#and i just wanna connect with people so if people don't read or like it when i write for a certain ship i just nope out

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Why hello my lovely friend!! 😍 I'm so ready to dive into your thoughts on this chapter. 💜💜

Right off the bat, the sexual tension with the gambling 👌🏻. I don't know what it is, but I always love in movies or shows or books when they have a poker game/card game between two people who are obviously into each other. I don't think it's a trope, but- the sexy smiles over the cards, the bluffing, the flirting, the teasing, just OH GOODNESS 😮‍💨

Yesss I love those kinds of scenes too! (Clearly lol) I'm so glad you agree. 😏

I'm not going to lie, I would have thought this to myself if I was in her situation. At the same time I feel bad for her because she has all this bottled inside and it's probably even worse that she's in close counters with him, just second guessing everything. BUT I also love that you've given us these wonderful domestic moments between the two of them. ❤️

The close quarters are a blessing and a curse here, isn't it? 😅 Thank you for that compliment!! I wanted the buildup here to be about the small moments of connection. 💗

DANG IT DEAN STOP HIDING FROM YOUR FEELINGS! Man really out there chopping wood trying to forget all his problems and relieve some tension 👀, while the reader is inside trying to educate herself🤣

Ughhhhh you just wanna throttle him!! loll Meanwhile, she's wasting absolutely no time to learn all the can about this man, because with him it's like trying to pry open an old clam. 🤣🤣

The way you integrated John's journal into this chapter was so good! It adds on to the lore of the story. I'd never read through the official "John's Journal" merch so it was nice to see those little details and honestly made me feel more connected to the reader, because it was the first time that I was reading the entries too!

Aww thank you!! It honestly made me emotional (and sympathize so much more with Jhhn) just reading the journal, so I just tried to infuse as much of my own reading experience in the reader character. I'm so glad it made you feel more connected to her. 💞

Girl it's okay we can cry together- DEAN WAS IN THE CRIB WITH SAM. Nothing is okay. I am made of tears. INCONSOLABLE 😭

Girl when I read that part of the journal, the way I was like:

(And YES, spray that man like a bad dog!!)

AND he knows that she is supposed to be HIS. For the love of rice krispy treats! SHE HAS A BROKEN ANKLE DEAN. Don't let her leave!!! Sweetie he's a grumpy old onion, you gotta peel him back one gorgeous layer at a time. 🤣

Girl you took me OUTttt. 🤣🤣🤣

This bit is also so heartbreaking, because it's literally her meeting her mate and her believing that he doesn't want her, when it's probably all he does. There's something so raw about that. The idea of finding someone who was literally made for you and believing that they want no part of you. Oh goodness my fragile heart😭

Yeeeeep, honestly reminds me of If The Stars Wish It So, when the reader has that moment of "is it me? Why doesn't he want me?" But in reality, Dean's fighting his instincts to be with her tooth and nail. 🥲🥲

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting it to be a Bear. I literally thought this was going to turn into Dean saving her from a Wendigo- because of the allusions to her dad being killed by one, but this was such a (un)pleasant surprise LOL

LOLL you know what, initially I was going to go the Wendigo route for this climactic moment, but it felt more surprising to me to have it be a non-supernatural threat, just a typical bear wandering through his territory. 😂

I LOVE this insight into his head, just a little piece but enough for the readers to see that Dean does in fact care and that he does feel something for her! Not to mention again... HE PICKS HER UP. I've read Dean in so many fics doing that but each time it just makes me *swoon*.

Thank you!!! I thought this window into his head was needed, but also, Alpha Dean is just so....ALPHA. 🫠🫠🫠

And oh my word, him finally sitting down with her on the couch and allowing himself to let down some of his walls and let the reader in is just so good!! Not to mention now the reader is going to tell him the truth over how she lost her dad! I'm very excited to read the next chapter, but this one was amazing Alex! 🤗

He finally broke down a bit, seeing how much he was affecting her! 😭 I'm so glad you enjoyed that. I tried my best to make it feel like a natural progression. I so hope you enjoy the next chapter, my friend! 🥰💕

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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[demonslayerunhinged]

Uhm...hello...oh my god, okay, this is my first time doing this so I probably should apologize in advance for I just know this is going to be a big yap session (there'll definitely be a question, trust).

I'm rather new to the KnY fandom so I haven't really completed the manga yet (as in, analyzed it) although I've gotten all the Spoilers I could get. I've read the light novels to an extent, too)

Sanemi really became my favourite character although it was a connection I couldn't really explain or express since he unfortunately remains one of the most hated characters in DS, and yes I began shipping Giyuu x Sanemi even though many people seem to think that's weird and came out of the blue.

A Pinterest pin with a link to your page; a post where you had a theory that Sanemi had some form of anxiety...and boy am I grateful to the person who made that post, I've been hooked to your blog ever since.

So, uhm, first of all let me just say that I love all your writings. They're convincing, elaborate, and the amount of research you've put into them is mind blowing! The Obanai analysis, the fandom discourse, to name a few, are some of my favourites. I've only read a few, so you might've already made a post answering a question similar to this, but uh...lemme ignore that. Okay, that's enough...onto the questions.

I wanted to ask you about Giyuu and Sanemi's relationship. One thing critics love to say is that their relationship would be "toxic." (That Giyuu's uncommunicative ways will be irritating and unbearable for Sanemi and since he's shown to be rather impatient, he'd lash out and Giyuu will only become even more quiet.) I genuinely want to know what you'd have to say about this. I can already tell you're an unapologetic GiyuuSane shipper, so I wanna know, as I don't know much about their relationship myself, but found that I adored the ship so much it became too much to bear.

Another thing is about Demon Slayer itself. I'm almost very sure that you are aware of how many people criticize the show. I've fallen in love with KnY and I genuinely want to understand why it's hated so much. So far I've been hearing that KnY is badly, poorly written; it has one-dimensional/ one-sided characters, sucks at world-building, is inconsistent, overrated, mid, cliché, unoriginal and what not. I've seen somebody make a freaking hour-long YouTube video on why DS is that bad. (I'm unsure if you've seen it, though.) Some people say there's way too much plot armour and the villains got nerfed, that Douma vs Shinobu fight was just the author rushing things; apparently the ending was rushed too. Its pacing was "horrible" the backstory dumping and the endless monologue is annoying to them, and "the only personality the characters ever have is their backstory." Someone even commented "the characters are basically caricatures with catchphrases."

I've heard that Obanai's character is boring, inconsistent and lacked development (that his character can literally be summed to "I hate all women except Mitsuri"), that Zenitsu is annoying, terribly written and is wasted potential, that Kanao is a typical Y/N character and that the Kamado siblings are nothing special, and are extremely generic and boring (especially Nezuko, she seemingly has zero personality.) Idk much, but there are some posts on Pinterest saying that all the canon ships except the Uzuis have poor writing. Even Giyuu seems to be a "Wattpad mafia lord who acts like he's carrying too much pain." Basically they're saying the characters are one-sided, lacking in development, mid, the villains are auraless, the anime is cliché and has nothing unique to it, and the only thing that carries KnY is Ufotable's animation.

Now the reason I'm writing to you is because I really, really want to know what your opinion on this is. I mostly think perspectives differ based on how people define "good" or "bad" writing, everyone has varied views; however as much as I want to defend an anime I've surprisingly grown embarrassingly attached too, I think you're better qualified. It hurts when people attack something that's close to your heart, even if it is just a bunch of pixels. I'm probably stupid to get affected by mere criticisms of a damn ANIME this much, but unfortunately this doesn't seem like something I can control. I am a deranged, cowardly escapist so I didn't even watch the criticisms properly but got the gist of it.

Uhm...yeah, I'm very sorry if I sound demanding, you can take your time, it doesn't matter how long it takes to reply (it's okay if you don't even want to reply, needed to get this off my chest to someone somehow), please don't stress yourself out, I've seen all the amazing titles you're preparing for, wish you luck.

(Okay I'll stop now. Sorry.)

Hey Anon,

I hope you're doing well.

Not gonna lie your ask made me tear up a bit especially towards the end of it because I get you, I get you so, so fucking much. Being a Demon Slayer fan, specifically an English-speaking Demon Slayer fan, is tough. It's like everywhere you look, all you see is negativity towards the series. At some point, you start to feel like you're the only one, you start to doubt yourself and feel, just as you described, crazy and deranged for getting so emotionally attached to such a'mid' anime series.

But lemme tell you this. Fuck those guys. Never be embarrassed for getting emotionally attached to a piece of media, that's what makes you human, it means that you have the time to critically assess and think about what you watch instead of just consuming it mindlessly. Creators LOVE people like you, and I'm absolutely sure that Gotogue-sensei would be touched that her work means so much to you. It's better to be attached or be a stan of something than to be a mindless bot wading through life with no passion for anything.

And I'm not just saying this because I'm also a deranged fan. This applies to any piece of media or any anime series. You know your heart, you know what you've been through in life, you know how life especially in this century is so fucking hard where it seems like everything is trying to crush you, where it feels like you're constantly trying to keep your head afloat in a vast ocean of despair being weighed down by, well, everything and if you find that one life raft that keeps you above the surface, that one thing that allows you to keep on going, that one ray of sunshine that makes you think hey maybe the world isn't so bad, as long as you’re in your lane, just enjoying KnY and engaging with the fandom in a positive way then who the FUCK are those barely sentient pieces of shit to take it away from you?

So with that being said, let's explore your concerns

SaneGiyuu is toxic

I feel the reason people think it’s a toxic ship is because a huge chunk of the fandom tends to infantilize Giyuu and vilify Sanemi. Which is a side effect of the lack of media literacy and shallowness that a lot of people possess.

Giyuu is always made out to be this soft, quiet, uwu-baby boy who is in need of protection because he's constantly bullied by the big, scary meanies like Sanemi and Obanai. Which people with working brains will know is far from the truth; Sanemi and Obanai talk shit about him yes, but if talking shit about someone constitutes as bullying then we’re all bullies and I bully my former boss.

Sanemi on the other hand is always made out to be either this irredeemable monster or this dominant, feral, 'hide-your-daughters' type man who's always alpha and on top, grrrrrr, he's both demonized and sexualized by a lot of fans. So with this mischaracterization of both characters, it's no wonder that people will see SaneGiyuu and come to the conclusion that it’s toxic because all they see is this soft, baby-uwu angel being paired up with this rabid monster. They want Sanemi and Giyuu to be Izuku and Bakugou from MHA so badly, which is just dumb. The other detractors of this ship usually lack the ability to recognize subtext or are just plain homophobic, thinking that the ship interferes with their fantasies.

Here’s a list of some posts I’ve made refuting these claims, but also exploring their dynamics. Just like you, this ship is really important to me because of it’s underlying themes of found family, trauma, miscommunication, isolation. And just the comfort of finding someone who has been through the same things you’ve been through and understands your pain.

The Anime is mid

Since you're new to the fandom it’s no surprise that the 'Demon Slayer is mid' comments would get to you, they used to get to me too. Long time fans will tell you how they’ve learned to just tune out the nonsense and focus on the fandom. Like yea yea we heard you, demon slayer is only carried by the animation, when you’re tired of complaining you’ll shut up and go back to snorting the Cheetos dust off your keyboard 🙄. 

I consider Demon Slayer a litmus test on how people analyze media, especially media that doesn’t have elements that they’re familiar with. See, here’s one thing that a lot of people, even fans of Demon Slayer, don’t get. Demon Slayer is a character driven story—every event or fight is done for the development of the characters in the story. That's why the plot is so simple because it’s not about the plot, it’s about the characters. When people criticize KnY’s plot for being simple, I can’t help but laugh because almost all the greatest stories in humanity have simple plots or some none at all.

Lord of the Rings is about a bunch of dudes who travel to a tower to destroy a ring. 

Gladiator is about a fallen general who is out for revenge on the emperor who betrayed him. 

The Matrix doesn't even have a proper goal until the third act of the movie. 

Harry Potter is about a bunch of kids who want to defeat the wizard that killed Harry's parents. 

American Psycho doesn't even have a proper story structure. It's just about a psychotic dude who goes axe-crazy, literally. 

The Star Wars franchise is about a bunch of people rebelling against a dictatorship. 

Sam Raimi's Spider-Man is about Peter facing the Villain of the week.

So why are these stories so close to our hearts? It’s because of the characters. All this talk about characters being nerfed, fights being boring, plot armor, pacing etc. etc. are all plot-related complaints which don’t apply to the story because it’s all about the characters. Those who say the characters are one-dimensional are just fucking stupid, lazy and shallow-minded. The rest don’t even properly watch the anime or read the manga, they just parrot whatever opinions are popular at the moment.

It also doesn't cater to the western gaze. KnY is completely and unapologetically Japanese, it can’t take place in anywhere but Japan. it’s so rich with Japanese culture, mythologies, folktales, and stories that it’s either you get it, try to get it or you don’t. Even the name 'Kimetsu no Yaiba' directly translates to Blade of Demon Destruction and not just any blade either, Yaiba specifically refers to a Japanese sword. It’s a love letter to Japan that celebrates Japanese culture and values so much that it borders on nationalism 😂. This is foreign to some anime dudebros who are used to anime that either takes place in modern Tokyo, Western-inspired fantasy countries, some version of 'San Fransokyo' or the Edo period.

This especially goes for that arrogant streak of shit who has dryer lint for hair that made the 1hr-long video. I’m sorry, but I’ll be damned before I entertain the opinions of someone who thinks Walter White is a great, complex character. Like bitch, you're not some deep, philosophical critic, you’re just a stupid edgelord who just happened to snare the interest of other stupid edgelords who want to feel like their existence and opinions matter in the grand scheme of things.

Here's a video where the creator refutes that asshole's bullshit criticisms. And here are some other positive and more nuanced analysis videos by people who have actual brains and, y'know, HAVE ACTUALLY WATCHED THE FUCKING ANIME AND READ THE FUCKING MANGA! Here, here, here and here. I'll post them in my pinned post and update when I find more stuff.

So please don't feel sad Anon! Nothing any of these cum-stain-should’ve-beens spew out of the cesspool inside their skulls will change the fact that Demon Slayer is a cultural phenomenon that revitalized the manga and anime industry. It is so popular that even the prime minister of Japan is a fan, that it introduced millions of people to not just anime/manga culture but also Japanese culture, that it revitalized the anime industry. There's also the debate about how it apparently outsold the entire comic book industry in 2020 and university researchers have studied and published analysis pieces on the characters. Not bad for a 'mid' series 😤

I hope I was able to answer your questions, and make you feel better. I'm glad you love my work but most importantly:

FUCK YEA!!! WE GOT ANOTHER GIYUUSANE BELIEVER!!!

[moonchild-in-blue]

Okay guys. I know some of you do in fact go there so. Help a girl out 🥺

Who is König, like. What's his deal? The mask cloth thingy? Is he shy or smth 🥺 like Mimikyu? Or is it a "face severely scarred and disfigured from war and now I must conceal the horror" type of thing? Why is he built like a smart fridge?

I'm vaguely aware of CoD (played it like a million years ago with a friend), and I vaguely know about Soapy Boy and Ghost Normal Name. What I'm actually interested in is whoever the hell Beefcake Cutiepie König is.

Much appreciated~ xoxo 💋💋💋

[the-magpie-archives]

Daisy and Basira's relationship is such a sweet agony, because at its foundation it's so transparent, so honest. They both know what they're doing, however much they pretend to lie or hide it. Such is the situation they're in that there's no choice but to cling to eachother.

Have you ever been in that sort of situation? The type where the closest person to you is deeply morally flawed and you're realising just how in the wrong you are, but their hand is the only one to grasp. You see the claws along their fingertips and you turn your head and hold them close.

On many occasions Basira talks about the wrong Daisy's done, she knows where Daisy's kill spot is, she figured that's where Jon would be. And yet she never tries to convince everyone that she's capable of fixing daisy, because she knows she's not. Daisy knows this just as well, and perhaps it's a foundation of their trust.

To be loved is to be changed but to be changed is to be hated; a relationship where you accept each others flaws is a commodity, and a rare one at that. Whether those flaws are mundane or deeply damaging, these kinds of connections have a tendancy to grow beyond the point of return.

To know that you're in the wrong together is a comfort. It's not good, nor is it right, but it's a place you can sit. A place you can stay. And as your comfort grows so does that leeching wrongness you protect, and in the end it may just eat you up.

To continue the way Daisy and Basira did was what drove them towards their end, but even at that last painful moment there was a tenderness, a rose in the thorns that makes the wounds worthwhile.

[somereaderinblue]

As someone who's recently gone down the LMK rabbithole, binge read this fic & also loves this song, this has to be a sign. Decided to try rewriting the lyrics into a simplified & child-friendly story MK would sing. Hope you don't mind, @smilesatdawnmain!

[MK]

Okay, put on your listening ears for five minutes. Got them on? Good. Now here’s the story:

Long ago, there lived a monkey 

With six bright ears and he ran

An ancient theatre where he was its very star

With me?

[RED SON]

Monkey’s a star, yeah.

[MK]

No! The monkey's name is

Liu-er Mihou, and he's famous

People come to see his plays from near and far.

[RED SON]

Got it.

[MK]

Good!

Now, there's a rumor going round

That in the mountains far away, there lives-

[RED SON]

Oh wait, I know! Can I guess?

[MK, rolling his eyes]

Sure, go ahead.

[RED SON]

Another mysterious monkey! Right?

[MK]

Right, well, mostly

But the twist is that this mysterious monkey is the mighty Monkey King

Now, this king had been blessed

With a gift he possessed

Numerous powers completely unmatched

But, as you often will find

In epic tales of this kind

This gift came with a curse attached

A pride that was arrogant

And so jarring

He wore a crown as penance for his folly

[RED SON]

Cool!

[MK]

And lived underground inside a hole….for like, 500 years.

[RED SON]

Wait, a hole? Why a hole?

[MK]

All his life, he had tormented, teased, and taunted

And now his hunters would become the haunted

The world that always made him feel unwanted would hear the toll

The sounds of a tortured soul….

[RED SON]

That’s just sad.

[MK]

I’m not finished! Listen up, you're gonna need to know this.

One day during his travels

Distant sounds of a soprano

Drifted towards him from the theater afar

Sweeter than a bird

In all his life he'd never heard

A sound like this, and he was instantly in love

[RED SON, gagging]

Gross.

[MK]

The voice, of course, was Liu-er Mihou

And Monkey King went and sought him

To become his trusty warrior, and his muse

And if you think he found this oh-so-enigmatic monkey monarch

Kinda creepy, then I've got some shocking news

[RED SON]

Oh no-

[MK, grinning]

Because he fell, and fell hard!

He was battered and scarred

But he could see that inside, there was more!

Something alluring, he'd find

In the sadness behind

That tragic crown and smile he wore!

[RED SON]

I don’t wanna hear a love song about your parents, MK! Gross!

[MK]

Heh.

And though he was hideous

And he was perfection

Both sun and moon found their connection

A bond beyond their own control!

And though cruel fates and battles sought to hurt them

And sometimes to darkness they’d lose themselves in

The thread between them and their friends would help them, make them whole

The sounds of two healing souls.

.

.

That's the basic plot anyway. Wait till you hear about the hero and the warrior!

[RED SON]

Yes, not like I’ve heard that one a gazillion times.

[MK]

Oh hush, you love it too!

-END

Have you ever heard of the song Story of the Phantom from Goosebumps? Everytime I listen to it, I can't help but imagine MK as the singer narrating his parents' story.

Speaking of stories, will we ever see the moon & his little star in chinese opera outfits?

(I drew this... so quickly. My hand hurts) BUT I LOVED THIS SONG, how dare you introduce it to me !! I love the idea of MK just singing about his parents and being all dramatic like his Baba XD XD

And YES! You will see the Moon and his little Star performing together. Gosh I need to learn how to draw some Chinese opera outfits~

[niuxita21]

Like Water for Chocolate is the female-centric Mexican period drama I didn't know I needed in my life. Even if I hadn't read and loved the book and weren't completely mind-blown by the fact that it is EXACTLY what imagined, it's still just the kind of visually stunning Bridgerton vibe (with a dash of revolutionary history to keep it grounded) that I always thoroughly enjoy.

That said... IDK what I'm more weirded out by: 1) how young Tita looks given how sexual the book gets at times or 2) how VIOLENTLY ATTRACTED I am to Irene Azuela as Mamá Elena. OMG. If you had told this to my 16-year-old baby lesbian self when she was reading the book and horrified by how awful her character was, her little head would have exploded lmao. Life is weird and wonderful sometimes.

[robinsnest2111]

I am so normal..... so so so so so normal..........

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

author i'm beefing with: "i feel slight revulsion about the word 'spiritual', it's got negative overtones, aren't you deluding yourself and others with it, keep it to yourself"

same author, literally twelve (12) pages later: *spends a page describing spiritual experiences, sharing them with the world, but insists they don't count as "spiritual" because they're about the physical material world*

my dude it's not just believers who try to have it both ways, huh

[zarekthelordofthefries]

I was quite peeved when I made the original post, too peeved for complex thoughts, so I wanna add some additional detail and nuance here, actually.

I don't think adults NEED to watch stuff for kids. Like, I think you definitely can derive meaning from childrens' media even as an adult, but if you can't connect with stories that are about kid stuff, if you don't feel like you can relate enough to kid main characters created for children, then there's nothing wrong with that. Like what you like.

And relatedly, I do think adults SHOULD try to seek out media intended for adults. There's a lot of good stories made for adults! There's great stories that reckon with themes and content that kids' stories don't or can't! There's whole worlds of fascinating, life-changing stuff out there.

Now, all that being said, I think problems start to arise when we treat that "should" that I said as a statement of morality rather than enrichment. I think you should watch movies for adults, but not because you have a moral imperative to do so -- you should do it for YOUR OWN edification. You should read grown-up books because many of them have great stories that you will connect with.

The original post is me vagueposting (because I don't wanna bother anyone over lukewarm media takes) about a post I saw that treated reading adult-intended media as some sort of moral imperative. Outright saying that you should be embarrassed and shamed if you only read kids books. And I don't vibe with that.

Shame is a dangerous weapon. I cannot condone shaming people for having limited artistic tastes in the same way I can't condone shaming people for eating unhealthily. Like, we're all progressive enough to know that that's bad, right? Shaming fat people into being skinny doesn't work, we know this, and even if it did, it would still be needlessly cruel.

Like, if a grown adult really does ONLY engage with stories for kids (an archetype of person that I suspect is far less common than people assume), then sure, I'm probably not gonna look to them for nuanced literary analysis. If they try to present themselves as any kind of authority on storytelling or media analysis, I'm probably not gonna take them seriously. If their experience is SEVERELY limited I might poke fun at someone (tabletop gamers who only play D&D, readers who only ever reference Harry Potter).

But like, if someone just mostly watches kid stuff...it doesn't affect me! They aren't hurting anybody! What business do you have shaming a stranger for that? Who gives a shit? Unless they're like, a professional reviewer or something, nobody OWES you media literacy! Argue with bad takes, encourage people to read more, that's all fine, but the brazen gall of "you should actually be embarrassed for this and I will shame you for it" is just so petty. Honestly? Grow up.

"it's embarrassing to watch and enjoy children's cartoons and you should be made to feel shame for it" ok. i think you should feel shame for needlessly being a prick but what do i know.

[httpiastri]

how about if... i just... don't do my work.....

[hlvrai-stuck-together]

((OOC))

Sorry I keep updating at like. midnight. I honestly dont have an excuse besides i go to work and i get home and i'm tired fghsdajk

Gonna take me a little while to get into the swing of this. I've never done an askblog like this before (though I have hosted... technically 3 in the past? (EDIT: no, 4 actually.) But never like this, and none of them went anywhere), so trying to get into the swing of it has been weird.

Glad people seem to be enjoying it, though! I had no idea it'd take off like this, aha. Hopefully I can get a bit more consistent and stop uploading at 2 AM, lol.

That said, I don't know what my schedule's gonna be (if I even start one). So if there's a couple days where I don't upload, it's not because I abandoned the AU or anything, it's probably just because I'm busy IRL.

Feel free to keep sending in asks even if I'm not online! I've already got a lot of really good ones sitting there that I'm gonna hold onto for a bit (for. reasons).

This has been really fun so far, and I hope everyone's having fun, too! Just bear with me while I figure this out. I'm hoping to get out a ref of [ERROR] soon, and also stop calling him that soon, but getting into character is proving to be a challenge when you do it on and off like this. But that's never stopped me before and it won't now. Like I said, this has been fun so far!

That said, if anyone has any suggestions on a meta level, I'm all ears. I realize now that I've run into this basically blind, so even though I did a couple week's worth of preparation in advance for this blog, I'm also still floundering a bit. Learning more every day, though! And I'm hoping I can pick up the pace soon as well. After Day 1's rapidfire replies, going at a more leisurely pace feels really slow, and I both wanna fix that but also don't know how because, like I said, I keep uploading at midnight gfdshjk

TL;DR I'm working on it dw lol

-Mod Dimonds

[clockworkspider]

I can't talk to other people but if you read my fics at all I am giving you blanket permission to engage with my fic even if it's not 100% positive, as long as it is done in good faith.

If you have scathing criticism or witticisms, don't comment, but you're allowed to talk about it on your blog, or in your group chat, where other people can see and engage with your commentary, even if it's possible for me to find it.

I've been thinking about older fandom culture, and how people would do fic reviews and rec lists. And often you get very nuanced mixed reviews on how the writer handled setting and characterization and grammar. This kind of curative experience both bring visibility to writers and help other readers. But more importantly, it keeps people in the habit of 1) engaging with fics, 2) engaging with fic reviews. This keep the language to meaningfully engage with fiction in public consciousness and gives the permission to do so.

I sometimes feel like people are unwilling to talk about my fics (well, fics in general) unless they're paying me compliment. And it feels lonely, actually. I write fanfics cause I have thoughts to share and then everyone just claps in silence or tell me nice things. But like. Did that stir other thoughts in you??

Idk. I wanna see your own headcanons that this fic brought up/touched upon. I wanna see what other ideas this fic inspired in you. When I put a vague symbolism and/or double meaning in a sentence I want to see you dissect what you think it means, even if it's not what I meant. When you feel puzzled or haunted or baffled by a line you can just ask follow-up questions. No. Really. You can reply with questions. "Why did you write that?" I'd love to tell you.

Some writers will not like that. Some writers only want compliments because they made a labour of love. But we cannot began to meaningfully connect with people if we're afraid of offending each other without even trying.

Idk. I should take my own advice. I try. But I can't change the culture and I can't expect others to treat my work the same way.

It's okay to engage with what you're reading.

I see a lot of posts about people worried about engaging with fanfic. They are nervous, worried about offending someone or don't know what is appropriate.

I'm here to tell you to PLEASE engage with fanfic! As long as it's positive, please do it.

Please.

Fanfic is not like social media. You don't have to be scared of showing your appreciation for it. Think of fanfic like a database of content like a library, and less like the feed on your social media that is in (somewhat) backwards chronological order.

Comment on everything you read. Comment on every chapter if you want to. As long as it's positive, comment! You can post a single emoji. You can post a 300 word essay of what you loved. You can write the comment in your first language, even if that's different to the language is written in. It's okay.

Give kudos. Tell the author you want to give more kudos in the comments. It's okay.Reply to your readers. Even if the comment is from a while ago. It's okay.

Subscribe. Tell the author you read the update after you got the email. It's okay.

Bookmark fics. Write comments in your bookmarks. It doesn't matter what you write in your notes. It's okay.

Follow your author on social media. Reblog things, even the things posted ages ago. Ask them questions. It's okay.

It doesn't matter if the fic was posted an hour ago, a week ago, or a decade ago. Time has no meaning. Engagement (again, as long as you keep it positive) is so incredibly welcome and needed.

It's okay.

It's all so incredibly, staggeringly, overwhelmingly okay.

I give you permission to do all of it. Show each other some love and appreciation.

[tvrningout-a]

i should've switched to writing original stuff ages ago bc i could've been overcoming writer's block if i did :' )

[mythicalcoolkid]

After too many years here I've final what hornets' nests I am not brave enough to kick

[mydr3aminvi0let]

I LOVE MY LIFE rrrRRRRRRAAAAAA

[writerfromthestars]

DP X DC PROMPT: DANNY'S AN ASSASSIN?!

So Danny gets adopted by the Waynes somehow.

Now, he's a teenage vigilante, he knows all the signs. And he can clearly tell that Damian and Tim are sneaking out under the cover of night to fight crime as Robin and Red Robin.

While ordinarily this would lead to the connection between the Waynes being Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, and various other assorted vigilantes, that's not what we're here for, so instead, what happens is that Danny thinks that his two absolutely normal little brothers are sneaking out, meeting strange people dressed in spandex and Kevlar on rooftops, and punching criminals.

He has no issue with this.

The only issue he has is that Tim and Damian are inexperienced, I mean, Damian's twelve or something like that, he can't have been Robin for long. He's not particularly willing to get back into heroism himself, though, so this leads to him casually dropping random tidbits of information that only an ex-vigilante/hero/assassin/other part of the caped community, would know into regular conversation.

Like, if Tim's using bandages on his hand, Danny will suddenly drop the fact that that particular brand is very absorbent and works really well to take care of large, bloody wounds, like bullet holes in important places.

If Damian's reading a book about different knives, and their creation processes (because be real, he totally would) Danny will read over his shoulder a bit and then just point out a knife that would particularly good for stabbing someone in the stomach, or slitting someone's throat. (he knows this because of a. his rogues trying to kill him and b. Dan likes sharp things.)

The three of them are watching some superhero movie or something, and Danny goes on a twelve-minute rant about how the fight scenes would never work that way.

Tim and Damian come to the conclusion that their new brother has been trained by the League of Assassins or something.

Here's the issue. Danny hasn't.

So Damian starts dropping little hints that he knows that Danny was part of the League, for example a reference to a technique that only a League member would know. Danny, who has been trained in hand-to-hand by Dan, who was trained by dead League assassins in the alternate timeline, knows the moves.

Danny is just happy that his baby brothers are taking his advice, and opening up to him too. Damian is even starting to talk about fighting with him, and he thinks that they might actually tell him about their nighttime activities soon.

Finally, the two confront him on it. And by that, I mean that like the emotionally constipated bats they are, they utterly fail in their interrogation because they can't just come out and say it out in the open.

Tim: so Danny, I noticed how you know a lot about fighting. and first aid, and stuff.

Damian: I have noticed this as well. Might I inquire as to where you gained these skills?

Danny just thinks that they have figured out his past as a vigilante and that they are worried about him being hurt.

Danny: Don't worry about it. I don't do that type of thing anymore.

Now that's a deflection if Tim's ever heard it.

Damian, digging for more information: I wish to know. Maybe I can learn from whoever it was that taught you?

Danny grimaces slightly before answering.

Danny: Trust me, kiddo, you don't wanna learn from the people who taught me this stuff. They squash you like a bug.

Tim and Damian take this as confirmation that Danny was involve in the League. Danny just means that pitting his rogue gallery, which consists of exclusively ghosts, against living boys would be unfair.