#what if the sun was literally fighting his own demons

[wisteria-prince-of-myrrh]

Octopath II on the brain rn and I have about 3 different fic ideas for temenos and hikari but no time to write them :,^)

[senseandaccountability]

the healer has the bloodiest hands

I wrote some thoughts after the finale of Veilguard. Solavellan heavy.

This is just me, parsing through some feelings. "My people had a saying long ago -'The healer has the bloodiest hands'. You cannot treat a wound without knowing how deep it goes. You cannot heal pain by hiding it. You must accept. Accept the blood to make things better."  Solas to Thom Rainer in DAI.  ***

One can wonder, of course, what Mythal has to do with a Solavellan reunion and Solas’s choice to become the Veil’s protector, but hear me out. 

It is significant that it’s Mythal because she is the embodiment of his terrible past, the epitome of their brilliance and boldness and good intentions turned to terrible truths. The horrors they did, they did together. It is significant that it’s Mythal that sets him on this new course by removing the chains of his guilt and regret. Lavellan can’t do that, she didn’t forge them. Solas’s journey as the Dread Wolf begins and ends with Mythal. 

Mythal literally pulls Solas out of the Fade to use his wisdom, first to not lose herself to the other gods' vanity and brutality, then to gain advantage against them in an endless power struggle that breaks them both, I’d argue, though most significantly it breaks Solas. Retribution and revenge has no room for understanding, there is no wisdom in conquering. And Solas, for all his faults, isn’t brutal or cruel, doesn’t want power for his own gain. Instead he’s wise and creative, doomed to see the faults of his actions even as he carries them out, arguing in vain that the Evanuris too must see it - don’t cross these lines, don’t do it like this, don’t warp and twist your powers to forces of destruction. You must know this is madness! He objects to the creation of the bodies for the ancient elves, objects his own People’s physical creation. Did the earth not shake? It did, it was horrific and it was wrong and he knows this and it doesn’t matter. What he wants has never been part of the equation. 

Even when he breaks free from Mythal, when he burns her mark off his face, he never stops fighting for the world she once wanted. Because otherwise? Should he stop? Then all that he has done, all that he has given up, all that has been demanded of him both as Mythal’s lapdog and the Dread Wolf, leader of the rebel armies for centuries, cloaked in a persona of strategy and battle orders - all of that has been for nothing. He has made a ruin of himself, of the world, for nothing.  So he begins again, he picks up the pieces, he swears to make it right, to fix what he broke. That’s how he perceives healing, that’s what he thinks he is doing. But you cannot heal pain by hiding it. That’s why the Crossroads are falling apart with the manifestations of Solas’s greatest regrets, that’s why he needs Rook to escape his own prison, that’s why a Regret demon burns through Skyhold.

Solas traps the Evanuris as a final act of the ancient times, the creation of the Veil an embodiment of everything he and Mythal ever were - protection, benevolence, retribution, wisdom, pride. He ties it to the blood of the Firstborn out of spite and anger and it wrecks the world in ways he could not foresee. In ways he cannot fix because you cannot fix what has already happened.

You must accept. Accept the blood to make things better. He holds himself like a broken thing in front of Mythal and you can see it as submissive or as a man finally letting his grief out. There, at long last, he stands beaten and bloodied and blighted and he cries for all that was lost, all that he did and all that was done to him, all the things he cannot, cannot undo. And then: a new way forward.

In willingly binding himself to the Veil he embodies the best of those old myths, the All-Mother and the Breaker of Chains, as he breaks the cycle of punishment and grief and protects the sun and the moon. This oath, as opposed to the oaths of the empire that made him, is not to someone but to everyone, to all the innocents of the world. Instead of being the one who makes the terrible sacrifices of other people - the things I have done - he becomes the protector of the world that his people broke once upon a time. Instead of being the Creator of a new world without the Veil - the god he vehemently does not want to be, that he arguably thinks nobody should be - he becomes a caretaker, a guardian. A healer with bloody hands. And yes, it takes Mythal to break Mythal’s hold over him. You cannot treat a wound without knowing how deep it goes. And this one goes deep.  But it’s Lavellan who brings him the light in this story. It’s Lavellan who breaks through the dark, transforms it into something hopeful. 

His prison construct in the Fade was terrible, an abyss of regret made to hold a god. An ancient punishment for ancient crimes but times change, people change, the People change for better and for worse and here Lavellan stands in all her mortal imperfection, offering him not a way to change the past - where all these ancient beings are stuck - but a way to mend the future. It will be a terrible place, he tells her, saying I am terrible because the Fade shifts around our beings. It won’t be terrible, Lavellan argues. Because I’m there with you, walking the dinan’shiral with you, all the way. He doesn't have to fix anything first, he doesn't have to change for her, he just needs to stop hurting the world, hurting himself. Because she loves him, despite all the terrible mistakes he has made. Because she knows all his names, from Dread Wolf to Vhenan, she knows the power of his mind and the fires of his love and she saw more than most of the man he is. The man he wants to be. For a little slice of time there in Skyhold he was that man, he was seen and he saw. He saw the world filtered through her and could forgive it, he saw her through his own ancient, tired eyes and he fell in love no matter how much he thought he did not deserve it. You don't have to deserve love, or mercy, it doesn't demand anything in return, holds you to no oath. It is a gift, freely given. That's what Lavellan offers him by holding out her hand there, at the edge of everything. That's where the light slips in.

She’s real, which means everyone is real and she changes everything, because she can.  Ar lasa mala revas. 

[r0-boat]

MC naked & afraid featuring 7 idiots Headcannons

(What in hell is bad! survival Island headcannons)

Based off of my whb survival Island poll

Author's notes: I'm watching a documentary right now This shit made me laugh so hard imagining these demons becoming feral

It was supposed to be a cruise Mammon was testing out his new cruise ship but something horribly wrong happened where you and the seven kings were stranded on an island in the human world. Their powers unable to work for plot reasons.

They're not stuck forever They can go back home but a rescue team will take a month to arrive.

Satan

Satan somehow got a campfire running. He got so angry he lit the fire based off of pure anger. Because Leviathan was bullying him that he didn't know how to start a simple fire and asked him to hand over the sticks. Satan said "NO! FUCK YOU PUSSY BITCH I GOT IT!"

Satan is a really good hunter, like an exceptional hunter. And he quickly goes into his role. It's been 2 days and now He wears the pelt of his latest kill. Hey sharpens his own tools and he looks like a savage according to Leviathan.

Satan has gotten a thrill for the hunt and for some reason he keeps staring at you....

Mammon

For an hour he's been looking around this deserted island it is populated with native animals and foliage as well as fresh water. You know what he's thinking about... Turning this island into another one of his villas.

When he is not checking out this island as if he's trying to purchase real estate He's actually helping you with building a shelter. Tino's absolutely nothing about building shelters but he's glad to be your heavy muscles and tools for whenever you can't do something.

Following Satan His deconstruction of a civil man has begun but the only thing that really changed is his shirt came off that's it... Only because It got ripped when Satan and him had a fight.

Leviathan

He hates this he fucking hates this. Everyone's running around like headless chickens and he's the only competent devil (except for Lucifer)

He's been better... He was actually a lot worse when you first crashed on the island You had to actually calm him down from his panic attack and when he did finally calm down He has been clinging to you like his life depended on it. Using you as some kind of strange therapy. Becoming more possessive over you.

Anything you're doing he is doing with you no questions ask if anyone were to question it he will take a sharp rock and stab them right in the eye.

Beelzebub

As soon as you woke up in the sand Beelzebub. You wanted to search for him But the other kings we're not worried for him at all.

Before the sun goes down he does turn up with a stick sharpened into a spear and food. Beel is an exceptional hunter. He is the reason why All of you aren't starving. Beel can literally eat anything But that doesn't mean you and other devils can't. So if he tells you not to eat something don't need it.

Beel and Satan have some kind of dick measuring competition with killing and hunting prey. Satan comes back with a rabbit, Beel catches a wild boar, Satan comes back with a big fish, Beel comes back with a crocodile.

Lucifer

Oh my god finally a competent devil. Lucifer is the most important devil since he can heal injuries as well as sicknesses. Even though his magic isn't in effect he still knows a lot of natural plant remedies. He knows every plant species that God has made.

He looks at you with an odd look, while you follow his instructions closely on how to build a proper shelter.

He takes this chance to study you as if you were his science project every time you get a bump I scrape or scratch He studies you meticulously how your human body heals naturally slowly. His fingers delicately tracing each scar you've ever had.

Belphegor

Motherfucker is either asleep or jacking off while you guys do the work. He's so lucky to have all these hard workers working for him and with the shelter built he could finally... It's not comfortable...

He knows that you guys are doing your best and what not but damn sleeping on the ground sucks ass wipe. He wants to find natural soft moss or bedding just for a better sleep.

Because of Belphegor The shelter in looks more and more comfortable with his additions which he always adamantly reminds you. Every time you go in there's new shit added and it looks more like a nest then a shelter.

Asmodeus

Oh yeah the clothes are gone... Are you surprised? This demon has become full feral and he loves it. An island paradise for you and him and of the other 6 would like to join they're more than welcome to.

This uncivilized natural land spark something inside him that you don't want anything to do with.

After you literally threatened not to have sex with him for 2 months until he puts his clothes back on He decides to use leaves or vines instead now he just looks like PornHub Tarzan...

Bonus:

This devil is the king of lust, He has been eyeing this human potential mate for a while now...

The human bathing in the crystal pool catch a sight of him, They seem weary but content with his presence.

This is his chance The devil puffs out his chest showing off his horn it is a devil's way of showing strength and virility.

In his usual habitat He would be the undisputed king. But now his territory is shared. And another eyes his prey.

The human looks into the foliage before jumping back a splash of water fills his vision he hears warning hiss as his opponent comes in view a devil of envy, He has already laid claim to them and he will not back down.

Unlike his one horn this male has two, two against one is hardly fair but that doesn't mean he'll stand down without a fight.

Before these two demons can fight for this potential mate, the human screams "STOP FUCKING AROUND!! I'M TRYING TO BATHE GET OUT!!"

[froggibus]

Pool Party - Obey Me

Includes: Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Beel & Belphie

Genre: fluff, crack

Summary: what better way to spend a hot summer day than at the pool with your favorite demons?

CW: swimming, sunburns, lots of sunscreen, kind of a crack fic ngl, alcohol and drinking, crocs, chicken fights, reader = mc

this is a part of my Summer Suntacular Event, come check it out!

guys i am SO BEYOND EXCITED TO FINALLY POST THIS!!! ive been waiting a WEEK...anyway sorry for starving my obey me followers for almost a year...my bad

Lucifer:

surprisingly not wearing his dorky scuba suit

hovers around the grill while Beel cooks 

brings extra water and sunscreen in case anyone forgets theirs 

pesters you about reapplying your sunscreen like every 20 minutes 

tries to beat Beel at chicken but almost instantly loses 

brings his extra paperwork and refuses to participate in anything until he finishes it

the only one who’s jaw doesn’t drop when he sees you in your bathing suit

he still thinks you’re hot—he just doesn’t show it like everyone else

insists on getting a group photo of everyone but it takes like ten tries before he gives up because everyone keeps squinting at the sun

wants to be the “responsible” one and not drink so he fills his thermos with sangria to be sneaky

literally everyone knows it's sangria cause who brings a thermos to the pool

Mammon:

asks for your help taking pictures of his brothers in their bathing suits so he can sell them

does not burn and refuses to put on sunscreen unless you beg him to

and then acts like he’s not doing it for you but just protecting himself

doesn’t bring his own beer or anything and just leeches off of everyone else’s

has another, secret mission of trying to push Lucifer in the water without getting caught

succeeds and blames it on you like the bastard (affectionate) that he is

thinks you look too hot in your bathing suit and tries to cover you the whole day. does not succeed.

will cause a fight if anyone compliments you 

“Mammon are you jealous or something”

“tch the Great Mammon doesn’t get jealous. you’re crazy.”

Levi:

a miracle that he even came outside i'm afraid

wears his dorky ass hawaiian button up and goggles around his neck

burns SO easily please slather him in sunscreen

hates that the other brothers get to see you in your bathing suit and pouts about it like the baby he is

lays on a lawn chair and plays on his switch + refuses to get in the water

however as soon as you ask Beel for a piggyback in the pool, he’s Michael Phelps

carries a water gun and pretends like he’s assassinating people

accidentally ruins Asmo’s makeup and starts a brawl

super blushy and flustered if you come near him in your bathing suit

and if you touch him his system does a hard reset

refers to the whole day as a ‘filler episode’ much to everyone’s confusion

eats about a thousand different popsicles with increasingly weird flavours

wears a pair of purple crocs with anime charms (he’s been begging you to get a pair for months so you guys can match croc charms)

Satan:

does not care much for swimming but he’ll lay on a lawn chair and read his book

talks to you at least three times about the dangers of UV rays and the importance of sunscreen

has a really dorky sun visor that he wears anytime he’s in the sun like an old man

brings an extra matching one for you 

needs to challenge Lucifer at absolutely everything

the second Luci steps in the water to play chicken, Satan is throwing you on his shoulders

has one of those lounge floats decorated with cats that he lays on while he reads and sunbathes

only drinks moscow mules and insists that you try them

has a meticulously maintained pair of Birkenstocks that he wears everywhere

tries to wear them into the pool and has a five minute argument with Lucifer about why he can’t

lays out your towel in the sun for you so it’s nice and warm when you get out of the pool

bonus points if he wraps you up in it

Asmo:

comes an hour later after everyone else because he had to shave everywhere and paint his nails to match his bathing suit

takes a thousand and one pictures of himself 

and about a million more of the two of you together (his favourite of which he sets as his lock screen)

has an incredible collection of cruelty free, reef friendly, non-comedogenic sunscreens that he applies liberally

goes in the water but refuses to get his hair wet and WILL cause a fight if anyone splashes him

weirdly good at chicken but only because he doesn’t want to fall in the water

loves aesthetic cocktails served in fruits and drinks them the whole day

probably the best at making cocktails too

has a timer set for when he has to reapply sunscreen and asks you (and only you) to help him apply it

also forces you to wear sunscreen 

Levi uses his expensive face sunscreen on his body and Asmo almost kills him

Beel:

the absolute grill master

he’s got 10 different things on the go, a beer in one hand and tongs in the other

challenges everyone to a game of chicken and refers to you as his ‘secret weapon’ to win

the Satan/Asmo duo get surprisingly close to winning but Asmo chips his nail and concedes

has one of those floaties that you can put drinks and snacks in and drags it along with him in the pool

lets you hang off his back while he swims

if you’re laying down on your towel he WILL come and shake the water off of himself on you like a dog

will only throw you in the pool if he 100% knows it won’t upset you

threatens the other brothers to do the same or face the consequences

forgets to put on sunscreen but somehow doesn’t burn???

comes out looking like a greek god

Belphie:

spends 90% of his time lounging on a pool float like the lazy mf he is

bats his eyes at you and asks you to bring him drinks everytime he finishes his

did not inherit Beel’s ability to tan and burns

five minutes in the sun and he becomes a lobster

only leaves his pool float to play one (1) round of chicken (that he loses) and if he gets too hot

also his pool floaty is definitely black and white like a cow

everytime he hears Satan lecture you about sunscreen he repeats it in a high pitched nerd voice 

belphie pls wear sunscreen

probably falls asleep on the floaty at least once until Beel comes and flips him into the water

if anyone splashes him he WILL retaliate to the fullest extent

compliments how you look in your bathing suit just to annoy Mammon 

steals everyone’s drinks if they leave them by the edge of the pool bcs he’s too lazy to grab his own

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | Obey Me Masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[tetsuskei]

belonging - portgas d. ace [nsfw]

synopsis: it’s never the best time when it’s his birthday, but luckily he has you to show him differently

notes: two days late, but this is the bday fic dedicated to my soul, my luvr boy. poured so much into this that it kinda doesn’t make sense but we will roll with it <3 kicking off the year with him and wouldn’t have it any other way !

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, self doubt, depression (ace has some dark thoughts), anxiety, praise, nipple biting and sucking, body worship, barely edited so probably lots of typos, reader has fem body parts

ace always assumed that ‘falling in love’ was something that happened to other people, not to him.

his entire life had been a series of doubts and questions to himself. doubts about if he deserved the good things that came to him and the people who entered his life.

but gone were the days where ace let out all his anger towards anyone and everyone in the world. if you could ask anyone about him now, they would have only amazing things to say about him. many see him as a brilliant leader, one not to be meddled with. his brothers admire his never ending strength and courage. his spirit was always there to uplift others.

so who would be there to lift him up?

only you have seen who he is once broken down. once he’s out of the public eye, and behind closed doors, he’s a much more sombre person. he’s clingy, and soft. sad, and vulnerable.

it’s not a surprise to you that he struggles with his mind sometimes. that there are days where he may spend too much time in his head, fighting off demons.

“what am i doing here?” he asked one time. it wasn’t a question directed towards you, and from the empty look in his dark brown eyes, you could tell he was having trouble answering himself.

having the blood of a devil circulating in his veins is a double edged sword. he always told himself to not let where he came from hold him back. that mentality had gotten him this far, after all. it became a driving point for him.

but after quickly rising up in ranks and making a name for himself just like so, his mindset started to change. he began to not really know what he was after. yes, he wants to be more famous than his father, but so what? what would come next?

he focused on a much simpler task. he wanted to live each day without regrets.

many considered ace like the sun. he shined so brightly on his own (literally and figuratively), but in a way, it was a curse. he shined so brightly that if anyone came too close to him, he would burn them. they’d scorch up in flames within an instant.

but you were different. despite how brightly he shone, you didn’t let that stop you. it scared him, to say the least. the only people who he was comfortable being vulnerable with in his feelings were his brothers, and yamato being another person. now you were the fourth.

you had picked and pried at him in a way no one ever had before. getting scorched (literally and figuratively) in the process. you showed him kindness and affection that he only saw in the pages of fairytales.

he knew very little about gentleness. but it didn’t mean it was impossible. the feeling of your finger tips running over his bare skin is enough to soothe him. it makes him feel like he is at home and belongs. and in return, he wanted to give you that same feeling.

he wanted to live, and always come back to you.

ace always seemed more tense around this time of year. a little more gruff, and on edge. but not in a way that makes him dangerous. or, at least to you. he just seemed a lot quieter, and more consumed in his thoughts.

his birthday, as it turned out, had always been a sore subject amongst the whitebeard pirates. no one ever pried too much into his past. even after he told you and several others of his father, of his mother, no one wanted to push him to speak more about it.

you don’t make the most grand gesture out of his birthday, only requesting help from thatch to make a grand spread of all his favorite foods, and small decorated cake.

“i’m not going to ask anything of you, but only for you to have a good time. no sulking, kay?” you told him that morning.

when finally getting time alone with your boyfriend that evening, you sat with him, holding him in your arms as the two of you watched the stars.

ace loved when you talked about the stars to him. you told him once that the constellations that sit in the sky are the same ones projected onto his face in the form of freckles. he thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever, until you said one thing.

“the stories written up in the stars are no different from the ones that live in your eyes.”

his eyes always told you what he was thinking. after all, you read him so well. you long since noticed the troubled look on his face, but remained impassive as you know he’ll come to you when he’s ready to talk. for right now, having you as his support is the best thing you could give him.

eventually, he told you that he ‘just wanted to forget about things’ and while you understood what he meant without a full explanation, you wanted to make it known how thankful you are that he’s here. that he was born. that he’s a gifted presence in your life—and so many other people’s.

one thing led to another—shared kisses and words of declarations as you shedded each others clothes off.

right now ace lays under you, a complete mess as you ride his cock. his hat was on your head at first, but now it lays somewhere on the ground.

“ahh~ fuck!” a pretty gasp leaves his rose colored lips, his eyes glazed over with tears. his adrenaline has his blood pumping like crazy, and his cock is of course no expectation to that rule. he’s twitching erratically inside of you, more than likely leaking heavily as he holds back his orgasm. his chest feels tight from how much your cunt is gripping him. it’s like you’re sucking the life out of him.

funnily enough, he’s already cum once, but his stamina, is unlimited. he’d be able to go for hours on end. that doesn’t deter you from your goal of completely fucking him stupid.

ace thinks you look beautiful above him the way that you do. like an angel that descended from the heavens. he doesn’t think he believes in any gods, but he knows surely you were sent by some celestial being to be the best gift he’s ever had in his life.

“you’re doing so good for me, ace.” you hum, leaning over his muscular form to kiss the shell of his ear. he keens when your lips then meet the sensitive juncture of his jaw and neck. your tongue swipes up any access sweat and you hum, cheekily biting him. “taste so good, too.”

his whole body is boiling to the touch, to say the least. black, greasy hair matted to his forehead. his brown eyes are blown out in pleasure, and he thinks he’s dying.

it shouldn’t be possible that he feels this good.

“don’t say that.” he grumbles shyly, hiding his face behind his hand. you pin it down to the bed, eyes glaring down at him.

“it’s true, though.” you argue, “and you feel so good too. always fill me up so well.” you moan, letting your head fall back as you grind down on him, pleasure crawling up your spine as his cock rides up against your cervix, kissing your gummy walls lovely.

“if you keep talkin’ like that i’m gonna cum again…” he warns, whining slightly.

you grin, “that’s the plan.”

ace groans, letting his head fall back on the pillows, “jesus christ, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

you laugh, “i would say death do us part, but i’d like to think we’d follow each other into the afterlife. i feel like that’s the true meaning of a soulmate.”

ace can’t help the tears that permeate at his ducts when he feels overwhelmed with love by you and for you.

“well, i hope that if we’re reborn, we find each other in the next life.” he says breathlessly.

you hum, smiling, “of course we will.”

he’s silent before his hands guide your hips, helping you bounce on him. there’s a deafening squelching sound from the combined slick and it drives both of you crazy.

“you’re so pretty, ace.” you say, kissing the freckles on his face.

he frowns, glaring at you, “the correct term is handsome or sexy. men aren’t ‘posed to be ‘cute’.” there’s a pout on his face and it only adds on to your statement.

you laugh, “sure, baby. whatever you want.”

“‘whatever’ my ass,” he says crudely, “why don’t you make yourself useful and cum on me?” he isn’t asking though, and brings his thumb to your clit.

a sharp breath of air escapes you as you realize how much your impending orgasm is creeping up on you.

“wait…” you start, hand reaching out to stop his own.

he swats its away. “you said to make sure i’m having a good time, and this is helping.” he smirks, “no ‘sulking’, remember?”

you don’t have time to answer when your boyfriend leans over you, taking one of your breasts in his mouth to suck.

a loud moan escapes you once a euphoric pleasure washes over you. you quickly seize up before you realize your cumming hard on him.

ace grunts, closing his eyes once he feels you milking him. you’re a walking sin, and the grievance between your legs would be his downfall.

he hooks his hands under your legs before flipping you over to lay you on your back.

“a-ace…” you stutter, looking up in shock at how much his energy has suddenly changed.

“my pretty girl.” he smiles, kissing your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips. “just relax.”

his hips began to steadily rock into you as he takes over the pace, his hefty balls slapping loudly against your ass.

still sensitive, you twitch and jerk under his grasp, feeling helpless and near limp as he rails you.

“nothing ‘cute’ about the way i’m fuckin’ you, now is there?” he grins, hand titling your jaw to the side before proceeding to suck marks into your delicate skin.

a keen slips from your mouth and you try to catch your breath, “o-okay, you proved a point.”

“damn straight.” he moves both of his hands downwards, holding onto your thighs before moving your legs over his shoulders.

the new angle feels as if the wind is knocked out of you. with the way he’s looking at you adoringly, and damn near shattering your pelvis you might as well be conflicted on if he loves or loathes you.

“always feel so fucking good. wish i could stay in you forever.” he moans, biting his lip. “so perfect like this. i’m so lucky.”

you gasp, your toes curling at the way his tip drags itself seamless over your insides. your eyes threaten to roll back but you fight it, seeing how ethereal your boyfriend looks when he’s feral.

he’s never been the best with words, but with the way he takes care of you, especially in the moment you share right now, you can feel the essence of his love. the way his hand reaches grips yours to kiss your knuckles.

“thank you…for always loving me.” he pants, “and for showing me things in life i never thought i’d be able to see.”

“thought i told you to stop thanking me.” you hit him on the head. you pull on his hair but he only groans, cock twitching.

ace pulls back from your neck, “i’m serious, i…i’ve never been this happy before.”

you only smile at him before grabbing his face with both of your hands, kissing him long and passionately.

he ruts into you, chasing his release. his vision is nearly spotting with how sensitive his nerves are, but his body has a mind of its own as it craves endless pleasure.

“s-shit! i’m gonna cum!”

shamelessly, you lock your legs around him, pulling him in closer wordlessly.

he laughs, sweat trickling down his brow, “ah~ you want it again, yeah? can’t get enough of my cum, can you?”

“always need to be filled by you, ace.” you moan, nails clawing helplessly at his back.

you lean forward before your teeth gently sink into a pert nipple, making him shout and swear as his orgasm is triggered.

and as he spills into you again for the second time that evening, you find yourself following him in suspension of death.

ace lays his weight on you, not crushing you, but knowing him and his narcolepsy, he just damn near will in a second.

you use all your strength to turn both of you over, and he grunts. if it was wet before between the two of you, it’s soaking now as his cum trickles down your legs.

“you’re wastin’ it…” he grumbles, holding your hips tight.

“not my fault you’re a human cum geyser.” you retort. “now let me get up.”

he pouts, “just…stay like this for awhile?”

“fine, but you’re cleaning me up.” you warn. “happy birthday, you animal.”

a sleepy grin appears on his face as he kisses the top of your head. “yeah, i love you too.”

and so maybe after all, he could learn a lot more about what life has to offer, especially if that means you’d be by his side. there’s nothing he truly wouldn’t fear anymore. not in life or in death.

[cantdothis-nomore]

how would the upper moons react if they found out that muzan wants to eat their partner since they suddenly gained the ability to survive in the sun

Upper Moons finding out that Muzan wants to eat their s/o!

Just a side note i now write for metal family :)

Kokushibo

• Would be horribly alarmed

• wouldn't know what to do because of his loyalty to Muzan but also his loyalty to you as your boyfriend

• he'd be stunned knowing you could walk in the sun amd understand muzans interest in you but after a while of thought he'd hide you somewhere safe

• well he thought was safe

• He'd have to repeatedly find different places for you to hide as Muzan kept finding you so you'd be in a different place every day.

• he'd be suffering aswell at Muzans wrath but also his own inner conflict about where his loyalty actually lies

• Muzan would use threat after threat after threat and even physical things to get Kokushibo to tell him where you were but he wouldn't no matter what

• because his loyaltys lay with you.

Douma

Would make the people of his cult help hide you

He'd straight go to hide you because you are the only person who has shown him proper affection and he doesn't want that to go away

He would admire you and beg you to tell him how you managed to walk in the sun but would remind himself there were bigger matters to handle

No matter the torture he underwent by muzan and the others in the 12 kizuki he wasn't letting go of you

Would always make sure nobody was following him on his way to see you

After finding out that Muzan wants to eat you he would try and be his normal self whilst mentally shitting himself thst someone would find you

He would always have someone to protect you whether it was him or one of his followers

He'd give false locations of where he had 'seen' you last but always in the day knowing that Muzan can't go in daylight just like thr rest of them

He isn't giving up on you anytime soon

Akaza

He would refuse to harm you or let anyone else harm you so his first instinct was to go into hiding and not inform anyone at any point of where you two were

Avoiding Muzan like the plague

He'd be wary about going out and only going when you two got really hungry to get a human

He already lost Koyuki, he refuses to lose you to especially to Lord Muzan

You guys would go from one hiding spot to another every week to make sure there was no risk of him or any of the others finding you

PROTECT YOU WITH HIS LIFEEEE

This man loves you too much to let you go

Would absolutely fight anyone who tried to get to you at any point

Enmu

Literally got nothing to say for him I'm sorry lol

Would turn you in to Muzan no hesitation

His love for you may be strong but his dedication to Muzan and his weird little blood fetish is stronger

Bye bye to you

Daki

She'd be torn between giving you in to Muzan or hiding you

Her dedication to Muzan, like Enmu, is strong but she has to decide whether her love for you is stronger

Her internal debate drives Gyutaro CRAZY

Would be desperate for Muzans praise but also doesn't want to lose the feeling you give her and the affection you show her

She would half hide you half leave you alone whilst she made her decision

If she chose to hide you, she would have to flee the Entertainment district and not tell anyone where she was going

If she chose to turn you in she would probably have that on her conscience for the rest of her days until eventually slain

Gyutaro

First reaction would be to flat down refuse and not turn you in to Muzan

You were the first one apart from Daki who showed him the love he actually deserved, who made him feel worth it when he didn't himself.

Would probably force Daki to hide you for him against her wishes as she is loyal to Muzan

After separated from her, he would constantly be at your side and in the day Daki would force one of the girls from her house to be with you instead

He would make you go into different spots regularly to throw any other demons off of your trail in fear of someone finding you

Would be constantly paranoid about everyone and everything around you

10/10 would make you trail after Daki if for his sanity more than yours

[blushweddinggowns]

Jonathan didn’t know how else to say it but…Steve Harrington was weird. Like really, really weird. And he wasn’t even talking about Steve and Eddie. He thought Harrington was plenty weird all on his own. 

Jonathan really didn’t understand why Eddie was always marked as the strange one in the duo. To him, Eddie made perfect sense. Poor background, unique interests, drug dealer, loud and obnoxious as a coping mechanism, but still managing to be a pretty good guy all around. It was normal for a guy like that to be a little out there. 

But Steve didn’t make any sense to him. Zero. Zilch. 

Because he was rich, handsome, athletic, a total jock in every sense of the word. Half the school wanted to get in his pants, while the other half desperately tried to figure out how he got so many girls. By all accounts, he should be an asshole. Someone who basked in his own popularity, not someone who literally shunned it. Steve was the only person he’d ever met who had it all, and didn’t care. 

All he seemed to care about was freaking Eddie Munson of all people. They had been attached at the hip since grade school and even with Eddie disappearing for two years, Steve was right back at his side nearly the moment he got back. 

He didn’t go to parties, never bragged about his conquests unless someone asked, and even then he was always incredibly vague, and from what he’d heard from Nancy, he didn’t even sleep at his own house 90 percent of the time. If you were looking for Steve Harrington, all you really had to do was track down Eddie Munson.

Jonathan had only purchased weed a handful of times in his young life, but every single time Steve had been there. Either in the van waiting when Eddie dropped something off, or sitting right next to him on the park bench, popping gum and reading a comic book while Eddie did his business. 

And he was…intensely protective over him. Which was weird considering how Munson was scary enough in his own right, at least on the outside. Like getting into multiple fights, protective. Making girls cry who had the audacity to say anything about Eddie’s antics, protective. Like cursing out an actual teacher, protective. 

Like comforting your best friend after a near death experience instead of your literal girlfriend protective. Who did that? And maybe it hadn’t been official back then, but still. You’d think you’d spend time cuddling your crush in your lap instead of your childhood buddy. And there was also the weird hair smelling thing they kept doing. He hadn’t looked too closely at the time, but Steve had turned to bury his face in Eddie’s hair every few minutes after the 83 showdown. He hadn’t seen a repeat of that since, though. Maybe…maybe Eddie had gotten demon guts in his hair? And Steve had been trying to find the source?

He didn’t fucking know. He just…didn’t get him. And now he got him even less. The guy pulled freaking Nancy Wheeler as his girlfriend, and he didn't spend every possible waking moment with her? 

But it wasn’t just him prioritizing Eddie over Nancy. It was the fact that he didn’t care that Nancy was with him more often than her actual boyfriend. Which was fantastic for Jonathan, even if it was a bit of a double edged sword. Because Nancy was gorgeous and so fucking smart and cool and…and Jonathan liked her so much he kind of wanted to die.

And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Even if he’d come close, way more than once. There were probably a dozen times where he’d almost kissed her. And the last one would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. They had been talking next to his car during lunch, Jonathan couldn’t even remember what it had been about. He just remembered that he had said something to make her laugh. And she looked so freaking beautiful when she laughed. She looked pretty all the time, but something about seeing her happy made her jump from a 10/10 to a 15. 

The sun was in her hair, and her eyes crinkled in that cute way that he loved, and Jonathan had been leaning in before he knew it was happening. And if Steve and Eddie hadn’t walked by right in that moment, it would have happened. He had jumped nearly ten feet in the air when he spotted him out of the corner of his eye, fully expecting Steve to start tearing into him for being so close to his girlfriend. 

But he just smiled and waved when he saw them, and went right back to their conversation before walking off. 

See? Weird.

He didn’t know why it didn’t bother Nancy more, how little he cared about what the two of them were up to. Part of him was praying it was because she was falling out of love with him, and all of the romantic tension they had together wasn’t in his head. 

But he just couldn’t bring himself to make that final step. Mostly because he was busy trying to take care of Will most of the time. Even if he got his way he wasn’t exactly in a position to be a good boyfriend. His little brother came first, especially after everything he had been through. And he was struggling, Jonathan could see it. And he spent most of his spare moments trying his damndest to get Will to open up. It hadn’t worked. But he kept trying.

But there was another part to it too. He…he didn’t want to be that guy. The kind of guy to make moves on a taken girl. Especially Steve’s girl. Both him and Eddie had risked their lives last year helping them out, and what? He was going to thank them by breaking Steve’s heart? He couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Even if Eddie wanted him to. Which was just one more thing he didn’t get, the weird encouragement Eddie would give him when it came to his best friend’s girlfriend. If Jonathan mentioned a movie he wanted to see, preferably with her, Eddie would always be sure to keep Steve busy on friday nights for her to be free. If Jonathan had his mom’s car for a week and really wanted to be the one to pick her up in the morning, Eddie would conveniently find a reason that Steve couldn’t. 

It was weird, and kind of fucked up, but Jonathan had at least a small idea on why he was doing it. It was pretty obvious, after you got a little closer to the two of them. Eddie was in love with Steve. But Steve wasn’t in love with Eddie, not when he had Nancy on his arm. It explained why he monopolized all of his time, why he hung around them on their dates, why he was so open to letting another guy swoop in on her. 

He never actually asked him about it. It felt like a fucked up thing to say, especially if he was wrong. But Jonathan couldn’t think of any other explanation. So he kind of just…went with it. At this point it felt like he was Eddie’s co-conspirator to break them up, even if it was never explicitly said.

Which was fucked up, on both their ends. Yeah Steve was weird, and kind of a bitch, but he was a good guy all in all. He was Eddie’s best friend for a reason. 

So Jonathan held back his feelings. Or at least he did for as long as he could. But then Nancy came to him for help to expose the Hawkins lab. And they ended up on this crazy fucking adventure together. And he just fell more and more in love with every wild stunt she did. 

And then they kissed at Murray’s and Jonathan didn’t have the strength to say no. How could he? It just…happened. And okay yes. He feels bad for Steve. But he doesn’t regret it. Not even slightly. And maybe that made him the biggest asshole in the world, but it was hard to care when Nancy freaking Wheeler wanted him of all people. 

It was pretty easy to shove the guilt right out of his mind. That was until they saw Steve and Eddie next, right in front of the Hawkins lab. Steve had instantly brightened at the sight of her, immediately sweeping her up into a big hug. 

And Jonathan couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He just couldn’t. Because that was probably going to be the last time they hugged like that. He was already in too deep and there was no way in hell that he was going to let last night be a one night stand. He hadn’t exactly asked Nancy to break up with him yet, but he was going to. 

Because he was a dick like that, apparently. But maybe they could find a way to do it…kindly? If that was even possible. And if there was anyone who would be able to help soften the blow for Steve, it would be Eddie Munson. 

Jonathan walked up to him as the other two started talking. He jerked his head to the side, “Hey can I talk to you for a second?”

Eddie nodded, following him over to a safe distance from the car. He didn’t really think Eddie would be mad at him for what he did. But he was still a little nervous to say it out loud. 

He avoided saying what he truly wanted, deflecting with a question, “So um, Steve and Nancy, how uh, serious are they?”

Eddie stared at him like he’d magically grown a second head, “Huh?”

“They’ve almost been together for like a year now right?” Jonathan pressed, “Is he…y’know. In love with her?”

But Eddie was still looking at him like he’d asked something insane. He narrowed his eyes at him, “Are…are you kidding me right now?”

“What?” Jonathan asked, almost as equally confused as Eddie, “Why would I be kidding?”

Eddie raised a brow at him, “You think Steve and Nancy are dating? For like, real? After all this time? After last year. That’s what you think?”

Jonathan really wished Eddie would just tell him what the hell he was talking about instead of emphasizing every other word. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling oddly defensive when he asked, “What else am I supposed to think?”

He hadn’t expected Eddie to bark out a laugh at the question. It took a second for him to compose himself to talk again while Jonathan looked on, more confused than ever. 

Eddie eventually straightened, holding a fist in front of his mouth while he struggled for the words, “Jonathan, dude, last year you saw me in his lap. With my arms around his neck. While he kissed me to make me feel better.”

Jonathan blinked at him, “Huh?”

He hadn’t remembered the kissing part. And in his defense he had been a bit distracted with the news that his brother was alive. But the hair smelling thing…had…had Steve been kissing the top of his head that whole time? Right in front of him? 

Eddie looked way too amused at Jonathan’s shock, “So what do you think that means bud? Is that something you do with your friends?”

“But Nancy! And all the other girls-”

“Fake, fake, fake and fake,” Eddie said with a grin, “That boy’s all mine. And has been for years. Him and Nance are just friends. Really good friends but that’s it.”

Eddie put a hand on his shoulder, voice softening a little but still a little too tickled for Jonathan’s liking, “We all kind of thought you knew man. I guess I underestimated our own acting skills there.”

Jonathan slowly nodded, even though his brain was still struggling to catch up with everything he’d said. But it made sense. It actually made perfect sense. That’s why Steve didn’t care that he was all over her, that’s why Eddie had been so encouraging, that’s why Steve was so fucking weird. The guy had been basically married since he was in third grade. 

“Holy shit,” Jonathan finally breathed out, “That makes so much sense.”

But then a realization hit him, “Wait, so all of this time Nancy has been single?”

“And ready to mingle,” Eddie added with a wink, “Though if it helps, you’re the only one she’s set her sights on. That and Tom Cruise but I think you still have good odds.”

As wonderful as that revelation was, it kind of also made him want to smash his head into a wall. How could he have been so blind? 

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said, like he could read his mind, “We do actually try to hide it most of the time. It’s not completely your fault for not seeing the hints.”

He only had one more question, a stupid one but he still wanted to be sure, “So um, hypothetically. If I, uh, slept with his fake girlfriend, he wouldn’t be mad about it?”

Eddie laughed, “He’d be ecstatic. Half the time those two talk is about you. He’s been waiting for you to make a move as long as Nancy has. And he will definitely get a kick out of this conversation when I tell him, that’s for damn sure.”

Jonathan nodded. That was…some pretty fantastic news. Besides the sting that he could have had her weeks or even months ago, it was a good fucking feeling to know that they hadn’t done anything wrong. It was kind of weird, knowing that Steve Harrington of all people was gay. But he didn’t care. That might have been how his dad tried to raise him, but his mom had stopped all the homophobic shit the second he ditched.

He was raised better than to judge two people for being happy together. And the fact that they trusted him with something so big made him feel…kind of special. Definitely not like an asshole. The two of them wandered back to Steve and Nancy and Eddie didn’t hesitate to pull him into his arms. 

Jonathan watched as he whispered something to him before kissing his cheek, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And for them it probably was. He saddled next to Nancy. He didn’t exactly have the confidence to be that affectionate in public like those two did, but he’d like to work his way up to it. He gently took her hand in his, blushing at the way it made her smile. 

She squeezed his hand back before shuffling a little closer to lean into him. He didn’t have much time to indulge in it, not when the lights all suddenly came back on. But as they all hurried inside, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

From the latest chapter of this fic

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

I talk about it a little in this post and its various comments, but I think that the themes of life, death, and immortality that exist within KNY are genuinely some of the most interesting parts of the series at large. The most prominent and straightforward example of this exists within Muzan’s desperate quest for a perfect eternal life, which directly conflicts with Kagaya’s belief in the longevity of the human will. The former is concrete, physical, and simple where the latter remains abstract and very difficult to define.

It’s obviously displayed in Kagaya’s death scene;

But is also scattered throughout the manga in different moments — Sanemi’s first meeting with Kagaya is one of them, because it’s where Kagaya first mentions how little he thinks his life matters when he has an heir to continue aiding and leading the organization for him. He finds his eternity in the long standing effort his family (both biological and chosen) has made and will continue to make in freeing the world of the demonic blight. Which is a philosophy that he makes sure Muzan knows is followed by everyone who fights and lives or dies for the organization and its cause. The young men and women who didn’t pass Final Selection, the demon slayers on Mt. Natagumo, Rengoku, and so on so forth.

He dies knowing that he has a guaranteed legacy, and that Muzan’s inherent nature as a demon means he will never be allowed to do the same. Why do you think he becomes so angry when Kagaya mentions how his death means the death of all his demons too? He knows just as well as Kagaya does how limited he is. There is no one to avenge him or continue his work if he fails the way Kagaya and the Ubuyashiki have always had the Demon Slayer Corps. And even when the organization disbands, they have the certainty of a peaceful, demon-free future waiting for them. That is what they have all worked for, and the desire for tranquillity will always exist within humanity no matter who the enemy becomes.

Yorichii understood that very well… but his older twin brother, Michikatsu, could not fathom it.

He was utterly befuddled by Yorichii’s smile as he thought of the uncertain future, imagining a generation even stronger and more capable of saving lives than they were. He didn’t help the Sengoku Era demon slayers develop breathing styles or teach them or do anything because he wanted to be remembered — it was because he believed in the cause as earnestly and as fiercely as the old families who had followed it for centuries before him. By his own admission, Michikatsu had become a demon slayer out of insecurity and jealousy. He questions how his younger brother managed to leave so much more of himself behind when he was the one who became immortal, but he did this to himself.

He abandoned his wife and his children alongside his personal honor and his dreams and his cause and that’s why he can’t even begin to fathom Yorichii’s hopes for the future even when its manifestation is standing right in front of him;

Together, Yorichii and Michikatsu act as the second biggest philosophical contrast in KNY. They are the everlasting legacy of a man who could not care to leave one behind and the forgotten samurai who was utterly obsessed with the idea of having one, but didn’t know what that really meant. Tanjiro and Muichiro are also wonderful examples of this, because Tanjiro has absolutely no direct relation to Yorichii, and yet he effectively acts as his heir. On the other hand, Muichiro is explicitly noted to be Michikatu’s descendent by Kokushibo, but he is originally thought to be a Sun Breather’s descendant and rejects Kokushibo altogether. More than that, Kokushibo is the one who ultimately kills him.

Michikatsu literally and metaphorically kills any chance he has at having a legacy with his own hands, while Yorichii aids Tanjiro long after death.

It’s a beautifully painful contrast.

[aviiarie]

hii!! can you write kagaya and tanjiro’s reactions to a vampire demon slayer? with like, the full suite of powers (charming, turning into a bat, ability to see in the dark, sharp teeth). maybe they’re around tanjiro’s age and joined when he did?

BLOOD MOON — platonic tanjiro, kagaya & reader !

synopsis. how do they react to a vampire demon slayer? warnings. mentions of blood. notes. platonic. teen!reader. gn!reader. they/them used. fluff. headcanons. 1.7k words. this was pretty fun to write, thanks for the request anon! i hope this was alright :')

—TANJIRO

tanjiro would be lying if he didn't think there was something off about them. they were one of the few that had passed final selection at the same time as him, so he met them on the seventh day, just as the ubuyashiki children began to explain the demon slayer rankings. they were standing next to him, shifting their weight from foot to foot.

at first glance, they looked like the average demon slayer, with a sword in their hand and a weary but eager expression. but there was something strange about their scent; they smelled very distinctly of blood. he'd felt a little confused, but brushed it off quickly. they all smelt like blood, they had been fighting demons for a week, after all.

it was only after they were done with the orientation that tanjiro got the chance to greet them properly. he introduced himself with a warm smile, asking for their name. and when they opened their mouth to speak, he noticed a flash of white; two sharp canine teeth, resembling fangs.

after that, the details just started adding up. the smell of blood lingered long after they'd cleaned up from the battle, they shied away from standing in direct sunlight for too long, their night-vision was perfect, and of course, the sharpened fangs...

he was confused at first, but didn't voice it. who was he to call them out for their oddities, when he could quite literally smell their good nature? all of them were a little strange in their own way, it wasn't his place to question them on it.

it hit him one day when he was sitting by their campfire, watching the rest of the group sleep. inosuke was sprawled out across the dirt, zenitsu was curled up in ball, using his haori as a blanket, and nezuko was laying by his side. her bamboo muzzle had slipped away from her face as she left, exposing her fangs peeking through her half-open mouth. they were sharp little things, sticking out among the rest of her teeth. absently, he thought the sight of them reminded him of someone; they were almost identical to—

he suddenly jolted, like he'd been shocked. it was so obvious, how could he not have thought of it before? they were a demon.

they didn't need to be worried though, tanjiro understood! he carried his demon sister around in a box, he wasn't in any place to judge.

but he knew they might be hesitant to reveal it to the rest of the corps. that was alright! he would hold his tongue, until they were ready to tell him themself.

(it did bother him slightly, their peculiar traits compared to most demons. they were clearly averse to the sun, but didn't seem to be harmed from it the way nezuko did; he'd seen them run to find shade from the sunlight, but their skin didn't disintegrate into ash, only turning red and blistery. strange. he would have to ask about that sometime.)

when he does finally confront them, it's after a shared mission. the two had finished defeating one of a pair of demons, hurriedly making their way to meet up with shinobu, who had accompanied them.

he's a little nervous to bring it up, but he steels himself and blurts the question out.

“[name], are you a demon?”

they stopped in their tracks, almost stumbling over a root and falling to the floor. the look they fixed him was an odd blend of confusion, horror and amusement at the same time. “what was that?”

“are you a demon?”

“of course i’m not.” they laughed weakly. “what makes you think that?”

“well… the constant smell of blood was one clue. the fact that you dislike sunlight is another. you can see perfectly in the dark, you have sharp teeth… i figured it out a while ago, i just was waiting to ask you about it.” he paused. “it’s okay, you know? i’m not going to judge you.”

“i’m not a demon!” they protested.

“you don’t have to be self-conscious! nezuko’s a demon too!” tanjiro reached over his shoulder to cheerfully knock on the top of the wooden box, earning him a muffled noise that sounded somewhere between a growl and a cheer.

“i’m not though, i’m…” there was a hint of hesitation in their voice, a trace of reluctance. they seemed to push past it, long enough to blurt out, “i’m a vampire.”

the words took a while to register in his mind. “a… vampire?”

they fidgeted with the edge of their uniform, their eyes cast to the ground. “yes.”

“like… the blood-sucking kind? the… turning into a bat kind?”

“yes.” they pause. “that kind.”

“huh.” tanjiro thought about it for a few moments, turning over the word in his mind. “vampire. that’s not so different to a demon, is it?”

“a vampire, you say?” a soft voice cut smoothly into their conversation. the two teenagers jumped, turning to see the insect hashira herself smiling at them. she was staring at [name] rather intensely, like they were a bug under a microscope, waiting to be studied. “well, isn’t that interesting.”

—KAGAYA

it wasn't a secret much longer. after the news of their vampiric state was spilled, there was another meeting called at the ubuyashiki estate. this time, instead of nezuko, it was them on trial, as the master and the hashira decided what to do with them.

some argued that a vampire was no different than a demon, and they should be treated as such. others argued that they had spent long enough in the corps to prove themselves worthy of the title of demon slayer.

nezuko's successful trial seemed to work in their favour, as tanjiro fought on their behalf, arguing that if she could suppress her urge to eat humans, then surely they could too? the months of experience working in the corps, and the other slayers that vouched for them managed to sway kagaya into looking past their supposed 'threat' to the corps, and rewelcoming them as a demon slayer.

there were a few rules set into place, though.

for starters, they were under the same oath as nezuko; if they were to attack a human, they would be treated as any common demon and slain without a thought. there would be no second trial, no second chance.

secondly, they were only allowed to drink the blood of humans when it was given freely, relying on either donations or animal blood to satiate their hunger. that wasn't unreasonable, it was how they had been surviving thus far anyway. (tanjiro even introduced them to a friend of his, tamayo, who offered to help them with obtaining ethically-sourced blood.)

but the final condition was a strange one: they were to meet with kagaya himself once every month.

the request made them pause. what reason would he have to want them to visit him so frequently? upon being questioned, he assured them it was to just make sure they were doing alright and settling in okay, especially with their... condition.

when they visited him for the first time, he invited them to come have tea with him. the visit was quiet, punctuated by the occasional idle chatter, but strangely peaceful.

in between commenting about their last mission, kagaya started to carefully question them about their vampirism. how long they'd been one, how they had turned, where they were getting blood... there wasn't any accusation or sharpness to his words, only gentle curiosity.

he seemed especially intrigued by the abilities that they gained from it. charming was an interesting one, the ability to compel a person to do whatever they wanted. they confessed that they weren't as skilled in that regard, but he was impressed nonetheless.

their ability to transform into a bat caught his attention most of all. it was a useful skill, and would help them as a demon slayer if they were able to master it.

overall his reaction to them was... slightly underwhelming? i mean... he does live in a world of demons, having a vampire isn't much of stretch, but he's strangely calm about it all, save for the open curiosity he expresses towards their state.

it doesn't matter to him. he can see that their intentions for joining the demon slayer corps were sound, and there was no need to draw the situation out more than it needed to be. they were no different than any of his other children, and that was that.

“you’re early today.” kagaya smiled as they approached, bowing respectfully to him. “shall we walk?”

he waited for them to rise to their feet, falling into step beside him. together they strolled quietly through the garden that surrounded the mansion, the evening breeze gently brushing across their faces. dusk had already fallen, and the last stretches of day had begun to bleed from the horizon, leaving a bright full moon behind.

“i trust you have been well?” kagaya hummed.

“i have.”

“and your… particular needs are being met?”

they nodded sharply. “i’ve been receiving blood from tamayo, enough to last me a while.”

“that is good to hear.” kagaya smiled at them, all warmth and soft edges. “i’ll have to admit, i was rather concerned when i was first informed of your dietary requirements, but you seem to be plenty capable of taking care of them on your own without needing help.”

it was nerve-wrecking, when they were told they were to be put on trial for concealing their vampirism from the demon slayer corps. they were a touch too close to being a demon than any of the slayers were comfortable with, but kagaya seemed unfazed.

nothing about their state seemed to faze him; not the sharp teeth, not the bloodlust. he only seemed… curious. it was almost refreshing to have someone so interested in their condition, without a trace of fear or ill intention. most would treat them as a monster, no different than a wild beast, but kagaya was different.

it was relieving, and just slightly unnerving.

“you seem troubled.” kagaya noted. “is something on your mind?”

before they could answer him, he was giving them that warm smile again, and placing a gentle hand on their shoulder to guide them back towards the mansion.

“come, let’s go inside. i will have some tea prepared for us, and then we’ll have a proper talk. how does that sound?”

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

[sqyyadina]

wrap me in your arms like i'm made of glass.

Pairing: Lorraine Warren X Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Tags: possessed!reader, exorcism, self flagellation / self harm, disordered eating, mommy issues, hurt/comfort!

Summary: You've been fighting an evil spirit on your own for months, until an angel falls on your doorstep, and you no longer have to fight alone.

Author’s Note: This one is sort of dark, ee!! Sometimes a girl just needs to write an exorcism, I guess!! This is my first go of anything horror/angsty, so uhm.. it might be kinda bad. This is also on my AO3!!

It hates the cold.

As do you.

Yet somehow, as you lay by the flung-open bay window, watching the tiny, crystalline flakes fall to cover your once-blossoming hydrangea bushes, you feel your head silence for the first time in weeks. The lightweight blanket draped over your knees isn’t much help to fight the tremble in your fingers, which are wrapped tightly around a mug of hot chocolate— you’ve been falling victim to your sweet-toothed cravings lately, considering this very well may be your last chance to do so.

The television across the room hums whatever country music variety show is on this early in the morning; a few cars pass by outside, splashing up muddy sludge into your front yard. You can’t help but wince at the action. You once dedicated so much time to perfecting your lawn, just for all of that hard work to become irrelevant in a few short hours. It’s probably been decades since this town last saw any snow. You’d never seen so much as a cold rain in your few decades of living. It seems that Hell’s finally frozen over. It’s a shame you never paid attention in church long enough to find out what to do in such an event.

You’re feeling weak. This isn’t a new sensation. Weeks’ worth of sleep interrupted by family photos flung off of walls in the middle of the night truly does begin to take a toll on a young woman’s body. Not that you ever had much energy to begin with, what with the early mornings spent tending to horses and late nights attending to sick barn cats.

It’s quite shocking just how much energy a demonic being inhabiting your body saps up.

It only takes a few minutes, lounged by the window and focus blurring out on the white mounds of snow, for you to loll off to sleep, cocoa spilling onto your favorite quilt, but you’re not lucid enough to notice.

It’s a very gentle knock at your door that rips you from your slumber. Your encounter with whatever beast has been haunting your every move has made you an incredibly light sleeper. At this point, you could be woken by a light breath against your face. You believe you already have, a few times now.

It’s incredibly difficult for you to stand from your position on your once pristine, now chocolate-stained sofa, but you make it upright eventually. The blood comes rushing to your head at the sudden swing upright, your feet heavy against the cold hardwood floor that you never bothered to buy a rug for. Your feet were calloused enough, there was no need for comfort for something already so broken.

You cling desperately to the heavy front door that, by some act of God, you manage to swing open.

The light you’re met with is blinding. You’re not sure if it’s the sun’s rays beating off of the snow and directly into your eyes, or if the woman at your doorstep just naturally emanates such a light.

“Hi there.” Her voice is so kind and warm that your entire body feels like you’ve been sat next to a fireplace. Once your eyes fully adjust to the light surrounding your savior, you notice that her face holds a slightly bewildered look, but like she’s trying to hide it. To remain professional, to not let you in on the fact that there’s quite literally a demon hanging over your shoulders.

You take her outstretched hand in your own, shaking it weakly, and as you do, her expression is replaced by a frown. “I’m Loraine Warren,” She hums, wrapping another hand around yours, seemingly trying to bring heat to the five icicles you call fingers. “and you’re freezing.” You muster up a lackluster smile, ruminating in the warmth from the hands wrapped around your own for as long as she’ll allow. Your visitor doesn’t pull back until you do, to let her into your home.

Mrs. Warren has clearly not come prepared for this entirely unforeseen snow, seeing as she’s dressed in a plaid, tea-length dress, with only a light cardigan hung from her shoulders. There wasn’t a single weatherman on any of your very limited channels that had predicted this sort of weather this far south of the Mason-Dixon.

“Thank you…” You begin, leading the taller woman to your living room, where you practically fall to your position on the sofa again. “For coming to meet with me, Mrs. Warren. I’m so very appreciative.” Your eyelids are heavy, and your cheeks hurt with the strain of a smile, but you still force yourself to engage as delicately as you can with this woman, both for the beauty that you find so enticing, and for the fact that she very well may save your life.

The affliction you’d been suffering for the past few weeks of your life… you weren’t entirely sure what it was. At first, waking up standing in the kitchen and holding a knife to your own throat was something you could pass off as a traumatizing night of sleepwalking. The sudden headaches and physical aversion to reading your leatherbound, heavily annotated bible made you think you had suffered a concussion from falling out of bed one too many times.

Seeing the Warrens on your favorite morning talk show was what led you to raise your own suspicions. The way they spoke of a young girl in Poughkeepsie who had begun levitating in the middle of the night, who began seizing when she was read the word of God… You couldn’t help but see the similarities.

You couldn’t have possibly called the demonologists sooner.

On the phone, you spoke to a man. He was much heftier with the way he spoke, clearly the extroverted salesman of the team. He seemed skeptical, and unwilling to leave his home in New England, as he had every right to be. You very well could just have the flu. But you knew, deep down, that you didn’t, and it had to be them. It had to be. You had no other hope of surviving against your oppressor if you had to fight it alone.

Your frantic begging must have been loud enough for the people close to Ed Warren to hear, because as soon as you finished your rambling about how miserable you were, a distant, soft voice came from the other side of the phone.

Ed, listen to her. She needs us.

The line then went muffled, he had placed his palm over the receiver in hopes to hide the fact that they had begun arguing about you. You couldn’t quite make out what was said, only that the woman, Lorraine, very much wanted to come to visit you, and Ed did not.

It was as if by miracle that Lorraine showed up at your door only a day after your phone call.

“Please, call me Lorraine.” The older woman returned, standing above you. “May I ask why you have the windows open? It’s just so nasty out there… it may affect your health, sweetheart.” There’s a little glimmer in her eyes when she presses the back of her hand against your forehead, which, much to her surprise, was just as cold as your hands.

A stubborn frown returned to her pink lips, and Lorraine quickly closed the two windows behind you.

“The cold helps.” You say plainly as Lorraine moves around your vintage furniture to close the windows on the opposite side of the room.

“What do you mean?” She returns to your side, placing your quilt atop your knees and finding another to cover your shoulders. She then sits on the sofa next to you, delicately maneuvering herself underneath your blanket as well.

You blush a little, hiding your face behind the large mug that you’d once discarded.

“This… thing. Whatever’s inside me… it hates the cold.” You reply, staring down at your feet, which wiggle to regain the feeling that the cold air had taken away.

“How do you know?” The clairvoyant muses, reaching up to pet the hair that’s turned into a mat behind your head. You’ve had a horrible go of taking care of yourself lately, with things as simple as brushing your hair disappearing from your mind for days at a time.

“It started snowing just last night… Since then, it’s been quieter. I’ve been able to take control of my life again, at least a little bit.” You hum, leaning into her touch, which has dropped to press comfortingly to your shoulder. “But as soon as I lit a fire, tried to get warm, it all came back. The chaos. The… evil.” You shudder to remember the noise that’s filled your head for the past few days. The screams, the whispered urges to harm yourself and others. It’s like you’ve been sent to your own personal Hell, like God finally punished you for the way that you look at women like Lorraine. 

“You’re a very perceptive girl.” Lorraine offers you a smile, and you find that it may not only be the cold that calms you. Her presence has offered you more solace than any pain killer or chamomile tea has offered you in your entire life.

You try to giggle, try to accept her praise, but her warm touch, paired with your general lack of sleep, has made it truly impossible for you to remain at all upright. You slump over, dropping your cocoa once again, head landing on Lorraine’s shoulder.

“I believe you.” She whispers quietly, maneuvering your shoulders so that your head lays on her lap. The words are all you’ve ever needed to hear. To be assured that you’re not going crazy is all you need in order to finally fall asleep, and the hands that press warmth into your neck and forehead are the best medicine you could take.

You fall asleep in less than a second, your ears muffling all the noise in the room, yet you can still hear your visitor humming along to the tv as your muscles relax into the sofa.

♱

A soft whine escapes your lips before your eyes open. It’s a combination of bright light and tugging at the back of your head that wakes you up, and as much as you detest being stripped from the best sleep you’ve had in at least month, you feel rested enough to accept it.

“I’m so sorry. Keep sleeping, little one.” Your brain fights to register who the voice belongs to, but judging by the fact that you’ve only received one visitor in the past weeks, and the fact that no visitor you’ve ever met has had such a honey-coated voice, you remember right away. It’s Lorraine.

It’s Lorraine, and the light tugging you feel is a comb being pulled through the hair that hasn’t met such a thing in far too long. You’re hit by a sudden wave of embarrassment, knowing that the state of your hair must make you look so pitiful, like a child that can barely take care of herself. You hide your face in your hands, whining once again, hiding from the yellow light of a lamp above you, and from the fact that you look such a mess in the presence of one of the most well-kempt women you’ve ever met.

“I’m all done.” She purrs softly, running her fingers through your now untangled hair, tucking it behind your ear. You sit up, face beet red as you do so. You’re sure you’ve never felt more embarrassed in your entire life.

“Thank you…” You stutter out, voice heavy with sleep. “I’m sorry for falling asleep. I just… haven’t in quite a while. I hope I’m not taking too much of your time.” You glance up at her, eyes squinting to view the porcelain skin adorned by a smile. Lorraine Warren must truly have the kindest heart in the entire world to spend time taking care of someone she’s only just met.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” She says quite firmly, pressing her hand against your cheek, and you can feel yourself becoming addicted to her touch. “I want to take care of you.”

You feel a warmth in your cheeks, and a certain tingling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve never heard these words before, and the last time anyone had earnestly taken care of you was… well, you don’t really remember. It was probably in your early childhood, but even then, you weren’t too sure.

The butterfly wings in your stomach are quickly replaced by a different sensation, a large growling that just about reverberates through the living room. You’re filled with another bout of humiliation, and grip your stomach tightly. You’re also not too sure when you last ate.

A ginger hand presses against your stomach as well, and it dawns on you just how close to the older woman you’ve become. She’s pressed against you so much that you’re nearly sitting in her lap, and her other arm is wrapped around so very tightly around the small of your back. Lorraine is quite the touchy woman, and you couldn’t be more appreciative of such a character trait. You lean into her hands greedily, head tilting over to rest on her shoulder once more.

“Can you stand?” She hums, pressing her cheek to rest on the top of your head.

You nod slowly, not quite too sure that you’re telling the truth, but if Lorraine wants you to stand, you’ll stand. And you do, pushing hard into the ground, thankful that before all of this mess you were at least regularly active, and your body was fairly well maintained from throwing bales of hay.

“Good girl.”

The words make your knees go weak, weaker than they already are, and you falter a little in your steps. You thank God that Lorraine has such a strong grip around your waist and is able to keep you upwards.

“Show me your kitchen?” The clairvoyant asks softly, and while you do just as you’re asked, her steady gaze washes over each little family portrait, each corn husk doll, even the sunhats you’ve worn so much that they’re full of holes. One may see her wandering eyes and find her to be a terrible snoop, but Lorraine is doing her job, gathering every piece of evidence she can to use against your demon. She wants to know everything about your past and present so that she may rid you of this retched thing.

She gets no clue as to what suffering has conflicted this household from the photos of a quite happy family hanging from your walls, but she can sense it in the way the house creaks with her every step. There’s an evil lingering in these walls, and Lorraine can feel it.

“I’m… I’m not sure there’s even any food that’s still edible.” You speak gruffly as you arrive in the kitchen that overlooks your barn that was once such a brilliant red, and now stands with peeling paint and water damage. It’s a proper metaphor for your own status. You haven’t been in this room in many days, and the sight of wilting flowers and rotting vegetables depresses you immediately.

“I’m sure I can make do.” Lorraine shoots you that oh-so very reassuring smile once again, and leads you to sit at the dining table that’s only ever been set for one. “When was the last time you ate?”

It’s a dreaded question. A question that, once again, you don’t have a clear answer to. You think the last thing you ate was a handful of boiled peanuts… or was it oatmeal? Lately you had only had incredibly unpleasant dreams about food, and your brain has been so occupied by so many voices, that sustenance was the last thing on your mind.

“I’m not sure.” You muster in response, and Lorraine’s frown returns once again. She’s not mad at you, only furious at the creature that’s taken hold of you, keeping you from living a healthy life.

“You need to keep yourself fed.” Lorraine speaks softly, peeking out from behind the cabinet she’d begun rummaging around in. “Communing with the being, and an eventual exorcism, will take a lot of energy.”

She speaks so calmly about something that is so terrifying to you. You weren’t raised Catholic, and didn’t know much about their traditions, but the interview that you had watched of the Warrens spelled an exorcism out to be one of the most dangerous, mortifying acts that one could participate in. You trust Lorraine entirely though, and are filled with the knowledge that if she has to do such a thing, she will treat you delicately, and cause as little harm to you as possible.

It's only a few groggy minutes before there’s a plate laid in front of you, and by some act of God Lorraine has found another chair to sit in. She’s pulled up right next to you, and while you’re a bit surprised she hasn’t chosen to sit across from you, her choice is very welcomed. The heat from your plate warms your face, and you press your hands against it in hopes that they’ll warm as well.

“It looks delicious.” You look up to the women through your heavy eyelids, weakly grabbing hold of your fork to start lifting potatoes to your mouth. “I can’t believe you were able to make this so quickly! Thank you so very much.” You smile to her, licking your lips, stomach so very grateful to the woman beside you.

“I’ve always been a good cook. My husband is never very appreciative of my skills.” She laughs softly, but you can tell it’s something that truly upsets her. If you were lucky enough to live in a home with Lorraine Warren and have her food for every meal, you consider yourself to be in Heaven. From your short conversation, Ed didn’t quite seem to be a wholly grateful man. “You’re not married.” She then says, taking a sip from the old whiskey glass that’s now filled with water.

Her words are more observational than questioning, and it causes a twinge of discomfort within you. You’d always been questioned for your spinster-like nature, women in your church always wanted to set you up with their sons or nephews. You’re such a pretty girl, they’d say, why on God’s green Earth aren’t you dating anyone?

It was impossible to tell them that you’d never want to marry a man, even if someone held a gun to your head.

“No…” You reply awkwardly, and the word turns into a yawn, leading you to cover your mouth with one hand. “I’ve just… never met the right person, I guess.” You huff, kicking your elbow up on the table and resting your chin on your fist to keep yourself propped up. Who knew something as simple as lifting a fork to your mouth would be so difficult. “Or… Well…” You start again, feeling almost too comfortable in Lorraine’s presence to share a little more. “I’ve just, never really been interested in anyone.”

When you drop your fork to your plate with quite the dramatic tink, that same loving hand returns to your lower back. Lorraine has taken your fork between her perfectly manicured fingers, and lifts another bite towards your lips, which you not-so-gracefully accept.

“Well, that is a shame.” The brunette responds, and though you can’t see it, there’s the tiniest hint of a smirk on her face. She seems to be a bit too pleased by your loneliness. “I do hope you’ll find someone soon. You are so deserving of love.”

You’re not sure if you’re deserving, but you’re damn well desperate for it.

Lorraine continues to feed you, lifting small bites of vegetable to your lips while whispering her gentle praises after each bite. Your face is now permanently pink, with each of her cooing words turning you into a little mess beneath her. You’re connected at her hip once again, legs tangled around each other under your gingham tablecloth. You’re so very lucky that you never receive any visitors, for you deign to think of anyone’s reaction to your little displays of minute affection.

“I was hoping I might stay with you here. I always find it more helpful to fully integrate myself into the lives of someone I’m helping.” She hums once you’ve finished all of your food, and she can move onto her own. You lean against her shoulder once more, eyes closed, yet you’re completely awake. Her sentence is entirely shocking, yet you’re completely excited by it, and couldn’t possibly accept her request quicker.

“Yes, of course!” You hear the over-enthusiasm in your voice, and hope you haven’t come off too strongly. You sit up to meet her gaze, blushing just from the way she looks at you so sweetly. “I only have the one bedroom, I’m afraid. It’s a bit of a mess at the moment, but I can wash the sheets, and you can sleep there! I spend most of my time on the sofa anyway, I’m happy to sleep there.” You nod cheerfully, hoping with all of your heart that she’ll not be too deterred by your excitement.

“Don’t be silly.” She smiles, lifting her hand to gently pet your hair, her fingernails grazing your scalp in a way that sends a tingle down your spine. “I’ll take your bed, but only if you’re in it as well. If that’s alright with you, of course. I just want to keep an eye on you.” She winks, and it’s that moment that you feel your soul leave your body. You choke on your own saliva, coughing a few times. You’ve been sitting so close to Lorraine today, that you shouldn’t feel so strange about sharing your bed with her, yet it brings a worried feeling to the pit of your stomach. When you explore that feeling more, you’ll find that it’s really excitement, and a desperation to sleep next to another body that you’d never knew you had.

“That’s fine by me…” You stutter, trying to hide the eager smile that’s threatening your lips. You chew on the insides of your cheeks, your hands finding their way to some fabric, not knowing if it’s the tablecloth or your shirt or maybe Lorraine’s skirt. Whatever it is, you grip it tightly, trying to force all of your delight on an object rather than voice it. “It’ll be good to share each other’s’ body heat… it gets so cold at night even without the snow…” Your voice is trembling a little, betraying how fast your heart is racing.

You’re ready for the sun to go down now.

But you still have a few hours of sunlight left, and Lorraine fills it with questions about your family history, about your experience with this malevolent being, and just about your daily life. She wonders what it is that you do for fun in such a small town, and you feel shy to admit that you rarely leave the house except to go to church. That leads her to talk about her own religion, and it’s so mystifying to hear her speak about her passion for Christ. She speaks in such a profound way, like she’s spent time as a pastor, though you’d never once met a female pastor. Lorraine is certainly a better speaker than all the old men that lead prayer at church and quote the same bible verses into monotony.

She proudly shows you the rosary around her neck, explaining the story behind it with the most adorable sparkle in her eyes. When you take the metal in your hands, wanting to share in her passion, it burns. Burns like you’ve just pressed your hand flat into the cooktop of an oven. You recoil in pain, but when Lorraine attends to your palm, there’s no sign of a burn.

“It… It stings.” You whine, looking down at your hand in disbelief. You’ve never felt such pain, and the fact that it’s not left a visible mark is messing with your head so much that your eyes begin to well with tears.

“I know it does, sweetheart. I know.” Lorraine hums, holding you tightly, lifting a thumb to wipe at your tears. “Ointment won’t help it, I’m afraid. It’s the spirit reacting through nerve induction. It will go away soon. I promise.” The demonologist quickly stuffs the rosary down the neck of her blouse, wanting to hide everything that causes you pain. Lorraine hates to see you in such a state, and though you don’t comprehend anything about this spirit, her brain is working overtime to plot a strategy to rid you of this beast.

You sit together for another half hour, Lorraine consoling the pain that has long since disappeared thanks to her sweet whispers and distracting stories. You nearly fall asleep on the sofa once again, and she can see it, so without having to ask, she takes you up the stairs and to your bedroom.

“I’ll just go down the hall to get myself ready for bed. I’ll be right back, I promise.” She hums, pressing an innocent kiss to your forehead before leaving the room. Watching her walk away from you shatters your heart into a million pieces, but you know she’ll come back through the doors quickly. You trust Lorraine’s promise.

I need to change before she gets back, you think, but your body simply won’t allow you to move.   You’re stuck to this bed, to this soft mattress that you once so adored, but now only fear for the horrible dreams it brings upon you.

You sit in this fear, for how long you’re not certain, before Lorraine returns. Her hair is combed through yet still has that lovely, silky wave to it, and she’s dressed in the prettiest white nightgown. She looks like an angel, in shiny white linen. She’s just missing the wings and halo. You feel a warmth rise to your cheeks, seeing her in this state, a state which she’d probably only ever been seen in by her husband. You feel so scandalous, like you should avert your gaze, like God is going to find you sinful for looking at her like this, but your eyes are locked onto this heavenly body in front of you, and you can’t pull away.

“I’m sorry I—” You begin, hands gripping at your shirt, trying to indicate to her that you’re upset with yourself for not getting dressed in her absence.

Lorraine only tuts at you, placing down her bag before rounding to your side of the bed. She helps you stand, and begins through your closet, looking for a nightgown for you to wear. Much to her chagrin, however, all she can find is dirty jeans and some oversized t-shirts, which makes her feel pity towards you, but also causes a small giggle to escape her lips because she finds the clothing choices so adorably fitting for a young farm girl. She settles on the least stained of all of your shirts before returning to your side.

“May I?” Her voice is low, knowing that you’re the only person in the world that needs to hear her. When you nod, she pulls your blouse over your head, and she develops a blush of her own to find that you’re not wearing anything beneath it. You try to hide, snaking your hands around your chest, a new warmth between your legs as you realize that Lorraine’s hands are wandering over your body, the pads of her fingers lightly prodding your exposed skin.

“You sweet thing. You just need someone to love you.” Your savior hums, delicately examining all of the bruises that cover your skin. You’re not even sure where they all came from, just that they developed fast. A few concern you more than the others: the ones shaped like fingers and teeth marks. They never hurt at night, but the fear that strikes you every morning when you reveal a new marking in the mirror is something that you never want to feel again.

Lorraine presses another small kiss to a bruise on your shoulder before helping you pull the sleep shirt over your head. She reluctantly, yet with the complete confidence that she’s carried herself with all along, pulls down your pants in one swift motion. You’re back in bed before you know it, Lorraine tucking you in tightly and making sure you’re perfectly comfortable before taking her own place beside you.

Your brain is rushing, not with the demonic thoughts that you’ve had all this time, but with so many feelings that you never knew existed before meeting Lorraine. You feel horribly antsy, like you have enough energy to run laps around the house. You miss the tiredness that had been affecting you earlier this morning, it was going to be quite difficult to sleep tonight.

“I’m so very glad you came to help me.” You whisper, voice shaky with nerves as you turn on your side to face the woman who’s already turned towards you. You can feel how close your bodies are, yet they aren’t touching, and your brain is working overtime to decide if you should close that space between you.

Luckily, Lorraine is making all of your decisions for you.

You feel the soft skin of her legs first, when they wrap around yours, holding them still. Her right arm is next, draping over the curve in your waist so gently, yet she has the firmest grip on you, like she won’t let you leave even if you tried. You’d never try.

“I…” You start again, shifting even closer to Lorraine, placing your hand on her chest so you can feel her heartbeat. You pray she can’t feel yours, for its beating is so quick it’s probably quite dangerous, and you’ve already worried her enough. “Since you’ve been here, my brain has been so… still. So quiet.” That’s not entirely true, as the angelic woman in front of you has only replaced all of your thoughts, but it’s close enough. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She whispers back, voice so low and gravelly with her own sleep, so that you have to lean even further forward to hear her, and your noses nearly touch. “I haven’t done my job just yet.”

You tense, suddenly filled with worry about what will happen when Lorraine eventually does what she’s come here to do. If your still-burning pain from merely touching a symbol of the Lord is any indication, you’re in for a wellspring of hurt when you wake up in the morning.

As for now, though, you’re completely safe, protected by your guardian angel, and you can sleep soundly for the first time in far too long. You fall asleep under Lorraine’s grasp far quicker than you’d like, as you’d really prefer to stay awake and really cherish the soft circles she’s rubbing into your flesh, but your eyelids fall shut on their own accord.

Lorraine, however, stays up a bit later, watching your face for any sign of nightmares, wandering hands exploring your curves as if looking for clues, soothing you into the deepest sleep of your life.  

Lorriane wakes groggily, yawning while rubbing at her eyes with balled-up fists. She notices first that it’s still not light outside, that she still has time to sleep. Though she won’t, because a panic rips through the woman when she registers your absence. She shoots straight up out of bed, body moving to wrap herself in one of your mother’s old house coats faster than her brain can function. It’s on sheer instinct that Lorraine wraps the rosary around her hand and stuffs her small Bible into her pocket.

She races through the creaky old home, feet freezing against the hardwood floors that whine with each of her frantic steps. Lorraine shouts your name and is only met by her own voice echoing back at her. She searches each room of your house, her eyes still blurry from sleep. She whips open cupboards and is even sure to peek into your attic, which you haven’t so much as thought about since inheriting the home.

A worry is settled across Lorraine’s face when she makes it into your kitchen, but her expression turns to true fear when she sees that the lock on your back door has come undone, and the door isn’t settled into its place in its frame. She searches for any pair of shoes she can find and settles for a pair of boots that barely fit her feet, but their steel toes will at least protect her from the elements. She’s shivering, and her eyes are watering so much that the tears turn cold against her cheeks. The demonologist places a hand over her chest, gripping onto her rosary for a moment, bracing herself for the cold, before she slings the door open and steps out into the night.

The snowfall has picked up tenfold, and there’s now a little under a foot of snow packed onto the ground. Lorraine pulls the small cotton coat around herself tightly, her hair whipping wildly around her face as she blinks back tears, searching for any sign of life. When she looks down, there’s an obvious set of footprints: kicked-back snow heading in the direction of the old, forgotten barn.

Lorraine follows your shoeless prints, still screaming your name into the void of night, her voice strained and muffled in the silence that surrounds her. There isn’t even the typical wee-hour birdsong that too frequently keeps you awake. No cars on the road make their habitual noise, no cows bellowing from across the street. Only the exhausted screams of a woman so frightened for your survival.

When she arrives to the barn, finding safety from the wind in its high walls, feeling so close to dropping to her knees and praying that she had never fallen asleep in the first place, Lorraine spots you. A frail, half-naked body illuminated by one flickering, dangling light that allow the older woman’s eyes little vantage.

She’s filled with relief that she’s found you, but that relief only lasts less than a second before she’s filled with dread. Dread that something is horribly wrong. Dread because you’re dripping with a slick, dark, shimmering liquid.

Lorraine falls to her knees beside you, taking your near-lifeless face in her hands.

“What have you done to her?” She yells, voice harsh and gravelly. She’s speaking to your demon, to the thing that has taken control of your legs and marched you out to this barn, that has treated you like such an animal.

You’re barely conscious, losing the internal battle to keep control of your own mind. All you can do is lean your pained body into Lorraine, trying to give her some sort of message that you’re still there, that you’re still swimming in your own mind, trying to breach the surface.

The clairvoyant asses your injuries, wiping the tears at your eyes and her own. Thankfully, the only damage is done to your back, the lashes across your spine that fuel Lorraine with so much hatred. When your shaking hands lift the riding crop to lay even more agony against your tender flesh, Lorraine wrestles it out of your tight grip and throws it aside, far out of your reach.

“We have to do this now.” Lorraine’s voice is significantly kinder, her hands holding your head close to her chest. She sits in her own fear for a moment, building a strategy to get this thing out of you once and for all. She whispers a prayer, and the words hurt your head, fill your brain with a terrible, searing scream, but there’s simply nothing you can do to stop it. Your livelihood now rests at Lorraine Warren’s feet.

Lorraine stands, guides you upwards. She’s shellshocked by the fact that she’s about to take on a task that she had never solely performed before, and it’s caused her knees to walk unsteadily. She takes the housecoat off and guides it over your shoulders, face twinging as she lays it against the open wounds of your back, but she’d rather you feel pain for a small moment than have your delicate skin come into contact with the weather. The woman ties the coat tight before picking you up, carrying you back through the strong winds, shoes clumping down on the piling snow.

When she replaces the darkness of the sky with the darkness of your home, Lorraine places you down on the sofa where she had once sat with you. You sit in a crumpled state, arms limp, though they fight to wrap around your body, subconsciously seeking heat. You’re impossibly cold, and the longer your toes sit with minimal blood flow, the angrier your beast grows. Your shivering only grows worse when Lorraine throws open the French windows behind you, allowing the snow to come in through the screens and settle in your hair.

“I know it hurts.” She whispers, trying to find some sort of life behind your glassy eyes. Lorraine has forced herself into seriousness, closed her tear ducts and is carrying herself professionally. She knows that treating this with any level of emotional attachment could be suicide for the exorcism, and though the near love that she’s developed for you still lingers at the back of her brain, she has to silence it, she has to save your life before she can worry about you anymore.

Sniffing back the wetness that’s come from the cold air beating against her face, Lorraine finds the Bible still sitting in the pocket of the coat draped over your shoulders. She holds her left hand against your forehead, and the cross casts a warmth against your face that you lean back to fight against, though you’re not sure if it’s of your own action or that of something else.

Lorraine begins reciting a prayer in Latin, that you’d surely be swooning over had you been at all conscious. You’ve nearly lost your battle, your body completely limp against the pillows, as though you’ve lost all muscle mass in less than a minute. You’ve lost all awareness of the situation and now exist only in your own mind, trying your damnedest to regain control.

Each word Lorraine yells with a cracking voice causes a new pain to emerge somewhere within your body, and the pain consumes you so much that you fall over, landing in a fetal position against the cushions of the sofa. Lorraine’s hands want to reach out to soothe you, to press their warmth into your blue skin, to replace your pain with her loving touch, but she restrains herself. She knows that you must feel this pain, that it will drive the presence out of your body and back to the Hell that it emerged from.

“I need you to fight it.” Lorraine interrupts her own prayer to press her forehead against your own, fingers gripping your jaw like her life depends on it. “Don’t give in, don’t let it take you.” She calls, holding the weight of your head in her hands, feeling how much authority you’ve lost over your own body. “Please, fight. For me.”

You’ve already done your fighting. Though you’ve been so horribly affected by this presence in your home, disrupting your livelihood, your sleep, your will to live, there’s not really been anything impacting your will to live at all in years past. You’ve simply been existing in this plane, doing your chores and going to church, following your routines for no reason other than it’s what you’ve always done. Your routines that are so set in stone that it took a demonic presence to shake them up. But you’ve had no one to share your routine with, no one to cook for, no one to compliment how beautifully your flowers have grown. You’ve had no one to fight for.

Your life is not one worth fighting for.

Lorraine Warren, however, feels the opposite. The way she’s holding you so tightly, on her knees in front of you, begging you to stay alive… though you can’t see it, aren’t cognizant enough to hear her begging, you can feel it. There’s a warmth against your chest that’s keeping your heart beating, and a light behind your eyes that’s pushing you to keep going.

So you do. You do as Lorraine asks, and the last little bit of willpower you have musters up into your fingers, and you grab onto Lorraine’s shoulders with an anemic grasp, trying to pull her closer. You force your eyes open, though it’s so very painful due to the rosary still swinging in view, and look up at Lorraine’s worried features. More than anything, you’re filled with hatred that you’re the one to cause her this anguish, that she shouldn’t be so concerned over a life as meaningless as your own.

It's the most beautiful smile you’re met with that causes the final push, that forces your beast out of your mind and into the wind that’s still blowing melting snowflakes onto your already freezing body. A sudden relief fills your body, the power over your own actions that brings back the feeling in your muscles. You sit up, blinking slowly, reliving the past few minutes over and over as you regain a full level of awareness that you’d been left without for the past months.

Lorraine allows you your time to rejoin the living world, slamming shut the windows behind you and throwing several blankets over your freezing body. She drops back to her knees to assess you once more, seeing the color back in your eyes and the warmth rising back to your cheeks. She had seen you in such a terrifying, corpse-like state that she’d surely soon have nightmares about, so the fact that your eyes were finally locking onto her own was an answered prayer.

You eagerly wrapped both arms around the woman’s neck, holding her as close as you can, thanking her over and over again, until the stinging on your back takes the brunt of your attention.

“Don’t thank me. It was all your own work.” She hums, trying to find anywhere she can hold you without wrapping her arms around your back. Lorraine then stands, settling on petting your hair, looking around for any other sources of heat that she may impress upon you. “Do you have any fire woo—”

She’s cut off by the swift action of your standing up, an action that she would surely advise against had she had the option to. But her lips are unable to protest, because they’re met by your own. You’re shocked by your own straightforwardness, and though the fear that she’ll run away and call you a freak is very prominent in your mind, you feel so swept up in thankfulness to this woman, so swept up in love, that the only thing you feel like doing is kissing her.

You internally thank God that she’s not pushed you off, and instead, once the initial shock wears off, Lorraine’s hands are gripping your cheeks and are tugging you forward into her. Though you’re near hypothermic, the warmth that radiates through you when you wrap your arms around Lorraine Warren’s waist is something truly heavenly. You can feel the ice melting away from your fingers and toes, even though you still stand within a house that’s currently running below freezing.

You try to stay attached to Lorraine’s lips for as long as you can, as long as she’ll allow, and as desperately as you both are to stay in this state, Lorraine’s overall concern for your health reigns supreme, and she pulls away to once again ask her question. You giggle softly, hiding your face against her chest, hoping she hasn’t seen how overjoyed your smile is. Though if you were to pick up your head, you’d see that she dons a similar expression.

You direct Lorraine to a closet, and she returns to build a fire. She sits you down right in front of it, and for the first time in far too many days, you feel warmth against your face. You’re not too sure just which direction that warmth is coming from, whether it’s from the fire or the woman sitting next to you, carefully washing the horrible scratches along your spine, but you feel a warmth unlike anything you’ve ever felt in all of your years of living. A warmth you never want to go away.

[quitealotofsodapop]

This idea would probably be for soft Boiled and slow boiled, basically any au where Wukong is MK's teacher and not his sibling or parent. Kaiju forms.

I personally headcanon the kaiju forms and projections in the show (Mei's dragoon and Macaque's giant war form) are more... projections of one's soul/true self. So... for those who are not aware, Wukong does canonically have one on the book. It's a giant limbed monkey and with multiple heads and arms. It so is canonically so terrifying that it had frightened both his enemies and his own people so badly he had been utterly heartbroken by the event.

Sometime between s4 and s5, Wukong is working with MK to help him get used to his new monkey form and trying to help him control it. The kaiju form MK took dueint the battle with Azure comes up and MK asks about it. When Wukong explains what it was, MK gets super excited to learn and wants Wukong to teach him except...

Wukong: Sorry kid, I can't teach you how to control your kaiju. You'd actually be better off asking either Mei or, ugh, Macaque!

MK: WHAT!? Why not!?

Yesss

Wukong canonically does not like his War/Kaiju Form.

The clearest idea I could gt of how it might have looked was from a toy site, I imagine in LMK verse its lot more solid-coloured and vaguely shaped;

In Jttw he loses all interest in his victory against Heaven when his Kaiju Form scares his own people - and if we add in the Brotherhood, Macaque as well.

We discussed in dms how Wukong's anger under the mountain was likely a mixture of despair (they lost and couldn't save their bros from punishment), pain (fresh from the Furmace yo), and self-hatred.

This newly unlocked form of his - this manifestation of his inner self, was so terrifying that his own people, his allies, his own mate fled at the sight of it.

Macaque did "run off" that day, hence part of Wukong's anger. But afterwards, after the fight, Macaque had to admit to himself that while Wukong's kaiju-form was terrifying it had also been beautiful. Beautiful and sublime like a star going supernova.

Macaque's own Kaiju can be separated from him as a shadow of himself, but he's secretly ashamed of his reaction to Wukong's all those centuries ago. When he does let his Kaiju form take over his real body, it becomes primal, impulsive and brutally honest. Something that honestly helps with how quick he is to dodge confrontation.

Mei's (and by extension Ao Guang's) "dragons" are literal manifestations of what their true forms may be. Mei could have her own American-Dragon-style dragon form she could flaunt if she worked at it. That or the energy is literally Ao Lie's spirit coming in clutch as a power-up.

Ao Guang's dragon-energy meanwhile looks like his lego set colouration, suggesting homebody just a big lazy to waste his true massive form on them.

So when Wukong and the gang sees MK's own Kaiju/War-form for the first time during his fight with Azure....

Wukong is like "NOPE! Not my expertise!" cus he literally only used his War Form twice in the entirety of the book - the Battle of Flower Fruit Mountain, and when him and DBK had a Kaiju vs Kaiju battle together later in the Journey.

When MK prods him about it, Wukong becomes... kinda cold and closed off, telling MK that he's better off talking to Macaque about it.

Macaque is still barely in the "anti-hero" category, so MK is a little hesistant to ask him for help (especially since one of Macaque's teaching methods included a rom hack).

MK even tries going to DBK on the matter first, but the retired-demon king has a similar negative reaction. Seems that even he didn't like the Bull he became when him and Wukong truly fought. It's why he even refused to transform when he was under true duress from LBD or the Brotherhood.

DBK does give MK advice on what a "Kaiju/War form" is though. DBK's mind had been clouded with anger when he was a younger man, so his became a pure-white charging bull that destroyed all in it's path. Sun Wukong does not care for his War Form since it truly scares him to use.

MK thinks that impossible! Why would the Monkey King be afraid of his own super-cool power?

Until DBK asks him something important; "Aren't you afraid of yours?"

MK's complex over learning that he's a "Harbinger of Chaos" hits immediately, and he runs off to seek Macaque's guidance.

Macaque is amused, if not a little surprised that MK ultiamtely went to him for help with his Kaiju form.

MK: "Trust me bro, you're like my third choice. I can't ask Mei cus not even she knows how her's works." Macaque: "Eh. I'll take it. I am curious why yours is so much more taller than mine though."

Hint: it's a self worth thing Macaque developed whilst under the Brotherhood that he needed to "limit the space he took up", he's still working on that.

Some fun mentor-and-son-figure kaiju training occurs, and MK eventually asks a bombshell question;

MK: "Hey when Monkey King said you ran off, what did he mean?" Macaque, stiffens: "I didn't run from the celestial army if thats what you're wondering." MK, remembering what DBK said: "Were you afraid of Him?" Macaque, pauses and sighs: "At the time yes." MK: "At the time?" Macaque: "MK, in that moment, I hadn't known Wukong even had a War Form or even knew what they truly meant. All I saw was this... demon where my best friend once stood." MK: "OH... I mean... that sorta explains why you guys were fighting under the mountain." Macaque: "Yeah. You can see why I called him-" MK: "I mean, I wouldn't know how bad I'd feel if Mei ran away from me cus of my power up..." Macaque: "...what?" MK: "You ran away from your best friend. That's not cool. Scared or not, that was your buddy in there. And if he saw you running or I dunno shadow portal-ing away, I'd get why he was so salty when you popped up later with a peach like nothing had happened. From his view, he was going through something new and terrifying for him too and you abandoned him. Twice if you never came back to check in on him." Macaque: "... you're a smart kid MK. Way too smart for me." (*Macaque portals away to make a long overdue apology*)

Macaque himself seemed to be having a similar revelation when he saw the fight in 3rd person in the Memory Scroll. That his own reaction was more of a build-up of frustration from his treatment in the Brotherhood rather at Wukong specifically.

In Short; these bitches needed a relationship referee to call a yellow car when they tossed their unrelated anger at each other.

Bonus: I love the idea of Wukong's kaiju form being HUGE, and MK's being the medium between him and Macaque. Also, cuddly giant monkeys made of light and shadow.

[operationslipperypuppet]

to expand lightly on my theory post regarding some of what might be afoot this season (devised and parsed through in collaboration with @stone-stars)

the actions against cassandra and kristen are a revenge plot, orchestrated by a combination of sol, galicaea, and helio. they each have their own vendettas contributing to this. sol has beef with kristen due to the “wholeheartedly reject all offers” scene, where he does turn on her first. he also was incapacitated in freshman year because she let aguefort into his domain. i imagine a sun god isn’t super pleased that there were 4 months of endless night. he also might not like cassandra due to who she used to be. helio once chose kristen and continued to supply her with spells despite her rejection of him and his teachings. she refused to spend any time with him and literally punched him in the face. he’s got some baggage there, for sure. galicaea experienced the first time kristen and cassandra connected, her attempt at convincing kristen was disrupted by the goddess eventually known as cassandra. her followers were responsible for killing the initial version of cassandra. her followers are now facing a revival due to tracker’s pilgrimage (kristen’s ex) and she’s just petty enough to blame kristen for that. plus, her snooty self hated her wolfy side. this revival would arguably make the snootier elves double down on that hatred. as above, so below.

the goings on against fig and the establishment of her cool new horrible luck are probably coming from a devil. the pride armor vision showed that it had ties to that sort of thing. and devils are lawful. fig is not. her ascension into the seat of the bottomless pit was on a technicality and the people who presided over it immediately hated that it happened. she’s been busy (she’s a mortal teen attempting to save the world) and has neglected her hellish domain on a similar level to her father, who lost his job about it. the lawful operatives running hell would not take kindly to that. so they could (would) reach out to her in a moment of her weakness and hand off a curse, as punishment. because hell is also about punishment.

now, i’m sure you’re thinking: why are these in the same post? easy. because i think they’re connected.

the rage stones that were corrupting cassandra and the mages were similar to what happened to ragh’s mom, as zac figured out. lydia is in a medically prolonged state of rage to keep the devil in her chest at bay. (there are some discrepancies over whether it’s a devil or a demon. but i trust ragh to know those minor details over arthur “i forgot to tell lydia i was doing this” aguefort). if something kept back by a prolonged state of rage was given leave to attempt its influence on something (on the astral plane, no less, where rules are almost always different), perhaps its influence would be rage inducing. and, just as she was taken over by one of these stones, kalina, who knew about lydia’s status in sophomore year since she did try to kill lydia, called out “ragh barkrock!”, bringing up another clear and direct connection.

the nightmare king sided with demons during the blood wars. the devils trapped the nightmare king in the forest (this is why arianwen needed gorthalax and why fig’s promotion was vital to their success). the devils would probably want to fight back. the gods we’ve met would probably dislike the imbalance that comes from establishing a new god, especially one who is a riff on one they already destroyed (cassandra establishes that she is not the same goddess she was before her sister killed her. but there have to be similarities. and maybe galicaea doesn’t know that).

the first time we meet our beloved garthy o’brien, they talk about how devils (they say fiends but are explicitly talking about devils and not demons) and celestials and gods are not simply opposed. they’re part of a system that balances out all its parts. angels fall. devils could rise. they work together as part of a bigger system.

so. so. if two specific mortals and their merry band of idiot friends are in direct opposition to some of the most powerful and petty entities in the universe, would they not want to perhaps join forces to attempt to take them down? especially if it could come from freeing one (“important”) devil from decades of being trapped, restoring balance further?

bonus here is the idea that bill seacaster’s goal in hell is to “kill the devil himself”, and perhaps he’s getting too close for comfort and balance must be maintained somehow. and what better way to distract him than by threatening his son?

plus, we know cassandra’s “i thought you were dead” wasn’t directed at kalina or the nightmare king. but maybe, in her brief time back as a god, she noticed the absence of a particular devil. and thought they might have died, when they were actually just trapped.

all that being said, it’s a fun theory to me and maybe we’re completely wrong. but everything we thought about more made it make more sense, which is a wild experience.

[sunsblaze]

Cont. || @gilded-sunrays

The flow of time would stop for no one, not for the virtuous, not for kings, nor those touched my the divine, time was a cruel mistress, something many tried to cling to only to rear back with blistering palms as it is ripped violently from tender hands.

A truth they had both come to learn through similar tales of not only love and loss, but betrayal. They had both been born with this curse- blessing and yet with such a gift they had still been unable to protect what truly mattered to them, they had been too late every single time. The contents of the future evaded her. Evaded them.

Her own days had been spent much the same, each day passing was filled an ebbing restlessness as her life began to stall leaving little for her to do in these day of involuntary retirement, though it wasn’t always like this, there had been a time where her days had been filled with warmth, shrouded in domestic bliss as she stood hand in hand with her husband.

They had been expecting, she spent their final days together nesting, preparing for the birth of their first child- a daughter, though as the moons leading up to labor came to pass everything she held dear would be ripped from her grasp. As her husband prepared for the morning journey he had to make to fetch a midwife, something made its move, striking the small family down, all she remembered was waking the next day, her hand clutching tightly onto her husband’s and intense pains wracking through her body.

Alone, she would give birth to a child that was destined to not breathe a single breath.

The coming days were a blur, she would not move from her husband’s side, instead she would lay there, the infant laying against her chest until a man she would soon know as Rengoku came to her, he had been in search of the creature that had snuffed her the lives of her family, he would help her back to her feet, help her put her loved ones to rest. Shortly after she made a decision, a vow to never have another suffer as she had, she would become a slayer and fight the shadows away with the burning determination of the sun itself.

For a handful of years she had kept busy, pushing forward as she fought tirelessly, following a path she had never truly wished to step foot on, but it seemed fate had other plans, this- being a demon slayer, it had been her destiny, she had found her purpose in that time and yet she seemed to lose it all the same.

Her own failure to cut down the demon lord, her allowing a demon to escape, and the betrayal of her own twin, it ended her time as a pillar and almost costed her life, many believed she should have atoned by committing sepukku, though both the young master and the flame pillar would not allow it, she would be given the mercy of exile- though was losing everything yet again really a mercy?

Nonetheless, she would take each day one at a time, hunting demons that lurked nearby, visiting the few loved ones she had left as her determination, her passions flickered and faded from a blazing inferno to a flickering candlelight. She often found herself doing the bare minimum for her survival, she would eat, drink, bathe, and tend to the repairs of her home.

That was until things would change around her…literally.

The sound of the teapot shattering was deafening in the still night and it was only accentuated by the seconds of silence that followed, the sounds of the woman’s gentle breaths filling the space between them. Though it was a rare occurrence, she was a bit shaken, she had almost killed this man, if she had been just seconds slower then his head would been sent rolling across the wooden boards beneath them.

While she awaited his answer she would just stare down at the man, her eyes the same shade of maroon as his, both like deep glasses of red wine- a finely aged vintage. For a second she had a thought that he might be a demon or that this was some kind of mirage, but it would only take her one glance to tell that not only was this real, it that he was just as human as she. Not only that, but he was her mirror image other than his more masculine features, she felt as if she were staring into a pool and on the other side laid a world so similar, yet different.

It made one wonder just how different things were on the other side.

As the man’s lips parted to speak a name- one that was all too familiar the woman would blink- she wasn’t exactly sure what to think at the moment, other than the fact that this man was her? Or was she him? It was all a bit complicated.

“…As am I.”

Her response was soft, her voice just as hushed as his own, as if this exact moment was so delicate that one word spoked too loud would shatter the world around them into a million pieces. She would make the first move, her hand. Bracing against his chest as she pushed herself to her feet before stepping to the side, a slender, yet calloused hand outstretched to him.

“I apologize for the disturbance, please, allow me to take care of the mess I have caused.”

[general-cyno]

Something that fascinates me about Zolu is how the relationship is full of opposites (pirate and pirate hunter, god and demon, two kings in their own right) and at the same time is clearly about complements (sun and moon, captain and first mate, king and knight, devotion and faith). I really feel that Zoro walks a fine line in which he can be an equal for Luffy (starting from their similarities in things as simple as their lack of orientation, the indomitable will that the two have that separates them from the rest) while still being his second, his right hand, one of his wings and, in my opinion, the cornerstone of his crew. It's a relationship that could be of rivals or equals or enemies or lovers or best friends or...

I don't have much to add bc you laid it out perfectly but YESSS! their relationship is just so good from all the different angles you can view it from, and the multiple layers it has despite how simple or effortless they make it seem when interacting with one another. I'd also say though it's perhaps a little contradictory? that zoro and luffy understanding and complementing each other as much as they do (despite some of the thematic opposites they have as well) is exactly what allows zoro to stand as his second and find purpose in following/tying his own dream and goals to luffy's instead of just striking out of his own, just like it allows luffy to trust and rely on him the crazy way he does in turn.

tbh when it comes to these two I don't really think them being equals or not has to do with strength. ultimately, luffy will always be as strong as the plot needs him to be and stronger than his crewmates and fellow captains in the kind of raw fighting power he excels at against the enemies he faces. any other weaknesses or shortcomings he may have or whatever battles he can't fight bc he's focusing on the local biggest bad - that's what the straw hats and the allies he's made along the way are for.

BUT. for example, the one person who's absorbed luffy's pain and exhaustion in the most literal and physical way possible, all while protecting the entire crew but especially luffy himself as well, is zoro. and the most recent chapters have only highlighted how special this is, from kuma's pov, even though it's been years (within the story and irl) since it happened.

roger and rayleigh are also a good point of comparison imo. ray's basically known as a legend second only to roger himself and he was still very much his partner, no matter if roger was technically stronger. now, for crew dynamics reasons I don't think zoro and luffy will directly call each other the same but there's very obvious parallels between these four so there's that too.

[a-aexotic]

literally anything angsty with peeta PLEASE IM BEGGING (happy ending maybe)

your ask is command<3, i hope u enjoyed it!

cw's: normal thg stuff, not exactly canon!au, descriptions of ptsd, anxiety attack, killing, and a small kiss at the end<3

The war had ended for the country, but it certainly hadn't ended for you and Peeta. Years of trauma certainly wasn't going to end just because the rebels had finally won. It felt like the war had ended for everyone except you and Peeta.

Peeta was supposed to be happy that Snow was dead. Peeta thought that after they had won, everything he'd endured would melt away. Oh, how wrong he was.

They had won the war externally, but internally, he was still fighting with his inner demons. Sometimes Peeta felt like they had truly won the war because they're dead - they didn't have to deal with the consequences of their actions, it seemed like Peeta was enduring them instead.

He couldn't even rest without getting flashbacks of the war.

You were downstairs, getting everything ready for dinner. Today had been one of the best days you and Peeta have had since after the war. It'd been months and everyday felt like a battle of it's own for you and Peeta, flashbacks haunting you both.

But today, you both awoke with a somewhat fresh attitude. Today was the first day of spring and the birds outside were chirping, the air was getting warmer. The snow melted as well as your negative attitudes.

You and Peeta had both awoken with a smile on your faces; Peeta had slept through the whole night without a single nightmare. It was the first peaceful sleep he'd gotten since, he doesn't even remember.

You were making dinner, humming peacefully as you saw the sun was setting. You were making Peeta's favorite dinner in honor of making it a whole day without a single interruption.

Then, as you were setting up the table, you heard a big loud crash upstairs. Your fight or flight was suddenly activated, and your heart started beating fast. You had started breathing heavily and you felt as though you were back in war.

Your mind was racing with flash backs and you don't even know how, but suddenly you were on the ground of your kitchen, staring blankly as you muttered incoherently to yourself.

You were back in the arena and the boy from District 3 was on top of you, trying to stab you and your chances of surviving were becoming slimmer and slimmer until you grabbed a rock and smashed it across his head.

His body was rigid for a second, his eyes blank. His face drained from pale to grey right in front of your eyes and you saw the life trickle out of his eyes.

He dropped on you, his head head laying right beside you as the blood starting getting on your face and body. He weighed so much, you couldn't get him off of you.

You heard the canon, and the smell of it right after. You were frozen in fear, shaking.

"Y/N!" Peeta saw you sitting on the floor and he ran next to you, putting a hand on your knee. He studied your face; it was blank, no apparent emotion on your face.

You were rocking back and forth and Peeta realized that you were having a PTSD flashback. He'd never seen you in such a state before; you were usually the strong one. He felt his heart break before you as he held your hand; he could only imagine how you were feeling right now.

As soon as his skin touched yours, you jumped in fear and started to cry. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I had to! I had to kill you, I'm sorry!"

Peeta's hand left yours and then he suddenly remembers how he found you once the announcement that two victors could be crowned.

A boy that was easily 2x bigger than you was laying on top of you, dead and you were frozen in fear. He helped you get the man off of you and you hugged him for what seemed to be hours, crying into his chest. He was the only person you had purposely killed.

"Y/N, can you hear me?" Peeta says, his eyebrows knitted in concern as he stared at you. He didn't want to touch you because that wouldn't help and would only make it worse.

Your breathing had became normal again and your shaking had slowed down, you could hear him.

"It's not real, baby, you're safe. You're home. You're okay. It's over."

Your vision was blurry but you could now see Peeta right in front of you. As your vision cleared, you started to cry even more. You immediately grabbed and embraced Peeta in a tight hug, sobbing into his shoulder as he whispered calming sentences to help you calm down.

"Oh, Peeta." You cried. "I-I was back there, back in the arena and-and he was on top of me. Oh, I could feel him on me. His d-deadweight on me, and I-" you couldn't even finish the sentence because of how panicked you were.

Your eyes were red and puffy and you were shaking; Peeta hadn't seen you this distraught since the war had ended. "It's okay, you're safe now. You're here with me and I will never let anything bad ever happen to you again, okay?"

Peeta couldn't bare watching you in such a state of panic knowing he couldn't take it all away. "I've got you now, baby."

"It was going so good, too. I thought we'd finally healed from it, Peeta. We're never going it heal." You had whimpered into his shoulder.

He shook his head. "No, don't say that. We're healing. We've... We've gotten better, okay? We've had no nightmares today and only one flashback. You couldn't say that two months ago, right? That's progress."

You sniffled and you understood what he was saying. He was right. You nodded slowly.

Peeta put his hand on your face and you looked up in his eyes. He smiled at you and then leaned in, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"I'm so grateful for you, Peeta. I don't know what I would've done with you."

Peeta was genuinely happy to hear that. No matter how many times you'd said it, it never loses it's effect on him. "Me, too, love. I love you."

You leaned back into his warm embrace as he rubbed your back comfortingly. "I love you, too."

[healingwordswriter]

Why “Defying Gravity” from Wicked is a perfect song for Sun Wukong

Hello Lego Monkey fandom, this is really my first post ever as I often don’t post stuff but I really wanted to share this BECAUSE I love both musical theater, Wicked to be exact and Lego Monkey Kid of course. So this is an analysis on why I believe this song is perfect for Sun Wukong’s character.

Beware Spoilers for both Wicked the musical and the movie

Some context is necessary to explain why I find this correlation for those not familiar with Wicked. In the musical, “Defying Gravity” is the end of act one, and is one of the most important parts of the musical, not only for the story, but for the character of Elphaba as well. Elphaba the wicked witch of the west, had been discriminated her whole life for being different, for having a green skin which made her be isolated, so she often tried her best to win people’s approval her personal dream being meeting the wizard of Oz, hoping to get recognition and love by working with him. But after he falsely accuses her for a crime she did not commit, Elphaba realizes she can’t win love that way, that she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her life being walked over, so she openly defies the wizard, saying “he is the one who should be afraid of me” showing her true powers as a witch, saying proudly no wizard will ever bring her down. Of course, Oz from there on starts seeing her as a villain and a monster, but she is true to herself now and unafraid to defy the authority of the Wizard.

But now how this applies to Sun Wukong?

Despite having different contexts, Elphaba and Wukong share a very important trait with one another. That being, how both defied a high authority in their respective stories, defying everything everyone else knew. Being unafraid to act and make a change, having the enough confidence and bravery to say that no one would ever bring them down.

Sun Wukong is know in media as a character that is not afraid to challenge those who stand in his way, no matter how big they are, he doesn’t let anyone walk over him and is firm on his beliefs. Of course, in the past is true that he used to be selfish and impulsive before his journey to the west, but in LMK even before his journey, something he had clear like we have mentioned before, is that no one had the right to walk over him, less the emperor or heaven. No one had the right to tell him who he was or dictate his destiny just because he was a demon. So this rebellious side of him wasn’t only to cause chaos, this side of him also show us how since always, he was confident and genuine to who he was and his people in flower fruit mountain and most importantly, was loyal to his own beliefs and fought for said beliefs even if others considered him a monster or harbinger of destruction. Just like Elphaba. He will defy those who think he should be below them just because he is different, he will fight those who want to bring him down and he will be loyal to what he believes is worth fighting for.

Now with these clear we can see the lyrics, and how I interpret them is they were from Wukong’s POV specifically the last part:

So if you care to find me

Look to the western sky

Literally, he was in the western sky as he did a journey to the west, he was in the western sky traveling with his master and friends to get the scriptures. Literally you can hear west and think about him.

As someone told me lately

"Everyone deserves the chance to fly"

The monk always helped Wukong as a mentor and was the guidance he needed when he was out on control on his life, so I personally viewed this line as something his master told him, and he then used it as a philosophy to think everyone deserves to fly, to be free, to dictate their own destiny and life.

And if I'm flying solo

At least I'm flying free

To those who ground me

Take a message back from me

This, this is how Wukong starts to defy heaven, the emperor. He may be alone, but he is free, heaven more than once tried to have him tamed, to have him controlled, to ground him but he refuses this control. Even when they put the golden circle on him, he never stopped fighting for his independence and freedom.

Tell them how I am defying gravity

I'm flying high, defying gravity

And soon, I'll match them in renown

His legend to this day is still known, he started everything as he wanted the respected of heaven and in the end he showed them he wasn’t inferior to them, the name Sun Wukong is a name they will always remember.

And nobody in all of Oz

No wizard that there is or was

Is ever gonna bring me down

Just imagine it, Wukong in the sky, with his staff in hand, confident, strong showing his power, being imposing. Looking at everyone from his position, thinking about the choices he has done, reflecting on his life. And then he says it’s, how no one in all China, no Emperor that there is or was is ever gonna bring him down. He flies free, while the people in heaven scream in horror and anger, calling him names, seeing him as someone evil and cruel but Wukong is happy, finally free from heaven and those regrets that brought him down. He remembered how it feel like to fly and won’t forget it ever again.

And that’s pretty much the analysis, this song tbh could be applied to when Wukong first defied heaven with the brotherhood or if he is in a similar situation like in Black Myth Wukong in where he already did his journey but he is still fighting heaven for his freedom and independence.

Even so, in the end I believe Wukong and Elphaba share this free and brave spirit that defied the odds when no one else could. In the end I just did this analysis for fun and using Lego Monkey Kid Wukong mostly for this analysis, but hey it has never been a crime to mix to hobbies so.

To conclude all I can say it’s that I love these two pookies and to please go watch Wicked and LMK as the two are gems ✨