. (You mentioned that it was on accident, so maybe she was trying to avoid looking at Ashley’s respective vision for the route you wanna go down). I mean, it’s not too hard. Who knows where any of those doors that litter the place will lead?

“Did you know that [reader] my friend?” Ashley would tell other students during lunch at school. “She’s my best friend even, so I don’t need you guys to sit with me or anything!” The other classmates give her demeaning leers and skeptical stares as Ashley turns away to find you in the cafeteria.

“What a fucking weirdo… there’s no way [reader] would be friends with her.”

“She’s probably lying about it.”

“I could see her and [reader] being friends… doesn’t she babysit her and Andrew?”

“Isn’t [reader] dating Andrew? Someone said that Andrew and [reader] were dating…”

What the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?

Anger starts to boil up in [reader]’s veins as they replay that interaction in their mind. They’ve been pulling the fucking strings from the start. They’d been slowing sinking their teeth around her neck until she was trapped in their jaws, unable to escape the hell of their design.

What. The. Fuck!

----

coff-in

[darkstarofchaos]

It is finally time to talk about Megatron and Starscream.

Spoilers for Transformers EarthSpark under the cut.

So to start, it's fascinating to me that people are only now complaining that Megatron's characterization isn't consistent. I've thought it was inconsistent ever since episode 8, and it's only after episode 21 that I finally feel satisfied with his portrayal.

Way back in episode 3, Bumblebee asks Megatron what he would do if his troops weren't listening to him. Megatron's answer was, "When I commanded legions of Decepticons, my strategy was always intimidation. A little brute force, make a show of my weaponry, that sort of thing." He also mentions a "signature move" called the Turbo Twister, and while the details of what that is are lost to an explosion, it's pretty clear that he was using violence to keep people obedient.

Compare that to episode 8, which he spends complaining that Optimus has no problem locking up Decepticons despite not trusting GHOST. He doesn't want to use excessive force on the Cassettes when fighting them, rejects the use of devices that trap bots in their altmodes, and generally just doesn't like how the Cons are being treated. At the end of the episode, Optimus allows Megatron to let the Cassettes go, and Megatron tells Optimus that, "Perhaps your leadership style is not so different from my own."

Um. Excuse me, sir, but did you or did you not advocate for violence as a means of controlling your troops?

That's a blatant contradiction, and honestly, Starscream's "You don't know the real Megatron," sums up my problem with Megatron's redemption perfectly: we don't know the pre-redemption Megatron. We don't know what he was like when he led the Decepticons. We don't know why none of the Decepticons joined him when he allied with the Autobots. We know nothing about pre-redemption Megatron. Nothing beyond his own, cheerful anecdote about how he kept his troops in line through intimidation, and a later remark in episode 16 that, "A human soldier showed more compassion for my people than I did" (note that there is no contradiction between Megatron's self-assessment and his approach to disobedience).

Except now, thanks to the newest episodes, we do have something else. We have Starscream's assessment, and he describes Megatron almost the same way Megatron described himself: "The ruthless tyrant who ruled over us with fear and intimidation." Starscream did not say anything Megatron himself hasn't been telling us, and yet it's only now that Megatron's behavior gets labeled a contradiction?

But that's not why it's being called contradictory. I know it's not. So let's get to the heart of the issue: it's not just any Megatron who hears that Starscream has escaped and Does Not want him roaming free. It's a redeemed Megatron. It's a Megatron who argues against Decepticons being kept in cages, has a human partner, and shows nothing but patience in dealing with the Terrans.

It's a Megatron who, on learning that one of his most troublesome soldiers has escaped, falls straight back into old habits.

We have no direct evidence that Starscream was as rebellious in this continuity as in others, but I think it can be inferred. Megatron described intimidation as his approach to dealing with disobedience, and Starscream starts to treat Hashtag the same way when she refuses to obey him - then backs off when she calls him on it. So we know Starscream wasn't very obedient, and that he was "disciplined" often enough that he outright tells Megatron he doesn't feel safe with him ("Nowhere is safe if it's with you").

This matters because, when Megatron hears about Starscream's escape, it's not just some Decepticon. It's a mech Megatron could never properly control, who probably ignored orders and did his own thing constantly. Starscream isn't just an escaped Decepticon: he's a bot Megatron has been controlling with violence for who knows how long. And when that bot is no longer contained, Megatron slips back into unknown years' worth of learned behavior. Because he never had an opportunity to unlearn it. How could he, when Starscream has been locked up and Megatron didn't have to think about him?

But he doesn't stay in that mindset. Yes, he attacks Starscream on sight. But he backs down when Hashtag intervenes (he's already lowering his weapon before she's even said two sentences in Starscream's defense), and he makes no further attempt to capture Starscream. Quite the opposite: at the end of the episode, he extends an offer of safety, and when Starscream rejects that offer, Megatron just... lets him go. Just like he let the Cassettes go back in episode 8.

Megatron's redemption wasn't somehow undone because he made a bad decision on impulse. Not if all it took for him to change his mind about Starscream was seeing him try to save Hashtag from the Dweller. If anything, it showed that Megatron is committed to his new ideals. Even if he slips up sometimes, he isn't going to return to his old ways. And I don't know about anyone else, but I needed that.

I have spent the entire season doubting Megatron's redemption. It didn't feel like redemption; it felt like the writers just wanted a nice Megatron, and his old mindset could be handwaved as, "Well, he was bad once, but he's good now". Seeing him default to old behavior, even just a little, connected the Megatron we know and the one we only hear about in a real, tangible way. And at least to me, that makes his characterization stronger.

Of course, there's still that contradictory comment about Optimus' leadership style being "not so different" from Megatron's. But I don't think a single line of weird dialogue is worth getting worked up over.

[dia-souls]

Maybe a reaction for Carla and Shin who have Tomie!s/o

she has same powers, story ec.. with her.

Thanks in advance, dear! <3 ^^

Note: Welcome dear! You don't need to say thanks you waited so long for this ask. Instead of writting reaction, I decided to go for headcanons. Tomie is a fun character! She is scary and interesting.

🌹 _____________________________________ 🌹

🔮 Carla Tsukinami 🔮

At first Carla will like the way. She has beauty as well as power. She proves to be a good Queen as her powers gives her a plus point.

One thing that annoys him is that not only she seduces him but also seduces anyone who can be characterize as man.

He still doesn't respect her but sees her above normal human women but still she is way too inferior to what he posses as king.

Carla is also curious about her history? What is her origin? How does she posses such power eventhough she is a human.

His curiosity further increased when he sees her coming back to life again and again he lowkey freaks out but this will provoke his sadistic side.

Carla enjoys tourturing her as in this way he can clearly shows who is actually in charge of their relationship.

Carla in terms of power is stronger than her but her manapulating tricks and her intelligence always caught him off guard.

Carla internally will realize that she is provoking his jealousy and rage just so he could go crazy at first countless men head roll because he is stronger than any victims of her.

But Carla is also smart. He isn't dumb, he will start to realize the way she plays game with him and will start reading her pattern of doing work.

Carla knows he has upper hand over her and won't hesitate to degrade her verbally and physically to keep her in place.

He isn't going to let her do what she pleases with other men. He hates sharing or seeing slightest of her attention going to other men as it boils his blood.

Carla doesn't fall her succubus acts and her manapulating tricks but he did feel irk whenever he sees her with other man.

It will take Carla a bit off time to understand her tricks the more she interacts with Carla the more Carla gains dominance over her.

He starts to reads her acts the way she behave in order for the man to kill each other. At first this used to frustrate Carla but the moment Carla manged to acknowledge her abilities, he will become immune to her powers.

Carla laughs internally whenever she gets frustrated for not getting her way with him. She can try her best to be authoritative but Carla will easily put her in place by dominating her verbally.

Carla sometimes will use her own tricks on her. He will manapulate her to think that Carla is most powerful and that she should obey if she doesn't want to lose her head.

"Huh! Haha!! Hah.... It's funny you think you can beat a Founder King with your cheap tricks?! You really think you can manapulate and control someone as superior and strong as me?!! Make no mistake women I am not like the other pest you came across in past! I will make you submit to me!!

🌹 _____________________________________ 🌹

🐺 Shin Tsukinami 🐺

The moment he noticed her beauty he got whipped. He felt a great amount of lust and attraction towards her.

Shin loves the way she looks, the way she sways her hair, the way she bat's her eyelashes etc etc. He is whipped for her!

Shin loves that his s/o isn't a weakling and has power.

At first he will test her power to see if she by an small chance has upper hand on him but he realized she is very weaker than him.

This increased his ego. He will degrade her by using their power difference whenever she tries to use her power.

Shin literally gave a shrill scream the moment he realized that she can come back from dead

When he realized that she actually isn't a loyal one that's when he starts to go into yandere and his possessive side awakens.

Shin isn't smart like Carla he does falls for her tricks but this all backfires as Shin will not only kill her lovers but will torture her brutally.

Shin is known to love violence and his s/o provoked a dangerous side of him by giving him a reason to kill.

He will be laughing while killing all thoes victims as he is stronger than all of her victims and none of them can even touch his single hair.

Shin will definitely is enjoying all this. He doesn't knows he is being manapulated by his smart s/o neither does his care he is just enjoying this too much!

His s/o will literally regret trying to mess with him because she isn't safe too as after getting done with her lovers he goes to tourturing her since she can come back from dead.

Shin will use this to his advantage by tourturing her too much to the point she gets killed and smiles whenever she returns.

If she tries to run away he won't hesitate to drag her back to have fun with her.

Eventhough she is intelligent but compare to Shin brutal strength and his craze for violence she is nothing instead of being dominant she will be forced to become shin play thing.

Their relations ship will be filled with abuse with Shin never getting bore off her and not letting her go.

Unlike Carla, his relationship with her is brutal as he always compete with her in strength his jealous side makes him more sadistic.

"Neh!? Isn't it so fun!?? I love all this thing you do but don't misunderstand I will never let you go to another man you are my plaything since you are powerful how about we fight?! I am sure I will win but still it's so pathetic the way you try to use your weak powers against me!! "

🌹 _____________________________________ 🌹

[storiesofsung]

Obey Me Rewrite - the Passion Project

Note: spoilers below the cut

I’ve always been in love with the game obey me and been super passionate about it as a long time fan however the game itself is kind of lacking.

Obviously it does what it does well, it’s a dating simulator about demons from hell but what I mean is it lacks potential.

I love the characters and their relationships with each other and the overall concept, that is what made me fall in love with it in the first place however I do have my own issues with the game not as a dating simulation but as a story.

To give you more context:

Characterization

- characters are given great potential with interesting backstories and fun personalities however the direction the game takes them completely wastes any sort of progression as interesting 3 dimensional characters

Example: Satan - he is shown to show personal struggle with a sort of inferiority complex with the way he was brought into this world (or hell) by people only viewing him as an extension of Lucifer and only as wrath, not as an individual living being. He works hard to create a name for himself and he prides himself on wisdom. He has a strong character and one of the best self restraint in terms of anger I dare say (he did attack mc but honestly from the way he was acting in Nightbringer it is progression) plus he is calm and collected and obviously by now a respected demon. Though he knowledgeable in itself, he still has issues to work with, one being working out his difficulties with Lucifer, (maybe) coming to terms with the way he was born and the trauma he went through when Lilith fell (he technically felt Lucifer’s pain). Instead as the series progressed we only saw him a soft cat boy, cmon 😀.

There are much more examples of this in fact all of them have such wasted potential, I’m not going to go in depth (unless someone asks me to hehe) but a very notable mention I would also like to make is

Example 2: MC - I’m not going to comment on how they are dull or has no personality because actually they can be very sassy depending on which options you choose. Also the mc is supposed to just be a self insert so I understand that enough. Anyways what I would like to give note to is the fact that mc forgave belphie right away after he I don’t know KILLED US? Or should I say, more accurately, the game forced us to forgive him so we would have the belphie lovey dovey options (no hate to belphie stans I’m just saying). What I mean to say is that we shouldn’t have not forgiven him you know, honestly it’s more of pacing. We COULD have forgiven him and actually that would be interesting development and a look into their backstory as angels, however there was no real progression towards forgiveness or us even being remotely scared of him (I may be wrong on this but I remember belphie and mc becoming besties real quick with no hard feelings) like the snappy mc incorrect quotes I think would actually fit well into the story as well as proper talk and real progression towards forgiveness.

2. Concepts and storylines

This is slightly less of an issue but I do take slight to the way the game handles storylines. Season 1 was the best (in my opinion) because it was less of “uwu mc marry me” content and more of demons being demons.

Alright so this really bugged me but I don’t like how MC is a a descendant of Lilith, like I know the brothers and Lilith are not blood related and are honestly more found family and that MC and Lilith and so far related (in terms of how many generations were between them) that they barely share dna I believe (in terms of physical dna and all that good stuff not the angelic powers) but I’ve always found it kind of gross but I guess that’s just a me problem…

I’m going to take the next part of my issues with concepts and storyline as general as possible but it’s really long but… hell doesn’t feel like hell, or should I say devildom doesn’t sound like hell

There is technology in other depictions of hell (like Hazbin hotel) but that’s done better because it’s not so emphasized (I know DDD is part of the game but I think they drive the technology bit overboard) it’s a lot less subtle and hell just feels like an abridged human world with slight magic involved.

The demons don’t even act like demons or look like demons, as hot as their demon forms are they look like emo teenagers that just discovered hot topic like girl bye 😭. They don’t act remotely demonic like sometimes, and everything just seems like a cosplay is the best way I can describe it. I know it’s 12+ and not 18+ but I really enjoy the more gorey fanfic versions of obey me concepts because that feels like hell, it brings out emotions in me of shocked scared and surprised which is what Dre me into the game in the first place, not a bunch of boys going to play dress up and harass the MC.

I have much more problems with the game( I still love so obviously I’m gonna play it) but this is more of a rant and I just played Nightbringer so I hope there is more lore that resolves some of my issues but yeah!

I’m not that skilled of a writer or anything but I would really like to try and rewrite obey me as a kind of “real hell” as a passion project, obviouslt no characters, or anything trademarked belong to me this is more of for fun. Again I’m not that experienced so if anyone would like to give me tips on how to write or would lousy like to chat about obey me, about this rant and other issues or just obey me in general feel free to dm me I’m always looking for more obey me stuff hehe but yeah, or actually honestly I just want your opinion on this.

I know it’s not that deep it’s a game about horny demons but it still means a lot to me and I hope you guys understand where I’m coming from. Thank you.

[scoobydooisadetective]

Hi. I just wanted to ask if it's possible for you guys to post the English translation of the Spanish posts? Tumblr doesn't have the translation option like X or Facebook

Hi! I'm guessing you're speaking about this post. Sure, no problem. I think it's relevant for everyone to know how long he has been in these kind of situations. I'll try to do my best w/ translation and offer some context.

Luz said in her post:

"I don't have a Twitter, I consider it an intolerant and racist world, this is the social network where Tenoch has the most bots against him, he receives a lot of hate and they generate that hate. But yesterday in a group they sent this picture, it's a publication about a radio host saying Tenoch apologized to him for being a person "without education and without ethics" according to his words.

(In the tweet: I share with you the picture when #TenochHuerta apologized to me for behaving as an uneducated being, without ethics and as the chairo without words he has always been. If I had known, I would've charged $1,800...

Note: Chairo doesn't have a translation, but it's basically derogatory way to to describe an individual who holds a far-left ideology, specifically any person who thoughtlessly defends, idolizes, and fawns over a populist politician and demagogue with an attitude similar to that of a religious fanatic.)

I thought it was weird and I found a publication made by the director Alonso Ruizapalacios in 2015 where he explains what happened that day

(full text here: https://www.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid02fkKp1ZGWvpcweaavk8e13ke4HQj2k616EPv75JrrExeEB49DUGPL7m31WJzGDqqil&id=1369494912&mibextid=Nif5oz)

"COMMERCIAL BREAK!

A few hours ago, me and Tenoch Huerta went to promote our movie GÜEROS at the radio show "Charros vs Gángsters", hosted by Jairo Calixto and some José Luis Guzmán "Miyagi" (I confess I didn't know about him until today).

Since we arrived at MVS Radio in Polanco, we saw patrols and riot policeman surrounding the radio station and preventing the production van from passing through. The driver suggested it was "because of that reporter that they are going to fire."

Despite this rarefied atmosphere, the inteview about the movie went like most interviews in radio and TV he (Tenoch) helped with in Mexico: wih cordiality, but with simple and unexciting (no preparation), but overall with the hysteria that characterizes a large amout of the communicators in our country - a kind of perpetual nervousness about not leaving even a moment of pause, to "fill the air" with whatever, with an incessant strident chatter that passes for irreverence and freshness. Despite that, we promoted our move without problem, between jokes about the Partido Verde and bestiality.

At the end of our interview, Tenoch took the floor and said: "Before we leave, I'd like to comment something in a personal capacity, I think it's necessary to have dialog to clarify the situation about the communicator Cármen Aristegui and her firing from this radio station." In that moment "Miyagi", who had not heard a single word about Güeros nor had he looked up from his iPad during our entire conversation, ordered: "Let's go on commercial break!" and it was obeyed immediately in the cabin. After a awkward painful silence, Tenoch and I realized we had finished. After a painfully awkward silence, Tenoch and I realized that we were done. We approached to say goodbye to our hosts, who barely shook our hands, without looking us in the eyes. But before leaving Miyagi told us: “We opened the microphones for something else, not so that you could continue with that…” To which Tenoch responded “We just want to know what is happening with Aristegui.” And nothing else was said.

We went out of the MVS with our heads spinning aournd, trying to understand what had just happened. And we still continue to not understand...

My interpretation: We're still trapped in this climate where communicators -even those who brag about being irreverent- fear (maybe justifiably) about their continuity in the enterprises that pay their salary. We're still living in a climate of very litte solidarity and a lot of intolerance.

Maybe "Miyagi" simply made a mistake and acted on impulse, a byproudct of the frustration from reading trolls against him since he didn't defend Cármen Aristegui. Or maybe the sushi upsetted his stomach... But what he did was censorship, it's indisputable. Turning your back on such a valid and relevant question and go on commercial break when things get awkward, in true Televisa style, was something surprising to witness live.

I don't have information to venture an absolute theory about all of this, nor to affirm that it is censorship that comes from above, or if it's rather self-censorship, a product of fear. But that there's something rotten in Denmark, I have no doubt.

While I appreciate the space that was opened to talk about our film, I deeply regret the continuation of this state of fear we live in.

I'm sorry that our communicators don't look at us in the eyes. I'm sorry there's no room for pauses. And I'm sorry there's no time to listen.

Context on who is this journalist and why this happened:

On 12 March 2015, two journalists from MVS, Daniel Lizárraga and Irving Huerta, were fired after they used the station's brand name without permission in a newly created website known as MexicoLeaks, which leaked reports on government corruption. Aristegui issued an ultimatum and threaten to quit if MVS did not reinstate her two staff members. Four days later, MVS fired Aristegui after considering that she had crossed the line for issuing an ultimatum to the MVS management.

My friend Tenoch says: My name is José Tenoch Huerta Mejía, mexican.

I love who I am, where I live and with who I live.

I don't like what's going on in my country, it's not the country I grew up in, nor the one I want to live in.

I don't understand a lot of things and as many more I'm scared about what we're living.

It hurts my soul to know that thousands are no longer hugging their families when their time had not yet come.

I wonder what's up, what can I do so everyone can be alright, the truth is I don't know but I decided to talk and ask.

I have nothing against any politician or people in power, I just want a different country.

I don't want one where we're all poor to be equals, but one where we're rich at heart, pockets and tummy to decide what to do with our time in this land.

Yersterday I asked something I needed to know, the mic was open and I asked.

Today, someone went to my house, intimidated me while hiding their face behind a brown scarf and a newspaper. They took photos of me, laughed mockingly at me and then disappeared into the hallways of the place where I live and have called home the last four years of my life.

What did I do wrong? Ask, say that I don't like any of this, thinking that we could have a better life, think?

A lot of people supports and helps me, but what about those that don't have the fortune to be visible?

I write this and I cry because I don't want to live like this, we don't deserve to live like this.

Mexico hurts my guts.

My little corner on land that gives me food and air to breath, that gives me a house and family.

I love my country, I love my people and even you, who doesn't understand we can live in a better way.

Thank you for your support, for being there and might our voices and hearts always sing.

We deserve something better.

Then, Luz adds:

What really happened was that exactly 8 years ago, in that booth, there was no freedom of speech, Tenoch tried to speak about a topic and was quickly cut off. Another account later shared that Tenoch had reported that he was being followed and photographed.

What I'm trying to say is that they have always hated him for telling them to their faces what he thinks about some topic and that makes them angry, they "can't stand it." Now that he is doing a little better, they are trying by all means to ruin his career. Tenoch himself has mentioned it in many interviews, and they have paid the media to destroy him.

I think we have to be careful, those media and haters are always aware of all the publications about him and if it is something controversial they can manipulate, they will do it, have no doubt about that, even if it is from years ago.

Do not react, do not comment or retweet, only report the publication if it has racist content. Never try to talk to them, it's not worth it. (Personal note: Please listen to this!! Especially twitter folks, since it might be counterproductive. By fighting them, you're offering them more interactions because that's how the algorithm works).

---

Hope this helped!

[cats-mayhem]

Ein MyStreet isn't a compelling villain to me.

Please note how I said ME in the title. This is just how I feel. You're entitled to your own opinions. Also this isn't the most professional analysis, I am just saying what's on my mind in the moment. Anyway, let's get into it.

OK so basically: Ein had a lot of potential. In the first half of season 1 he was a cute "bad" boy who just wanted to not be the Omega of the school whilst also having a crush on Aphmau. Then Aphmau made him Alpha Male and then he stopped being a character.

It's framed that everything he did with Aphmau was just a ploy to get the position of Alpha but like... He was so genuine so many times? He was blushing and all, he helped her out with the hair dye. He was a good boy who actually had a thing for Aph.

But ok, let's just ignore his characterization up until the twist because ooohhh he's actually really mean and manipulative. Maybe it's because of the power he now has after being bullied for so long but it's SUCH a jarring shift in character for him.

I guess Jessica wanted to make an actual Villain character since Gene and Balto weren't the most threatening and evil but like... They're in high school? They're not gonna be evil masterminds like what she was trying to do with Ein.

Gene and Balto were just bullies and that fit for PDH S1. Ein being evil is to shut down any romantic progression he would have with Aphmau since Kai got character assassinated and was a dick to her on a date (+ Ein's meddling)

All so that Aaron can come "save the day" and beat up Ein and save Aphmau from an evil man that she never figured out was evil. The most Evil things Ein did was pick an Omega without Aph and also ruin her date.

Ein didn't want to be the omega anymore since he was sick of being seen as weak and being bullied and ignored, and the teacher WANTED him to take that title willingly, even after everything he's gone through with it. And he KNOWS that Aph would try and convince him To take it on as well, so that's why he picked one by himself. And the date thing... Yeah idk why he did that maybe he was just jealous idk i forgor.

OH YEAH and he beat the shit out of Kasey so that Katelyn can have a reason to be racist towards werewolves when the Ultima Reveal. Completely forgot about that.

I honestly think PDH S2 had an interesting set up with the love triangle. Kai has Aaron's personality whilst Ein has Aaron's attitude. (Aph & Aaron's romance is awful but i'm just pointing out symbolism).

Ein was also racist towards Humans since he is a werewolf supremacist and he wanted to make Aphmau a werewolf so that she'd be perfect. Also werewolves are a minority that's discriminated against so this character trait is a bit uh... Yikes!

Also I just remembered this but Ein was working with Gene to get close to Aphmau and Gene wanted pictures of Aphmau for some fucking reason?? What was that about. We get no context on this other than 1 scene btw.

So the next time we see Ein is in Emerald Secret! Oh boy, I got some words.

So about 15 years pass since PDH S2 and everyone is an adult in their late 20s. What has Ein been doing in all that time? Obsessing over a girl he met in high school, researching heavily into a folk lore in order to turn her into a werewolf. Also he's been doing illegal potion making and used one of those potions to turn an actual wolf, human, so that he can be the alpha of her wolf pack.

Also he's working with the biggest bad of them all, Micheal! But we don't meet him until Season 6 or something. He also may or may not be mind controlling Ein during Emerald Secret we don't know.

So what else does Ein do this season now that he's the big bad again? Other than the wolf thing, he also brainwashes Aphmau's friends into thinking he's their brother, makes Aphmau obey his every word and love him whilst also despising Aaron.

And makes her attempt to kill Aaron. Despite the fact that he needs Aaron to turn her into a werewolf first, after he denies when he's asked, Ein was like "Ok well. Aph kill him lmao."

He also "dies" in the end by getting mauled by the pack of wolves he made himself Alpha of.

I don't think it takes that much brainpower to see why this is an awful twist (he was also a twist villain btw we didn't know it was him until midway). His motivation is stupid, why are you still obsessed with some girl from high school, you're 28.

Why does he even still have those pictures of her in high school? Like if you're gonna be obsessed with her, at least stalk her so you can get the modern update???

Also, his werewolf supremacy is played up big time here to the point it makes you question why he wasn't obsessing over Aaron like Xavier was. Maybe Jessica didn't wanna repeat motivation? But Ein & Xavier are very different characters, you could make it work.

He was just a mess of a villain once you think about his motivation for 2 seconds. And then he shows up in When Angels Fall!! This one is shorter I promise.

So in WAF Ein uses another illegal potion to make werewolves (who were in hiding since the Government is taking every single one of them and interrogating them because they might be some ancient folklore beast). And makes them all obey his every word and call him Alpha.

It's confirmed that after High School, werewolf packs and Alphas don't matter in the real world so it's weird that he was obsessed with it in Emerald Secret.

Anyway after that, he kidnaps Aphmau to hold Aaron ransom and when he gets his werewolf ears back (Aaron took them away in ES) he kills Aphmau because he was being mind controlled by Micheal.

And then Aaron and Ein fight on a bridge, Aaron kills his mind controlled friends, and then kills Ein. So let's talk about it.

the thing with this is that... It just shows that Ein COULD'VE been written well if he was mind controlled by Micheal with the illegal potions. Since Micheal had 100% access to Ein at any time and Ein played a major role in Micheal's plan to trauma trigger Aaron.

And honestly it would've made Ein a much more compelling character if he just... Didn't have control over his actions. One theme with the main group is that they decide what to do with their lives and how to move forward.

But that wouldn't apply to someone who was controlled, now, would it? And since we know that the person under the effects of a forever potion still have a conscious, and can see all the acts that they don't have control over, it would've made Ein a tragic villain.

And if he was mind controlled by Micheal during Emerald Secret it would explain why Ein was obessed with Aphmau despite it being so weird. Because guess what, Ein & Aphmau are half siblings! So that re-contextualizes every interaction they ever had.

I think that Ein should've had an actual character instead of being a cartoon villain like Micheal was. Ein is the only character to have so much DIRECT action towards the main cast. Why would you make him so messy and one dimensional?

And the whole Mind Control thing is something that can be easily done. Ein uses forever potions to make people Obey Him, and since Micheal doesn't have enough power to mind control Ein 24/7, him using a potion like that on Ein would make so much sense.

Since Ein is shown to be decent at potion making and magic by the time we meet him. Micheal is the only one who could've taught him all of that. And the thing is: IT'S CANNON ONLY IN WAH. They met before ES but it's left so vague on what their relationship was that you could say Ein did everything in Emerald Secret by his own volition and you'd be right since nothing is confirmed.

If Jessica wanted to make this a serious story, WHY WOULD YOU STOP AT THE MOST RELEVANT VILLAIN??? He's literally related to Aphmau and was apart of the experimentation in some way but we don't know because he's not a character enough for him to be lore relevant other than him being a plot device. I'm so upset on the way Jessica wrote him since he could've been so much more than he actually was.

I wanna add something: The mind controlled by Micheal thing is only one possibility with his character. You can do a whole lot of other things. The reason why I focused on the mind-control thing is that it's an easy cop-out Jessica could do in order to make Ein an actual character.

Jessica isn't the best writer and loves tropes & cop-outs so it very well could've been done in story. But instead she let Ein be vague as hell and also tying him so closely into the lore.

I just want Ein to be a coherent character with understandable motivations behind his actions. There is no excuse for him to be this important and yet so messily written.

And now he's dead. RIP Ein MyStreet. You could've been one of the greatest.

[twstjam]

sometimes I think abt yuu's canon characterization (more like lack thereof) and get really sad.

twst should take notes from Obey Me they really popped off with their mc.

yuu in book 3 was great though can't deny that, but it kinda makes me more sad we don't get more similar characterization/situations for Yuu to shine as a character. And I think I'm even sadder that Yuu hasn't done much in Book 7. Maybe not yet, but after all that build up with their and Malleus's friendship throughout the other books it's a bit disappointing. I'm still holding out hope though that they're going to be more involved in later chapters!!

[intern-seraph]

REASONS WHY A JEWISH MC MAKES SHALL WE DATE? OBEY ME! 10x FUNNIER (along with some notes on general jewish ideas relating to the game's themes and setting) (note: i am not an expert on judaism. i am a jew. and i looked at a lot of sources trying to piece shit together bc this is an ancient culture characterized by scholarly debate over interpretations of texts so there's very little that everyone agrees on):

judaism does not have a concrete idea of the afterlife. we especially don't have Hell (or at least, not a hell that anyone actually, like, agrees exists? the mentions i have found of something similar to heaven and hell are typically in the context of what will happen upon the resurrection of the dead?? it's really complicated but point being is that nobody fucking agrees and i doubt any jews believe in the Christian Hell. cause we are not diet christians!)

i should be allowed to wrestle with raphael in nightbringer it's culturally significant

the seven deadly sins? yeah that's a firmly christian concept. we have demons (although whether or not these demons are actual creatures or just metaphorical? it's debatable.) but all of this seven sins nonsense is not our style. demons honestly don't really take up a ton of our folklore either (they're mostly interpreted as metaphors). imagine mc at the start of the game getting introduced to the brothers as the Demonic Avatars of Sin and being just like. "wow that's wild. anyways,"

we do not have original sin in judaism. not even a scrap. in fact if you repent and/or try to make amends for your sins you're good. there's a lot of potential there for writing right? please i am BEGGING for some fics that address sin in a way that's not overwhelmingly christian i can't keep doing this shit

bathroom demon

"hey lucifer do you think [bizarre devildom food] is kosher"

solomon is there??? like, king solomon????? i'm pretty sure solomon obey me is supposed to be king solomon judaism?????? he has a pact with asmodeus which is consistent with the lore surrounding him but like what's up with that anyways??? what's with the nightbringer solomon lore drop?????? hELP???????

"oh my rabbi is gonna have a FIELD DAY with this"

[obey-me-headquarters]

If I could change one thing about Obey Me:

Well, I would actually change a lot of things, but what's pretty high up there on my list is: rewriting Levi to be the Avatar of Gluttony.

I know, I know! That sounds crazy! Levi is perfect! Let me just explain my reasoning:

Levi is an Otuka and a problematic trend I noticed in Otuka circles is their consumerism. There's always more anime to consume, more figurines to buy, more merchandise. There's this ever present aura of never being satisfied as there's always more content to consume.

A lot of anime doesn't even really end, with the really popular ones having thousands of episodes. I'm not saying that it's a bad thing, I'm sure that it's those anime are very good. But there's definitely a quantity over quality problem with anime, with a lot of artists getting underpayed so studios can pump out more content.

And isn't that quintessentially gluttony? Never being satisfied? Always on the lookout for something new, no matter its quality, only to eat it up and move onto the next big thing?

Some people might argue that that's Greed, to always be amassing more. But I would argue that the difference between Greed and Gluttony is being satisfied. If you're greedy you can still be satisfied with the amount of stuff you have now, hell, the satisfaction you get from having what you have might be a driving factor for wanting more - you like what you have, and you want to get more so you'll be happier. But Gluttony is never satisfied, it's constantly being on the lookout for something new because what you have is never enough.

I know most people associate Gluttony with food, and I don't blame them. That is a big aspect of Gluttony. But I think going with this angle would be very interesting. Especially seeing as Beel's hungry can seem kinda one note? So much so the characters in the game even remark upon it. So I think choosing a more unique angle would create more story opportunities.

For example, there could be an arc about reintroducing Levi to his love of anime from a story perspective, instead of just a way to consume.

Plus, I think it'll be pretty cute seeing Levi and Mammon fight so much when their sins are so similar. Something something, two sides of the same coin lol.

I do really like how Levi is portrayed in the game. I think having him being so self conscious as the Avatar of Envy was a really unique spin. And how his Okuta-ness plays a role in that envy - how he's never satisfied by real life so he escapes to fantasy worlds.

I just think that Solmare could have done a little more with the Gluttony sin. I understand why they chose not to do it this way, if this idea even crossed their minds, an arc about not buying new content and learning to be satisfied with what you have would kinda go against their business model of constantly getting new cards.

I find the 7 sins, along with the 4 horsemen and anything to do with the Underworld interesting, and thus spend too much time thinking about how I would create my own 7 sins ocs.

If I ever do create a Gluttony avatar oc, Im unsure if I would go with this characterization, as it's basically just Levi lol. I think having a Gluttony oc who is never satisfied with content would be interesting. Kinda relate it to how writers and artists feel about fandoms these days. How it seems like fans are so hungry for new content, constantly asking about a new chapter, a new art piece, instead of commenting on and appreciating what you already made.

Maybe emulate those Tiktok book lovers who have hundreds of books they haven't read yet, and yet they're constantly buying new books. How they buy a new copy of a book they already own just because it has a new cover, or it's in a language (many times a language they can't even read). With a lot of these book lovers reading hundreds of books a month, leaving you wondering if they ever stop to enjoy the book. If they have time to wonder about a plot twist, let a powerful line sit with them. If they think about a book and its themes before moving onto the next one.

(Obviously this is a subgroup of TikTok book lovers, I'm not saying all of them are like, this is just a trend that I've noticed.)

Idk, I just feel like there's a lot to say about how modern audiences devour content because there's so much of it. How companies encourage people to binge their shows because it makes them more money. The dopamine infected doomscroll apps create so you use the app more because you become so addicted to finding something good, yet never being satisfied enough to put down the phone.

So. Uh. Yeah. Gluttony is a cool sin to play around with. Wish Obey Me did something a little more interesting with it.

If any of yall have any ideas on different ways to portray the 7 Sins I would love to hear them! Shot me an ask, or a message, or anything! Who knows, we might create a little band of ocs lol.

[krenenbaker]

Obey Me! Song Analyses - Pomade

I absolutely love the songs released for this game, and have wanted to look into them a little deeper for quite a while! I'm starting off with the character song I've listened to the most - Asmodeus' character song, Pomade. While I technically should be starting with Arcadia... I'm kind of having Asmo brainrot right now, and want to talk about him ♡

link to the lyrics

This is probably my favourite OM! character song, though I am definitely biased (since Asmo is one of my absolute faves and I just LOVE Miura Ayme's singing and voice acting ^^;) but also, this song just suits Asmo so, so, so, so well!! 

For starters, the title is super interesting - Pomade. It's a clever reflection of Asmo's interests and focus (beauty, and specifically his *own* beauty.) And while this may be a bit of a reach, it also makes me think of his characterization, in how a pomade is often perfumed and is used to control hair, much like Asmo with his powers, both in terms of his ability to charm and his own perfume(s).

The genre choice is also perfect for this song. The soft, kind of… slightly seductive(?) synthpop-ish sound suits him well, especially with the gentle, yet upbeat instrumentals and vocals. It reminds me a lot of some of Hayley Kiyoko's music, actually, especially songs like Ease My Mind and Sleepover. (side note: Asmo would loooooooove her music. I'm 100% sure of it!!)

And if I could just go on about the vocals a little more, ahdkfaglsfh they're perfect. Not only is Miura's singing always amazing, his singing as Asmodeus is absolutely gorgeous!! it has such a different quality to his other songs, and is so wonderfully… bubbly, almost?? I just adore it. (Also, his vocal range is incredible, omgg ♡ The notes at the end of the chorus are SO clear and beautiful...)

However, it's the lyrics that really make me love this song. Like in all the songs the team has released, the internal thoughts and motivations of the character are made SO clear!! I feel as though Pomade shows a more vulnerable side to Asmo than we usually see in the game (which, as a side note, I feel as though his character development is a lot less... I don't know, noticeable? than the others? It's a little sad.) The lyrics do show his self-centeredness, narcissism, and his role as a demon, but that is more towards the beginning of the song. It's almost as though throughout the piece, there is a gradual acceptance on Asmo's part of his feelings, rather than his expectations of what he "should" feel. This is made especially clear with how the repeated lyrics shift, and how the chorus changes each time. 

For instance, the line in the first verse “Kimi wa boku no toriko” (“You're my captive”, or in the official translation, “For now, you're mine”) becomes the reverse (“I'm your captive" / “I'm yours”) in the second verse, which is a MAJOR thing for him to not only feel, but actually acknowledge to be true! The same can be said for how he goes from speaking about wanting to be seen and admired by you, to wanting to admire you instead.

It's also so interesting how the chorus changes each time, with the lyrics becoming more and more affectionate each repetition: 

“No matter who you are You're no match for me There is nobody but myself That is enough for me” 

turning into 

“Even if it's you You're still no match for me There is nobody but myself That I can fall for”, 

then finally,

“No matter who you are I want you to show me I fell in love with someone Besides myself for the first time” 

in the last chorus. Each repetition, he becomes more and more aware of his feelings, and more and more vulnerable, with his pride and ego giving way to genuine affection. He truly goes from being the charmer, to being charmed himself.

I just absolutely love this song, both for how well is showcases my darling Asmo, and just how nice of a song it is to listen to ^^

[that-angry-noldo]

I just saw this post discussing differences between Finarfin (and other Arafinweans) and Gil-Galad, and since you know much more about Finarfin than I do, I would enjoy hearing your take on his characterization in this post, if you are willing to and comfortable doing so. But if you would at all prefer not to, I completely understand and apologize for bothering you.

(I wasn't sure if this was better as an ask or a DM, so if you would rather reply using a DM, feel free to do so!)

i've been poking that post with a long stick for the whole day and then recieved your ask and if this isn't a sign from above I don't know what is. worth noting that i'm not set on my gil-galad theory but I do lean towards arafinweans

and it's not really because of the symmetry! i imagine gil-galad as the entire oposite of his house. He has dark hair. He's spiteful and angry. He was taught survival, not court pleasantries! And that's what makes the Arafinwean option juicy to me - he's the opposite of what people would consider traditionally third-housish

Though since you asked about Finarfin, I'm going to move onto the next point, because oooo boy do i have opinions

in my humble opinion "safety" was the very least thing motivating Finarfin. Again, from the Silm:

But in that hour Finarfin forsook the march, and turned back, being filled with grief, and with bitterness against the House of Fëanor, because of his kinship with Olwë of Alqualondë; and many of his people went with him, retracing their steps in sorrow, until they beheld once more the far beam of the Mindon upon Túna still shining in the night, and so came at last to Valinor.

Not once is safety mentioned. It always bugs me when people say Finarfin was afraid of the march, or, in this case, wanted to return to the safety of Valinor - because he's clearly hurt and angry at Feanor and his house. I think the Doom was the final point driving him to that decision, where his emotions and heart and moral compass overweighted his wish to be with his family. I doubt safety was ever on his mind at that point, because Valinor wasn't safe either! It was dark and the Noldor were probably outlaws without any remaining diplomatic connection to either Teleri or Vanyar; come on, a few pages earlier the goddamn Ungoliant appeared out of nowhere! I doubt it was much of a safe or stable place at that point, at least not in the minds of Quendi!

Another point that I strongly disagree with is Valinor being for "good golden kids" and ME being for "rebellious baddies". That take is popular within the fandom and it makes me white knuckle the sink every time I come across one. Do I think Amanyar and Beleriandrim have completely different mentalities? Absolutely! Even the Amanyar differ between eachother, what to say about them and the quendi living in Middle-Earth. Do I think it can be divided into "valinor for goodies and beleriand for baddies"? Hell no. That lacks so much of nuance and is often used to give Beleriandrim a sense of superiority which just rubs me wrong. Valinor managed to produce Feänor of all people! Valinor was able to train an army consisted of so-called goodies (the vanyar. a great deal of that army were vanyar. the same vanyar everyone portrays as the most obedient amanyar) that absolutely obliterated morgoth and won a 40 years long war. Can you see why I dislike that take?

Also the post really undersells the Arafinwions as a whole. Aegnor didn't reject his chance for ressurection in favour of waiting for Andreth for people to say that he "reluctantly dumped" her. Finrod didn't break the enchanted chains (in the narrative that is about breaking the chains of narrative) in a last desperate action of resilence for people to say "he obeyed his fate". Galadriel didn't stubbornly drag through the second and third age for people to say "well she returned in the end so it doesn't matter". Angrod didn't become known for his anger issues for people to set him under "goody two shoes" box. FINARFIN DIDN'T WIN AN APOCALYPTIC 40 YEARS LONG WAR FOR PEOPLE TO CALL HIM A COWARD OR THE GUY WHO DOESN'T APPEAR IN THE FIRST AGE

anyways I don't have much opinions on gil galad but i do have a lot of opinions on arafinwions and i will be defending those opinions with teeth and nails

[nepentheisms]

SPOILERS AHEAD for the end of Trimax. I know bookclub still has a few weeks left to get there, but @pepplemint put down some thoughts I really liked (linked below, their post includes the spoilers that I'm reflecting on). I was originally going to just reblog with comments I wanted to add, but then this post wound up way longer than I expected.

Anyways, for op, I think this essay may be of interest to you with its discussion of the final few chapters; especially this bit where the writer quotes the late Thich Nhat Hanh:

Though the Bible values understanding, it prioritizes love above all. Jesus encourages his followers to love thy neighbor, no matter what, whether or not there is understanding. Alternately, in Living Buddha, Living Christ, Thich Nhat Hanh writes that “In Buddhism, understanding (prajña) is essential to love (maitri). Without understanding there cannot be true love, and without love there cannot be true understanding.” Perhaps the finale of Trigun Maximum is a blending of these two philosophies.

For me personally, the use of the Genesis allusions in the resolution of the story and the way that plants and humans switch around in acting as the god figure in relation to one another have stirred up thoughts about how there's more of a push and pull in God's relationship with humanity in the Tanakh or Hebrew Bible (which has the same books as the Protestant Old Testament but they're arranged differently).

My knowledge of Judaism is pretty basic, so I'd love to hear from someone who can provide more perspective, but from what I do know, the Jewish approach to God differs from the Christian approach in that adherents are encouraged to question God (even the very existence of God is up for questioning). In Christianity, God is characterized as an all-powerful perfect being humans have to obey, but this characterization really involves a lot of retconning of the Jewish source material, because in those stories, God is not necessarily omnipotent or omnibenevolent.

In Genesis 3:22-23, God seems to express concern over the possibility of humans rivaling him. From the NRSV translation:

(22) And the Lord God said, “The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.”  (23) So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken. 

But even with the banishment from the Garden of Eden and the whole Tower of Babel episode in which God voices his qualms about humanity becoming too powerful, God also has moments in which he welcomes it when people challenge him. Genesis 32:24-32 is the story of Jacob wrestling with God and insisting "I will not let you go unless you bless me," and he gets his blessing. And it's in these verses that we get an explanation for the meaning of the name Israel - "The one who strives with God" (from the notes of The New Oxford Annotated Bible).

And what is Trigun but a story of striving between creator and creation? There's plenty of contentious striving, full of pain and conflict, but there's also the striving for understanding - a struggle to truly KNOW the other so that together, they may have a chance at building a more mutually beneficial future.

TLDR: I think the relationship of mutual contention between God and mankind as seen in the Hebrew Bible is a better analogy for the humans vs plants conflict than the Christian view of original sin cutting people off from a perfect supreme authority.

[jumbled-messy-confused]

Fanfiction: The longest night

Summary:

Thrust into a maelstrom of revelations, Alina Starkov is suddenly burdened with the mantle of Ravka’s fate. Amidst this storm, she finds an anchor in General Kirigan, a man whose lifelong search has culminated in her emergence. When Kirigan is gravely wounded, laying his life on the line in a brutal clash to protect her, Alina’s mettle is put to the test as she fights to save the man who has become her pillar of strength amidst the looming shadow of her destiny.

Notes:

This story is an AU, based on the second episode of “Shadow and Bone”, where Kirigan and Alina meet for the first time. In this story, Kirigan is not a villain. His intentions towards Alina are not exploitative; rather, he is driven by a desire to protect and guide her. He sees Alina as the salvation of Ravka, the one who can rectify his unforgivable mistake of creating the Fold, and he spent his whole life searching for her. Please note that English is not my first language, but I did my best to find most mistakes. (Feel free to point them out to me!). I took certain creative liberties, particularly with respect to magic, medical details and the characterization of the main characters but I hope, you will just roll with it. And now have fun! And thank you for reading.

Despite the soft, beguiling rays of the spring sun, Alina Starkov felt unease within the confines of the carriage. Her heart pounded with trepidation as she journeyed toward an uncertain future. Deeply distressed, she found herself yearning for General Kirigan’s presence. Though she was surrounded by his soldiers, she bitterly wished he himself would lead their small convoy.

Their first encounter earlier that day had been nothing short of extraordinary. Alina had awoken in Kribirsk, her body battered and her spirit frayed. The overwhelming dread that had clung to her during the harrowing journey into the Fold had still lingered, a leaden weight in her chest. She had not merely been shaken; she had been hollowed out, her very essence drained by fear and uncertainty. The realization that she might bear responsibility for the cataclysmic events had weighed heavily upon her, a crushing burden that had threatened to break her.

And when it had become clear that the Grisha warriors were about to drag her in front of their leader, her anxiety had simply turned into horror. All her adult life, she had heard the whispers - the tales of the black General, the man who commanded shadows, whose very name sent shivers through the ranks. General Kirigan. And now, here she had to stand in front of him.

His soldiers had watched the encounter in still reverence. They knew their place in the presence of their leader, but that hadn’t kept them from blatantly staring at her. She, an outsider—an orphan, a mapmaker’s apprentice—had no business being here, and yet destiny had cast her into this perilous situation. She felt like a pawn thrust into the heart of a dangerous game.

The air had crackled with tension, and Alina’s skin had prickled as if charged by some unseen force. As the General had beckoned her closer, she had taken a few hesitant steps. Her heart pounding, she had tried to maintain a distance, but, with a single word, he had shattered that fragile boundary: “Closer.”

With no other choice but to obey his command, Alina had moved a bit further towards him.

Yet, it seemed as though the proximity was still insufficient for him. While interrogating her, he himself had now stepped closer and closer. Slowly, imposingly, till she had found him standing so near that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. He had literally been towering over her, a pillar of authority and power. His aura had been palpable - a formidable blend of nobility and danger. His eyes, dark and inscrutable, had bored into hers, dissecting her soul. She had felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he could unravel every secret she harboured.

And then, in a chilling display of power, he had used his abilities to engulf the entire tent in darkness. He truly was the Darkling - the Grisha general who could command shadows. It had been greatly unsettling. 

However, in the instant General Kirigan had reached out and touched her arm, something had shifted - a surge of energy, an explosive force like she had felt in the Unsea that morning, had coursed again through her veins. But this time it had been vastly different – the sheer intensity of her power, of her light, had overwhelmed her completely. It had transcended anything she had experienced in the Fold. Her head had fallen forward and her eyes had closed on their own accord, so intense had these feelings been. And in that moment, Alina Starkov had realized that she was no longer just ‘Alina.’ The abilities she had experienced in the Shadow Fold were truly hers, and they marked the end of the simple life she had known. A life forever altered by forces beyond her control. But through the waves of turbulent emotions and desperation crashing over her, she had sensed something more. Something that had not been hers, but that came from him - a promise of protection, an unspoken vow to guide her and shield her from the perils that lay ahead.

Her head had shot up, and she had found him still staring at her. But something in his gaze had changed; the cold had been gone, had been replaced by what she could only describe as hope, and profound relief. It had seemed as if the weight of centuries, the burden of a thousand choices had been suddenly lifted off his shoulders. He had then closed his eyes for a brief moment and inhaled deeply, before he had gently lowered his hand. Alina, puzzled by his actions, had found herself holding her breath in anticipation and the instant he had let go of her arm, she had understood what he had prepared for. She immediately had felt bereft and longed for this special connection, the feeling of security again.

In the quiet aftermath of their shared moment, General Kirigan had taken Alina aside for a private conversation away from prying eyes. His words had been few but laden with significance; he had explained that she would be immediately taken to the Little Palace, for her safety. “And there,’ he had added, his gaze intense, ‘you will hone your newfound powers among the Grisha, and you will rise as the Sun Summoner. The beacon that will shatter the Unsea and unite Ravka.” The title ‘Sun Summoner’ had echoed in her ears, not as a myth or a legend, but as her undeniable truth. It had been a declaration that had reshaped her identity, not just a collection of words but a revelation that had struck her to the core. The day’s relentless cascade of truths had pummeled her, each one a hammer strike against the old foundations of her life. There she had stood, on the brink of an existence she had never imagined, her composure fraying at the edges, as the full scope of her new reality had loomed large before her. In the midst of this maelstrom of change, Kirigan had been compelled to send her ahead. He had a mission from the Tsar to fulfill that could not be delayed any longer. Yet, as he had turned to her, a subtle conflict had played across his features—a brief struggle that had revealed his reluctance. His gaze had held hers a moment longer than necessary, a silent communication of his inner battle, while the tightness around his eyes had been another sign of the storm raging behind his stoic facade. Alina had understood then, without words, that, as much as he wanted, he could not take her with him, not with the dangers that awaited. She made the choice not to add to his concerns, recognizing the necessity of their separation and standing tall with resolve, had bid a brave farewell and joined his Grisha without hesitation. She was convinced that his assignment demanded unwavering attention, not just for Ravka’s sake but for his own well-being. This mysterious, handsome man, with his enigmatic powers and hidden burdens, probably faced perils greater than what lay before her. Alina shuddered, imagining what he might endure at this very moment.

Nevertheless, she yearned to be by his side. His calm demeanour and unwavering resolve, his reassuring control, and the sheer power he emanated at their first meeting had calmed her to a point where she could finally breathe free again and she so desperately wished for that feeling right now.

The road stretched endlessly; each mile, hour after hour marked by the rhythmic creaking of wheels. Horses strained against uneven terrain, their laborious progress a stark contrast to the urgency that gnawed at Alina. The forest pressed in on both sides, its ancient trees casting elongated shadows across the narrow path. Nature itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for a rupture in the monotony. Alina’s gaze flitted to the dense foliage beyond the window—twists and turns shrouded in uncertainty. She couldn’t help but dread what lurked in those shadowed depths, unseen and ominous. The Grisha guards riding outside her little windows exchanged tense glances, their expressions mirroring her own. Whatever awaited them on this torturous journey, it was more than mere physical distance—it was a chasm of danger and secrets.  And they felt it, too. The convoy moved on, pace by painstaking pace, and as the shadows deepened outside, her fears proved to be true. All of a sudden, the carriage jolted violently under a massive attack. Alina’s world narrowed to the confines of her prison—a fragile cocoon of wood and leather that separated her from the chaos outside. Splintering wood exploded like shrapnel, each crack echoing through her bones. Her vehicle shuddered forcefully, as if protesting its fate. Alina clung to the worn seat, her knuckles white, as the world tilted and spun. Through the small, barred windows, she glimpsed the nightmare unfolding beyond. The Grisha guards fought with all their might, their powers flaring against the onslaught. But they were outnumbered, their magic strained to its limits.

Arrows pierced the air, striking the soldiers as well as her coach with deadly precision. The impact sent tremors through Alina’s body, and she flinched, imagining the lethal points finding their mark. The windows offered only glimpses—a flash of crimson uniform, a swirl of dust, a desperate face contorted in battle. She saw the fury of steel, the clash of blades, and heard the screams of terror that tore through the forest.

The carriage rocked forcefully again; its once-sturdy frame now battered by their assailants. They tore at it with relentless force, determined to breach its fragile walls. Suddenly it happened—the door was wrenched open. Two man who could only be Drüskelle seized her, their gloved hands like iron vices. Alina’s breath caught as she was yanked from the wreckage, her body colliding with the unforgiving forest floor. The world spun—a whirlwind of pain and terror. She tasted dirt, felt the rough fabric of her clothes tear against the ground. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase, but there was no safety here, only earth and chaos.

Panic surged through Alina’s veins, a primal instinct to survive. And then she saw her attacker raising his axe, its edge honed to cruelty. And her mind screamed.

She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable end. But miraculously, the fatal blow didn’t come. Instead, a roar of the Drüskelle echoed through the trees, shaking the very ground beneath her, a sound so primal and fierce that her head shot up. Eyes wide she saw General Kirigan charging into view. On his black steed, he galloped out of the shadows, hooves pounding the forest floor. Kirigan rode with an otherworldly grace, his cloak billowing like wings of darkness. Time seemed to slow as the tall man leaped from the saddle, defying the laws of physics. His boots hit the ground before the stallion had fully halted, and he surged forward, a dark avenger silhouetted against the fiery canvas of the setting sun. Shadow-blades, wielded by his will, launched from his fingertips, striking Alina’s attackers with lethal accuracy. They stood no chance. Sliced in half, they collapsed near her in a sickening thud, their bodies falling like broken marionettes.  Alina shrieked at the gruesome sight, but her scream caught in her throat as Kirigan’s shadows suddenly enveloped her, pulling her into safety in an unexpected rescue. Disoriented, she stumbled along, the chilling yet protective touch guiding her relentlessly to the edge of the clearing.

The moment the General had emerged on the battlefield and the visceral roar had erupted from the Drüskelle, they turned towards their most despised enemy with a unified, savage hunger. The sight of Kirigan had ignited a frenzied urgency within them; those who were plundering the corpses now abandoned their spoils, while the others, with renewed ferocity, slaughtered the remaining Grisha with even more disregard. It was as if an unspoken command had been issued to eliminate any obstacle between them and the Black General, their blades insatiable for his downfall.

But Kirigan was ready.

From her involuntary sanctuary, hidden within the folds of his protective darkness, Alina found herself helplessly observing him unleash his formidable powers upon the Drüskelle.

Bodies fell around him, blood stained the earth, but for each enemy that dropped, another seemed to rise, relentless as the tide. Alina watched apprehensively as he fought with an almost desperate intensity that bordered on ferocity. It was then she realized, amidst the chaos and carnage, that while he battled fiercely for his Grisha, the true driving force behind his relentless assault was her.  A bond again had ignited between them; she could feel it from the moment Kirigan called upon the depths of his power. It was an invisible thread, spun from the very essence of his being, that tethered her to his feelings. This connection pulsed with life, resonating with the hammering of his heart and the intensity of his fight. Again, it was a fierce promise of protection, honoured by shadows leaping at his command, twisting and writhing in haunting forms.

But despite his lethal dance of power and precision, the Grisha fell, one after another, to the overwhelming force of the Drüskelle. Eventually, the General stood alone, a dark beacon amidst the storm. And in a fateful moment, as Kirigan’s attention was fixed on an onslaught of too many grim warriors before him, a brutal axe blow from behind found its mark. Alina’s scream pierced the air as she saw him stumble, the force of the attack nearly bringing him to the ground. Blood immediately seeped from a gash along his side, but he never faltered. In a swift, reflexive motion, Kirigan unleashed a burst of shadow, a dark wave that cut down the assailants encircling him, clearing the immediate threat with ruthless efficiency. His gaze then swept across the battlefield, taking in the grim reality of his last stand, the slain Grisha that lay around him. In that split second, Alina saw a shadow of despair cross his face, but it was immediately replaced by a mask of stone. Drawing a deep, resonant breath, he raised his arms, and from the depths of the earth, a surge of dark energy coalesced into a maelstrom of shadow-blades. With a thunderous roar these blades exploded outward in a devastating ring of destruction, slicing through the encroaching Drüskelle with a rage born of loss for those fallen. The Drüskelle, caught in the lethal tempest of shadows, fell before the General’s wrath, obliterated under the final, monumental exertion of his power.         

In the aftermath of the battle, Kirigan stood amidst the carnage, his breath ragged. The clearing was strewn with bodies, it was a scene of grim finality, but Alina’s gaze was fixed solely on the general. The price of victory weighed heavily on him. Gasping and unsteady, he clutched at his side, swaying, then he fell abruptly to his knees, having to support himself to prevent himself from toppling completely to the ground.  In that moment, Alina was finally freed of the shadows that had still held her in place. They suddenly dissolved, and without hesitation, she sprinted toward him. Hearing her approach, he strained to lift his head. Her steps faltered, not just from the sight of him in such a state, but from the unguarded emotions that shone in his exhausted eyes; never before had she been looked at with such a tumultuous mix of intense worry and relief. Her hands flew to her mouth, and tears threatened to spill from Alina’s eyes, but she forced them back. Kirigan was clearly disregarding his own state, concentrating only on her, yet it was he who was in desperate need of attention. The sight of blood seeping through his fingers and dripping onto the earth below was the jarring reality that spurred her back into motion. In a flurry, Alina dashed to his side just as his body began to falter and he slowly started to sink forward. Kneeling swiftly, she caught him just in time as he collapsed. She eased him onto the cold earth with a gentleness that belied her trembling hands; the proud man yielded to her care, a wordless acknowledgment of the gravity of his condition.

As quickly as possible, Alina peeled the Kefta away from his body. He offered little help, it seemed, as if his whole focus was to stay conscious. And finally, the heavy fabric fell to the side with a soft thud. His injury was far deeper and wider than she’d realized. The sight of his blood-soaked clothing, the raw edges of brutally torn flesh, nearly made her nauseous. She had witnessed violence and pain before, but this was different. Swallowing hard against the bile rising in her throat, Alina managed to slide hastily torn strips from his cloak under him, pulling them tight around his chest and side. Her fingers now shook uncontrollably, not from any cold, but from the knowledge that every twist of the bandage, warm and slick with his blood, inflicted fresh torment on the injured man. But she had to cinch the cloth as tightly as she could, in a desperate attempt to staunch the profuse bleeding. His laboured breaths, the way Kirigan clenched his jaw to suppress any sign of weakness, spoke volumes. He was suffering silently, and she was both witness to and the source of his torment.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he harboured any regrets, if the toll of such sacrifice was too profound. But she dismissed the thought almost as soon as it arose. It was glaringly evident that in his eyes, her well-being was the ultimate concern, and no sacrifice could be too significant. His previous actions were a testament to that, written in blood.

To be the reason for such destruction of lives chilled Alina to the core. Especially the fallen Grisha haunted her thoughts—their faces, their names. Their lives weighed heavily on her conscience, and she vowed to honour their memory.

For now, though, she focused on the man before her. She couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of his end as well. And so, Alina continued to dress his wound, her hands stained with his blood: a stark reminder of their shared struggle.

As she tightened the final bandage, she felt a subtle shift in Kirigan’s demeanour. Though he had been passive and surrendered to her care, there was now a faint but discernible tension in his muscles, a subtle sign of a gathering strength she knew not from whence it came.

The moment the last wrappings were secure, the General tried to rise. Alina immediately attempted to stop him, but he simply shook his head and placed a weary hand atop hers, a silent plea etched in the gesture. “We must leave. It’s imperative that I get you to the little palace.” His voice, hoarse and strained, imbued with an undercurrent of urgency rather than command, cut through the silence around them. Alina’s gaze traced the lines etched on his face—the weariness, the resolve. Kirigan had risked everything for her, but now he was in no shape to do so again. They would be defenseless against another attack.

A few drops of blood had already begun to seep through the makeshift bandage, and still he tried to stand, defying the limits of his beaten body. And she let him. She even supported him. He was right, they had to reach the safety of the little palace as soon as possible. But not only for her! In the reflection of his selfless resolve, she found her own determination mirrored. His survival was as crucial to her as hers was to him; she could not fathom facing the future into which she had been so abruptly cast, without him at her side. It was her turn to protect him now.

As soon as he was upright, he started to sway, and Alina’s arms shot out to steady him. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a struggle. “Lean on me,” she begged. He hesitated, but finally allowed her to bear some of his weight. Together, they staggered toward his waiting stallion.

The horse sensed its master’s distress, its eyes wide and knowing. Kirigan reached out, fingers brushing the animal’s sleek neck. Alina watched as he gathered his strength, determination etched in every line of his face. He clenched his jaw, as he fumbled for the reins and then slowly pulled himself into the saddle. His hands, though shaking, were steady as they gripped the leather, there was a grace in his determination, a quiet affirmation of the strength that lay within his battered form. But the effort cost him—his face paled even more and sweat glistened on his brow.

“Mount,” he rasped, his voice a mere echo of command. “Behind me.” Alina hesitated for a fraction of a second, her gaze flickering to the Kefta on the ground. It would be unwise to leave it behind, with the night promising to be cold. She gathered it up in a quick motion and tucked it into the saddlebag, then swung herself onto the horse. Her legs trembled as she settled in, biting her lips as Kirigan flinched violently, every movement of her a fresh torment for him.

Cautiously, she circled her arms around his waist, wary of causing any further pain. But when no sign of discomfort came, she gently laid her cheek against the warmth of his back. Their bodies touched, a slight contact, a light embrace that allowed her to feel the subtle tremors passing through him, a sign of his silent struggle.

While the night’s deep cloak settled around, obliterating the last traces of dusk, the General’s condition started to decline. With each mile that passed, Alina found herself holding him more firmly, the growing weight of his body against hers an undeniable sign of his weakening state.

Suddenly, his voice broke through the silence. “The Little Palace lies beyond the dense woods to the north… follow the stars as your guide.” His speech was punctuated by laboured wheezing, each word heavy with pain. “You must promise me, Alina,” he implored with an intensity that defied his failing strength, “promise me you’ll make it there. Our people will be there for you.”

Alina’s heart started to pound with a mix of fear and defiance. “No!” She protested, her tone trembling with the thought of being left alone. “I won’t leave you!” But he silenced her objections, his words barely audible. “Please, Alina. Whatever happens, you must reach the Little Palace. Promise me.”

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the dark silhouette of the trees against the night sky. She wanted to rage against the unfairness, to demand that he stay with her, but the plea in his voice pierced through her turmoil. With a nod, she choked back a sob and gave him the only thing she could—her word. “I promise,” she said, the words a vow.

She was tormented by the fact that his hopes seemed to rest only on endurance and not on survival. However, in the quiet of her mind, a defiant whisper rose above the despair: I will reach the Little Palace, but not without you. I will not leave you behind. It was a wordless oath, unspoken but resolute, a vow tethering her to the hope that they would see it through together. Kirigan’s last words, though a mere wisp, carried the weight of centuries. “You are the dawn, Alina… our light in the darkness,” he murmured, "Ravka’s hope… my hope… lies with you." Tears gathered anew at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by his unwavering belief in her as Ravka’s salvation. Blindly, Alina reached forward from behind, her small hand searching for Kirigan’s. Finding them resting heavily on the pommel of the saddle, she gently encircled his hands with hers. He opened his grip on the reins, intertwining his shaking fingers with hers, returning a weak pressure in a mute acknowledgment of her support.

Exhaustion rendered him silent as they pressed on, the quietude broken only by the steady rhythm of hooves against the earth and the whisper of wind through the leaves. Alina, with her arms now tightly wrapped around Kirigan, braced herself against his increasingly limp form. The tremors that had begun when they first set out had only intensified, each shudder running through him more strongly than the last, his breaths, shallow bursts, accelerated in frequency, as he struggled evidently to maintain consciousness. Out of her mind with worry, she leaned into him, using her body weight to counterbalance his weakening state, her muscles straining with the effort.  Tension hung thick in the air, a constant companion to Alina’s stressed vigilance and Kirigan’s silent agony. It was a precarious balance, a thread of hope stretched taut over an abyss of despair. Yet Alina found a sliver of solace with each more mile they conquered. A faint glimmer of hope flickered within her, daring to believe that perhaps, against all odds, they might just prevail.

But then, without warning, the horse tripped. A hidden hole on the darkened path proved to be their undoing. The animal’s hoof sank, causing it to stumble violently. Kirigan’s torso snapped forward, his body too weak to absorb the blow. The abrupt jolt sent a shockwave through him that broke the fragile hold he had on consciousness. With a strangled gasp, he slackened completely. Alina screamed, her arms straining to hold onto his dead weight, but he was falling sideways and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The General’s tall form escaped her grasp and tumbled from the horse. The thud of his body hitting the hard earth was lost in the horse’s frenzied gallop. Alina, heart pounding with dread, fought to steady herself in the saddle as the horse’s erratic movements threatened to dislodge her as well. She scrambled for the reins and pulled them with all her might. The spooked animal resisted at first but eventually yielded to her insistent tugs. She brought it to a trembling halt, dismounted in a rush, her boots thudding against the ground as she ran back to where the General lay.

Alina’s heart sank as she approached Kirigan’s prone form, lying twisted on the unforgiving earth. His dead silence filled her with an icy dread, the fear that he might be lost to her forever. She knelt beside him, her hands trembling as they hovered above his back, hesitant to make contact and confirm her worst fears. His face was pale, almost translucent, marred by the marks of their ordeal—scratches, dirt, and dark stains of blood. “General,” she whispered as she leaned closer, desperate for any sign of life. Her fingers, chilled by the night air, brushed against the warmth of his neck, searching beneath the angle of his jaw. No reaction greeted her touch, no sound or movement to ease her pounding heart. Yet, there it was—a faint, erratic pulse, a whisper of life that flooded her with relief. He was still with her, if only just.

Her vow echoed in her mind again, a silent scream against the night: I will not leave you behind.

With great care, Alina positioned herself beside Kirigan. She placed her hands beneath his shoulder and began to pull. It was a delicate balance of force and gentleness, as she coaxed his battered body to roll over. As his weight shifted, she guided him, ensuring he didn’t fall too harshly onto his back. Gently, she straightened his limbs, but when she touched his arm, something felt wrong. She decided not to move it further, to avoid causing more harm. Once settled, she saw the subtle rise and fall of his chest, a sign of breathing, uneven, shallow, but there. The sight was another small mercy in the moonlit darkness. But the reopened wound and pooling blood beneath him cut short her relief.

Alina worked swiftly, tearing once more into the already tattered remnants of Kirigan’s cloak. She pulled strip after strip and began to wrap a second, thicker layer around his wound. This new bandage was even firmer, a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding once more. Then, with a swift reach into the saddlebag, she drew out Kirigan’s Kefta, draping it tenderly over him, a shield against the encroaching cold, before using her own one to gently pillow his head. Finally, she settled herself close to his side, her fingers finding the weak thrum of his pulse, her gaze never leaving his face, as if her very will could tether his spirit to this world.

The night was cold, but as the hours wore on, his skin started to burn, a violent fever raging through him like a wildfire. What was once a deathly stillness gave way to a restless stirring. His head tossed from side to side, a silent struggle against the fever’s cruel grip. The sounds of his breathing filled the space between them, wet, rattling gasps that grew increasingly strained. Alina whispered encouragements, hoping to reach him, her fingers brushing away the damp strands clinging to his forehead. But he was beyond her soothing words. Helpless, she watched as his body fought an invisible battle, muscles tensing, beads of sweat trailing down his temple.

Finally, unable to bear his silent struggle anymore, she rose. Her movements were quick but shaky as she sought something, anything, that might offer relief.

She rummaged through the saddlebags, her hands trembling as they found a flask of water. With utmost care, she brought it to his lips, coaxing him to drink, to fight the fever that sought to claim him. But he did not react, too deep was his unconsciousness. So instead, she soaked a cloth in the cool water and laid it gently across his brow, praying for a miracle.

Thankfully, Kirigan’s restless movements gradually subsided under Alina’s tender care. The coolness of the cloth she had placed on his brow and the gentle stroke of her fingers through his hair seemed to soothe the turmoil within him. His body relaxed, the earlier tension easing into a semblance of peace.

At first, Alina welcomed this calm, a stark contrast to the earlier signs of distress. It was a moment of respite, a hope that perhaps the worst had passed. But as minutes passed, a chilling realization dawned on her: Kirigan’s stillness was not one of recovery. She could see him, she could feel him fade.

She called his name, frantically, but there was no response. Her hands, just recently tending to him, now clung to him, willing him to stay, to fight just a little longer. But the silence that answered her was profound. Each inhale was a struggle that seemed to take more effort than he had left to give, his life force slipping away like sand through her fingers. The rise and fall of his chest was barely noticeable anymore.

And eventually, every movement stilled.

After a moment of complete, utter shock, Alina bent over him. Guided by an otherworldly instinct she bore down on him and pressed her hands on his heart with all her might. In that moment, her emerging powers stirred anew. They charged through her veins, electrifying her touch, rushing into General Kirigan’s chest - a force that defied the natural order.

The first time it happened, she recoiled. The shock of it, like a lightning bolt, jolted her entire being. Kirigan’s body lurched even more violently, a reflexive response to the surge. His lips parted in a painful gasp as he fell limply back on his back.

Alina’s breath also hitched, but for another reason. She had done it—she had sparked life into a dying man.

But it wasn’t enough. After only a fluttering few dozen heartbeats he lay still once more.

As her hands pressed down a second time, the energy flowed again. But it was as if the shadows themselves were fighting back, resisting her every attempt to force her life-giving power into him. Each time she pushed her energy into Kirigan, it felt like pushing against a relentless tide, the darkness clawing back, determined to claim its due.

But she persisted, her hands compressing his chest ferociously over and over, watching intently for the faltering signs of life, ready to defy death’s rhythm with her own time and time again. Each laboured inhale he managed was a small victory in the frantic war she waged, a battle that felt like an eternity. His forced heartbeat under her palms was a weak stumble, a too fragile rhythm she struggled to sustain.   She fought for him with every fibre of her being, as desperately as he had fought for her.

But as the early morning light filtered through the canopy, Alina’s resolve wavered. No matter how much energy she poured into Kirigan, his feverish body seemed to resist her call to live, each attempt to revive him more fleeting than the last. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stave off a chill that was no longer just from the cold dawn air but also from an overwhelming fear that threatened to consume her. Tears broke free, each a silent symbol of a hope that was fading. It was in this moment of helplessness, as she feared the battle was lost, that distant sounds pierced the quiet despair.

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with a mix of apprehension and hope. The noises grew louder, closer, and she braced herself, prepared to shield the General with everything she had left. As the figures emerged from the mist, clarity dawned on Alina’s weary mind; they were not foes but friends—Kirigan’s own. Relief surged through her, raw and overwhelming.

Her voice, hoarse from a night full of coldness and terror, now rose in a frantic outcry, “He’s not breathing!” Her desperation galvanized the Grisha into action, their disciplined training taking over as they rushed to their leader’s side. The soldiers’ initial shock at the sight of him, so grievously wounded, was quickly replaced by a focused determination to save him.

While the healers dashed forward, two soldiers followed in their wake, ready to support their life-saving efforts. Some soldiers tethered the horses securely to the trees, the remaining Grisha formed a protective ring around the clearing, their vigilant eyes sweeping for threats, nevertheless invariably returning to where the General lay, their faces etched with concern. As the healers knelt beside Kirigan, one on each side, Alina made room with haste, a wave of gratitude washing over her for the skilled hands now taking over the burden of saving the General’s life.

The frosty dawn did little to warm the scene of the desperate struggle that played out in the forest clearing. Now that Alina had ceased her fervent ministrations, Kirigan lay completely still, his lifeless form a stark, silent contrast to the purposeful activity of the healers tending to him. With swift, practiced motions, they cut away the crude bandages and the remnants of his tunic, exposing his grievously marred upper body to the cold morning air. It was a sight she had been shielded from in the dark veil of night, having worked mostly blind to keep the life within him from slipping away. But now the severity of his condition was starkly revealed. Beside the horrific axe wound, she discovered, to her dismay, a brutal landscape of blue-black contusions, deep lacerations, and angry red welts that spoke of broken ribs and internal bleedings. The sight of his obviously dislocated shoulder, skin stretched taut over jutting bone, made Alina’s stomach churn, but she was thankfully distracted as the healers began to channel their powers.

Unlike her own frantic compressions that had brought Kirigan through the last hour, the lead healer’s approach was quieter. One hand, glowing faintly with deep azure, rested lightly on Kirigan’s forehead, the other lay above his chest. There was no violent pressing, no jarring movements; instead, the healer’s palm massaged his heart in a gentle, rhythmic dance, as if infusing it with a silent invitation for the General’s life force to strengthen once more. The second healer’s hands, aglow with a pale golden light, traced the path of the horrific wound with a calm precision. Initially, the wound seemed to defy their efforts, remaining as vicious and unyielding as the crude axe that had caused it. But with each pass, there was a subtle realignment, a tender coaxing of bone, sinew, and torn flesh, that whispered promises of repair. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the bleeding lessened until, at last, it ceased. With the wound no longer haemorrhaging, the second healer shifted one hand to the opposite side of Kirigan’s ribs, now cradling both sides of his chest. A soft, rhythmic pulsing emanated from his palms, syncing in harmony with the movements caused by his colleague’s gentle cardiac massage. The intense magic they conjured seemed to be silently commanding the General’s body to remember its natural rhythm, to rise above the trauma and breathe once more. It was a powerful image, one that kindled hope. Yet, it was simultaneously haunting, as Kirigan’s slender frame rocked involuntarily under their ministrations—a sign that the journey to recovery had still to begin.

Alina, kneeling a short distance away, watched with bated breath, her attention fixed on Kirigan’s motionless face. It was her deepest wish for his eyes to open and for that intense gaze of his to meet hers once again. But his quiet persisted, and the healer’s efforts intensified, battling with all their might against the General’s grave state.

Encircling the scene, the soldiers maintained their watchful guard, though their faces betrayed their worry. Each exchanged look carried the weight of unspoken fears as their leader remained unresponsive to the fervent ministrations bestowed upon him. But suddenly Kirigan’s body convulsed under the healer’s touch, and a moment of hopeful disbelief swept through the onlookers, followed by a whisper of relief as shallow, laboured gasps filled the clearing - each breath a sound of life fought for and reclaimed.

“We have him back,” the healer breathed out, exhaustion lacing his voice. “But we must hurry. He needs the infirmary at the Little Palace. There, others with different skills must tend to him. We cannot risk more magic here; his condition won’t allow it.”

Alina and the Grisha soldiers understood the unspoken truth: they had done what they could, but despite their best efforts, General Kirigan’s life still hung by a thread. Immediately, the well-trained men began to move with quiet efficiency, preparing for the journey ahead. A small cart had been brought forth, to be layered with blankets to cushion any jarring movements of travel, while the healers applied thick dressings to Kirigan’s chest wound, wrapping them tightly in an effort to prevent further bleeding. Carefully, they also tended to his dislocated shoulder, securing his arm against his torso with bindings that were both firm and gentle, ensuring his comfort and immobility. Their attention to detail was meticulous, their hands steady even as the urgency of their task loomed over them. Once satisfied that the injuries were as secure as they could be, they nodded to the soldiers.

With utmost care, two Grisha lifted Kirigan and placed him gently onto the prepared cart. Every movement was calculated to avoid jostling him unnecessarily, their faces etched with the concentration of their delicate task.

While they tended to Kirigan, Alina’s gaze remained anchored to his face. Her eyes clung to the pallor of his complexion and his slightly parted lips. Each gap in his breathing felt like an eternity, filled with anxious anticipation for the next sign of life. Her focus was so intently fixed on him that she didn't notice a Grisha soldier approaching until he was almost beside her. His sudden presence startled her, a jolt of surprise that momentarily pulled her from her vigil.

"You should sit with him on the cart," he said softly. It wasn't a command, there was no mistaking the concern in his tone, not just for Kirigan, but for her as well. From the corner of her eye, she caught one of the healers glancing up from where he was checking Kirigan’s bandages. His nod was solemn but carried a warmth that acknowledged her role in keeping the General alive through the night. There was a shared understanding among them, a silent gratitude for her desperate efforts. Relief washed over Alina, mingling with her exhaustion. Grateful for the support, she allowed the soldier to assist her onto the cart. With every ounce of her remaining strength, she climbed next to Kirigan, her movements deliberate and cautious. She was acutely aware of his fragile state, and the thought of causing him any additional pain with an unconsidered jostle was unbearable. But she managed to settle herself beside him without mishap.

As the Grisha carefully tucked blankets around the General, ensuring he was well-covered, she took Kirigan’s hand in hers once more. She just needed to feel him again, to feel his warmth, his pulse. Unconsciously, her lips brushed a kiss across his graceful fingers, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. She still couldn’t believe how close she had come to losing him, daring not to think about that this could still happen. Tears actually spilled over now, but she wiped them away. Suddenly, she became aware of the silence that had enveloped them, a hush so deep it seemed to amplify her heartbeat in her ears. As she lifted her teary gaze, she found herself ensnared by a sea of eyes. The intensity of these stares left her momentarily adrift, unable to discern if they bore judgement or silent accusation. She almost released Kirigan’s hand, a reflex to withdraw from the piercing gazes, when the same soldier who had assisted her onto the cart stepped forward. With careful movements he draped a blanket over her as well. It was then, she understood— there was no judgment there, only a profound gratitude that spoke of their shared ordeal and a benevolence that recognized the depth of her bond with Kirigan.

The journey to the Little Palace was a blur. Despite Kirigan’s deep unconsciousness, each jolt of the cart drew a pained groan from him. Alina, pushing aside her own fatigue, murmured words of encouragement she wasn’t sure he could hear, her heart clenching with each of his anguished sounds. But somewhere along the way, her strength began to falter gradually, like the dying embers of a fire. Each jolt that rocked them chipped away at her resolve, the pain in Kirigan’s gasps echoed in her bones, a reflection of the harrowing experiences that had led them to this point. The steady creak of the cart’s wheels and the gentle sway of the journey lulled her into a state of half-consciousness. Time blurred, each moment stretching into the next. Her senses dulled by exhaustion, she focused solely on Kirigan’s pallid face. His shallow, sporadic breaths were her only measure of time. The healers moved in and out of her vision, their hands occasionally pressing against Kirigan’s chest to check his heart rhythm beneath the bandages, a silent affirmation of their continued fear for his life. Their murmured assurances barely pierced the fog clouding Alina’s mind. Adrift in weariness, she clung to Kirigan’s hand, the pulse beneath her fingers a precarious rhythm that kept her tethered to hope.

Alina could not tell if minutes or hours had passed, when the cart finally halted within the sheltered walls of the Little Palace. A flurry of activity ensued around her. Healers, forewarned by a swift Grisha messenger, were already in place. Treating him with the utmost care, they lifted their gravely wounded leader from the wagon bed and disappeared with him through the grand archways with a haste born of necessity.

The soldier who had draped the blanket over Alina now took her hand, his grip firm yet gentle. Her legs, unsteady from the long vigil, wobbled beneath her as she was guided down from the cart. The world seemed to tilt and spin as she was led through the winding corridors, the echoes of her boots against the stone floors sounding distant and hollow.

They arrived at the infirmary, a room that, despite its purpose, held a certain warmth. The beds, while simple, were arranged with care, each one ready to cradle the wounded with gentle steadiness. In the center of the space, a narrow, long table stood, bathed in the soft light of the morning sun that streamed through the windows. Kirigan had been laid upon that table, and the bandages that had been a temporary shield were peeled away to allow unimpeded access for the healers to work their magic.

Grisha of various orders, identifiable by the colours of their Keftas, converged around him. Their hands glowed faintly, the initial stirrings of their power gentle but growing in intensity. It was a delicate dance of magic at first, each healer attuning to the subtle shifts of Kirigan’s condition.

The room filled with a focused energy as the Grisha’s efforts intensified, their hands moving with purpose and precision. They had no choice but to gradually unleash their full magic to save their leader, to mend what had been shattered, to heal the myriad of injuries sustained in the fall, to fight back the darkness that clung to him. The air itself seemed to thrum with the power of their spells, the very walls of the Little Palace bearing witness to the fierce battle for life.

As the magic reached its peak, Kirigan began writhing in agony on the medical table, his body reacting to the intense healing being forced upon it. His back arched reflexively, a visceral response to the overwhelming pain, while wheezing groans escaped his lips, punctuating the silent tension of the room. Sweat beaded on his body and his breaths came in short, sharp intakes. His chest rose and fell in a rapid, uneven rhythm, his muscles tensed to the point of him nearly convulsing on the table.

Impulsively, Alina’s instincts screamed for her to rush to his side, to stop the pain he was enduring. But a firm hand on her arm held her back; the soldier’s grip was unyielding, a silent command for her to stay put. “His struggle is a sign of strength,” he murmured, his voice steady yet also strained, betraying the impact the sight had on him. “It means he’s not giving in. He’s fighting, and that’s what we need him to do.”

So Alina remained standing, her lips pressed tightly together. She could do nothing but watch, her hands clenched at her sides. Tears blurred her vision, spilling over unchecked, while the compassionate soldier next to her kept up a steady stream of assurances, even as Alina’s heart ached with the fear of what might come next.

And yet, as the seconds passed, slowly, gradually, the tide began to turn. The wound that had cleaved Kirigan’s ribcage slowly started to close, the deadly pallor of his skin gave way to the faintest flush of life, and his breathing grew less erratic. As the healers’ magic flowed through him like a life-giving river, the dark bruises began to fade, the deep cuts sealed, bones realigned, and the swollen welts eased, each healing a reversal of the cruel imprints left by the night’s ordeal. With each sign of recovery, the healers’ faces, previously etched with concentration, now softened, their hands moving with less urgency as Kirigan’s condition stabilized, allowing them to gradually scale back their enchantments.

Witnessing the healers' desperate efforts bearing fruit, the realization came to Alina like the first gentle touch of sunlight after the longest, darkest night. Hope began to blossom within her as she saw the tangible proof of the miracle before her eyes—Kirigan was surviving, truly surviving, against all odds.

With the retreat of the last healer, a hush fell over the room. Kirigan’s pained expression softened, and he slipped again into an unconscious, albeit more serene, repose. The healers shared a look of quiet triumph, their relief palpable in the stillness that enveloped them. Among them, the two who had been with Kirigan since the break of dawn gestured to Alina, their smiles warm and encouraging.

As she stepped forward, the last few healers parted, offering friendly glances or subtle nods in her direction. While she moved towards Kirigan, Alina’s focus narrowed to him alone, the world around her fading until there was nothing but the man who lay before her, finally out of danger. She reached his side, her hand shaking as she tenderly swept the damp strands from his brow, her touch light and cautious, mindful not to disturb his much-needed rest. Tears threatened to spill over again, yet she managed to keep them at bay.

For a minute or two, Alina stood silently, watching the steady rise and fall of Kirigan’s chest. In that moment, a wave of quiet gratitude washed over her, thankful for the respite from the night’s horror. The even tempo of his breathing, now unburdened by the struggles of the past hours, was a balm to her frayed nerves. Though his face was still much too pale and lined with the remnants of pain, it was a comforting sight compared to the dire pallor that had gripped it before. His skin, slick with sweat and streaked with dirt, shone faintly in the dim light, a stark reminder of the battle he had fought and survived. It was the visage of someone finally out of peril, yet still bearing the marks of a hard-won battle.

It was then that the soldier who had been her steadfast guardian throughout the last hours stepped close, his kind voice breaking the peaceful silence. “They need to transfer him so he can rest more comfortably,” he said, his gaze lingering on Alina with a concerned scrutiny. “You’ve done more than anyone could ask. Now, take a moment for yourself, too. For now, let them care for him.”

Exhausted to her very core, Alina found herself too weary to resist. She knew he was right. Guided by his steady presence, they traversed the grand hallways of the Little Palace, their footsteps a soft patter against the marble floors.

As they were making their way, the man who had introduced himself as Fedyor was approached by several soldiers and Grisha. Their faces were etched with concern, their eyes filled with a desperate need for reassurance. They asked him in hushed tones how Kirigan was doing and if he would recover. Fedyor, understanding their anxiety, assured them that Kirigan had survived the worst and was fighting strong, and the relief that washed over them was immediate and palpable. Although no one approached her directly, Alina caught a few thankful glances cast her way. It was clear that the palace knew what had happened and had been in a state of anxious anticipation, and Fedyor’s words were the first confirmation they had received of their leader’s survival. Witnessing this, Alina felt a strange sense of comfort. It was in this moment that she truly understood the profound respect Kirigan commanded, not just as a leader, but as a protector of his people.

Fedyor finally ushered her into a chamber steeped in the quiet calm of mid-morning. The air was still, carrying a sense of tranquility that permeated even the depths of the Little Palace. Before her stood a basin filled with clear water. She approached; her movements weary yet filled with a cautious relief. As she washed, the cool water revived her senses, washing away the remnants of the night’s terror and the grime of battle. She dressed in clean clothes that had been laid out for her, the fabric light and airy, a stark contrast to the heavy, blood-stained attire she had worn through the night. The simple, crisp linen felt like a new beginning, a soft promise of hope as it brushed against her skin.

A modest meal had been prepared for her, and though her stomach churned at the thought of food, she forced herself to take a few bites, knowing how important it was to regain her strength. Yet, despite the comfort of the meal and the care shown to her, her thoughts were elsewhere. Her mind kept drifting back to Kirigan, a pull she couldn’t resist. She longed to be back in the infirmary again, to see with her own eyes again that he was truly recovering. Fedyor watched over her with a patient attentiveness, his eyes often flickering to the door, as if calculating the moment they could return to Kirigan’s side. He seemed to sense her restless thoughts, her silent yearning to be back at the General’s side. After only a few minutes, Alina pushed her plate away. Fedyor, understanding the silent signal in her actions, didn’t argue. Instead, he rose to guide her towards the infirmary again.

They made their way back through the grand hallways of the Little Palace, now bustling with activity as the day approached midday. As they neared their destination, Alina could feel her heart quicken, the pull towards Kirigan growing stronger.

Fedyor led her to a secluded corner of the infirmary, away from the commotion of the main ward. There, Kirigan lay, stretched out on his back on a simple but carefully arranged bed. He had been washed and cared for by the healers, his body now clean from the grime of battle. A light tunic covered the areas where the devastating wounds had once been.

For the first time, he appeared to be in a deep sleep rather than unconscious, the harsh lines of pain on his face had smoothed out. An open window allowed a gentle breeze to waft in, carrying with it the fresh scent of spring. His slender figure was wrapped securely in a thick blanket, a precaution against the chill in the air. The sight of him, so peaceful and cared for, brought a sense of calm to Alina. Fedyor gestured towards a chair that had been placed near the bed, an unspoken invitation for her to sit. She moved towards it, her steps heavy with exhaustion yet lightened by relief. As she settled herself, she reached out, her hand finding its way to his, their fingers intertwining.

The infirmary was a symphony of hushed whispers and soft footsteps. In the main ward, there was a constant hum of activity as the healers moved about with a quiet efficiency, their focus on the patients in their care. However, in the secluded corner where Kirigan lay, the atmosphere was more serene, the noise from the center reduced to a distant murmur. Fedyor had once again taken up his role as a silent sentinel. His watchful gaze never strayed far from Alina and Kirigan, and his quiet presence was a reassuring constant that Alina found herself grateful for. Despite the relative calm of this corner, it was not entirely devoid of attention. Every so often, a healer drift over, their steps soft and unobtrusive. They would check on the General, their skilled hands gently assessing his condition, their faces a mask of concentration. Their visits were brief, their touch light, but their presence was a comforting reminder that Kirigan was under constant care.

Just as the healers did, Alina found herself observing him closely. She watched as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his breaths no longer shallow but deep and even. She could see the subtle changes in him, the pallor of his skin slowly giving way to a healthier color, the tension in his body gradually easing. She still held his hand, her thumb gently tracing the lines of his palm. His hand was warm, but not overly so, a reassuring sign that the fever that had gripped him earlier had subsided. It was a small sign, but to Alina, it was as important as any other. Suddenly, there was a subtle shift. Kirigan’s head moved slightly, almost imperceptibly. A faint furrow creased his brow, a sign of the effort it took. He drew a deeper breath, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed with difficulty. These small signs of awakening drew everyone’s attention. Alina, bending forward, held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. Fedyor paused in his conversation with a healer, his gaze turning towards them. And slowly, ever so slowly, Kirigan’s eyes fluttered open. At first, they were clouded, the dark depths unfocused. But as the seconds ticked by, his gaze became clearer, scanning the familiar ceiling of the infirmary. Recognition dawned in his eyes as he realized where he was. But in an instant, despite his weakened state, a visible tension gripped him. He strained, trying to lift his head with great effort, his face etched with anxiety. Alina, immediately understanding his turmoil, quickly rose and bent over him, into his line of sight. With a careful touch, she guided him back down onto his pillow. ‘I’m here,’ she whispered reassuringly, carefully taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

The moment he saw her, his expression lit up with a flicker of something more potent than words could ever convey. It was recognition and overwhelming relief to see her by his side. Yielding to her touch, he limply fell back onto his bedding. His face relaxed, the lines of strain smoothing out. Taking a deep, weary breath, his eyes closed for a moment.

Then, with a visible effort, he opened them again. In the depths of his stormy gaze, Alina saw not just relief, but a profound gratitude that she had stayed by his side. And more than that, there was the renewed promise, the renewed vow to guide her and protect her—all conveyed in a single, intense look.

As his gaze held hers, a ghost of a smile flickered across his features, so faint it might have been imagined. But it was there. His hand, still weak, found strength enough to give hers a gentle squeeze. It was a fragile gesture, but one that spoke volumes. Words were beyond him, his body too spent from the ordeal and the battle for life he had just barely won; after mere seconds, his eyelids fell shut and he slipped back into unconsciousness, his grip on Alina’s hand slackening. But for Alina, that minute communication was a world in itself. Even though fear of the future still lingered, a shadow at the edge of her thoughts, she knew she wouldn’t have to face that future alone. His silent promise was clear in the frail squeeze of his hand - he would be by her side, no matter what came their way.

So, as she sat there, watching over Kirigan, she made a promise to herself. She would face her fears, she would embrace her powers, and she would step into the future with courage. Because she was not alone. She had Kirigan by her side, and together, they could face anything.