#but the main 'plot' of the game with luke

[bananonbinary]

thinking about inscryp.tion again and how it was SUCH a cool and fun game mechanically, and then the lore was uhhh bad

the "real world" stuff at least. i really enjoyed the story about 4 sentient AIs constantly at war for who gets to rewrite the code. that was sick as fuck. it honestly would've been much better without the arg and meta stuff i think. no secret company men in black. no hitler for some reason. just a fucked up creepypasta of a game. keep it simple.

[aeyumicore]

please & thank you

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sylus x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with very little/no plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 7.5k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, SLIGHT spoilers to the lore (with some of my own interpretations and theories), oral m!receiving, fingering f!receiving, face/throat fucking, finger sucking, kinda rough, size difference, cuffing/tied up (m!receiving), sylus kindaaaa/degrading mean but in a tasteful way, he’s also very soft for reader, sylus has a FILTHY mouth, orgasm denial (f! and m!receiving), mirror sex, improper use of Evol, use of Y/N, cute petnames hehe (little dove, little bird, sweetheart, doll, etc), slight predator and prey, choking (kinda breath play??? not really), some references to lore (main storyline + midnight stealth), kinda sub!reader, dom!sylus, THIS IS FILTHY YALL IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: hi guyssss she is here <3 MY FIRST ever sylus fic, first of many me thinks bc i am so utterly infatuated w him im sorry zayne LOL

i did NOT end up making this connected to ‘midnight stealth’ OR ‘no defense zone’ (although some midnight stealth plot is referenced a tiny bit in the beginning). any resemblances to these two memories are purely coincidental, mostly similar because there’s use of cuffs/restraints in all three. this is purely a standalone filthy fic

this has veryyyy little plot, i decided to keep it that way so im sorry to those who wanted to see plot in this ;_; i didn’t want to burn out, which i likely would’ve because pivoting from what i had (5.6k words) to a more plot based fic would have taken me a few more days and probably double the words and i just couldn’t do that to myself. 

i appreciate you guys for supporting me and i really respect each and every opinion so i hope i didn’t let anyone down by not doing the plot version. there will be plenty of opportunities for that i promise <3

pls enjoy :) any comments or reblogs r greatly appreciated (and loved) by me <3 they help me keep motivated to keep writing and truly make my whole week.

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ .

You were playing with fire.

Actually, what you were doing was definitely more dangerous and infinitely more idiotic than playing with fire. 

It was downright deranged. 

It appeared the silver haired man beneath you agreed, his jaw ticking dangerously as his deep crimson eyes crinkled in warning, “Are you sure this is a game you want to play?” 

You knew the answer was definitely no. But the mere glimpse of the Onychinus leader beneath you, at your mercy, was enough to make you push through the thrilling fear coursing through your veins.

With Sylus’s chiseled body unwillingly sprawled out before you, you situated yourself in between his thighs. Though his words and expression were laced with a cautionary edge, his legs spread open for you. 

His wrists were bound with the two silver cuffs you’d purchased at a novelty store on girls day out with Tara, each hand simultaneously locked to the steel beams of your bed’s headboard. With his arms bound above his head, his button up shirt rode up to expose his pale and scarred skin and the defined outlines of the chiseled pelvic muscles that lead to his manhood.

It wasn’t a stretch to say you’d planned this, after all you did buy the cuffs with Sylus in mind. And you’d never forget what Luke and Kieran had told you, in what felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Boss is most vulnerable when he’s sleeping.” 

Except now you weren’t binding him for the purpose of incapacitating him to find that damned brooch he’d taunted you with. Now, when he’d dozed off after you’d forced him to marathon the Harry Potter series with you, you tied him up with only one goal in mind.

Well maybe two. To tease and to punish.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you watch the way Sylus’s naval rises and falls irregularly, a subtle sign of his boiling anticipation. His exposed pelvis is dusted in a faint path of hair, trailing to where his pants hang dangerously low on his hips, after you’d taken his belt off. 

Sylus watches you with a careful eye as your hands find his waistband, tugging his bottoms and his boxers down in one motion. He tuts disapprovingly, even as his body lifts every so slightly to assist you in undressing him, “I’ve already warned you once. I won’t warn you again.” 

And yet, there’s an undeniable amusement in his voice that lets you know it’s safe to keep going. Your eye contact never breaks as you tug his clothing all the way down, until they rest at his ankles. His hardening cock springs free as you do so, the thick mushroom head already leaking a shiny streak of precum. As it slaps against his abdomen, Sylus’s carmine irises darken, but he refuses to make any sounds. The screech of steel rattling against steel is loud in the tense air, the formidable man’s fists clenched so tightly his nails threaten to break his skin. 

You bend down slowly, torturously languid, until his masculine scent invades your senses. You shiver in pleasure, positively addicted to every part of him. Sylus’s stomach heaves as he curses you inwardly; you were the only devilish minx that could even fathom rendering him into this vulnerable state. The only person he’d ever allow to see him like this. 

“You’ve become quite bold, little bird. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.”

His cocky attitude makes you want to shiver, but you find the strength to retort back, “Perhaps you have.”

Not wanting to give him a chance to respond, and a chance for you to lose your courage, you let your tongue run over the thick tip of his erection, collecting his arousal on your tongue. You make a show of savoring his taste, letting your eyes bat at him while you lick him clean. 

Sylus is hypnotized, crunching up to watch you. His wrists pull against the metal restraints, growing irritated with being held back. Of course, if he’d wanted to, he could snap the cuffs with a mere tick of his fingers, but he found it amusing to watch his mischievous little bird believe she had control. 

When you take his head fully into your lips, Sylus’s hips involuntarily buck up into the heaven that is your mouth. Though surprised, you do your best to accommodate the extra inches, tongue twirling around his leaking slit as your jaw unhinges to take in his fat girth. 

“Fuck.” 

Sylus’s dark eyebrows are scrunched as he fights the urge to destroy the cuffs to get to you, wanting nothing more than to sink his fingers into your hair and push you down until you couldn’t breathe. But he prided himself as a man of patience, even if he despised being tested. 

And you were absolutely testing him. Your puffy lips caressed his sensitive veins, tongue assaulting every flaming nerve of his massive length, delicate and soft fingers leaving no inch of him untouched. Yet you moved so languidly. Deliberately testing how far you could push him, testing his resolve. Not that he would ever beg, but he desperately wished you’d move faster, take him deeper. 

“My love,” he purrs, deceptively calm even as your filthy tongue lathered his most sensitive parts, “I implore you to release me. While I’m still feeling generous.” 

Doing your best to shut him up, you take him into the back of your throat, fingers shifting from the base of his manhood to his heavyset balls. You’re only half successful in your antics, as you do cut off Sylus’s demands, only to be replaced by an inexplicable string of curses. The daunting leader of the Onychinus, whose name evoked fear itself to most, unraveled at your whims. A man who had no weaknesses, save for one.

You.

With his head thrown back, hair tousled and matted with a thin layer of sweat, he began to pant heavily. His neck bobbed deeply to the rhythm of his gasps, hands pulling against the restraints you’d locked him into. The sound of metal clashing against metal is almost deafening, your head snapping up to his arms bound above his head. 

For a second you’d feared he’d snapped the steel cuffs, his biceps rippling and forearm veins bulging with the sheer strength of his arms. But fortunately for you, his wrists were still firmly bound, a red angry circle forming where the metal met the pale skin of his hands. 

“Do you really think – hah – this will end well for you, dove?” Sylus considers this your very last warning, crunching up once again to watch you, your mouth full of his cock, saliva dribbling down your chin as you try to accommodate his thickness. He swears under his breath at the sight of you, his woman, the only person he’d ever even consider letting his guard down around, pleasuring him so sweetly and enthusiastically. Even if you were so foolish that you thought you could get away with typing him up. 

You look up innocently at him, fluttering your eyelashes as you fuck him with your mouth. Though you let him hit the back of your throat every time, your rhythm is intentionally and torturously slow, edging him without making it obvious enough for punishment. And although each intentional motion elicits the most mind numbing grip from your gag reflex on his throbbing erection, he’s losing his mind from how much more he wants. How much more he needs. 

“Faster.”

You nearly choke as you giggle at his demands, releasing his cock with a resounding pop. Of course, even tied up, Sylus didn't use the word ‘please.’ The man of unthinkable power was absolutely used to getting what he wanted without even batting an eye. It was a habit that he rarely relented on, and when he did it was only for you. 

“What’s the magic word?”

Sylus glowered at you, jaw twitching dangerously as he did his best to hold himself back, “Watch it.” 

It was truly taking every ounce of willpower he had to not rip the cuffs off the steel beams of your bed, taking your headboard apart with it. All so he could have more.

“Sylus,” you pout, still using your hands to gingerly stroke him with a featherlike touch. Nothing intense enough to get him off. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to say ‘please’ when asking for something?” You give him a pointed squeeze, thumb stroking the underside of his swollen head. 

He curses, pelvis thrusting up into your fist to try and chase the pleasure you’re withholding from him, “Fuck, if you’re going to act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like one.”

“I just want to hear the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Please. See how easy that is?”

“Y/N, my heart,” Sylus purrs lowly, eyes glinting dangerously, “I won’t tolerate any more disobedience.”

“Well then you don’t get what you want.” As soon as the words left your mouth you knew you’d regret them. 

Before you can even blink, you find yourself pressed firmly into the mattress, your head hanging off the side, hair dangling freely. The air feels strangely brisk, and you can vaguely feel your nipples hardening. It’s then you realize you’re naked. But you hadn’t felt Sylus lay a single finger on you.

His Evol.

You’d become so accustomed to Sylus’s Evol that you no longer felt its slightly suffocating  invisible web when it touched you, unlike when you’d first met him in the N109 zone. The countless times he’d use his Evol to guide your lips to his, your hand into his larger ones, or to undress you, had actually made you quite fond of the touch of his Evol. 

Little did you know that Sylus had actually been practicing lightening up the intensity of it, for you. He’d always detested seeing the uncomfortable scrunch of your eyebrows, the hostile goosebumps that would raise where his Evol touched you. So he’d absolved himself to train the claws of his Evol to soften, instead becoming that of a gentle caress. Only for you, of course. For everyone else, they got the skin-shredding talons that parents warned about in cautionary tales to their children. 

Hanging upside down, the glint of the ceiling light against the silver cuffs hanging off your headboard catches your eye, snapping you from your thoughts. The metal loops were still completely intact, but unlocked. Of course you knew he’d use his Evol to escape eventually, but it still surprised you how he managed to do it so effortlessly. Graceful in everything he did. 

You try to sit up, but Sylus’s hand wraps itself softly around your throat and holds you back down. He tsks scornfully, a playful warning in the swirling glowing cerise of his eyes. His grip is gentle enough where you can still speak normally. Rough enough where you want more.

So you pout childishly, “It’s just like you to use your Evol for such cheap tricks.” 

From beneath his towering frame, you can just barely see him raise his perfectly arched eyebrow. Most of him is obstructed by his massive erection pressed at your nose, menacingly imposing before you. “Cheap? Doll, there’s nothing cheap about me. And nothing cheap about the things I’m going to do to you.”

You shiver involuntarily at his threats, your thighs clenching together in anticipation. Sylus’s words were always harsh, but when it came to you there was always such a profound sincerity and gentleness behind his actions, even when he was brutally devouring your body. So the danger edged into his words only served to excite you, fueling the dampness that had formed between your legs. 

And of course, his perfect cock dangling in front of your lips, still glistening with a sheen of his arousal and your saliva. Hanging so closely to your waiting tongue, but never touching. That definitely did not help the throbbing ache in between your thighs. 

“I think you’ve had enough fun, don’t you agree?”

Feeling daringly bold, you playfully curse him, “Screw y–” But before you can finish getting the words out, Sylus grips your jaw, shoving himself into your waiting mouth. The force he uses is enough to make your eyes roll back, the feeling of being full of him making you forget what you’d wanted to say to begin with. You’re careful to pull back your teeth as he finds his way to one of his favorite places, the back of your throat. 

“Let’s give that mouth something to do, other than run itself, hmm?”

You groan in response, letting the vibrations of your throat speak for you. Sylus grunts, removing his hand from your throat and weaving it into your hair like he’d wanted to earlier. His grip is strong, just hard enough that you feel an immense pleasure from the stinging pull. With a firm hand on your scalp, he fucks into your face, his meticulously groomed hair brushing against your nose at every thrust. 

His speed and vigor is relentless, not that you’d complain even if you could. The feeling of Sylus driving in and out of your throat, like you were a fleshlight, had your body vibrating with need, clit throbbing in ecstasy. How you could feel this good just sucking his cock was beyond you. Your unrestrained moans were an absolute orchestra to his ears, the vibrations running through every nerve ending in his erection, causing him to release a string of his own sounds 

“You’re so – hah – exquisite like this, dove. Choking on my cock instead of your words.”

You whine at him, so unbelievably turned on by the filthy way he speaks to you. His skin slaps against your wet mouth, and an obscene amount of drool mixed with precum drips off your cheeks and onto the carpeted floor beneath you. You loll your tongue out to try and catch his copious dribbles of precum, not wanting to waste any part of him. 

“I can see my cock in your throat, sweetheart,” he cooed, using a hand to brush against your throat, where his erection bulges against your neck each time he fucks into you. 

Tears streamed from your eyes as Sylus’s pace increased, gripping onto your hair for even more leverage against your beautiful face. 

“Crying already? Not feeling so bold anymore, my love?” 

You ignore his patronizing words, trying to focus instead on your own pleasure. With one hand still gripping the hard muscles of his bubbly rear, your other hand wanders to the quivering area between your thighs, fiddling with the bundle of nerves that was slick with your arousal. You desperately seek to relieve some of the tension building up in your gut, all from just Sylus’s cock in your mouth.

But before you can give yourself any inkling of pleasure, you feel a familiar force of energy pulling your hand away. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch yourself.”

You nearly sob at his words. You want to speak, plead with him to touch you, or at least let you touch yourself, pride be damned. But his unbelievable girth makes it impossible to do anything but devour him repeatedly.

The white haired man above you watches you carefully, swearing at how your tear soaked face makes his resolve to punish you crumble ever so slightly. Taking pity on you, he brings your hand to his, weaving his long fingers into yours. You hold his hand tightly, enjoying the way his much larger hand clasps into yours, fingers digging into your sensitive flesh.

“Good girl,” he coos in praise, voice tinged with a condescension that makes your skin crawl in excitement, “You don’t touch what’s mine, unless I say, hm?”

You look up at him with wide wet eyes, nodding obediently as he continues to ravage your face. He pressed your hand deeper into the mattress, his thrusts becoming so intense that you knew you’d have a hard time speaking tomorrow, your throat battered and bruised. 

From your position, you don’t see the glowing light that emanates from your joined fingers. But Sylus does, and he watches in a concealed wonder at the way you can so easily resonate with him now. You didn’t even need to try, a single touch was all it took. It was a testament to how much you’d grown to trust him. 

No, it was a testament to the deep love and respect you’d both come to hold for each other. You’d both definitely come a long way from when he’d captured, or when you let him capture, you at the N109 zone all that time ago. The thought of that threatens to make Sylus shiver as he continues to ram himself deep into your warm wet throat. He watched the way you took him so eagerly, hand gripping his for dear life, your other hand coming up to stroke his heavyset balls as they slapped against your face. The way your poor little throat bulged every time he thrusted into it, the bump so visible to his hungry crimson eyes.

Oh, how you ruined him. He’d fucking marry you.

Your jaw ached, having been open as widely as possible for far too long now, but you did your best to continue to take him. The feeling of him using your mouth was more than enough to keep you growing wetter, needing more. Your thighs squeezed together, as you rocked into nothing, wanting nothing more than to feel any friction between your legs.

Sylus watched as you pathetically tried to find pleasure in the empty air, nearly growling at how arousing the sight was. He was fueled with such an intense desire and love for you, nothing like he’d ever felt before. And that love and desire was enough for him to concede, if even just a little bit, for you.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling…charitable today, my dove,” he murmurs, releasing your hair and bending over your body. His erection never leaves your mouth, but he hovers so that your sight is filled with the view of his solid abdominal muscles. You cry out against his member when the familiar feel of his fingers finds your clit. You gasp out, choking on him, your hips jolting up eagerly to meet his torrid touch.

Sylus chuckles, a satisfied smirk making its way onto his unfairly gorgeous face, “Look at how eager you are…all this just from the taste of cock?”

Not able to respond, you hump up into his hand, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment of how desperate you were for him. Sylus only gives you a pointed thrust into your throat, making you gag deliciously around him again.

“Such an insatiable little bird,” he murmured, fingers expertly toying with you.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” his skilled ministrations never stopping, “I wish you could see how lovely you look with your mouth full.” 

Your eyes rolled back when he entered you, one finger at a time. He cursed at how tightly you gripped just one of his fingers. He had half a mind to just bury himself into your perfect cunt right then and there. And that’s just what he’d do. He was never used to not indulging in what he wanted, why stop now?

You felt the familiar shift in energy, a gentle hold on your body, until you found yourself laying on the middle of your bed, Sylus situated between your knees, fingers still toying with you. Your neck screaming in relief at the plush surface, mind reeling from the sudden shift. 

The white haired man bends to hover over you, free hand caressing your jaw, his frighteningly beautiful face before yours, “Hello, my love.”

Your voice is hoarse, sounding unfamiliar, “Hi.” It’s nothing more than a pitiful squeak.

Sylus chuckles, his chest rumbling warmly at your adorably vulnerable state, “How’s your throat?”

You glare at him, trying to steady your raspy voice, “Don’t patronize me.”

He smirks, not the least bit apologetic, but says, “Forgive me, love.” He doesn’t give you a chance to sass him further, instead bringing your chin up to his. His lips slot onto yours, deceptively slow at first and quickly progressing to a vigor that matched the way he’d rammed himself into your throat. 

The bruising intensity of the kiss made your mind muddle, your hands coming up to grasp his neck to ground you. You gasped at the feeling of his heartbeat pounding so forcefully in his neck. The familiar feeling of an earth shattering orgasm edges into your numbed mind, every heightened sense filled with Sylus and only Sylus.

You finally break away, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him scissoring in and out of you, enough to have you on the brink of climaxing, “Sy-Sylus, I’m–”

Sylus reads you like the back of his hand, withdrawing his fingers and roughly grabbing your face to look up at him. You sob at the loss of friction, looking up at him with teary questioning eyes. 

The ceiling lights illuminate behind Sylus, forming a halo like ring atop his head. He was so hauntingly and terrifyingly beautiful. Not unlike that of a fallen angel, whose sole purpose was to ruin you. 

And just as you’re admiring him, Sylus looks down at you. Unbeknownst to you, he also considers you to be his very own angel sent from the heavens. Bringing light and salvation to the shadowed crevices of his soul.

But even then, he can’t help but tease you, the urge to see you ruined at his hand. An angel with tattered wings, so utterly spent with lust. “You don’t cum until I say, hm?” As if to punctuate his point, he puts his fingers, wet with your slick, in between your parted lips. The taste of you is strong on him, enough to distract you from Sylus, who’s lining up his more massive than ever erection with your weeping slit. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Suck. I know you can do better than that.”  

He presses his fingers harder onto your tongue, relishing in how warm you feel around him. At your adorable pouty glare, he pushes his leaking tip into you.

You yelp in surprise, biting down on his fingers in your mouth. Sylus hisses, but the pain only further arouses him, making him shove into you suddenly. Your hands come up to grasp his forearm, the veins bulging under your touch. 

The feeling of him entering you is so overwhelming, the only thing grounding you to the present was the way his fingers felt and tasted against your tongue. And so you devoured him in earnest, much to his satisfaction. 

It’s not long before he bottoms out, his head kisses your cervix, just enough to have your eyes rolling back, sparks of hot white pleasure clouding your vision. 

Sylus removes his fingers from your mouth, bringing his thumb to his own lips and brushing it across his parted mouth, his other fingers outstretched as he licks across his thick thumb. You whimper at the sight, so unbelievably seductive he has to be doing it on purpose. 

“You always taste divine.” His movements have all but halted completely, his thick girth just sitting inside of you, brushing against your womb. And even though the stretch is enough to practically compress your lungs, you want more. 

“D-Don’t tease Sylus,” you whine pathetically, “Fuck me.” 

The smile on his face is as cocky as ever, the corner of his lips curving up, as sharp as his edged jaw. 

“So bold. Do you really think you’re in any position to make demands?”

He gives you just one pointed thrust, cockhead nestling so deliciously into your sweetest spots, but stopping just at that. You cry out, fingers gripping the comforter so tightly your knuckles turn white. 

“If I recall correctly…someone once told me something about saying…what was it? ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’?”

He grins down at you, bending forward so that he hovers right over your face. He would never let you know but the pouty grimace on your lust glowing face was nearly enough to have him caving into your every whim, punishment forgotten in the wind. 

“Hm? So what do we say, sweetheart?”

With his cock situated so perfectly in you, it’s impossible for you to do anything but follow his every command, no matter how much it bruises your ego.

“P-Please?”

His smirk deepens, fingers cupping your chin up to face him, “You can do better than that, Y/N.”

You groan as he shifts, giving you just the tiniest bit of friction where it mattered. You do your best to find the confidence, “Please Sylus.”

There’s the faintest flicker of darkness in his eyes, a twitch of unraveling at the way you effortlessly purr his name. If you had any idea the things you did to him, the mighty and fearless leader of the Onychinus, it would be his absolute undoing. 

“Please what, my dove? Come on, use that beautiful voice of yours.”

Before you can let out your snarky response, his fingers travel to your neck, stroking your sensitive pulse gently before pressing down to compress your airway. 

“Or is this throat only good for taking my cock?”

You whine at his words, patience absolutely gone. You wrap your legs around his waist and force him closer. A pathetic attempt to get him to thrust into you. Your hands come up to the back of his neck, and your tear glistening eyes search his pleadingly. He’s taken aback by the sudden shift, a small gasp escaping his parted lips. In his surprise, he lets himself be guided to you, his forehead falling to lay atop yours, his breath fanning against your own. 

“Please Sylus, please fuck me. I’m sorry, I’ll be a good girl. Please.”

The curse that leaves Sylus’s voice is barely perceptible as he drinks you in. Your cheeks were still streaked with tears, your eyes wide and glassy. Your lips were puffy from his bruising kisses, and cheeks heated with desire. There was absolutely nothing in the universe that could match how utterly gorgeous you were. His gorgeous woman. His to ruin. 

His voice low with longing and hunger, “Fuck, okay love. I’ll give you what you want.”

He manipulates the energy around you, raising your arm above your hand. His slender fingers dance up your exposed skin, until they find your fingers. His nails graze your inflamed skin, fingers toying with yours. For a brief moment, he enjoys how much smaller your hand feels in his. His delicate little bird.

“Hold on tight.”

Your fingers grip his, your nails digging in when he finally pulls his cock out, leaving only his head still snuggly inside. Without giving you a second to breathe, he’s plummeting himself back into your sopping cunt. Your combined slick ensures there’s zero resistance, only the sounds of wet slaps filling the space between you. 

Sylus’s forehead still rests against yours, his free arm bent above your head, helping support him as he fucks you with a painfully delicious intensity. Your cunt milks him perfectly, the warmth far too inviting and the tightness much too constricting. His fingers grip yours forcefully, trying to offset the way your pussy tries to suck the living soul out of him. 

“Sy-Sylus,” you cry out, nails digging crescents into his skin, your other hand coming up to rake red scratches into his back, “Slow – ngh – slow down!” Your brain is a jumbled mess, confused at the words your tongue lets out when your body only wants more.

Sylus’s chuckle is low and almost sinister, his pace never relenting, “That’s funny. I recall you saying you’d be a good girl.” He shifts his weight to his knees, moving his palm to your naval, pressing down. You squeal at the feeling of his palm pressing into your stomach, your sensitive walls being compressed into his cock spearing in and out of you. 

“And good girls take what they’re given, hm?”  

Moans and whimpers are the only thing you’re capable of producing, his pace brutal, like he was trying to find his way into your throat from your cunt. You don’t notice his hand traveling further south until his thumb presses into your swollen clit, flicking hard. You screech, your back arching off the bed, giving him further access to your dripping cunt. 

“Answer me when I speak to you, sweetheart.” 

“Yes! Yes, I’m a good girl, I can take it!” you all but screamed, spine so arched you felt like you were levitating.

The erotic cries that leave your lips make it difficult for Sylus to think straight, so he doesn’t. He fucks you with a ferocity that was nothing short of animalistic, the only thing he can think of is how many different ways he can and will make you cum. 

He presses your joined palms deeper into the mattress, eyes searching yours desperately. For what, you were unsure. But as his scarlet irises bore into yours, you felt an overwhelming sense of emotion catch in your throat.

Propping yourself slightly on your elbows, you pressed your forehead to Sylus’s, his sweat dampened bangs fluttering against your eyelashes.You reach up to cup the back of his head, pulling him towards you. His right hand never leaves your clit, his left staying tightly clasped with yours.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You moan into him as he claims you fully, thrusts moving in tandem with his tongue. It’s a torrid clash of tongue and teeth, enough passion to have the Aether core in your heart throbbing dangerously erratically. 

“Syluuus,” you slur as you pull away to breathe, “I-I’m..I’m gon–” You can’t get the words out, the tip of his cock against your cervix and fingers on your clit bringing you into another dimension, one filled with him. The scent, the sound, the feel, the sight of him. 

“I know. Getting so goddamn tight,” he grits out, jaw locking as he tries to steady himself against your vice grip. Sylus was a man of boundless stamina and restraint, but when it came to you… When it came to the absolute heaven that was your body, he could hold nothing back. 

Just as you neared your orgasm, Sylus stops again. You find your body being moved again, but this time Sylus’s hands are lifting you, and not his Evol. His strong arms lift you so that you’re sitting on his lap, your back pressed against his muscled chest, and his back leaned up against the bed.

He does however use his Evol to drag over the gold arched full-length mirror you had propped up against the corner of your bedroom, so that it sits right in front of the bed. Your vision is filled with the gleaming reflection of you, naked on Sylus’s lap, his arrogant smirk right by the top of your head. His muscular arms are draped over your thighs, spreading open your glistening folds, fully exposing you before the mirror. 

“Sylus s-stop. It’s embarrassing,” you whine, averting your gaze at the lewd sight, and the even filthier sounds of his fingers against your copious slick. But he grips your jaw firmly, turning you back to the mirror. 

“Look how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, lips pressed against your ear, “Look.” 

You puff your cheeks, fighting against his fingers.

“Look, love. Or you don’t get to cum,” he purrs in your ear.

You mutter sulkily, knowing full well his threats are anything but empty, “You’re evil.” 

But you obey diligently, letting his fingers guide your face forward. The sight before you is so unbelievably filthy, Sylus’s long fingers digging into your thighs to keep them spread open, his other fingers playing with your swollen lips. Even on his lap, he was a head taller than you, His soft white hair is matted with sweat, his cheeks dusted a peachy red with how vigorously he’d just been fucking you.

As your eyes meet in the mirror, Sylus lifts you from underneath your thighs, and spears you onto his cock. You cry out at the feeling of being stretched open again, Sylus’s own ecstasy fueled grunts in your ear.

With you atop him, his cock reaches so unbelievably deep inside you that you feel the tears returning. Your eyes screw shut as his tip repeatedly brushes against your cervix, the familiar pain quickly dulling into an intense pleasure. 

Suddenly you feel Sylus’s teeth at the crook of your neck, and arm coming across your chest to enclose over your entire throat. His sharp canines dig into the area where your neck meets your shoulder, biting just hard enough to make your eyes fly open to face his in the mirror. His eyebrows are quirked at you, amusement evident in his sharp ruby eyes.

He doesn’t speak, instead keeping his mouth attached to your pulse point. But the dark sultry heat swirling in his eyes that you can see reflected in the mirror is a clear and wordless command. 

Watch.

And who were you to disobey him, when his body brought this much pleasure to your own. 

So with your eyes locked on his in the mirror, Sylus begins to bounce you in earnest on his lap. And while you moan and whimper as he springs you so effortlessly on his cock, like you weighed nothing more than a mere toy, his own noises are muffled by his teeth that are sunk into your fluttering neck. 

His eyes never leave yours in the mirror, darkened underneath his eyebrows, glowing with red hot lust. The way he watches you is so intimately primal, like a predator toying with its prey before the kill. 

With his hungry gaze locking yours in place and the lewd wet sounds of slick skin pounding against one another, you feel the alarmingly rapid tightening of your abdomen that signals your orgasm. Sylus feels it too, your walls tightening so intensely that the outline of his veins might imprint into you. Your grip coaxes his own cock toward release, his jaw tightening as to keep himself in check. 

He releases your bruised skin, admiring how breathtaking you look with his marks on you. His hand leaves your clit to rest on your tummy, stroking the skin there. You can feel him use his Evol to keep you in place, only the raw strength of his thighs and abs keeping you in steady motion on his length. 

“Look,” he croons in your ear, teeth grazing against your sensitive earlobes, “Can you see where I am, dove? I’m allll the way here ” His husky voice drawls, hand on your abdomen pressing down. You can definitely see the distinct outline of something large thrusting in and out of you. Your eyes widen at the mirror, mesmerized at how your bodies connect, almost resonating on their own. Sylus’s eyes are also glued to the way the base of his cock, shiny with a ring of arousal, forces your tiny fluttering cunt to take him in all his glory.  

“Tell me how it feels, hm? Tell me how I make you feel.” When you don’t respond, too lost in the sight in the mirror, his fingers come back down to squeeze your clit,

“Sylus! – ngh – feels ssoo so good,” you simper, panting through the hold he still has on your throat, the pressure quickly becoming far too addicting, “I-I…”

“Hah,” he groans into your ear, “You what baby? Tell me.”

“M’gunna cuuum,” you wail as his angle shifts just slightly, cock driving into your g spot. Sylus knows just how to play with you, his fingers sending you to heaven and back repeatedly. He was so thick that you felt like he'd split you in two, your cunt and thighs being stretched to their limits against the sloppy friction.

“Hmmm, is my beautiful girl going to make a mess on me? Does she deserve to?”

The mere thought that he might deny your climax again has you sobbing, tears of anguished ecstasy rolling down your face as his pace picks up even further.

“P-Pleaaase – unghh – please let me. I’m a g-good girl, I’ll be so – hnngh – good, I promise.”

Sylus had no intention of denying you again, but now he physically couldn’t. Because now, watching the fat tears roll down your cheek and hearing your beautiful pleas, he too could feel himself pulse with the ache to fill you up. As he watched your breathtaking form in the mirror, he cursed the Gods for sending the only thing that could ruin him. 

You.

And yet, being ruined by you felt so damn good.

“Good for who, my love?”

Your vision has become clouded by your tears and the black spots that blot your eyesight. But the possessive purr in Sylus’s voice reaches you, through all the blinding pleasure, and makes butterflies flutter in your chest.

Your hands come up behind you to grasp behind his neck, and you strain yourself so that you turn just slightly to face him. For a second Sylus looks taken aback, but he quickly composes himself, the confident smile returning to his lips. 

“Nggghh – for you, Sylus.” The sincerity of your shaking voice wipes the cocky smirk off his face, his thrusts faltering ever so slightly. For a brief second, Sylus can’t feel anything. He can’t feel the way your cunt, on the precipice of release, squeezes so forcefully that it threatens to break him in half, the way your soaking thighs ripple against his lap as he pounds into you, the way your fingers play with the hair at the back of his head.

Fate had played a cruel trick on the two of you. Two tragically entwined Aether cores. Two birds of a feather, trapped in the cage destiny had built. 

But now, there is only you and him. Fate and destiny be damned. 

“I’m yours Sylus. Always yours.”

Your words, delicate and simpering, pull him back to reality. All the sensations he’d briefly been numbed to came crashing back. The torturously delicious way you felt around him, atop him, and against him swarmed back all at once. And to top it all off, the sight of your fluttery wide wet eyes, hazed over with a fog of lust, staring at him with such wonder and adoration. Your eyes alone were practically making love to him.

It made him absolutely feral.

You squeal, thighs doing their best to grip against Sylus’s lap as he bounces you with an unprecedented vigor, his hand holding your throat to keep you somewhat steady. You watch his muscles bulge, his much larger frame very much on display behind you. Powerful and imposing – a true god-like glory. 

“That’s fucking right, you’re mine,” he hisses in your ear, jaws clenched to hold back the moans your pussy threaten to pull from his body. 

“Gonna cum in you, yeah? Would my slutty girl like that?"

“Y-Yes!” you squeal, so close to coming undone, “Pleeease Sylus!  I-I’m s’close, I’ll do anything please!” You were quickly losing your voice amidst all the screaming and vigorous activities.

You can see Sylus devilish smile, releasing your throat to tilt your chin towards him.

“Anything? You’re making a deal with the devil, little dove.”

With your face so dangerously close to his, he can’t resist. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing onto yours, locked in the sweltering passion of your bodies. The feel of his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth is just enough to send you headfirst into the orgasm you’d been on the brink of for so long.

And because of that, your body couldn’t hold back the gush of excitement that squirted from where Sylus was connected to you. It’s so messy you can’t help the way your cheeks burn in embarrassment, even amidst the short circuiting of your pleasure-numbed brain. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Sylus bites out, the tautening of your orgasm stricken cunt nearly squeezing him into unconsciousness. He fucks you through your blissed out state, and it isn’t long before he follows your lead. 

Like everything Sylus does, the way he cums is frighteningly powerful. Your body involuntarily shivers at how hot he is, but more so just how much there is. You can both clearly see the thick milky white seed seeping down Sylus’s cock, even as he continues to fuck into you. His thrusts are slower now, but more intentional. Conveying every ounce of passion into the way he rocks into you. Overstimulation quickly grips you, and you weakly tap at his thighs.

“Sylus, no-no more. S’too much.”

“M’not done,” he groans into your ear as he continues to thrust into you, and it’s then you feel his cock still shooting ropes of his hot spend inside you. He does, however, release your clit, shoving his fingers in your mouth, knowing it'll give you something to ground yourself amidst the sensitivity while he rides out the waves of his climax. 

You gladly accept his fingers, grasping his forearm and sucking like his arm was a dessert. The taste of your mixed slick helps distract you from the intense aftershocks that wrack your body. It’s all enough to have Sylus spurting out everything he has, drained completely empty, milked utterly dry. 

When you feel him finally still, you crack your eyes open, almost scared to see the aftermath. 

The waning sun bounced beams of golden sunlight off your sweat, tears, and cum slicked bodies. Your own body was also littered in pretty little bruises, in the shape of Sylus’s teeth and fingers. Bruises in places you hadn’t even felt Sylus sink his teeth into. They quite literally looked like swirls of paint against a blank canvas. 

Your hair was a mess, and your tear stained face was no better. The area between your thighs was red and puffy, leaking an obscene amount of white cream, all the while still stuffed to the brim with Sylus’s softening member. Even half hard, he stretched you absolutely full. 

On the other hand, the man in question looked absolutely ethereal as he loomed above you in the mirror. His hair sat lusciously soft, gently blowing with the breeze entering through the cracked window. His muscles still flexed gently as they recovered from the vigorous activities, strong chest rising and falling rhythmically with his steadying heartbeat. 

And finally his eyes that watch you back so carefully, the carmine orbs half lidded with satisfied bliss. His lips stretch into that signature Sylus smirk when he catches you staring, nothing short of heart stoppingly arrogant.

He’s so unbelievably handsome, your cunt quivering again just at the sight of him. Wincing at the feeling of his cock inside you stirring back to life at your involuntary throbbing, you panic and tap furiously on his thigh. 

“Sylus, put me down.” 

Sylus chuckles, mischief coloring his scarlet eyes, “What, no ‘please’?”

You whine, not able to withstand the feeling of him stirring back to life in your absolutely spent core. Yet you can feel yourself fluttering in anticipation. And you know he can feel it too. 

You silently curse your traitorous body.

“Please.”

He laughs warmly and obliges. His strong hands grip the underside of your thighs, lifting you off of him. You cry out at the feeling, your cunt clenching at nothing, seeking him once more. Sylus inhales sharply, craving your tight warmth again. But he holds you gently against his chest, shifting so that his erection rests between his abdomen and your thigh, with you sitting sideways on his lap. 

You nuzzle your head into his chest, and Sylus’s lips come down to the top of your head, breathing in your scent and ghosting kisses into your hair. Your hands reach up to weave into his silver tresses, playing with his soft locks and delicately massaging his scalp. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, voice muffled against his skin.

When Sylus doesn’t respond, you pull away from him and look up at him expectantly. He appears to be lost in the feeling of your fingers. 

“You never said please, you could at least say thank you,” you tease, poking his soft cheek with your finger. 

Sylus looks down at you, amused danger flickering in the deep orbs of crimson. His hand leaves your thigh, slowly and tortuously crawling up your skin until he cups your face. You shiver, suddenly feel like you’re staring into the face of danger. 

“Hmm, isn’t it customary to say thank you after eating?” 

You crinkle your brows in confusion at his cryptic words, waiting for him to elaborate further. Sylus’s smug grin widens, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, basking in the excited fear brimming in your bleary eyes. 

“I’ve yet to finish my meal, little dove.” 

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[lecliss]

I unlocked the ultimate weapons and the description for Alvin's says "Refuse forgiveness and carry the burden. The embodiment of the heavy load one has sworn to bear eternally." CAN THIS GAME FUCKING STOP 😭😭😭😭

[m0onlustre]

The price of desire

You were his biggest rival’s assistant, yet you had something that could benefit him. So what happens when a transaction between your boss and him goes wrong and you find your way in between?

ᯓPairing: Sylus x female reader (afab)

ᯓGenre: rivals to lovers, smut, porn with some ooc plot, angst

ᯓWord Count: 4,4k

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, alterations to the main story, toxic relationship, dr/y humping, t/easing, (lowkey) o/rgasm control, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, breath play, sensory play, spanking, mention of breeding!kink (toxic if you squint really hard), creampies, dom!sylus, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie), violence, mentions of blood and injuries.

ᯓnotes: This is my first published work here, it took me some time to write but I believe I’m content with how it came out. At first, the idea was to keep it a part one which is connected to an event of the series. Ending this part, I can think of some ways this can go, but I’d still want your opinion:) If you want to see more of this, please go ahead and ask. Any reblogs and likes will be appreciated.

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You were a dangerous woman, a fact well-known throughout the N109 Zone. As the assistant to one of the most feared men in the underworld, your reputation was built on the edge of a knife. 

But today, the real danger sat directly across from you at the table—your boss's most formidable and deadly rival: Sylus.

His silver-white hair fell messily over his forehead, creating a disheveled yet intentional look that only added to his unsettling charisma. A smirk played on his lips, while his crimson eyes held an unreadable intensity,  as he sat on the table with his henchmen on each side of him. Luke and Kieran.

You had done your research, uncovering every scrap of information about the three men before you. It was a challenge, of course; the leader of the most notorious illegal organization in the N109 Zone wasn’t one to divulge valuable intel easily. Yet you had pieced together enough to know the depths of Sylus's ruthlessness.

You were certain of one thing: Sylus would not hesitate to sacrifice anyone—including his own men—if it suited his purpose. The black-red tendrils of his mist would mercilessly end the person and he wouldn’t blink an eye while his lethal capability, capable of extinguishing a life in an instant, would take over. 

The only individuals he seemed to protect were Luke and Kieran, his unwavering henchmen, whose loyalty was both a strength and a potential weakness in this deadly game.

Everyone claimed that the twins were somewhat adopted by him—a complex relationship in which he protected and provided for them in exchange for their loyalty and services.

If you were being honest with yourself, you found yourself drawn to the twins. They exuded a carefree spirit that brought an element of fun, even in the context of business. You often wished you could shed your own uptight demeanor and embrace life as they did.

Your thoughts were abruptly pulled back to the present when one of Sylus’s men dropped two large armory boxes onto the table that separated your group from his. As the man opened the boxes, a collection of modified and illegal firearms was revealed, each piece looking as lethal as the man who had crafted them.

Dante, your boss, rose from his chair beside you to inspect the guns. After all, that was the purpose of this meeting—a trade, a business transaction between two men who despised each other's very existence, yet could not deny that, in times of crisis, their respective resources could prove invaluable to one another.

Dante provided the protocores, and Sylus expertly modified them. When Dante requested his part of the deal, the modified protocores were returned to him in the form of firearms capable of ending a life in less than the blink of an eye.

“Resourceful as always, Mr. Sylus,” your boss mused, but Sylus’s gaze was locked onto yours, seemingly ignoring Dante entirely.

“Oh, Dante,” he said, the man’s name dripping with disdain, “my little black heart is shattered into pieces. One would think you’d have learned by now not to question my methods or my work.”

You rolled your eyes at the silver-haired menace, your heels clicking against the carpet in a rhythm of impatience. You were growing weary of this standoff. Dante needed to state the agreed price and move on already.

“Set the price.”

Sylus’s smirk widened at Dante’s request, his eyes now fully focused on him. He seemed to stall deliberately, taking slow, measured steps around the room. His imposing aura filled the space, the coat draped over his broad shoulders swaying slightly with each movement. Finally, he came to a halt by the table, gripping its edge with both hands and leaning forward.

“Such a pretty kitten you have with you, hm?” he taunted.

Your gaze turned icy as Dante’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Are you referring to Miss Y/N?”

Sylus tilted his head to the side, his crimson eyes locking onto you once more, studying you with an intensity that made you uneasy. “You’re a foolish man, Dante.”

“What the hell did you just say?” 

You exhaled through your nose, frustrated by your boss’s inability to keep his pride in check when it came to Sylus. This man ran an entire organization yet seemed unable to handle a little provocation.

“I said…” Sylus drawled, relishing the moment, “you’re a foolish man. Only someone with the brain capacity of a goldfish would keep a pretty kitten like her uncollared.”

You shot up from your seat faster than lightning, leaning dangerously close to Sylus, your hand itching to grab one of the weapons from the boxes in front of you.

“You should watch your mouth when speaking to a lady, Mr. Sylus,” you seethed, your voice low but fierce. “Only a man with the brain capacity of a goldfish would disrespect a woman for no apparent reason.”

Sylus chuckled at your retort, a wide grin spreading across his sharp features, revealing his teeth.

“Feisty,” he mouthed, a smirk playing on his lips, meant only for you to see.

Just then, Dante stepped up behind you, and you almost forgot he was there until his hand landed firmly on your behind, giving it a squeeze. Your hand was so close to the gun that it took all your willpower not to reach for it.

Sylus's expression shifted, the amusement fading as his brows furrowed, re-centering on his forehead.

“Set. Your. Price,” Dante reiterated, his body uncomfortably close to yours.

You had served as his assistant for far too many years, becoming accustomed to his unpredictable behavior. Yet, deep down, he knew you wouldn’t dare act against him with all his guards surrounding him.

You were a capable assassin, more than capable of matching his malevolence, but you were just one woman up against his entire army. He was well aware of your skills, which is precisely why he always kept a close contingent of guards present during your meetings in his office. You were his most valuable asset, yet he was frightened of what you could do if pushed too far.

Despite this knowledge, he often seemed to forget the extent of your capabilities, choosing instead to provoke Sylus.

“Her.”

“No.” Your response was immediate, your tone firm. He couldn’t be serious.

Dante’s chest shook with laughter beside you, his golden teeth glinting in the light.

“She’s off the table, I’m afraid,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Very well, then.” Sylus retracted from the table and rose to his full height, a shadow looming over both you and your boss. “So is the deal. Have a good one, Mr. Dante.”

Your shoulders relaxed for only a brief moment, but before you could even blink, you found yourself lifted off your feet and thrown over the table like a ragdoll.

Fucking bastard.

Of course, the deal was too important for him to let it slip away. Sylus knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled this stunt.

“Don’t even think about it,” you spat, your voice harsh and defiant. “I am your right hand; your business will crumble without me!”

Sylus seemed to revel in the chaos, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. As his black-red mist began to swirl around the room, it coalesced around your body, lifting you off the table and bringing you effortlessly to his side.

Your struggles were utterly futile. No power could match his evol.

“Bastard!” you yelled, directing your fury at your boss.

Dante let out a deep sigh, visibly irritated but choosing to remain silent. His organization was already on the brink of collapse, a fact known only to you—and apparently Sylus too. That was the reason he had recently struck a deal with Onychinus; only their resources could possibly uplift him now—if anyone could, that is.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Dante.”

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The plush sofa of his dimly lit living room felt uncomfortably rough against your bare thighs as you took in your surroundings. Your revealing dress had ridden up significantly due to the twins’ rough handling as they placed you there, while their boss prowled around the sofa like a predator circling its prey.

The record player in the corner emitted a classical melody that only heightened the unnerving atmosphere, each note echoing with an eerie elegance.

“So uptight,” Sylus whispered in your ear, causing you to jump as his breath brushed against your skin. You hadn’t even noticed when he had gotten so close. “My, my… and so jumpy, aren’t we, kitten? Just try not to scratch my ceiling.”

You turned to glare at him, and if looks could kill, he would have been slain by the fire in your eyes. Nevertheless, you managed to keep your voice steady. “Why am I here?”

He didn’t bother to meet your gaze as he sank into his enormous cushioned chair across from you. A black-and-red mist began to swirl around your body once more, and before you could react, it lifted you off the couch and positioned you right on his lap, straddling him.

“What the hell?”

His hand shot up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Shh, just keep your claws sheathed for a moment.”

You could feel your patience wearing thin. “Why. am I. here?”

Sylus's jaw tightened slightly, and if you weren’t intently observing his every expression, you might have missed it. “Because, kitten, Dante and I had a transaction.”

“Isn’t your typical price protocores when dealing with my boss?”

“Typically…” Sylus’s gaze was fixed on your face as an eerie silence enveloped the room.

Before you could process his words, his hand snaked around your throat, pulling you closer. His eyes locked onto your lips, a predatory glint flickering within them.

“What are you doing…” you whispered, your body tensing in instinctive response.

“Show me, kitten.”

“What?”

Sylus chuckled softly, a mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. “I know you’re a smart kitten; don’t play dumb with me. It won’t help you.”

Of course, you understood what he was implying, but how did he know?

“I have no idea what you want,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

His hand tightened around your throat, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Then you noticed it—the red glow of his eye—and you realized what he was doing. “Show me.”

Ironically, he was now in control of your actions, even though he sought the opposite.

You slowly removed your glove, compelled by the white-haired man in front of you. Your bare hand pressed firmly against his chest, and in an instant, his heartbeat ceased.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

You stared at his face, dumbfounded, as the glow in his eye faded and his complexion turned an ashen pale. Before you could comprehend what was happening, a low chuckle echoed through the dimly lit room.

Sylus’s chuckle. He was alive. Wait, what the hell?

His laughter grew more vibrant with each passing second as he took in your horrified expression. You shot your hand out again, daring to touch him, but he caught your wrist, tossing it aside with ease.

“Ravishing…” he breathed, his eyes darkening to a richer shade.

You watched him for a moment, trying to make sense of everything that had unfolded in the past few hours, until suddenly, everything clicked into place.

You gasped.

“You fucking bastard!” you shouted, fury igniting in your voice. “Is this why you didn’t take the protocores? Is this why you asked for me?”

Sylus’s arrogant smirk returned, dominating his features. “He wasn’t aware of the precious possession he had in his own house, sweetie. But I am.”

“You are… sick.” The expression on his face darkened, and something twisted in your gut, though you wished it was anything but excitement at his subtle praise. “You will not control me. I belong to no one.”

“Oh, kitten, I’m not trying to control you. This is just… a deal.” His eyebrows shot up, his face tilting slightly to the side as if he found your defiance amusing. “Isn’t business what you excel at? Or do you want me to believe it was Dante who called the shots?”

Your own expression faltered, but your body began to relax atop his, a fact he noted with a small, apprehensive smile that curled at his lips. “Are you trying to extract intel from me?”

He rolled his eyes at your tactics, a playful smirk on his face. “You are so gullible, kitten.”

He leaned in impossibly close, your breath catching in your throat and a shiver coursing through you as your body responded to his proximity. This was all so wrong.

“He didn’t value you nearly enough, sweetie,” Sylus whispered against your pulse, his warm breath sending a jolt through you. “But I can.” His teeth grazed your throat, and as your mouth opened, no sound dared to escape your lips.

“I…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I have no idea what—”

In one swift movement, you found yourself perched on the edge of the chair, Sylus looming over you like a consuming inferno. Your chests were nearly touching, and his eyes held a dangerous allure as he stared directly into your own. “I believe you do.”

His hand drifted from beside your head, descending to your collarbone as his fingertips caressed the delicate skin with a featherlight touch. “You can end someone with just a touch…” he whispered against your neck, and you had to fight against the electric shivers coursing through your body. “I am the only person you can’t kill, even if you tried, kitten.”

Your mind was slowly turning to mush as his hand roamed over the sensitive swell of your breasts, his lips planting tender kisses against your throat. “Don’t you see where I’m going with this? We’re meant for each other. Kindred spirits.”

“You’re insane,” you wanted to accuse him, but your voice came out breathless, betraying your mounting desire. A soft grunt escaped his lips, a sound that only fueled the tension between you.

“If I’m insane, what does that say about you, sweetie?” He began kissing his way down from your neck to your collarbone, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I can smell your arousal from up here.”

You gasped at his bold accusation, your body jerking in response, but it only heightened the sensation as your clothed core pressed against his torso. You tensed, and his lips curled into a dangerous smirk. “So insatiable…”

“This is so wrong…”

“I’ve never been a righteous man.”

You leaned back instinctively, your hands reaching out as if to find comfort around his neck, but he halted your movement just before contact.

In your hazy state, you noticed him licking his lips, his gaze searching the floor for something—your glove.

“As much as I can’t think of another way to go, I’d prefer to be fully conscious when your pretty cunt is all over my mouth.”

“You’re… outrageous,” your voice faltered, betraying the rush of emotions coursing through you. Your body reacted in ways that contradicted your words.

“Do you prefer gentle, kitten?” Sylus asked, his fingers teasingly tugging at the neckline of your dress, unveiling your flushed skin. His tongue flicked over your right nipple, while his other hand caressed the neglected one. “Would you rather I whisper sweet nothings and cherish you gently?”

His tone dripped with playful mockery, and you arched your back, responding instinctively to his touch and taunting words.

“Would you like me to take it slow? To tell you how beautiful you are?” he teased, his laughter rumbling softly in the air.

Your resolve crumbled as he nipped at your sensitive bud, his hand expertly working the other. “No!” you moaned, your gloved fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, caught in the intoxicating desire in the air.

He growled against your chest, his body pressing forcefully against your legs as they parted to accommodate him. He felt a thrill of compliance wash over you, nearly tempting him to follow through on his suggestion to take it easy.

“More,” you demanded, your fingers tugging insistently at his head, guiding him downward to where your dress had pooled around your waist, leaving your red lace panties tantalizingly exposed.

Sylus grinned at your eagerness, his gaze lingering on your clothed cunt. “God, kitten…” he grunted, pressing his nose against the damp spot on your panties, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks as a thrill of shame coursed through you. “Did you wear my favorite color on purpose?”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Or did you wear it for him?”

You could only whimper in response, arching your body desperately to bring his face where you craved it most. Instead, a sharp sting greeted your cunt, your eyes widening as a gasp of surprise escaped your lips.

He slapped your pussy again, his expression darkening into a scowl. “Answer me, kitten. Did you get all dolled up for him?”

You clenched around nothing, the possessiveness in his tone igniting a deeper need within you. “No,” you whimpered softly. “It wasn’t for him.”

In an instant, he tore your panties away, his mouth descending on your cunt, his tongue skillfully lapping at your folds. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

Your fingers clawed at his shoulder, sounds of pleasure escaping you uncontrollably as he toyed with your sensitive clit. “Such a sweet pussy,” he grunted against your core, sending shivers through your body. You slid down the chair, his face pressed firmly against you, your lower body lifted almost into the air. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, hoisting your legs over his shoulders as he devoured you.

“Say my name, kitten.”

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, already giving him too much. “N-no.”

His teeth grazed your clit, sending waves of pleasure and frustration coursing through you as he slid one finger against your entrance, teasingly. “No?”

“No.” Your voice trembled, betraying the mix of emotions swelling within you as you neared your release with each stroke of his tongue, yet your stubbornness held firm.

“Very well, then.” In an instant, his mouth was gone, leaving you feeling cold and exposed as he stood to his full height.

“What…?”

Sylus leaned over you again, delivering a sharp slap to the side of your breasts that made you squirm and gasp. “This is my zone. My side of the board. Here, you either play by my rules and win, or you go against me and lose.” His voice was low and commanding as his hand reached down again, sliding two fingers inside you, curling them to find your sweet spot. “What will it be, kitten?”

By this point, your entire body felt like it belonged to someone else. “Please…” Your voice was laced with desperation, the plea spilling from your lips, unrecognizable even to you.

“Please what? Just say it, sweetie,” he urged, a teasing glint in his eyes.

His fingers quickened their pace, and your legs trembled under the mounting pleasure, each mewl that escaped your lips a symphony to his ears. “So—Oh my god… S-so close.”

The moment he sensed your walls beginning to clench around his fingers, a satisfied smile crept across his face, and you returned it through a haze of bliss—until you felt him start to withdraw.

Your hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist with a desperate grip, pulling him back toward you. “Sylus!” you cried, your stomach twisting in knots as sweet release threatened to crash over you.

“Sylus, yes, oh my god, yes…” You were barely coherent, the words tumbling from your mouth, but Sylus grunted, his pants taut against his rock-hard cock.

“That’s it… That’s it, sweetie, I know. Drench my fingers; they’re all yours.” He moved with an urgency that took your breath away, thrusting deeply inside you, sending shivers through your entire body as you rode the wave of your climax.

You panted, your chest rising and falling heavily. As the haze began to lift, your mouth fell open in awe, watching Sylus suckle on his fingers, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he savored your essence.

A fresh wave of slickness coated your folds, and Sylus cursed under his breath as he stood, taking you with him. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your bare, wet cunt smearing against the fabric of his pants, leaving a tantalizing mess.

The coarse material of his attire heightened your senses, making your body arch in his arms as you ground your hips down, chasing that blissful friction.

“So eager…” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin before he nipped at your earlobe. “And so fucking wet.” He strode toward his desk just a few feet away, easing you onto your feet. “I’m going to devour you.”

In one swift motion, your belly pressed against the polished surface of his mahogany desk, your body bent over, your ass perfectly positioned for him. He didn’t allow you a moment to breathe before two sharp slaps landed on your cheeks, your body jolting forward in response.

Your moans filled the air, driving him wild, and the way your back arched instinctively shattered any semblance of his control.

You heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper, and a thrill raced through you as his cock was freed from its confines, teasingly brushing against your entrance.

Turning your head over your shoulder, your eyes fell on him, and a rush of desire coursed through you. He was enormous, his veins prominent and pulsing, the tip glistening with precum that trickled down, landing directly on your cunt.

“Sylus…” You brought his attention back to you, and the look on your face made his brows knot slightly in concern.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” he asked, his voice thick with lust yet surprisingly calm. “Do you want me to stop?”

You placed your hand lightly against his abdomen, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, and shook your head. “No, it’s just…” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, almost mirroring the color of his eyes. “It’s not going to fit.”

Sylus paused, momentarily dumbfounded, before releasing the breath he had been holding along with a low chuckle. “We’re going to make it fit, kitten.”

Skepticism flickered in your eyes, and he noticed.

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” You answered honestly. He had been your rival until now, and you couldn’t fully grasp how your dynamic had shifted to this moment, you bent over his desk, spread  and exposed.

He grinned, shaking his head in amusement. “You shouldn’t.”

In one powerful thrust, he was inside you, and your eyes rolled back in your head as pleasure surged through your body, overwhelming your senses.

“Fuck!” you cried out, but there was no pain—he seemed to know exactly how to plunge into you.

“Shit… You’re so tight,” Sylus growled, his hips slapping against yours as he took you roughly, driving deep against the surface of his desk. “It would’ve hurt more if I’d taken it slow, sweetie.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to speak, but even if he could, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your mind was consumed with the exquisite fullness of his cock filling you completely.

Your eyes crossed as he continued to thrust in and out, your lips parted in a silent gasp, drool escaping the corner of your mouth and trickling down to the polished surface of his desk.

“Cock-hungry little whore,” he grunted, folding his body over yours to penetrate you even deeper. “And you claim you hate me.”

“I d-do,” you managed to moan, your legs trembling from the intensity of the sensations.

“You hate me, yet your sweet cunt is squeezing my cock like it’s her lover.”

Your mewls and whimpers grew louder with each thrust, your head spinning from the overwhelming pleasure. “Sylus…” you moaned his name, urging him onward toward his own release.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I-I’m… s’close. So so close.” Tears were welling up in your eyes, and Sylus moaned deeply behind you as he felt your cunt squeezing him, clenching around him like he belonged there. Because he did. 

His hand shot up, wrapping around your throat as he kept pounding you from behind, his whole desk shaking from the force of his thrusts. You were sure a bruise would form on your abdomen where it made contact with the wood. 

Your eyes rolled as he applied more pressure, making it difficult for you to breathe. “Such a pretty kitten…” He moaned in your ear. “And now she’s collared. As she should be.”

Your orgasm broke through you with a new force, the tears escaping your eyes and your cries lulling Sylus to fall on his own release right after you.

“Fuck.” He moaned, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder. Rope after rope of cum filled your cunt, his thighs shaking slightly from behind you as he emptied himself inside you. 

You were so overstimulated and sensitive by your encounter when Sylus caught his dripping cum from your thighs and pushed it right back in.

Your legs threatened to give out, your mind clouding the moment he began to fill you with his seed once more. “Such a pretty cunt, used and bred by me,” Sylus murmured, his voice low and possessive. “What will your boss say when my kids are running around his base, huh?”

You weren’t even aware of how or when it happened, but suddenly you were moaning his name, sweet and desperate, as you drenched him once again. This time, the force of your release was blinding, your vision fading to a brilliant white.

Confused, you turned to see Sylus, his abdomen glistening with your essence, his fingers slick and dripping as he stared at you with a manic edge in his eyes.

“Oh my God…” Heat rushed to your cheeks as the realization of what you had just done washed over you. “I’m sorry… Sylus, I’m—”

Before you could finish, his hand pressed firmly against your lower back, forcing you back into position as you tried to shrink away from his gaze. “Kitten…” His voice was taut, barely contained. “We’re not leaving this room until you do this again.”

[obae-me]

The Reunion We Deserved

I said I would do it and so I did, all in one night, one sitting, fueled by nothing but determination, random inspiration, and spite. I re-wrote and created my version of what I would've liked to see at the end of Nightbringer Season 2. Is this a bit dramatic? Yes? Is this the kind of thing I wanted anyway? Yes. I want sobbing, I want people being pathetic, I want emotion, I want it all. So, if that's what you were hoping to see for lesson 40, I hope this can ease some of that anger we had.

Spoilers ahead for Nightbringer since this is quite literally my "remaking" of the ending, which includes in-game references to later lessons!

TW: Blood mention, injury, angst.

Word Count: 4,391

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked upon the several smiling faces of the demons you had come to care for. At the beginning, all you could think of was returning to your home, your time-line, your brothers. You had coped thus far by constantly reminding yourself that these were not the same people you had come to know. But now… after delving into their souls, reforging the pacts, fleeing down the different circles of hell to save one only to nearly lose them all… they’d found their way into your heart once more. How could you? How could you leave them so easily? And tell them to their faces that you’d meet again soon when you knew it was a lie. It might be soon for you, but it would be nearly an eternity for them. Not to mention that the way Solomon and Barbatos described it, this was almost like another universe… Would another version of you show up for them? Or would you leave these particular brothers for good?…

Feet frozen in sorrow and anxiousness, you could only look at them and cry. What were you feeling in this very second, now that you were on the cusp of what you had worked so hard for? The way back home was right above you, the air and magic inches away from sucking you up into it’s mystical vacuum. Your precious family, your home was one step away. So why did it also feel like your heart was being torn from you? “I—“ Your words choked up in your throat. You were tempted to tell them everything right there and then, spill the burden you had been carrying on your shoulder this entire time.

“It’ll be alright,” Lucifer spoke up, seeing your worry, but exuding nothing but confidence himself. “I gave you my blessing after all.”

“Plus, with the Great Mammon’s pact, you’re hella lucky! You’ll get home with no problems, I’d bet on it! S-So you better not make me lose, got it? Get home safe…and happy.”

Levi shook his head a little. “You’d bet on anything wouldn’t you…” But then he turned his head back towards you, nearly just as bold as Lucifer in this one moment. “If someone like me can have courage, you can too. Don’t worry! You’re just like a Main Character! You have indestructible plot armor!”

“Did everyone already forget the white dragon I helped summon?” Satan scoffed. “Their safety and success is guaranteed. So don’t give us that face,” he addressed you.

“Besides!” Asmo perked up. “If anything happened we’d all come rushing to save you! Just like we did for Lucifer. If we can do that, we can do anything! Oo, I just said something real dashing just now! You better take that to heart, hun!”

Beel nodded several times. “You have Luke’s wish egg too. I also made wishes over my eggs at breakfast this morning. I wished for you to always feel healthy and full and loved. And that we’d get to see each other again soon.”

“Those eggs might’ve tasted magical Beel, but they weren’t really…” Belphie looked up his twin as he shook his head, but then he shrugged, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth explaining. “Hey,” he stared at you. “Don’t waste your energy crying now. You’ll need all your strength for your journey. I won’t forgive you if you leave too sad.”

All their words ended up making you laugh, the smile across your face twitching as you worked to force out trembling words. “You all better be kind to one another.” Someone behind you was tugging on your arm. “And make sure you don’t tease Luke too hard.”

“Come on,” Solomon whispered softly to you, tugging you a little harder, making you take a few steps back. The rift in space-time started to roar, attempting to drown out your voice as you struggled for these last few seconds.

“And make sure you all remember to eat and sleep properly. A-and, tell the others at the ceremony that I love them. I… love you all so much.”

“We have to go…” Solomon’s voice sounded tense, like he was nearly ready to cry himself, only keeping himself strong for you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nearly hoisted you back himself. Before you left, you reached into the pocket of your pants, fishing out the letter that you had written alone in your old room, what seemed like forever ago now, the one still stained with old tears. You tossed it to the ground in front of you, hoping they would read it, hoping it would help…them live without you.

The last thing you heard was a chorus of cracking voices, getting cut off before they could tell you they loved you too…

And then you were gone. A harsh and forceful wind seemed to suck all the air from your breath. It was almost as if you were being plunged underwater, several forces of pressure from the thousands of years you were swirling past was threatening to crush you. The only sensation you were aware of was Solomon’s. His arms were holding onto you tightly, continuing to mutter spells over and over and over again to keep you safe, expending all of his waining power to push you both through the folds of reality and out on the other side.

Gravity. Disorientation. Falling. A heavy weight slammed against your chest so hard, you wondered if your ribs cracked. The back of your head hit something firm. Everything went black for a while.

After who knows how long, your eyes opened again, staring straight up into the Devildom sky, the shifted stars more familiar to you. Your head was splitting with pain, your breath a wheeze as you glanced down to see Solomon’s limp body keeping you pinned against the ground.

“S-Solomon?” It took a short while for the panic to settle in. “Solomon!” After a moment of struggling, you managed to get him off of you, setting him on his back in the grassy plane you had been spat back out onto. His face looked drained. A chant left the base of your throat, using the last scrap of magic you had to give him a spell to reinvigorate his body. His eyes shot open, coughing as he rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up onto his arms before he fell down again. “Take it easy!” Together, using each other as support, you both got back up to your feet.

“I’m sorry…I had meant to deliver us right in front of the House of Lamentation, but…”

“You did alright,” you assured him, rubbing his back to keep his dizzy mind conscious. “A bit of a rough landing, but we’re alive…” But then, the better question was… “Are we—“

“There you are.” A calm voice manifested itself as a demon in front of you. Barbatos stepped out of a portal, his expression nearly as neutral as ever, except there was something in his eyes that was shining, a strange tremor to his hand that was completely unnatural for someone as him. Then he frowned as he took in the state of both of you, his nostrils flaring as he took the both of you with him, each with one gloved hand. You were pulled into a much less chaotic rift this time. Although the jolt was still enough to nearly cause both you and the sorcerer to fall back to your knees. Before that could happen though, you were shoved into a bed.

The guest rooms of the castle appeared the same as always, but something in particular felt nostalgic, like you’d just returned to a childhood home. Solomon appeared to be ushered into a bed right by your side, both your minds too rattled to resist, as the butler threw open the guest room door from the inside and summoned nearly every Little D in the entire building. “I need human medication, bandages, two sets of pajamas, the herbal tea I set aside in the kitchen. I need the oven preheated, the counter prepared, two trays set, and need them all done within the next two minutes.” There was a very subtle raise to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down your spine and sending every Little D scattering for their lives. Barbatos spent one second observing them flee before he dissipated once more, getting wisked away through another portal of his own making.

This all felt…so surreal. Perhaps it was the pain that you were in that was making it feel like a dream. Like you’d wake up in Cocytus Hall and be right back at square one. And yet, something in you was missing that place… that house that you had just started to get used to. The furniture and things both you and Solomon had bought to make it your shared home. But your real home was here. Well, hopefully here.

You wouldn’t get your hopes up over anything yet. Not until you got to see them.

Barbatos returned before you could even begin to ask Solomon about any of this. A whirl of varying shades of green caused your vision to do somersaults as you were quickly fretted over. Salves and bandages were wrapped around your torso and a damp cloth gently touched the back of your head. That splitting pain resurfaced, joining forces with an added stinging. Maybe it was your body going into shock, but you could’ve sworn you heard a shaky shush coming from your current caretaker as you were cleaned and patched up quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer after that till the aches went mostly away, your head clearing up again as a set of your own pajamas were settled at the foot of the bed, a silver tray stretched over your lap and propped up on two stands. A small plate with a single pastry sat in front of you, along with a bitter smelling dark-green tea that you could tell you’d rather avoid imbibing.

Swiveling your head to the side, you saw Solomon leaning back against the headrest and a few pillows, a bit more vibrancy in his eyes, although those intense dark circles were hard to miss. He was okay. Thank…everything.

“Eat. Drink. Both of you.” The butler stood between the beds, realizing he’d spoken quite against his normal demeanor, he cleared his throat, his palm pressed between his collarbones. “Phoenix’s Breath Tea. You’ll both need it to recover. I apologize for making you both consume something so distasteful, but I’ve found it goes down a bit smoother paired with something sweet.”

A single whiff of the hot beverage in your hand was enough to make you cough, some sense burning in your nose. You settled the cup back down, taking a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight. “Barbatos… Are we…?”

The butler’s eyelids fluttered slowly. “You are,” he stated, his voice quiet, almost in awe. “You’re home. Back in the world you belong.”

A lump immediately formed in your throat, pushing the tray forward and turning to get out of bed. “I need to go. I need to see them, I—“ Before you could get one foot touching the ground, you were wrangled back into bed.

“I’ll fetch them. I swear you won’t have to wait too much longer. But you must drink the tea and you must take a moment to recover. If the others were to know the state you both were in right now, the castle would be torn—“

A banging sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. The guest room door was busted completely off it’s hinges, the wood of the frame splintering, the door soaring across to the left and fully embedding itself into the wall like a dart stuck in a board. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ inhuman skills, you’ve spilled the tea and dessert all over yourself. The royal attendant audibly sighed, sweeping himself to his feet and holding his arms out, his demon form manifesting, wrestling back a writhing and screaming black mass.

Your eyes went wide.

The mass stopped fighting, going rigid, stepping back to form seven different individuals. Three more non-hostile forms stood back in the wrecked doorway, two white, one red.

The bottom of your lip trembled as an overwhelming surge of joy and despair and relief and guilt all flooded out of you in tears. Your fears were pushed away. Your soul seemed to click back into place, like you’d been the last puzzle piece just waiting to finish the picture. “I’m home…”

Chaos erupted in the castle guest room. A few cracking wails nearly burst your eardrums. Asmo’s arms were the first to wrap around you, mascara running down his cheeks in large inky trails, but he didn’t seemed concerned in the least. Kisses lined your face with each sharp intake of breath, too shaken to even speak, he could only address you in his cries as he clutched onto you, trembling. His hand stroked your head, his breathing stopping for a moment when he saw the damage the landing had caused. This only caused him to whimper and cry harder, his thumb running over the outline of your features, running the back of his fingernails over your cheeks.

Levi was stuttering incomprehensibly. As he fell to his knees, he clutched at his head, going through an entire panic attack. He clawed at his chest, tearing gashes into the front of his clothes, looking up at you behind large welling tears as his tail wrapped around his entire torso. Mist filled the entire room as he continued to shake and cry so fervently he couldn’t even stand.

Luke was quite a ways away, holding onto Simeon’s clothing as he screeched out painful genuine child-like cries. The Angel curled over him, shushing him, getting to his own knees to hold the fledgling to his chest, assuring both the little angel and himself that you were okay. You were alright. Miracles had brought you together again. They didn’t have to worry any longer. The sleepless nights, the endless nightmares, the never-ending cold grip of sorrow could go away. He spoke this mantra- this prayer- over and over again, taking deep breaths between the words, blinking rapidly as he had to sway him and his charge back and forth to keep themselves both at ease. The older angel took the occasional glance over Luke’s shoulder, muttering a thankful blessing on repeat every-time he locked with your eyes.

Satan was thrashing around the room, screaming wildly, out of control, ready to beat Barbatos and Solomon for making you arrive in this condition, for not bringing you sooner, for not telling them sooner, for— Eventually, after getting thrown around the room a little, he ran out of things to be angry for. All it took was one look at your face to calm him down. He approached carefully, angry at himself, angry at whoever it was that took you away, but trying to keep himself together. Satan gingerly pulled Asmo off of you, turning Lust over to Solomon. Clearly, he’d been worried about his other pact-mate, hugging the sorcerer and crying a little more softly into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Satan reached a hand out hesitantly, like you were a feral cat he was trying to pet, worried you’d run away. His hand brushed through your hair and settled at the side of your face. Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his arms pulled you to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re here again. You’re—“ His voice went hoarse, like he was losing it, like he’d been doing nothing but screaming for the entirely of your absence. Soon his words were nothing but faded squeaks, trying to portray his words but unable to. He simply held you instead. Then he tore himself away from you, heading over to the back wall and punching holes into the structure till his knuckles turned bloody.

Someone crawled onto the bed. Belphegor peered at you with an almost blank expression. His hand reached out, touching your knee, flinching as soon as he made contact, like the very act of him doing so would hurt you further. You could tell that maybe he felt like some of this was his fault, like he’d deserved the pain of having you be sent away from him, like if he did anything wrong again, you’d vanish for real this time, How many times could you come back from the dead? How close was he to losing you entirely? For good? As soon as his warmth mixed with yours, he collapsed on the mattress, curling up at your feet. He gathered the blanket towards his face, the end of his tail twitching erratically. His sobs were silent but violent, the entire bed shifting and bouncing as his body convulsed, his chest pounding as he broke down. Every once and a while, he would become extremely frightened, needing to gasp and look up to ensure you were real. You weren’t a dream. He pinched himself, shook his head, even almost bit at his hands to snap him out of this vision. But you were really here. He would curl back up and continue to cry.

White hair bobbed in front of your vision, two hands going to your shoulders and shaking you, pinning you against the headboard, fingernails careful not to dig themselves into your skin as they gripped your body. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Huh? Huh?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?! What you put me through?!” Mammon growls and screams shocked you.

“Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice settled as a stern warning, but something about it seemed weaker than usual.

Greed ignored him, continuing his rant. “You were just gone. Gone! You know that?!” He shook you again, careful not to rattle you too much. “And what am I supposed to do about that, huh?! What did I say?! I said—“ His voice cracked, trails of moisture streaming from his eyes and over his lips. “I said,” he repeated, “if you’re ever in trouble, you have to let me save you. What part of that didn’t you understand?! How dare you get taken somewhere where I can’t reach you?! How dare you?! How dare you?!” His voice continued to raise in pitch, sounding more and more unstable with each accusing question. Then he slumped, his forehead pressing against your chest as his hands held onto your shoulders tighter, almost bruising them, fearful of letting you go. He began shaking you a few times more, each shake meeker than the last. “How dare you. How dare you… How… W- What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back?… The world is nothin’… I’m nothin’…”

Beel came over and helped his older brother to his feet, allowing him to sit on the side of your bed as Mammon furiously used the back of his wrist to rub at his cheeks. Gluttony stood over you, looking down with a wide close-lipped smile. “Welcome back.” He leaned down, pressing his cheek against yours as his large arms wrapped around the back of your neck. He took in the scent of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment. His body didn’t shutter, didn’t make noise, but you felt a few warm tears of his drip onto your skin. He silently and secretly teared up for just a few moments before he stood back up straight, gesturing to the tray with your items on it. “Eat, please. It’ll make you feel better.” The sixth-born took a few steps back to let you breathe, and as he moved back, someone else moved forward.

Lucifer stood at your bedside for quite some time in silence, looking down on you with a rather unreadable expression. He had a frown, eyes squinting like he was upset at you. He scanned you over, his brows furrowing, his jaw clenching. He refused to move, refused to say anything, refused to look you directly in the eyes. You moved forward a little, grabbing his hand, holding it in yours. All the sudden, the tension released. His eyes widened before his eyelids lowered, glancing at you past the vulnerable shimmer past his irises. Wrinkles of stress deepened in his forehead as his whole face contorted in agony. He held your hand tightly, bringing the back of it up to his lips. After that, he pulled you against him, his forehead pressed up against yours, his wings in his demon form acting as some sort of visual blocker, as if he couldn’t stand to have the rest of the room see how he was acting right now. He rubbed his face against yours back and forth, one small touch away from cooing, his hands caressing the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse, hearing your breath, taking in every detail and confirming to himself that you were indeed in his arms again, alive and mostly well. “You’ve come back to us,” he whispered, the end of his nose touching yours as one of his hands cradled the back of your neck. “Back to me.” His breath was hot as he panted for a moment, taking a deep breath and speaking in a hushed tone. “I had nearly begun to entertain the thought that…”

You pulled him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest as you reached around to his back, grasping the cloth of his clothes in your hands. “You know I would fight through all the layers of hell to get to you.”

That seemed to resonate with him, but you weren’t quite sure he remembered that you were speaking quite literally. All those adventures…the things you’d all learned. How lost were they?…

However, Lucifer simply smiled, laughing a little, squeezing you before laughing again. “Yes, if anyone would do such a thing, it would be you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He straighted, fixed his clothing, lowered his wings, and moved further back into the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he paced towards a back corner.

Levi had finally soothed himself enough to move, walking on his knees towards the bed. His hands were fidgeting with every part of his outfit. Eyes puffy from crying, throat raw from his collapse earlier, he kept himself from speaking. You managed to smile down at him and wipe away the last few of his tears. His lips shook again before he lowered his head into your lap. Face-down in the fabric of the blanket, he kept shaking his head. He didn’t stop until your fingers ran through his hair. With a forced gulp, he eventually vocalized words. “I missed you… I was- was- was so scared I would…”

“Lose you.” Belphie sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that his face was now a mess. He scooted closer towards your side on the bed. “We thought we lost you.”

The youngest was able to say what none of the others could. Full silence washed over the room as the reality of the situation fully seemed to hit them, their shock slowly starting to fade.

Diavolo strode in, everyone moving out of the way to allow him to have his own time with you. The corners of his eyes crunched in happiness. His tight and broad shoulders sagged. Both of his large hands scooped up one of yours, bringing your touch to the side of his face. He closed his eyes, almost appearing as if he might purr any second. As he opened his sight back at you, a fire of positivity and excitement lit within him. “A party! We must throw a party! A welcome home celebration! This is…this is… a joyous day.”

At first, the others seemed confused. Then, one-by-one, small determined smiles spread across their faces. The sorrow melted and gave way to pure uncontrollable elation. People hugged each other, danced around the room, cheered, bounced, came back to kiss you, came back to hug you, nearly passing you around the room till Barbatos barged back in and took your hand, bringing you back to bed.

For a while, you assumed he would shut the idea down entirely. But then, the butler grinned. “I figured you would all say as much. Some preparations are already being made. In the meantime, we should let these two rest. They’ve had all too much excitement today.” Barbatos pulled the blanket back over your legs, readjusting the tray and giving you a biting glare that told you you wouldn’t be able to get out of drinking that god-forsaken tea. “But after that, we will celebrate. We will take every day and night to cherish you, and make up for the time we lost.”

Most of the brothers tried clinging to you, demanding they get to stay, but Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon managed to corral the desperate demons and one small angel out of the room.

But before they all left, you shouted. “Wait!” They all turned, worried that something was wrong. However, you smiled, happy tears running down your face this time. “I love you all. So very much.”

“I cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“There ain’t nothing more priceless than you.”

“E-Everything is so much more fun with you here with m-m- us…”

“I…don’t want to even try to imagine a world without you in it.”

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, hun, is as charming as you.”

“Our family isn’t complete without you in it.”

“You belong with us. End of story.”

“You are one of the most precious beings the three realms has ever known.”

“I find myself discovering new things to enjoy every moment I spend with you.”

“Listen, you are a shining beacon in the night. Know how special you are.”

“You teach me so much! If it weren’t for you, I might still be scare— I mean, dislike demons!”

“My dear apprentice… We couldn’t have gotten home without you. You deserve the world. I will stick by you no matter where you go. And you deserve to know—“

“How much we love you too.”

[duxbelisarius]

The Velaryon Blockade or, How Not to Fight a War at Sea

Greetings and Salutations! After many months since completing the Military Analysis series, and having watched Season 2 of House of the Dragon (surely one of the shows of all time), I've returned to do some further analysis of the war of the Dance. I may end up including this entry in a subsequent re-write of the original analysis series, but I'm currently in the middle of working on a Daeron fanfic and wanted to write this to get my juices flowing. Without further ado, onto the main event: The Blockade of the Gullet (WARNING: Spoilers for HOTD and F&B; this is gonna be a long one!)

Analyzing the blockade of the Gullet or the Velaryon Blockade, as portrayed in Fire and Blood and House of the Dragon, requires tackling the subjects of how King's Landing is fed and whether such a blockade is feasible given the technology available to the setting. I'll start with the provisioning of King's Landing since the show made a big deal out of it, and it has implications for Fire and Blood's portrayal of the Dance.

The idea of a blockade of the Gullet leading to food shortages and near-starvation in King's Landing is a non-starter, since it is supported neither by the ASOIAF books or the show Game of Thrones. In the former case, we know that House Tyrells support for Renly leads to the Roseroad being closed and near famine conditions in KL, as noted by Tyrion in A Storm of Swords:

The mob loved Margaery so much they were even willing to love Joffrey again. She had belonged to Renly, the handsome young prince who had loved them so well he had come back from beyond the grave to save them. And the bounty of Highgarden had come with her, flowing up the roseroad from the south. The fools didn't seem to remember that it had been Mace Tyrell who closed the roseroad to begin with, and made the bloody famine. (ASOS, Tyrion VIII)

GoT retained this thread in Season 2 and returned to the subject of the Reach supplying KL with the 'Loot Train Battle' in Season 7.

Looked at more broadly, there are three sources of food that KL can access which render the Gullet completely redundant: Firstly, there is the Crownlands themselves, which should be accessible to KL by road or by boat via Blackwater Bay; there's the Reach, which is the most agriculturally abundant of all the Seven Kingdoms, although the main artery of this supply really should be the Mander river and not the Roseroad; and finally we have the Riverlands, which ought to be more important of a source for food since goods could reach KL from there entirely by boat or barge thanks to the Blackwater Rush and the God's Eye lake. Regardless, access to these areas means that little if any food provisions should be required to pass through the Gullet to support the capital, and this creates problems for the show and the books.

Leaving aside how the Blockade in the show is rendered useless, there is a massive plot hole for the Dance created by acknowledging this information. Prior to Criston Cole's Crownlands Campaign, most of that region, most of the Reach and all of the Riverlands have sworn fealty to Rhaenyra. Even if rationing was introduced and every source of food in the city were exploited, KL is still cut off from it's main food providers and this fact should have been addressed by the councils of either faction. Rhaenyra's allies were capable of cutting off the city's food supply and their armies could have come together to lay siege to the city. The only real obstacles they would face are Vhagar and Sunfyre, since Borros Baratheon and the Stormlands vanish from the narrative following Luke's death.

On the other hand, Aegon should have seized upon this threat to push for immediate action given his impatience with Otto's letter writing, the only payoff for which is the Triarchy's attack on the Gullet at the start of the next year. Aemond already secured the Baratheons, Tyland guarantees the Westerlands' support, and Ormund is effectively alone in supporting Aegon's cause in the Reach. As it turns out, neither faction is cognizant of this specific vulnerability of the capital at this time or later on in the Dance. When living conditions deteriorate under Rhaenyra, her tax policy is blamed rather than the fact that Cole's campaign should have negatively affected Crownlands agriculture; the Reach is rapidly switching sides thanks to Daeron; Daemon left the Riverlands in the hands of his army and those of the Lannisters, Aemond and Cole, with devastating consequences for the land and people; and finally, that the onset of winter should be having a negative effect on the food supply of the the Kingdoms.

It also needs to be stressed that for KL to rely on overseas shipments for the majority if not entirety of it's food supply, it would require the Targaryen monarchy to possess far greater governmental and military resources than they are given by George. Looking at Rome from the Middle Republic onwards and the Eastern Roman Empire prior to the Arab invasions, we can see that grain shipments helped to sustain far greater cities than King's Landing in Rome and Constantinople. In both cases though, they could rely on a hinterland for local food markets (Italy for Rome, Thrace/modern day Bulgaria for Constantinople) and possessed almost overwhelming naval supremacy which ensured the security of the seas. Rome could reliably access Sicily, North Africa, and Egypt for its grain needs, and Constantinople could do likewise with Anatolia, Egypt, the Black Sea basin and later Sicily and North Africa as well.

Ships bound for KL from the Reach would have to sail the treacherous waters and barren coast of southern Dorne, brave storms and pirates in the Stepstones, and risk further storms off the coast of the Stormlands, and this is without considering how dangerous the transit would be during years long autumns and winters. Essosi shipments have the same problem but with the added wrinkle that the crown would have to pay for them, whereas Roman grain shipments were often provided by collecting taxes in kind rather than cash from farmers in Egypt and North Africa. This alone would automatically elevate House Lannister above the Targaryens as the foremost house in the Seven Kingdoms, given their access to nigh-infinite gold deposits. This is all to say that the premise of the Gullet Blockade starving out KL is utterly preposterous, which makes it completely unsurprising that Ryan Condal and Sara Hess chose to run with it!

By contrast, the blockade attempted in F&B was meant to put pressure on the Greens by cutting off all trade to the capital, preventing merchants from reaching the city or leaving it. The foreign and domestic merchants trapped in Blackwater Bay are among the loudest voices criticizing Aegon and his leadership, which was seemingly the aim of Corlys Velaryon. Unfortunately for George's plot, close examination of the development of naval warfare in the Medieval and Early Modern Periods (c.500-1500 and c.1500-1800 respectively), the very periods George has derived his naval technology and ship designs from, indicate that the blockade of the Gullet makes no sense militarily. I arrived at my conclusion about the Blockade after consulting John H. Pryor and Elizabeth M. Jeffries excellent book The Age of the Dromon: The Byzantine Navy c.500-1204, with further insight provided by X users SzablaObr2023 and the "Orc Logistics Guy" himself, Professor Bret Devereaux.

The most fundamental problem with the Gullet Blockade is that it's the wrong kind of blockade to attempt within the setting; historically, there have been two types of blockade attempted in war: Close and Distant. Close blockades were the most common in pre-modern times, and involved cutting off naval traffic from a region or area (typically a port) with ships posted within sight of the coastline. Distant blockades aim to cut off traffic to a much larger area by posting ships at sea far from the coastline of the intended target. The Velaryons are attempting the latter kind by controlling the waters between Dragonstone and Massey's Hook, to prevent any ships from entering or leaving Blackwater Bay and thereby isolating King's Landing.

The forces available to Corlys Velaryon are not insignificant: we know that Alyn Velaryon sailed against the Stepstones in 133 AC with 60 war galleys, 30 longships, and over 100 cogs and great cogs, to which we can add the 7 warships that escorted the Gay Abandon in 129-130 AC. Increasing this fleet by a third and rounding up to account for the losses suffered in the Battle of the Gullet gives the Velaryon Fleet at least 270 ships at the outset of the Dance, potentially as high as 300. By comparison, the Redwyne Fleet in 300 AC possesses 200 warships, about equal to the Carthaginian fleet at the outset of the First Punic War and larger than any fleet used by Athens against Sparta during the Peloponnesian War (see this video from 15:27 onward).

Based on Alyn's order of battle, it appears that the Velaryon Fleet was evenly split between oared warships and pure sailing vessels, which presents a problem for the Gullet Blockade. While oared and sailing vessels could maintain a close blockade, the former are completely unsuited for a distant blockade due to their logistical requirements and seaworthiness. Close blockades were often used to cut off a port or narrow stretch of water in support of a siege by land forces; an excellent historical example is the Battle of Actium in 31 BC, when the army and fleet of Gaius Octavian trapped Mark Antony's forces in the Ambracian Gulf. Closeness to the coast and the friendly armies stationed there ensured that oared ships had access to food supplies and more importantly, fresh water. Pryor and Jeffries estimate that each member of a Byzantine rowing crew required a minimum of 8 liters of fresh water per day; a Dromon with 108 rowers would thus need 864 liters per day and 1000 liters or one tonne if the marines and officers are included (adding a second crew of rowers would almost double that amount). Mediterranean war galleys of the Medieval and Early Modern Periods had storage for only 4-8 tonnes of fresh water on board, making accessible fresh water sources a sine qua non for operations of any length.

The other factor rendering oared warships unsuitable for distant blockade duties is their seaworthiness, which Pryor and Jeffries discuss at length:

if the wind rose to Beaufort Scale Four-Five (16-17 knots) ... That would raise waves of around 4.75 feet, 1.45 metres. All galleys at all times were designed to cut through the water rather than to ride the waves and such a wind, which is just a “moderate” to “fresh” breeze on the Beaufort Scale, nothing out of the ordinary, would send waves washing over the deck of any dromon. Even if the wind were astern, she would still be forced to run for the coast. If the wind were ahead, it would be worse because that would mean that the ship was attempting to beat to windward and therefore would be heeling over with one gunwale continuously under water." ... Scale Seven winds would raise seas up to 13.5 feet (4.115 metres) and no dromon would stand a chance of continuing its voyage in such conditions. The authors of the Olympias project have concluded that a trieres [Trireme] would be swamped in waves above 0.85 metres, and we believe that in all probability a dromon would have been also. ... However, galleys were simply not designed to be sailed and throughout history they were always notoriously poor sailers. Because their lack of deep keels meant that they made excessive leeway when beating into the wind, because their shallow draft and low freeboard meant that they could not heel under sail very much, because their narrow beam and low depth in hold meant that their hulls did not have the structural strength to carry a large press of sail, and because their extreme length:beam ratio and lateen sails meant that they carried pronounced weather helm, constantly griping, the bows coming up into the wind, galleys were always notorious for poor upwind performance under sail. That is nothing to be wondered at for they were not designed to do that ... Moreover, a heel under sail of a mere ten degrees or so would put the lower rims of the lower oar ports at the flat water line and at that point it is highly questionable whether the oar sleeves would have prevented water from entering the hull, even if they were tied off. (Age of the Dromon, pg. 336-338)

Velaryon war galleys and longships would need to stay close to Cracklaw Point, Massey's Hook, Driftmark and Dragonstone to be of any assistance to the Blockade, although with the rough seas and weather of autumn and winter even this would be a doubtful prospect. Corlys would have to rely upon the cogs and great cogs of the Velaryon Fleet to conduct the blockade; Devereaux and Szabla noted that sailing vessels are capable of conducting distant blockades, as demonstrated by Britain's Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars. They also note that conducting such a blockade entailed problems all its own:

A distant blockade with sailing vessels still required significant logistical support, a well developed naval command structure and bureaucracy, and only began to be attempted centuries after the High and Late Middle Ages when the Cog was widely used.

Even if we leave these issues aside, the Gullet Blockade still has another serious problem: Communications. Based on a distance map of Westeros, the distance between Crackclaw Point and Sharp Point appears to be c.125 miles while the length of the Gullet proper from Dragonstone to Sharp Point may be 100 miles or less. Meleys is the only dragon known to have supported the Blockade and seems not to have been replaced after her death at Rook's Rest. Over 100 cogs and 1 dragon at best would be the only forces capable of patrolling the Gullet to any effect, while the need for ships to resupply the blockade and to act as reserves to relieve ships from the Blockade line drastically reduces the amount of ships that could patrol the Gullet. Pryor and Jeffries' assessment of Byzantine visual signaling suggests that communications within the Blockade would be almost impossible:

The masthead height of the foremast of a standard dromon as we have reconstructed it was only around 10.65 metres above sea level. There were, admittedly, larger dromons; however, for what follows a couple of metres more of masthead height would make no difference to the conclusions reached. With a foremast height of 10.65 metres above sea level, the theoretical horizon of a lookout at the masthead would have been only around 11.8 kilometres. Theoretically, the peak of a lateen sail 21 metres above sea level could be seen a further 51.7 kilometres away but, of course, no man could see 63.5 kilometres with unaided sight. In all probability, around 15-20 kilometres would have been the limit of visibility from the masthead of a dromon. Scout ships could not, therefore, patrol a space more than 30-40 kilometres in advance of a fleet and probably no more than 30, since they were always said to have been smaller than standard dromons and would have had lower mastheads. In fact, in order to be able to actually read signals with unaided eyesight and communicate them back to the fleet, distances must have been even less than this. Syrianos Magistros advised that a fleet should always proceed with scout ships out ahead, up to six milia or so. Two scout ships should be 6 milia ahead and another two should be between them and the fleet to relay any messages. Six milia was only around 8 kilometres. If the forward scout ships then had a range of visibility of another 8-16 kilometres, then the real maritime space that could be observed was only around 25 kilometres at best. (Age of the Dromon, pg. 388-389).

Compared to the Gullet, the Strait of Otranto is 100 km wide (c.69 miles) while the distance between Crete and Rhodes is 180 km (c.112 miles) with the island of Karpathos in the middle; neither the Byzantines nor contemporary Mediterranean powers could control entry and exit through such space.

It might be argued that spyglasses, known in ASOIAF as Myrish Lenses or a Myrish Eye, could offer a solution to such long distances; unfortunately these devices are only produced in Myr, and of the three mentioned in the main books only one is used onboard a ship. The lenses used by Maesters Luwin and Aemon are large enough to require a tripod; the only one mentioned aboard a ship is a collapsible Eye carried by a Myrish captain whose ship is taken by Victarion en route to Slavers Bay. Even if Myrish lenses were available to some degree, it's unlikely they could overcome the problems of distance and the conditions at sea.

Writing about the War of 1812, Frederick Leiner states that a lookout "perched on the masthead, 80 or 100 feet above the main deck, and equipped with a spyglass, with the horizon perhaps 20 miles off ... might be able to discern a larger warship-like frigate perhaps as far as 15 miles distant, if the weather were clear and sea conditions allowed." 15 miles or 24 km is impressive compared to the 8-16 km of the Byzantine scout ships mentioned by Pryor and Jeffries, but the heights of Leiner's masts are more than double that of a Dromon and taller still than a cogs. Even a spyglass from two centuries after they were first introduced would not greatly enhance the vision of a Velaryon lookout, and the notoriously poor weather and seas of the Westerosi autumn and winter would certainly counteract it. With ships being kept off station to ferry supplies and act as reserves, the area needing to be patrolled would make visual signaling highly impractical.

To quote Pryor and Jeffries once more, "Expeditionary objectives could frequently be achieved best by preserving one’s forces intact and actually avoiding battle since naval warfare was essentially amphibious warfare whose purpose was to secure control of terrestrial objectives rather than to attempt to control maritime space (Age of the Dromon, 388)." Using the Velaryon Fleet to support the Black armies rather than attempting an exercise in futility by blockading the Gullet, would have applied pressure to Aegon and the Greens more effectively while being consistent with the setting that George created and its inspirations.

The most obvious way for the Velaryon Fleet to support the Blacks would be through transporting Northern and Vale troops south of the Neck and the Mountains of the Moon, to take the fight to Aegon rather sitting back passively once Daemon rallied the Riverlords and the Blacks in the Reach marched on Oldtown. Considering how swiftly both of those armies were raised, it makes no sense why the Vale could not at least send troops to assist Rhaenyra in the Crownlands. Another option and one which I proposed in part 12 and the conclusion of my military analysis series, would be to send the Velaryon Fleet south against the Stormlords.

Otto Hightower believed that Tarth would support Rhaenyra's cause, and Lord Buckler and Lady Fel were both executed by Aegon for refusing to swear fealty to him instead of Rhaenyra. The bulk of the Crownlands supports Rhaenyra prior to Criston Cole's campaign, and Felwood and Bronzegate are located south of the Crownlands astride the Kingsroad to Storm's End. The Wendwater flows through the Stormlands and Crownlands before emptying into Blackwater Bay; assuming the river is even partially navigable, this could allow shallow drafted boats to move troops and supplies into the lower Kingswood and prevent Aegon and Borros from aiding one another. Naval operations along the coast would be risky given the arrival of autumn, but the weather rarely affects the plot of the Dance if the author doesn't want it to. Tarth would serve as a base for the Velaryon ships to resupply and further raid the coast or land troops and the Blacks in the Reach could threaten the border, with the Cockleswhent and Blueburn rivers potentially serving as supply arteries for an invasion from the west.

There are also compelling political reasons for the Blacks and particularly the Velaryons to attack the Stormlands: It would punish Borros Baratheon for breaking his father's oath to Rhaenyra, esp. since his father supported Rhaenys and Laenor in 101 and Rhaenys is currently part of the Black council; it could be portrayed as vengeance for the death of Lucerys Velaryon over Shipbreaker Bay; and it could potentially force the Greens out of King's Landing. Aemond's betrothal to Floris Baratheon would give him some obligation to support his ally and future good-father against their common foe, and failure to give aid would endanger the Baratheon alliance. Aegon's only other allies are in the Westerlands and the Honeywine valley of the southern Reach, and without the Baratheons he is completely surrounded by his enemies. Whether Aegon, Aemond or both set out with an army to aid Borros, King's Landing's garrison and perhaps one dragonrider are all that would be left to defend against an attack by Daemon and the Riverlords and/or the Black houses of the Reach.

These scenarios offer a more effective employment for the Velaryon Fleet, but there is a way to retain the blockade while ensuring that the ending of the Dance remains relatively the same (Rhaenyra and Aegon are dead, Aegon III and Jaehaera marry, most of the dragons are dead, etc.) by acknowledging that the blockade is a poor strategy. It could start by allowing Mysaria's spies to discover the fate of the Royal Treasury, with ships carrying 75% of the treasury out of Blackwater Bay without the awareness of the Velaryon Fleet. It can even be implied that Larys Strong leaked this information to play both sides and drive a wedge between Rhaenyra and her Hand; this pays off as Rhaenyra blames Corlys and the Velaryons for this embarassment and imposes the Blockade against Corlys' judgement. The blockade serves as a way for her to get back at Aegon while asserting her royal authority after her claim was usurped.

The Velaryon Fleet is thus forced to commit the entirety of its forces to a task that Corlys, his vassals, and his captains and crews know is beyond their means to carry out successfully. Many galleys could be lost to the stormy seas and their crews drowned, while the cogs must endure the same weather and miserable conditions in pursuit of a pointless task. Morale declines steadily as many ships desert completely, turning to piracy or becoming merchantmen and sellsails in Essos, which further undermines the blockade. Tensions between Rhaenyra and Corlys would already be high before Rhaenys' death and could reach a crisis point after the Battle of the Gullet. The way the battle plays out in F&B could likewise be retained if the mistakes made by the Blacks are acknowledged, being the failure of naval or dragon patrols to detect the approach of the Triarchy Fleet. Gyldan could point out that both Prince Jacaerys and Lord Corlys are at fault for the disaster, but that Rhaenyra solely blames the Velaryons. I would even go a step further: Medieval and Early Modern naval combat relied heavily on boarding actions, excluding cannons since they're not present in George's setting. With many galleys and ships being entangled in these close-quarters bouts, it would not be surprising if the dragonriders set fire to Velaryon ships by mistake and further contributed to the deterioration of Velaryon support.

With many officers and crews having lost their families and homes in the Triarchy attack, this would present a perfect opportunity for Vaemond Velaryon's sons, Daeron and Daemion, and his nephews the 'Silent Five' to take action if they were not already involved in the events of the Dance. With Larys possibly assisting them, they could begin organizing a fleet-wide mutiny against Rhaenyra and the Black Council, which would take place after Corlys is arrested. Addam and Alyn would flee to Dragonstone and Driftmark, the former to seek Baela and Moondancer's help and the latter to rally ships and crews to help his father. The mutineers capture Alyn while Addam finds Moondancer dead, Baela imprisoned, and Dragonstone in the hands of Aegon II, with a battle ensuing between Sunfyre and Seasmoke which leads to Aegon's injuries and Addam fleeing the bay worse for wear. Heading to Maidenpool and finding that Nettles has fled and Daemon and Aemond are fallen in battle, Addam could then rally what forces he can for a suicide mission against Tumbleton with the aim of killing Daeron and the Betrayers and mauling their army before it can join Aegon at King's Landing.

This sets up how I would fix Second Tumbleton, by Addam showing up to find Daeron already battling with the Betrayers and the army divided. Knowing that neither Aegon and Alicent nor Alyn, Baela and Corlys will survive if the Betrayers take the capital, Addam and Daeron join forces and rout the Betrayers army, with all four dragonriders being killed in the battle. This change is important if Jaehaera's death is retained, since there needs to be strong foundations for reconciling the Greens and Blacks. Addam and Daeron the Daring's sacrifice gives both factions heroes that they can memorialize and honour together; Daenaera's marriage to Aegon III is also helped by her father and uncle having been actively involved in Rhaenyra's downfall in support of Aegon II. A final touch I would add would be for Alyn to lead a counter-mutiny following Aegon II's death which leads to deaths of Daeron Velaryon and three of the 'Silent Five'; Alyn could swear an oath to the dying Daeron to look after his daughter Daenaera now that both her parents will be dead. This magnanimous act by Alyn and the respect the Velaryon Fleet has for him could inform Daemion's decision to break with the remaining 'Silent Five' and support Alyn's claim as Corlys' heir.

If you've made it to the end of this wall of text, I commend you! For those that want a TL;DR: The Show's blockade is nonsense; the Book blockade is unworkable as a strategy; nonetheless, the blockade and the Velaryon Fleet can still play an important role in the story if the aforementioned flaws are acknowledged. Thanks for reading, and I'll catch you on the flip side!

[coffeebeanwriting]

How to Write Strong Character Goals 📑⭐

Here are some tips on how to write a strong motivation or goal for your protagonist. Typically, characters have multiple wants and needs throughout a story. However, every protagonist should have one, main goal that follows them throughout their journey that concludes at the end of the book.

Example: Frodo is tasked with destroying the ring at Mount Doom. This goal is established at the beginning of the story and concludes at the end.

⭐ Your character’s goal doesn’t have to be complicated. A simple goal is sometimes more powerful and relatable than an overly complex one. 

In Star Wars, Luke Skywalker’s primary goal isn’t to defeat the evil Empire or even to save Princess Leia. While these gradually become things that he wants/needs to do... his initial goal, what he really wants deep down at the beginning, is to simply escape his lackluster life of being a farmer on a remote sand planet. 

⭐ Your character needs to have both external goals and internal goals.  These two types of goals add complexity and realism to your protagonist.

A character’s external goal is displayed for everyone to see and typically deals with the plot: a new witch wants to master her magic and obtain a powerful amulet.

An internal goal is your protagonist's hidden motive that other characters are unaware of (and sometimes even the reader): the witch wants to become the most powerful magic-wielder so that no one can hurt her ever again.

⭐ Show your readers as soon as possible what your protagonist's goal is.  While a character’s goal doesn’t have to be super defined at the beginning of a story, it’s important that they have a reason behind their actions and a motivation that propels them forward in the story.

It’s clear from page one of The Hunger Games that Katniss strives to protect and provide for her sister Prim, which is then shown directly at the beginning of chapter two when she volunteers as Tribute for her. We understand Katniss’s goal from the very start and it makes us feel for her.

⭐ Your character’s goal can evolve and change. It does not have to remain the same. Katniss’s goal is always to protect Prim, but once she’s in the Hunger Games, her primary goals evolve into surviving against the other Tributes and the elements.

⭐ Make it hard for them to obtain their goal. Conflict is the heart of every story and if it was easy for your character to get what they want... there would be no story. Place obstacles in front of them, set them back, and watch them grow in the process.

⭐ Create mini-goals in each scene. Your characters and story should never feel stagnant or stuck in one place, and a great way to keep the story progressing is by giving your character smaller objectives that eventually get them to their main goal. 

Katniss has a ton of mini-goals she must complete that eventually gets her to her end goal of winning The Games. She must be likable to the Sponsors and in her interview, impress the judges with her bow skills, and try to make alliances. Once in the arena, she must find water, warmth, a safe place to sleep, escape danger, help Peeta and Rue, etc.

Instagram: coffeebeanwriting

[just-a-gamer-daydeamer-girl]

Ok more about my PL vs PW rewrite fic (still thinking of a name) I definitely will have to play though the game before I start but I do have some ideas on what to put in (a whole doc full of plot points in order). I won’t tell everything as this is still a mystery and some of the main points will be rewritten. But I will put some bullet points out there of what may be in the story.

Laywright slow burn

Luke and Maya siblings friendship slow burn

It will mostly fallow the Professor and Luke in the beginning. Investagating this odd town.

More supernatural elements and threats besides witches in Labyrinthia.

Phoenix and Maya are a mystery and are going by new names. Nicolas and Mia.

New case 1 replacing the English turnabout in game. It will be similar to the great witch trial in case 2 in game but there will be new twists. I kinda think it was weird to have Phoenix relearn everything twice. Just have one tutorial case.

Zacharias having a proper character arc. Yes he is the case 1 ‘prosecutor’ I know breaking tradition here (sorta) but it kinda counts as he has no idea how to use logic and gets absolutely served. He then goes on a self improvement journey, learning from Phoenix to better judge witches. And we see his growth in later cases.

The storytellers tower is a place visited multiple times during the investigation.

Evidence and hints added sprinkled throughout leading to the grand finale

Tears, assumptions, betrayal, discord, words not being heard, murders and near death encounters.

But also comfort, redemption, healing, family, memories, love and understanding.

New characters

The Dance of Deduction!

New twists!

Magic spells of course!

Spirit chanleing

The professor’s ’is you!’ Dramatic finger point.

Side B staring Miles Edgworth, Larry Butz, and other Professor Layton characters (maybe Flora! I don’t know if she was adopted during this time however)

Puzzles, namely ones people can actually do themselves! Might be extra work but it seems to be fun!

Let me know some of your ideas.

[valle-de-sombra-de-muerte]

Homestuck Reread: Act 4, Part 4/4 (p. 1865-1988)

Read the previous post here.

Oh boy it's the final stretch for this Act. I want to take a moment to express my appreciation for all the new followers I've gained over the course of this reread. I have 60 now, which is incredible. Thank you all!

With that said, this post will contain some... sticky subject matter. I wonder how many of you will choose to dip after this.

[CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of incest starts below the second image]

Oh my fuck it's the ectobiology section. Out of all the convoluted and frivolous mechanics in Homestuck, this one might be the worst in my opinion. Worse than the adventure game jokes cribbed from Problem Sleuth, worse than the punch card alchemy and other ponderous Sburb mechanics... I'd say it's worse than the time travel shit, but this is actually more of a subset of that. So yeah, time travel continues to be the worst thing about Homestuck, and shit like this and the bunny subplot are prime examples of that. But my ire is fully directed at ectobiology at this moment.

The stuff I mentioned before at least has a purpose; they parody needlessly complicated video game mechanics. But ectobiology doesn't have a purpose. It's not funny, nor does it serve the story in a meaningful or even interesting way. So why does it exist? Is it to drive home the point that these select individuals are the "chosen ones" by Sburb? If I had to hazard a guess what Hussie meant by that...

Earth is a vile place and must be destroyed, so sayeth Sburb. Everything living on it is flawed by extension, so its chosen destroyers must be fully disconnected human society and the planet itself. These destroyers have been plucked from the aether and reconstituted from bullshit plot slime in a faraway part of time and space, ensuring that they are unquestionably divorced from anything from Earth, and therefore pure.

Now that I type all that out, it's no wonder none of the kids were all that shaken up about bringing about the apocalypse. Considering that they're essentially game constructs with no actual ties to humanity, it really throws away any sort of conflict and sense of sacrifice brought about by destroying the planet. All the innocents who perished in the meteor showers? Eh, fuck them! They were all NPCs anyway. All hail the slime people!

Okay, I'm sure this wasn't Hussie's actual intent, but if there's no grander symbolism at play, what else is there? None of this adds anything to the plot. The fact that the main cast are non-humans is never touched upon and the whole thing reads as superfluous sci-fi garbage. The only significance the meteors carrying the babies had was that John's Nanna died from a meteor strike. But it was already suggested way earlier that she died because she was crushed by the Colonel Sassacre book.

That was a perfectly serviceable, slightly comedic death befitting of a family of jokesters. There's no need to escalate it and involve a giant meteor.

One other thing I take umbrage with: because the cast were all birthed from the same slurry, this means that Dave and Rose are now """related""". They aren't related by blood, no, but by slime. Which, in the eyes of Hussie and the fandom at large, means the same thing, I guess. Even though they never grew up as siblings, lived separate lives in different parts of the country, and only met online as strangers before developing a (very flirtatiously charged) friendship, the fandom treats them as if they're flesh and blood brother and sister. It boggles my mind. Why is this being treated as legitimate? Did Hussie plan all along to take the two characters with the best chemistry only to pull a Luke and Leia on us? Why would he write them like that if this was his endgame? Does he just have an incest fetish?

I wouldn't doubt it because themes of incest are actually quite pervasive within Homestuck. And that's without even mentioning how Hussie developed an alien race that fundamentally relies on incest to reproduce. Ectobiology creates several relationships, incidental or otherwise, that tie nearly the entire main cast in a complicated web of pseudo-familial dynamics. Like John is actually the kids' progenitor/father because he's the one who brought them all into existence. So even if he isn't related to Rose or Dave by genes or slime, he still gave birth to them in a sense.

I've even seen people say that since Betty Crocker/The Condesce was Nanna's adopted mother, that makes the Egbert/Crocker/Harley/English family tree "related" to the Peixes trolls, so any ship with that combination is "incest." What if I told you that Feferi is related to all the other trolls via bullshit slime mechanics as well? I guess that makes Johnkat incest too. And if John is Dave's father... gasp! Davekat is also incest!? It's over folks, burn everything down.

Anyway, I don't acknowledge Rose and Dave as biological siblings because I don't treat being born from a vat of slime as the same as being birthed from the same womb. That would be treating ectobiology as valid and sensible, which I refuse to do. I don't want to lend Hussie's fixation on incest any amount of approval. All I know is that the trolls are made of the same stupid plot sludge and nobody cares if you ship them. There are no humans and trolls: only slime constructs. Either everyone is related or none of them are. You can't have both.

In the end, none of this matters. The world would be a much happier place if we all collectively agreed to forget ectobiology's existence. If this ruffles your feathers, just block me. Don't come at me because I'll just ignore you.

So Grandpa Harley had time-traveled forward to the future and into Sburb before returning to the past, living out his life on Earth, and dying. Fucking okay I guess!

At least this answers the question I had that yes, Mom Lalonde knew what she was doing before entering the game because Grandpa told her everything. Same with Bro and Dad, it seems.

Ah yes, Dad x Mom. A relationship that ends nearly as soon as it begins. Let's put this right alongside the Exile love triangle and DaveTav in the "relationships that are teased but never manifest into anything meaningful" pile.

"Ackshually, everyone was born from a vat of slime on a distant meteor and sent back to Earth to live out their lives!" - the ramblings of an utter lunatic.

Like god fucking forbid the kids be normal people placed in extraordinary circumstances.

The babies all gravitate to the things they'll have a connection to in the future. Nanna gets her son's hat, Bro gets Cal, etc. Dave clings to Maplehoof, which doesn't seem like a clear connection. Except... that's Rose's horse, isn't it? Ohhh. It all makes sense now. 😏

This exchange is a top 10 Karkat moment for sure.

The supposed saviors that will revive the human race aren't even human, they're slime creatures! Beyond the fact that none of them are human, the Superman analogy falls flat because none of these kids are humanity's protectors. They're just following the whims of a game that ultimately does not give a fuck about any of them.

I need "JOHN EGBERT, YOU HAVE ASSASSINATED MY PATIENCE." emblazoned on a banner or something.

Also Karkat calls Superman a "Caucasian alien" and he also refers to a genie as an "Earth Arabian" in an earlier log.

He really knows a lot about different human ethnic groups, for some reason.

I think about "you always call jail the slammer when you are extra angry" on a somewhat regular basis.

Sassacre is killed, but since he was a human, his death is inconsequential. Grandpa, a slime homunculus just like Nanna, is given new life, which is a cause for celebration. This whole sequence is quite morbid with Sassacre's bloody corpse just hanging out in the frame.

But wait, if Nanna and Grandpa are adopted siblings, and John and Jade are their "genetic children"... augh, never mind! This is what I mean when I say ectobiology produces all kinds of unfortunate relationships. I don't want to think about any of this pseudo-incest anymore. How are there people who make it their whole online careers to dissect this garbage so they can harass people about this shit? Don't they get tired? It's giving me a headache.

Rose is even referred to as John's "daughter" in the title of this flash. I'm not just blowing smoke when I say that John is everyone dad. That's literally what just happened.

Now that we're finally done with this segment, I'll cap it off with this: Nothing of value was added with the inclusion of ectobiology. I know I've been throwing around the phrase "waste of time" in these posts, but this bit of worldbuilding is unequivocally, without a doubt, the biggest fucking waste of time in this entire comic.

Woof. Shall we move on?

While Davesprite and Terezi sort of reconciled in their conversation and formed a bit of a bond, Dave doesn't receive her nearly as amicably. Why is she doing the "1S TH1S YOU" joke with Dave when that was a bit she did with Davesprite?

Oh right, because she thinks that same relationship will carry over to "real Dave". She sees them as the same person just like everyone else. Lovely.

Dave thinks he can burn Terezi by repeatedly insulting her blindness, even though it's clear that it doesn't bother her at all. This is really weak, especially when compared to his log with Tavros where he forced Tavros to block him.

Terezi seems to have completely given up on John and now wants to be annoying and nasty to Dave instead. She has officially been downgraded from minor antagonist to obnoxious interloper.

Tavros could only ever enjoy himself when he could escape to Prospit, be mobile, and most importantly fly. Nobody ever wants to talk about how Tavros has a lot of avoidance issues, how he always shrinks away from action and confrontation, and how he copes with adversity through escapism (both in a figurative sense through his interest in fantasy, and in a literal sense when he dreams on Prospit). A big part of his character comes from Peter Pan, the archetype of childlike escapism! IDK man, it sucks to see people reduce him to this lovable, pure-hearted woobie while ignoring the key part of his character.

Just like with Davesprite, Terezi just needed to send the right drawing for Dave's opinion of her to flip. Fantastic conflict resolution right there.

[S] Descend is the End of Act flash for Act 4. It might be the most ambitious flash up to this point. Lots of guest artists contributed here, and it's at this point where Homestuck really begins to feel like a much more collaborative project instead of solely Hussie's work. I don't mean to discredit the music team when I say that, because they've been around since the start, but this feels more substantial since Homestuck is a primarily visual work.

Anyway, Bro slices a meteor in half to save Dave's life, and later has his rocket board transport Dave into the game safely. Chalk that up to his list of noble deeds to try and balance out his dastardly ones.

Jack fucks shit up indiscriminately, so why does he spare WV? Feels a little out of character for him.

The brief Jack and Bro fight is pretty sweet. I'm not a shonen guy, but I'm getting that same sort of energy from this. Knowing that Bro probably knew all about the kinds of monsters he'd have to fight in Sburb, he has probably been training for something like this for most of his life. Had Jack not gotten god powers, Bro probably could've wasted him.

I like to think that Rose's merging with her doomed self is what causes her to act so destructive and nihilistic from this point on. She wants to destroy the game that killed her.

So okay... when Dave and Rose gave John their bunnies for his present, both of them clearly put a lot of thought in their gifts. Dave gifted him a piece of merch from his favorite movie. Rose restored an old heirloom using John's previous gift to her. Jade assembled "a fun and completely ridiculous thing" that has no sentimental meaning and only carries a vague sense of importance.

Does she just not know what he likes? This is less a gesture of friendship and more of her blindly fulfilling the whims of Sburb. I really struggle to see how Jade fits in this friend group dynamic. She's like the weird kid that the others let hang around out of pity.

Waow! After all that buildup with the box mystery, the bunny and Jack are going to have a showdown! Finally we can see what all the fuss is about and why this bunny is so important.

... Or Jack can just fly away and they never fight at all. Cool Hussie. It's so cool how you spent several pages devoted to this plot point only to let it fizzle out like this. Incredible writing.

How much time do you think elapsed between Grandpa bringing Dream!Jade's corpse aboard his airship and gutting, cleaning, stuffing, and mounting her? He probably did it all after he flew off, but I like to imagine him doing this all before that while Mom and Dad just stood around awkwardly waiting for him to finish.

Act 4 had its ups and its downs. A lot of downs. The ups also felt a little bittersweet because for every intriguing story hook like the Exile love triangle, Dave's relationship with Tavros, Rose and her mother, or anything involving Davesprite and doomed Rose, they all amount to nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Homestuck truly is a collection of fun ideas all unfortunately cobbled together by someone who doesn't know how to properly execute them in a story. The colorful art and the kickass music can only serve to cover up the flaws so much before the veneer peels and you see the ugly cracks underneath. I wish we lived in a world where Andrew "writing is easy" Hussie had an editor to salvage the good stuff and throw shit like ectobiology into the garbage.

If it sounds like I'm wrapping things up, think again. This journey isn't over yet. It's time for Act 5! People like to joke about how you should skip all the way to that one, but after everything I've read so far... I wouldn't blame anyone if they did.

Read the next post here.

[formosusiniquis]

In a turn of events surprising exactly no one among the group, it's Dustin's who starts the whole thing. He calls a formal party meeting, and an hour after the message goes out over the walkie Steve has a living room full of anxious freshman and Eddie Munson -- and him and Robin who are mostly there because the meeting had to be held at Steve's house for some reason.

Dustin's sense of dramatics have come to rival Eddie's, and he waits until they're all seated before he even bothers coming out from where he hid himself with a manilla folder under one arm and the only white sheet in Steve's house, that had definitely come from off of his parent's bed, under the other. He doesn't say a word as he throws the sheet over the entertainment center and comes back again wheeling in an overhead projector. Steve can still faintly make out O'Donnell written on the side. "I'm sure you're wondering why I've gathered you all here today," Dustin punctuated his sentence with the heavy click of the projector being switched on.

The fan doesn't drown out the screaming from the crowd.

"You made it sound like an emergency."

"How did you get that here?"

"How did you get it at all?"

"Please," Dustin interrupts, "save all questions for the end." From his manilla folder he slaps a pre-written laminate down on the light table. Projecting, enlarged for everyone to see, 'Why Lucien is secretly the big bad of the whole campaign: a presentation by Dustin Henderson."

"This is the lamest reason for petty theft ever." Eddie gripes. Clearly more upset than Henderson had actually figured the plot twist out, Steve remembers how proud of himself he'd been when he talked himself through it weeks ago.

"Did you help him do this?" Steve asks, afraid of the answer. 

"Obviously not, why would I spoil my own-"

"The projector, Eddie."

"I mean barely, I was more of a getaway driver. Really, if she wanted to keep her projector she shouldn't have moved it out into the hallway so they could wax the floors. I didn't know he was going to use it for evil."

Henderson clears his throat, a disgusting phlegmy hem-hem, "If you're going to talk through the presentation, you'll be asked to leave."

The attitude on the kid, really.

It becomes a thing after that. Steve already has the projector, it's not like he can bring it back to the highschool. What would he even say, 'Sorry about the confusion, my overhead projector looks just like this one.' When there's nothing good at Family Video to rent or it's raining too hard to use the pool, they'll all go to different corners of the house with a stack of ten laminate sheets, a wet erase marker, and a vague theme. Then they come back and share what they've come up with.

The group is incapable of not instigating some kind of competition, at the end of the night they'd fight and argue over whose presentation was best. Steve participated half the time, but more often than not let himself be talked into playing referee to make sure no one's feelings got too hurt. On those nights he'd add onto Robin's. His favorite: why star trek is better than star wars (with footnotes from Steve)

It's at least twice as gay, kirk and spock are basically alien married and uhura definitely had a thing for spock's wife. All star wars has is the robots and they're barely main characters.

Steve note: Spock's half-vulcan status can be looked at the same as being bi or genderqueer, not feeling like you belong right in either half of your identity cause you aren't enough of one or the other -- Luke is just a twink with a nice wardrobe.

The Party could argue about anything, but Steve wasn't exactly surprised when the young adults got in on the fun too. The projector didn't usually come out until they were all drunk or stoned enough to admit that they had been waiting all night to make their presentations. Unlike the kids who mostly treat the games like debate team: who's the most powerful fictional character, what's the best PC class, what character from star wars would survive the Upside Down (he thought Erica's presentation: why the my little ponies could take down tiamat but wouldn't because they're too civilized, was especially inspired). The older teens treated it more like an amped up game of truth or dare, making up things that someone else in the group should have to do and encouraging the rest of the group to join in too.

They started the night off with Argyle's "Why Steve should give me his secret brownie recipe" which turned out to be mostly about how good they would taste as weed brownies and Eddie and Jon were quick to join his side.

They go around like that advocating for bad decisions like consequences don't exist, like they could be kids again. Robin thinks they should get tattoos, Steve is easily swayed. Jon proposes a road trip back to California. Nancy says they should all move to Boston with her. Eddie thinks the core four should start a band. Steve waits for his turn.

Steve has had his pages written and waiting for days. He knows exactly how long it takes his friends every time they meet to get wasted enough to give in to the temptation to wheel out his contraband projector. Once Robin is finished shouting at Eddie about how they're the only ones with any musical gifts he takes his turn.

"Why Eddie Munson should go out with me: a presentation by Steve Harrington."

[thesunfyre4446]

me disliking Rhaenyra has nothing to do with team green characters. i don't dislike her because i like them or because i root for them, i dislike her simply because personally her character is not interesting to me.

i just don't feel like she has done enough to make me root for her or want her on the throne. she never took charge, she never made any political moves unless she absolutely had to (like only securing the alliance with the velaryons and rhaenys when luke's inheritance was threatened) and overall, in my opinion, she's not an interesting player in the game of thrones. ironically, the main reason i enjoy TG is the main reason why it's hated by TB - they're manipulative, they plot and make secret alliances, they are the non-targ outsiders underdogs.

some TB believes that rhaenyra should be queen only because she's viserys's chosen heir - which is valid and true, but i'm going to root for the characters i love and tbh i don't really care who's legally the "rightful" heir.

[another-lost-mc]

I hate how Mephistopheles has no lore. I'm making an OC that out ranks him and the fucker has no established rank??? Sir your whole goddamn thing is "I'm a noble, goddamn it" and like no rank? No bitches? No nobility??

So I'm picking one (Grand Dutches, technically?) and going with the punches, but how do you fix Solomare's near non-existent lore so well?? This shit is hard! Mad props!

I'm grateful that we got more Mephisto lore in Nightbringer, but like many characters, new info or interactions are few and far between except when it's needed as a plot device. lol

Even though Mephisto isn't a member of the Ars Goetia, he's a Faustian demon or what I call a "named" demon which has important relevance in my personal world building. Other than that, we know that his family has deep roots to the Devildom nobility, are highly influential, and that he was basically raised to be Diavolo's friend. We know his special power now thanks to Nightbringer, but my version of it is a bit sinister because, you know, demons.

Unless you're new around here, my solution to gaps in the game's lore or storytelling is solved by personal headcanons/world building and creating OCs. I knew I wanted to write more about Mephisto, and that meant exploring his relationships and history outside of what the game told us.

Before NB existed, I was already developing his little brother OC because using characters/info only found in the games limits the potential for complexity and drama. Plus, writing an OC for Mephisto's brother helped me develop my own interpretation of Mephisto's character too.

When the game only leaves us crumbs to work with, here's what my brainstorming looks like to try and explore possible ways to fill in the gaps:

Creating an OC for Mephisto's younger brother: Mephisto is a named demon and part of the demon nobility. My thought: his brother is probably a named demon of some importance too.

Naming Mephisto's little brother: After doing some reading, I learned Mephisto wasn't part of the Ars Goetia, but that didn't mean his brother couldn't be. Result: I just picked a name off the list that I liked. LOL

Note: I have friends that have OCs based off other Ars Goetia demons so I purposefully avoided choosing those names because I write about my version the Devildom assuming those OCs exist within it.

Developing Bathin as an OC: Okay, we have a name. Cool, that's usually the hard part. Now we have to build him up from nearly nothing! What I knew about his character before NB released: he was significantly younger than Mephisto (I imagined the same or slightly younger than Luke with a similar childlike appearance) and that Mephisto was a very attentive and doting older sibling. Based on the RAD Sports event in OG, I concluded if he was that protective of Luke, he would be even more protective of his younger brother as well. I also interpreted the events and assigned Mephisto his demonic trait (having a tail of some kind instead of wings). In my mind, demonic traits are something that might be part of the family's heritage, so I decided that Bathin would look similar to Mephisto in his human form and also his demon form.

Identifying gaps/issues with Bathin's character: The main concern I had to address for Bathin was his existence as a demon of the Ars Goetia. Solomon has pacts with all of them, and this implies that he would also have a pact with Bathin - a literal demon child. Oops!

Questions I needed to answer:

Why would Solomon want a pact with a child and how did this happen?

Are there any limitations/restrictions if a pact is made with a demon child that isn't mature/"of age"?

Should I change his name to something else to avoid this issue? Nah.

Solving Bathin's existence as a child in the Ars Goetia: I basically wrote a world building theory about demon death/exorcism and respawn cycles to explain which demons can respawn and which ones cannot. Naming conventions and the impact on existing pacts are part of this theory.

Conclusion using fill-in-the-gaps world building:

A form of the death & rebirth cycle exists for demons.

Using theory, Bathin can exist as a member of the Ars Goetia because he was killed/exorcised as a mature demon. His essence/power exists within the version of him that was reborn later.

Implications and things to continue developing:

Bathin made his pact with Solomon as a mature demon and the pact persisted through death, although as a child the pact is weak and practically unusable.

Demons who respawn usually have no memories of their previous existence, but Mephisto would remember him from before. That can explain why he might be close and very protective of his younger brother. Solomon would also have memories of past!Bathin as well and that could have some interesting effects on how Solomon interacts with Mephisto as well.

Demons that are exorcised and respawned might carry some lingering physical evidence of their death - for example, the power of an angel's grace maiming some part of their body. This helped me visualize Bathin's physical appearance and explain any potential scars or flaws he was born with.

Child!Bathin won't be a copy of his former self, so there is potential for drama/angst as those that knew him best before re-learn the "new" him.

The possibility to explore Mephisto as a child and how his friendship with Diavolo was fostered/pressured by those around him (and Bathin's feelings/attitudes about Mephisto's potential (mis)treatment).

Explaining past!Bathin's untimely demise in the first place and the characters/circumstances involved.

If you ever wondered how I take a random throwaway reference in the game and expand on it to create an OC, here's what the process looked like when I was developing Mephisto's brother. He's very precious and though I doubt we'll see much more of him in the game other than some vague references, I enjoy writing about Mephisto enough that dedicating an OC to his little brother was worthwhile.

I'll end this with a treat for those of you that decided to read through all this rambling:

[three-fulm-thaumaturd]

Dawn? Trailed.

Finished Dawntrail MSQ tonight. Assorted scattershot (and spoiler-heavy) thoughts under the RM.

-I came to DT without much preexisting hype or emotional investment. All I wanted out of this expansion was to have a break from being the main character who has to save the multiverse from extinction, again, and to have some cool scenery to look at and some banger music, and we sure got that!

-There are a lot of things about how this expansion was written that didn't effortlessly or instinctively emotionally appeal to me in specific, but that are, when I think about them, really good, solid workmanlike choices re: how to construct a video game narrative.

-I know J-media tournament arcs are “well worn” in the same sense that the Grand Canyon or the Marianas Trench are, but they provide a plausible pretext for the things that MMOs are set up to do. Better than a host of supposedly highly-realized and virtuous precursor beings insisting that we repeatedly justify our existence by fighting, for sure.

-Being Wuk Lamat's mentor/emotional support Eorzean/800 pound gorilla was an interesting conceit. I think the writers carried off "non-protagonist PC" fairly well, and I've played other games where that was tried and didn't work (lookin at you SWtOR, re: KotFE). Lamat'yi feels like a more competently-written version of Stormblood-era Lyse. She's got both a core personality that remains consistent and a trajectory of increasing competence and maturity. I think she's well constructed as a protag/viewpoint character: she's primed to like things and people, her ethos of addressing conflict by seeking understanding and consensus is a good pretext to deliver exposition, and she feels/empathizes intensely but doesn't get stuck on her own emotional reactions. I wouldn’t say I effortlessly enjoy her as a character, especially early on when the writing leans hard into her immaturity and desperation to be liked and to prove herself, but I understand and respect what that’s for. It’s no different than Naruto or early-OT Luke Skywalker.

-I like the variety of Central/South American cultural inspo (Aztec, Quechua, Yucatec Maya, Pueblo, etc), we got in the setting and culture for this xpac, and the conception of Tural as a very racially/culturally heterogeneous place where power comes from the aggregate of a complicated network of relationships that have to be negotiated on an ongoing basis. It's not zero-sum, and finding solutions that benefit everyone is hard but worthwhile.

-I was excited to be able to bring Krile, my favorite Scion, along this time. I feel like the ShB/EW A-team had enough presence to appeal to people who like them and not so much that they upstaged the new characters or the change of scenery.

-I think there was effort to add cinematographic interest to the many, dense cutscenes other than wide-angle shot/reverse-shot over paragraphs of text. Some of the camera angles (switching between the faces of my minimum-height lalafell and 2m+ Wuk Lamat) and long shots of characters' expressions resulted in...sometimes-intentional uncanniness and unintentional comedy. This probably was not the devs' intention (their intention was probably a performance with emotional subtlety that the graphics overhaul alas still doesn't permit), but my instinctive read was that it felt like unnecessary padding/stalling for time.

-Re: other stuff that felt like it unnecessarily lengthened the playtime and the amount of text to read, sometimes I resent that it feels like I'm being not just spoon-fed, but bottle-fed plot and character beats that are not complicated or hard to understand. Then I see people evincing failure to comprehend what they're reading elsewhere on the internet and understand why it's done that way. :\

-There's basically one trademark Ishikawa conflict: Local man driven to extremes by inability/unwillingness to come to terms with loss, aging, and death. There's also one trademark Ishikawa sin that characterizes all of the ShB-and-after antagonists: a delusional insistence on harming the living to feed the dead. Those come up so consistently that her style is instantly recognizable...and I wonder some about what she's experienced or how she's doing.

-The hairpin turn in the plot about 2/3 of the way in and the by-now very familiar tropes aren't my narrative jam at all, but it was engaging enough to mostly keep my attention until the end. I'm beyond weary of Ascians/Ancients and shard math, so I'm glad those things were referenced (and there's some interesting stuff to chew on re: Lalafell history in particular) but not focal.

-I'm a little mad, because my pre-Heritage-Found speculation that El Dorado was going to turn out to actually be an aetherologic Superfund site (which would explain the security, the giants charging in and coming back dead, sick, or unable to reproduce, the teratogenic effects on eg Blessed Siblings etc and the fight for control of it as a putative military asset) seemed to have a lot of fun possibilities. I guess you could argue that Living Memory might be a very abstracted nod in that direction.

-*Queen Sphene*? Really, you couldn’t have named her anything at all else???

-I'm not at all satisfied that "he felt overshadowed by his father's accomplishments and wanted to prove his worth independent of his unusual heritage" is sufficient justification for how Zoraal Ja was, especially prior to his first contact with Alexandria. I figured based on his behavior and Krile's remarks, that he had to be Tempered, or affected by an equivalent kind of magical compulsion.

-The final trial, and to a lesser extent the last dungeon are an unmitigated (and unmitigatable until mods become available again) accessibility nightmare if you're photosensitive or prone to motion sickness. I hoped the devs would take the feedback they got from the ShB alliance raid series under consideration but they sure didn't give a shit. Guess I'm not doing roulettes for a while.

[sid-the-sandwich]

The Obey Me! Anime but as a Mockumentary

This is part 3 of stealing stuff from other franchises (LOL), but this time I'm writing about the anime because I was bored and had another thought that needs to be set free onto the world.

I want to preface this by saying I LOVE the anime, its funny and cute; its very 'slice of life'-ie and the boys are all so silly in this version. but I want something different, and hopefully longer episodes.

So, what is a 'Mockumentary'? essentially its a mix of the words 'Mock' and 'Documentary'. Google defines it as 'a type of film or television show depicting fictional events, but presented as a documentary which in itself is a subset of a faux-documentary style of film-making.' Think of shows such as 'Modern Family' and 'The Office'.

i'm going to try and follow some of the plots in the actual anime but trying to get it to fit 22 minutes which is how long episodes usually are of this type.

i try to keep it condensed or we'd be here all day <3

I tried my best

---------------

i've decided to write episodes down with a formula of:

Ep 1- No Motivation to Study. (All brothers)

Ep 2- Ruri-Chan Viewing Party. (Leviathan)

Ep 3- For Whom the Belly Rumbles. (Beelzebub)

Ep 4- Princess Asmodeous is in Another Castle. (Asmodeous)

Ep 5- Mammon and the Dog. (Mammon)

Ep 6- Detective Satan. (Satan)

Ep 7- Camp Lucifer. (Lucifer)

Ep 8- A Trip for 7. (Belphegor)

Ep 9- Beach Babes (All brothers)

Ep 10- A Bunny Boy's New Years' (All brothers)

Also, i thought it would be funny if MC was the one doing the interview portions; of course, we'd never see MC, but it is alluded that they are behind the camera.

-----------------

Ep 1: No motivation to study

Main Plot points:

A plot- The brother's are studying for an exam

B plot- Mammon's makes the 'miss em' doll

Story flow:

Plot A:

The brothers are introduced

the brothers are studying for an exam

Mammon is slacking off as usual

the brothers cant concentrate as they keep getting distracted

they want MC to come back to the devildom

The brothers goof off

Plot B:

Mammon makes the Miss 'em dolls and sells them

Ep 2: Ruri-chan viewing party

Main Plot points:

A plot- Levi grabs all the dateables for a viewing party

B plot- the rest of the brothers are hiding from Levi

Story:

Plot A:

Levi squeals in excitement which means there's a new Ruri-chan movie.

he tells the camera in the 'interview' how much he LOVES the movie he wants to show them today,

he continues talking and talking

Levi tries to find his brothers around the house but can't

he decides to find ANYONE who will listen

He finds Simeon who was badly hiding behind the couch, Simeon rats Luke and Solomon out.

Levi even takes Diavolo and Barbatos

keeping the dateables in his room, not letting them leave

he over-explains everything to them

He stops them from leaving multiple times, Luke even tries to fake an illness to get out

Even Levi's snake hides from him

Plot B:

All the brothers try to tiptoe around the house, trying to avoid Levi who is constantly listening to find people who would listen find others

The brothers express in the interviews how they love Levi... but they cannot stand another one of his movies

Ep 3: For whom the belly rumbles

Main Plot points: (I got inspired by the episode of 'Modern Family', 'Connection Lost')

A plot- Beel is lost in some sort of island. the whole ep takes place on the DDD interface.

B plot- Lucifer, Satan and Asmo are at Diavolo's castle

C plot- Levi, Mammon and Belphie are in the HOL

Story:

Plot A:

Beel scrolls through apps on his phone, somehow having internet access

he then opens his contacts and dials Lucifer on facetime

Asmo pops into facetime on Lucifer's laptop

Beel dials Belphie who is asleep, then he dials Levi who is always on his phone.

they all try to find out what and where Beel is

they offer suggestions but Beel keeps getting distracted

All it ends up, is that Beel accidentally sent himself into a game world after eating a game disc

Plot B:

Lucifer has to give a speach on behalf of Diavolo

when Beel calls on Lucifer's laptop, Lucifer was going over his speach as Asmo does his makeup and Satan was checking who attended.

they try to help Beel out of where he is before Lucifer gives his speach

Plot C:

Levi was chasing Mammon around the house when Beel calls

Belphie was asleep

Ep 4: Princess Asmodeous is in another Castle

Main Plot points:

A plot- Asmodeous gets sent into Levi's game as the princess, he loves it a little too much

B plot- Lucifer giving Mammon a driving lesson

Story:

Plot A:

Asmo and the other brothers are sent into a game

at first, Asmo is annoyed but then he realises he is the princess and forces everyone to do his bidding

he wants to be saved in a certain way, dressed in a certain way, etc

Asmo likes it

Asmo becomes like an evil dictator

the brothers revolt against the prince and they win the game

Plot B:

Mammon got a parking ticket and it turned out his license expired a few months ago

Lucifer gives Mammon a driving lesson

Ep 5: Mammon and the Dog

Main Plot points:

A plot- Mammon was turned into a dog, and Mammon runs away

B plot- Levi and Asmo had a previous fight but also Satan and Belphie had a previous fight

Story:

A plot:

Starts with Mammon having a dumb look on his face, his lips not moving but he is talking with the camera zooming into Mammon's face, Mammon then says "Hey over 'ere!", the camera zooms out and shows Mammon sitting next to a dog. Mammon is the dog.

Dog Mammon explains how he got cursed and then it plays out like the anime for the first 5 minutes

The brothers go out to eat dinner where they tease Mammon like usual

Mammon mishears something Lucifer said

Mammon leaves when no one was looking

The brothers in groups look for Mammon (Group 1: Levi and Asmo, Group 2: Satan, Belphie and Beel), they go to Casinos, clubs, bars to try look

Lucifer finds Mammon in MC's bedroom, they talk

Everyone resolves their conflicts by the end

B plot:

Asmo and Levi are fighting because Levi didn't include Asmo on a stream

Satan and Belphie are fighting because of an understanding when talking about the Anti-Lucifer defense league

Ep 6: Detective Satan

Main Plot points:

A plot- Detective Satan with the younger brothers

B plot- Mammon, Lucifer and Levi are taking Mammon to his driving test

Story:

Plot A:

Satan solves his brothers mysteries, expanding on 'Detective Satan' 1 and 2.

Plot B:

Lucifer and Levi take Mammon to the driving center

When Mammon is having his exam with Little D no. 2 as the examiner, Mammon is chased by a guy who he owns a debt to

Mammon tries to out drive the debt collecters

Levi and Lucifer chase after them in a third car

Mammon somehow passes his test

Ep 7: Camp Lucifer

Main Plot points:

A plot- Lucifer takes his brothers to a camp

B plot- Mammon and Asmo want to go to a party instead

C plot- Levi, Satan and Belphie just want to go back home

Story:

Plot A:

Lucifer is overzealous about camp, he's doing everything

All the brothers gather around the campfire, and each brother wants to get away.

When Lucifer goes away to deal with an argument Beel caused because he ate the next door camp's food

When he comes back all his brothers except for Beel have gone

Beel is eating all the food at the campfire, Lucifer pets him on the head

after a while of Lucifer and Beel alone, where Lucifer is just watching Beel eat, Lucifer goes away to wash his hands

the rest of the brothers feel bad, and return

Lucifer returns and sees ALL his brothers back around the campfire again roasting marshmallows

Lucifer joins them

Plot B:

Asmo and Mammon have big plans to escape for the night because they heard that a devildom celeb was at a club

they sneak out when lucifer is distracted

but eventually they return after a while

Plot C:

Levi, Belphie and Satan hide in the tents wanting to just rest and get away from all the insects and flies

Ep 8: A trip for 7

Main Plot points:

A plot- Belphie is sad because his brothers are treating him different

B plot- Road trip with all the brothers in a caravan

Story:

Plot A:

Part one and two of 'A trip for 7'

Belphie is just watching as his brothers interact

but most of the trip takes place in a caravan as they going to their destination

Plot B:

The brothers have a pillow fight and play cards without belphie because things are still awkward with him

Ep 9: Beach Babes

Main Plot points:

A plot- Mammon trying to get pics of Lucifer shirtless

B plot- Asmo takes Beel as his wingman to pick up some 'babes'

Story:

Plot A:

Mammon wraps up each of his brothers to help him in his endeavours

he asks Levi to dress like an octopus to catch Lucifer off guard

he asks Satan to place a curse of Lucifer that raises his body heat until he is so warm he wants to take his shirt off

he asks Belphie to create an elaborate trap but Belphie just throws crabs at Lucifer while not even moving from his place under the umbrella

Plot B:

Asmo takes Beel with the promise of food to find some 'babes'

Asmo tries flirting with some people but Beel is somehow doing better than him

Asmo finds someone from behind

the 'babe' is actually Solomon

Ep 10: A bunny boy's New Years'

Main Plot points:

A plot- Brothers as Bunny boys

B plot- the dateables come to the Bunny boy restaurant for New Years

Story:

Plot A:

the brothers have to be bunny boys to make up for Mammon's debt

they attend to the dateables

Plot B:

Season finale where the dateables recap the whole season

-----------

Yh... idk what this one was- i think i hallucinated half of it <3

[multiversal-madness]

Professor Layton Au - Pandora's Call

((I have made an intro post for this au before but it's been a while and things have changed so here we go))

The Pandora's Call Au follows the idea of pairing the games (+ the movie and crossover) and merging them together, combining the stories and mysteries while changing some other story details to fill the gaps left behind.

The namesake of this Au (and the first combination to be created), Pandora's Call is the combination of Pandora's Box and Spectre's Call.

It follows the Professor and his new assistant Emmy as they investigate the Elysian box. They follow its trail to the ghost town Folsense where they must uncover the secrets behind the spectres — two large and formless entities that fight in the streets — the Spirit — a figure commanding the animals of the town into harassing visitors — and the Golden Kingdom — a castle rumoured to be buried beneath Folsense originating from the Azran.

The Black Ravens are instead the Raven's Guild located in Dropstone and while they do participate in the market, they're more so 'adventurers' that oversee most of the travel to the ghost town.

Arianna isn't sick, Tony doesn't dress up as Seamus and Evan Barde doesn't die, they live in Dropstone together peacefully.

Instead of the manatee like creature she is in canon, Loosha is instead a Quetzalcoatlus that flew out of the Golden Kingdom when she was small enough for Luke to hold.

And Luke Triton is instead Lord Luke Herzen, the grandson of Duke Anton Herzen, raised by his grandfather in Folsense with his only contact with the world outside Folsense being when he uses the animals of Folsense to scare away outsiders.

The other game pairings in this Au are as follows:

Eternal Diva + Curious Village — Eternal Village

St Mystere exists on the island of Ambrosia, the looming tower is mixed with Descole's castle and the Whistler and Reinhold families are combined. Flora and Melina are sisters and Melina's consciousness is put into a robot after she dies.

Miracle Mask + PLvsAA — Mysterious Mask

Labyrinthia is its own world accessible through the Akbadain ruins which is where Randall ended up when he fell, the magic is real (but bound to that one area) and the one behind the Masked Gentleman is the Storyteller (Descole isn't in this one due to Dahlia related injuries).

Lost Future + Azran Legacy — Lost Legacy

Mostly follows the plot of Azran Legacy, but Bill Hawks has disappeared in a time machine related incident and someone claiming to be Luke from the future joins them on their journey. Targent makes it to each location first so they have to use a rudimentary time machine that can only go back a few days to let them collect the eggs first. Also Clive is Luke's half brother, though he has to wear a purple wig to cover his blonde hair.

I do have some extra details for what happens outside the main 'games' as well, though this post is getting long so I'll put them under the cut for anyone who's interested (sorry it's also pretty long):

Clark and Brenda have been dead for around 10 years by the time Pandora's Call starts (though Brenda isn't quite gone), though Clark's death was confirmed while Brenda went missing on her own accord and was presumed dead

Losing Clark and then Brenda in short succession then only a few years later losing Claire left Hershel in a very bad place, he withdrew more so than before and became more reckless in the cases he'd pursue

After being beaten up by the government, Lucille and Roland were worried about him only having them and his mentor Dr Schrader to support him so Lucille called the Ledore household and asked if they would be willing to check in on Hershel, which they agreed and Henry went to go check on him

It was rocky at first, but Henry reaching out really helped Hershel and the two became friends again, Angela joining them too, though with Monte d'Or they couldn't be there all the time

During Hershel's 'reckless era' Henry would often be the one to come over and make sure he's eating enough and looking after his injuries (both from the government incident and injuries he gets while being reckless)

He has two major injuries around this time, one from before the Government beat down and one that ended his 'reckless era' and made him realise he couldn't keep doing this

The first happened the day Claire died. A young boy ran into the burning building next door to the lab to look for his parents and Hershel ran after him, burning his hands in the process of saving the kid

The second was when he was in a particularly bad place mentally, when he decided to look into the case of Claire's death a second time. He got further with his investigation, but then he was jumped and beat up worse than the first time, severely damaging one of his legs in the process and needing it to be amputated from the knee down (When it heals enough he gets a prosthetic, but he also carries a foldable cane and crutches in case he needs them)

On a brighter note, his reckless era did bring about one good change and that was running into his old 'friend' Paul who had also gotten involved in some shady dealings. After escaping the people Hershel was investigating/Paul was getting even with, they ended up reconnecting (things were a bit more complicated than that but this post is already too long-)

This Au's Hershel is a lot tidier than his canon counterpart, he also tends to collect odd souvenirs from his travels (traits he's picked up from Clark and Brenda, *gestures to 'guy who's nothing but the people he's lost' post*)

He's also a bit quicker to go against law enforcement when they're interfering with his investigations (nothing extreme of course, but he's definitely hidden evidence he hasn't had a chance to observe properly before an inspector could take it away)

And that's all I'll share for now. I have a lot planned for this Au and eventually I want to write a few fics for it too (a multichapter fic for each 'game' and a few oneshots too, though it is a very ambitious project) so we'll see what happens.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

@bigprincessrebel hi! I just saw your ask and ummmm so it's gonna have to be part of a somewhat bigger series of posts? I already have two asks about the morality of demons that I'm going to turn into one post, I've got a post about the functioning of the Celestial Realm vs Devildom and how that affects their morality/values in my drafts -> both would relate a lot to your ask. I also have a post about religion vs the the Celestial Realm & Devildom floating around somewhere that I should find cause it's also relevant. But I'm really busy these days so all that might take some time so till then here's a summary of my thoughts

I think it's dumb to believe Diavolo's a shitty ruler because he wants peace between the realms and demons are supposed to be evil? And to believe that the other demons won't like him because of that? Because:

1. The game literally said that Diavolo's voted the most popular demon every year

2. Lots of the background demons have made friends with not only MC (a human) but also with the angels. Hell Luke has demon friends outside of the main characters. Also like pretty sure lots of demons are romantically attracted to humans? Given how there was a queue to give MC Valentine's day presents

Okay but here are the more serious points:

3. It's heavily implied and straight up shown that the Celestial Realm does not equal Heaven the same way the Devildom does not equal Hell. (I have a whole post breaking this down and going into detail that I'll add when I properly answer your ask) meaning that in the same way that OM's angels' aren't inherently good, its demons aren't inherently bad. If you actually stop and look at it, you'll notice that the angels are more prone to everyday violence than the demons eg: Diavolo's solution to stopping an angry dragon being talking to it while Simeon's was to fight it (and we see that Diavolo's solution actually worked). Michael's punishments as an angel were scarier than Lucifer's punishments as a demon. Just generally how trigger happy Raphael is vs how weirdly kind Mammon is

4. OM! may borrow characters and certain plot elements from christianity but it's not a direct parallel or reflection of it so if you try to apply the logic of the "real" stories to these characters then the characters and the world they live in stop making sense and you get a warped version of the story where the demons are pure evil and Diavolo's a shitty leader for trying to go against their nature. The best way, in my opinion, to enjoy it is to acknowledge that there are similarities but ultimately analyse it independently. Using the lens of christianity to look at stories that don't completely follow it is how you end up with things like Disney's Hercules (a fun time but not accurate to the actual source material)

5. A BIG part of obey me is about overcoming prejudice. Like it's not even subtext. It's right there. The angels are shown to see demons as pure evil and a big part of the story is showing them that actually they're also just people. We see this in the Devilgram where Lucifer & Diavolo first meet, in the flashback where Simeon and Diavolo first meet, this is literally the entirety of Luke's arc/character development and in certain things said and done by Michael, Raphael and even Mammon. This....this huge part of the story wouldn't work if the demons actually were evil and Diavolo was just an idealistic idiot...

Anyway this was the summarised version, believe it or not!