#all the enemies in rain world trying to eat you... like all the demons trying to eat xuanxang.....

[sevenrs]

so like

we're all aware that the religion practiced in rain world by the ancients (iterators, and some of the slugcats by extension) is heavily inspired by buddism-- karma, reincarnation, ascension that leads to enlightenment where the need for the life/death cycle is past you now because you no longer feel suffering

five pebbles tells survivor and monk to go west.

west.

like in journey to the west? the great classical chinese novel, an allegorical journey about human perseverance?

in a game that is so incredibly difficult that beating it would require persistence?

was this intentional? did videocult know this? why haven't i seen anyone talk about this before?

im losing my mind right now

#rain world #broadcast.txt #YOU WILL SEE MY BRAIN BLAST #IM LOSING MY MIIIIIIIIIIIIND #fun fact lmk inspired a different hyperfixation into journey to the west as a whole #and istg if rain world is actually connected to that too i might actually lose it completely #like rain world doesnt have an op magic monkey to protect the monk but #all the enemies in rain world trying to eat you... like all the demons trying to eat xuanxang..... #granted lizards dont eat you for immortality but. immortal until proven otherwise huh #this post is about vanilla rain world it has nothing to do with downpour #downpour was not made by the same devs and the ideas present in dp are different #that's a different ramble for another time though

[iicomet]

(rewrite-ish) part II

(In which he ponders over the final moments of his senior.) (ooc? chungmyung and gn!reader - third to second pov, angst.)

(tw! mention of blood, war.)

  In his blurred memories of blood and violence, he wonders where everything went wrong. 

  He wished it was just a simple, ‘oh, senior accidentally stumbled on their feet and landed on their face right in front of their enemies!’. But honestly, when had the gods ever favored him? If not him, when had the Gods ever favored his senior? He swore that perhaps the ever benevolent senior had wronged a deity in their past life, for their misfortune and their sufferings shouldn’t be given to a saint like them.

  Or maybe that stupidly kind senior took the blame of a friend and gained their curses instead. That sounded much more plausible, to be frank. He wished he could grumble about it, but a part of him wonders why his senior became like this. 

  Even if he wanted to, it’s not like he could ask them now.

  Chung Myung was no fool. He knew that in a war, there would be casualties, even if he was the strongest. It’s a dog-eat-dog kind of world out there, especially when the apex predator in this situation is the so-called heavenly demon Cheonma. In that situation, even him, who was renowned as the ‘plum blossom sword saint’, a person who would wreck others’ swords and pride easily with a single blow, felt like a mere rabbit struggling for survival. 

  It’s so, so tiring. It hurts so, so much.

 Chung Myung could feel his blood drip down his skin, mixing with his sweat and producing a disgusting smell he tried to ignore. If Senior was around, maybe they would swat him away with a disgusted expression, telling him to go clean up or something. They would pinch their nose and scrunch up their eyebrows, a deep frown decorating their usual calm and collected face. During those moments, it was times where he would either be a good junior brother and obey his senior’s requests, or he would annoy them and stick closer to them, earning several frustrated shouts and futile attempts to pry him off.

  He wonders, how his senior was managing? Someone as strong as them, would surely be able to fend themselves easily, right?

  Oh, how he wished he was right. 

  But then again, perhaps the uneasy expression in his senior’s eyes before they departed for the journey would have warned him about the impending doom and unsettling feeling he had ignored at that moment. He should’ve stayed, tried to ask his senior what’s wrong, and maybe even protected his senior who shielded the entire mount hua with only a foolish smile and a sword in hand.

  He really should’ve tried, even if he never managed to understand his senior. 

  When Chung Myung landed eyes upon his senior, he wished he could run towards them and block that swing. He wished that instead of fearing, he would’ve taken action instead. He wished that instead of shouting his senior’s name, he would’ve run and taken it for them. 

  Senior, why were you so stupid? Why did you only watch as the sword hits your chest, letting the tears you usually try to hold back flow down your cheeks? Why did the grip on your sword tighten as if you were going to war, yet your free hand tried to hold your opponent’s face, cradling it so softly as if they might break?

  Senior, you’re so stupid. He couldn’t see your attacker’s expression, but he knew it held no love, for the desperate and heart-broken eyes you showed clearly reflected their face. The emotions you always tried to reign in, rained down your features so clearly now. The eyes that used to glimmer brightly in the sun, the eyes he used to love staring at, the eyes he could get lost in—It reflected the face of a person who he held so much hatred towards. At that moment, perhaps he was also angry that you held so much love towards that ungrateful bastard who had struck you. But, it’s all useless now, right?

  Maybe you still had some sense in you when you raised your sword once more, realizing your duty and blocking off your feelings as if it was second nature. Once more, you showed your swordsmanship to the world, as if it was your final dance, your final performance before you’ve retired from the stage. Swords clashed against each other, the metal resounding across the stadium of your show as you replayed the tragedy of the eon. Light against dark, your determined expression faltering and revealing so much regret and pain. Chung Myung would’ve wondered what you regretted at that moment, for his entire life, you seemed as if you lived with no worries. But, he was no fool. He knew there were nights where you spent it alone, staring at the moon as if a lover had lost everything to the hands of fate.

  Senior, why did you smile at him when your heart was so heavy with pain?

  Even at that moment, where your life seemed to begin replaying before your eyes, you still smiled when you saw him, that same sheepish expression revealing itself whenever he caught you. 

  You whispered something to him, but he couldn’t hear it. He was too far, he always had been. And you, you had always walked too quickly for him to catch up. Not only him, you’ve always managed to outrun everyone else in Mount hua, always so far away from everyone else. Nobody could ever catch up to you. Nobody could ever understand you.

  Even so, he wanted to be the first. He wanted to be there for you, just like how you were to him. So, why didn’t you give him a chance? Why did you leave so soon? Just when he thought he was able to, it seemed that you were still so, so far away from him. You always managed to catch him, so why couldn’t he do the same for you?

  Senior, in your game of tag, can he play again with you soon? He promises he will try to catch you this time, so don’t leave so soon. He’s asking you politely, he swears he is. He wouldn’t be rude, he wouldn’t tease you and he wouldn’t smother you whenever you think he’s dirty. He’ll listen to you this time, so won’t you be a good senior and play again with him?

  Chung Myung ignores the rain falling down his skin as he begs for the Gods to give him a chance. He ignores the way his body moves on instinct as he battles across your destroyed theater, hoping for a chance to meet you halfway through. Yet when all he is met with is the aftermath of a war, your body nowhere to be found, he falls to the ground, utterly exhausted.

  Right, he had killed Cheonma.

  He wanted to celebrate this moment with you. But instead, he lies there lifelessly, his body too tired to do anything. Chung Myung thinks he heard your voice, calling out to him and he is reminded of the time where you would let him rest on your shoulder when he was tired, even if he was dirty. Stupid senior, you never really cared about it, didn’t you? All you wanted was for him to be happy. 

  But now, you have killed his heart. How could he be happy now? 

  He wants to rest on your shoulder once more, hear you hum a random tune as you ramble on about whatever that interests you. He wants to hear your voice once more, and this time he promises not to grumble about your nagging. He wants to feel your warmth against his skin once more, not the cold pile of body that lays beneath him. 

  Senior, he wants you to come back. So please, come home already.

#return of the blossoming blade #return of the mount hua sect #rotbb #x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #cheong myeong #chung myung #cheongmyeong #chung myung x reader #chungmyung #rotmhs x reader #gn reader #rotbb x reader #why am i always writing during my exams i should be studying #rewrite but it strays so far from the original fic AHAHAHAH #no beta we die like cm/senior #enjoy guys i think i like this one (so far) #i think i might rewrite the second fic before i republish it (watch me take another ten years to post again) #senior of mount hua

[sixminutestoriesblog]

feldgeister

Humanity has a long history with harvest fields. Planting and harvesting grains was the first group act that let ancient humanity put down roots and settle in one place instead of following the seasons and the herds. For the first time, humanity was able to, en mass, set aside food against the starvation of the winter months. Planting and harvesting quite literally changed the face of the world and the fate of the people that lived on it. House clusters that didn't have to be temporary sprang up, towns and then cities followed. Society changed in a way that has to be mind boggling to try to fathom millennia later for most of us, so ingrained in this now standard 'normal' that we are. For the first time ever, humanity told the world how things were going to go instead of simply being at the whim of a changing environment. The old gods of the hunt and the wild places faded from their prominence as people gathered in settlements and imprinted order and routine on the world around them.

The old shadows of the wild places were fading - but that doesn't mean there were no new shadows taking their place in this new human order. Harvest, and the growing fields before it, suddenly held all the capricious danger that venturing out to hunt in the wild areas used to. Rain at the wrong time, drought, pestilence, enemies raiding or razing the fields full of food, blight or crop disease - the uncertainty of relying on hunting for survival was replaced with the uncertainty of fields surviving to harvest. And so, into those crop fields of grain and green, crept the spirits of the harvest, for good or ill, to remind humanity that everything came with a price and nothing was ever certain forever.

In the Germanic territories, these field spirits were called Feldgeister.

Sometimes they were also called Korndämonen. The corn demons.

And iron and other worked metals weren't going to save you either. Several of the Feldgeister used, or were even made of, iron.

As field spirits, the Feldgeister are broken down into what kind of field they live in. A Roggenwolf spirit for instance hunted the rye fields while a Getreidewolf hunted the grains. A Kornwolf stuck to the corn and Gerstenwolf stuck to the barley. Haferwolf for oats, Erbsenwolf for peas, Kartoffelwolf for potatoes, Graswolf for grass and even a Pflaumenwolf for plums. All of those were shaped like wolves and hunted children though the growing fields, ravenous and merciless.

Often, in fact, the field spirits took the forms of animals. There was a bear. There were cats. There were donkeys, pigs, goats and cows. If you name a common village animal, birds included, it probably had a Feldgeister taking its form while living in the fields outside of town. There was even a dog, that haunted the fields looking for little children to tickle to death.

Stealing and harming children was actually a common theme with the Feldgeister. There's nothing like warning children of things waiting to eat them to keep them from wandering into the fields unattended where careless feet could crush young plants or hungry mouths could snack down on a future harvest before it could be safely set aside for the winter months. There were quite a few hungry spirits waiting in the fields to snatch up children that wandered in hunting for the blue cornflowers that grew there.

It wasn't just children the Feldgeister were dangerous for. There was a female goat spirit that was fond of bringing evil with her. Hearing her cry in the spring was a full season of bad luck and if anyone dared imitate her cry to scare their neighbors, she would show up as a bloody coat draped over the offender's door if he was lucky and if he wasn't she would hunt him down, scratching him up on a good day, eating him alive on a bad one. She ran with the Wild Hunt on stormy nights and struck anyone foolish enough to look out their window into the darkness beyond. Anyone spotting her, day or night, was in for a bad time while their fields rotted and their cows refused to give milk. To hear her cry in autumn meant a long lean winter with rot in the hay. And yes, she too kidnapped, attacked or killed children she came across.

The Feldgeister didn't just take animal form however. They were fond of hybrid versions as well as straight up human forms too.

The Roggenmuhme, the 'rye aunt', took the form of an old woman with fiery fingers and sagging breasts that were often full of tar to the point of dripping as well as being tipped with iron. To run, she had to throw them over her shoulders. As humorous a mental picture as that may be, she used those long iron breasts to beat children to death and was capable of running as fast as a horse when she was chasing someone. She could blow a child's eyesight right out of their eyes and that was if she didn't crush them in an iron hug or grind them into mortar in her iron butter churn. She was the mother of the rye wolf and could become one herself. She also sometimes kept small, harmless seeming dogs she would use to lure little children into the field where they would become a meal for her. She was entirely black or entirely white in color and she carried a birch she used to strike lightning sparks.

Strangely, the Roggenmuhme wasn't entirely foreboding. Rotting fields meant she was punishing the farmer, but seeing a Roggenmuhme (presumably from a safe distance away) walking through your fields meant good luck and a strong harvest. She also played pranks on maidservants that weren't doing their work properly to keep them working hard.

Another human-looking spirit was the Hafermann, a sometimes anti-Semitic caricature, and corn demon that took the form of a man wearing a black hat and carrying a long iron tipped walking stick. He would kidnap or simply beat stray children that wandered into the field to death with his iron staff.

Sometimes the Feldgeister came in a more obscure form. Both the Bilwis and the Windsbraut took the form of whirlwinds, sweeping through the fields to cause destruction. Both could be defeated by throwing a knife with three crosses carved in it into them. This would either dissipate them, or they'd have to stop what they were doing and beg the farmer to pull out the knife since they were not able, being willing to exchange leaving him alone in trade.

Eventually, harvest time comes for everyone though, and the spirits of the Feldgeister fled into the interior of the fields as the reapers worked their way through the ripe stalks. The very last stalk of the harvest became their prison. Sometimes cutting it killed them. Sometimes it only put them to sleep, waiting through the winter until springtime, when the carefully saved last head of grain will be broken up into the newly plowed fields and the entire cycle will start all over again.

#feldgeister #harvest spirits #folklore #superstition #harvest season #rye aunt #corn demon #korndamonen #roggenmuhme #harvest tradition #autumn #harvest #iron #it won't save you this time #corn field #rye

[lifblogs]

Lif’s Writing Year in Review*

*fics included are from multiple fandoms**

**star wars, httyd, lucifer, spn, gone (iykyk)***

***as always, please read ratings and tags

The Chaos - Vi Moradi is being interrogated by Cardinal, and his anger needs a more personal outlet than the electrocution chair. She must not crack under interrogation, but what he has planned... Can she endure?

Ride the Pain - Sam gets injured in a hard-to-patch-up place during a hunt, and he is all alone.

Fill It In - Ruby forces her blood upon Sam and in that moment he thinks it's all he's really needed.

Fermented Jogun - Ahsoka wants to partake in an eating contest. However, with her multiple stomachs filled up, the fruit she was eating had time to ferment. She's drunk, and Anakin wants an explanation.

Sweet Fat of the Hog - Ruffnut proclaims it's a special day, and Hiccup's about to find out why.

daddylucifer69 - Lucifer has created a TikTok.

Fixer-Upper - After a battle against the Empire, the Ghost is damaged, and the crew is stuck in hyperspace. They work together to fix up the ship.

Jedi Slaves - Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka have become prisoners on Zygerria, and suffer the torment of slaves.

Less Than Ideal - Obi-Wan and Anakin are surrounded by enemy forces, and need to find a way out.

Not Your Average Crew - Kanan and Hera get into a fight, a fight that leaves Kanan feeling a little too hot. As he takes care of matters, Hera walks in on him.

Home In the Person Beside You - Ahsoka and Rex are hiding out on Carlac, and the guest room they are put up in only has one bed.

The Clinging Past - Sam doesn't want Jack awoken from the nightmares he's tormented with, so he finds a way to try and deal with them. But is he ready?

Are You Strange Like Me? - Sam has been broken in many ways throughout his life. Broken in the Cage, broken while his soul and body were separated. Now broken as a being with all the right parts where they belonged, but broken in his head.

Rain - The sky had opened up and rain was pouring down, but it did nothing to quench the fire that had taken over the FAYZ. The rain didn’t reach through the barrier. Sam held Astrid, watching the rain. Lana had healed his back and shoulder, so he was good as new, but he still had the memories of intense pain, the memories of trying to drag himself down the highway as fire burned behind him. Now it was raining. It was raining and it was out of their reach.

Why? - Dean doesn't think he deserves Castiel's love.

Abrion Major - Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan lead their men in a battle on Abrion Major. In his arrogance, Anakin breaks the Jedi Code.

Right Now? - Kanan gets a migraine in the middle of a space battle.

A Sore Defeat - Kanan and Ezra go in to get supplies that the Rebellion badly needs, but it's all a trap set by the Inquisitors.

Who Is Caleb Dume? - After the genocide of the Jedi, Caleb Dume faces the exile ahead of him by becoming someone else--someone he's not proud of.

To the King - Dean is captured by demons and is taken to face his brother for the first time since he became the King of Hell.

In a Pitch Black World - Sam is having visions and dreams again from drinking demon blood. This night, he dreams of something he cannot put a name to, a future he could never want.

Like a Dream I Can’t Escape - Sam is having a PTSD flare-up, and a new symptom arises. The trigger seems to be his bed.

I Couldn’t Stand the Person Inside Me - Sam wakes early in the dark in his room, not feeling like his body is his.

Hidden In My Bones - Dean Winchester has a realization about Castiel, one that hurts beyond belief.

The Wail of Dying Stars - Sam comes back from the Cage speaking Enochian.

Hottie With a Body - Cas has an odd run-in with a man at a Gas N' Sip, and he tells Sam and Dean about it.

Don’t Call Me Sammy (Rewrite) - Sam Winchester throws himself into Lucifer's prison, ensuring that the Devil is locked away. But now, he's locked in there with him, and Lucifer has nothing better to do but to hurt him.

Blow Me, Dean - Castiel says "blow me, Dean," during an argument and sexy times ensue.

The Bone Faerie - Dean tries to draw the creature he's hunting away from civilization. He ends up violently attacked, helpless, and to make matters worse? The angels find him.

SAVE DEAN WINCHESTER - Castiel goes to Hell to save Dean Winchester, but something goes wrong, weakening Castiel, and Dean doesn't want to be saved.

On the Slopes of Aneine - During the battle against Infernua for the slopes of Aneine, Sam is impaled by a spear.

Running Out of Air - Lucifer decides to do more than just touch Sam's soul when he reveals himself to be possessing Castiel.

Glass Dolls - Sam is led to a room in the prison that he and his family are being held captive in. He doesn't know what twisted game will be played until he hears Dean screaming from across the hall.

#writing #my writing #fanfiction #2022 writing summary

[heyiwrotesomethings]

It’s Been Too Long

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: Alright Shinobu Community, take a fuckin’ sip babes. It’s kind of a long one. My brain was like, friends to enemies to friends to lovers? To which I replied, this is going to be simultaneously too long and too short. I love me some slow burn but also I can’t justify putting that much time into something like this lol. While writing this I learned that one becomes a Hashira by killing a demon moon OR killing at least fifty demons. I didn't know that before, but I was in too deep to fix things. Y’all are a Kinoe rank that probably should be a Hashira given how much slaying you’ve done, sorry! As far as warnings go, I think we’re good. Unless fighting and misunderstandings aren’t your thing. It’ll all be better in the end though!  Word Count: 15,088 

The estate was dark and bleak. It had rained for nearly a week straight, the patter of water against the solid structure of the tiled roof was a near constant companion to the blank static of despair that clouded everyone’s minds.

Kochou Kanae had died of lethal injuries bequeathed to her by a high ranking demon who had left her to bleed out as the sun made its appearance. Perhaps if it had risen even just a few minutes prior, she could have evaded such a cruel fate.

Shinobu had found her of course, the world is just that cruel, or perhaps kind in giving her sister that closure, to be able to see her one last time before she took her last gurgling breath.

It was appropriate, the rain. After the funeral it was a temporary reminder of the warmth that had been reaped from the estate, never to be felt again in this lifetime. Not that (Y/n), Kanao, Aoi, or the youngest residents of the estate needed a reminder. Shinobu certainly didn’t either.

“Shinobu, you didn’t come to dinner. Please try to eat something.” (Y/n) coaxed, sliding the door open. The only light came from a small lantern inside the swirling gloom of the room, highlighting Shinobu hunched over her desk with her head in her hands. “Shinobu?”

“It’s only been a week.” (Y/n) strained to hear the taut whisper of the girl who had grown to be her closest friend. The girl who had given her a second chance at life when she had nowhere else to go. It hurt to hear her sound so broken. “It feels like time is standing still and going too fast at the same time.”

(Y/n) set the light meal in front of Shinobu and leaned against the desk, the wood creaked slightly as she did so. “I know what you mean. I feel the same.”

It wasn’t the first time they’ve talked like this. To be survivors of such unthinkable atrocities, one could go crazy keeping it all locked inside. The guilt, fear, helplessness... sometimes the memories played on loop night after night, waking up to the screams in their minds making sick harmonies with their own.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” Shinobu spoke tentatively after a moment of drizzling static tapping against the roof. She raised herself just enough to wrestle a paper out from under her arms and slid it to (Y/n). “Oyakata-sama has sent me a summons to meet with him and the Hashira. He intends for me to take,” Shinobu’s voice grew tighter and she could not bring herself to finish, instead a painful sounding intake of air was all that was audible.

(Y/n) took the paper, holding it close to her face as she squinted, the dull light of the lantern made the letter a bit difficult to read, but the message was clear.

“He wants you to take her place.” (Y/n) frowned, a pained gleam pricked at the corners of her eyes.

“It’s been too long, but yet, not long enough,” Shinobu’s fists tightened, “I know the world hasn’t stopped spinning, demons haven’t stopped killing, but why do they want to replace her so quickly? Why are they willing to toss her aside? I don’t...”

“Shinobu,”

Shinobu finally looked up at (Y/n), angry and mournful tears tracked down her face, “I’m not my sister, I’m not Hashira material. I can’t fill the hole she left, (Y/n)!”

(Y/n) abandoned her perch on the desk to crouch beside Shinobu, enveloping her in her arms. Shinobu tightly grasped her back, watery gasps and sharp inhales fell from her lips as she tried to gain control of her breathing once more.

“Oyakata-sama knows you aren’t Kanae. You’re strong in your own right, Shinobu. He wouldn’t breach the subject if he didn’t think you could succeed by your own merits.”

“I have to keep the estate in order, the infirmary, the girls... I can’t take all this responsibility—“

“You don’t have to,” (Y/n) cut her off, the words came a bit sharper than she meant them too, “you’re not alone Shinobu. We can all have our own parts to play. You don’t have to shoulder this all by yourself.”

“Thank you.” Shinobu’s voice cracked.

They had stayed up well into the night. They hardly talked, the two young girls sat huddled together, holding each other tightly. No matter how much they’ve been hurt, time continues moving forward. Just because a boat has been shredded against a reef, that doesn’t mean the waves will grant reprieve from their assault. No, one is expected to keep swimming or to swallow the salty brine and drown. The Butterfly Estate’s allotted time for grief had passed. Now they were being given the not so subtle command that it was time to get back to work.

***

“I wish you could come with me.” Shinobu said the next morning as she sat on the engawa to put on her shoes. “Even if they made you wait outside I would feel a bit better.”

“You’ll be okay, we’ll be thinking about you all day and waiting for you to come back home.” (Y/n) assured, resting her hand on Shinobu’s back. She was almost afraid to touch the haori Shinobu now adorned, as if her hand would pass right through the material.

(Y/n) was surprised when she saw Shinobu wearing it instead of her usual short white haori, though she supposed there was comfort in holding this piece of her sister close. Perhaps the butterfly patterned haori could comfort Shinobu where (Y/n) and the others could not.

(Y/n) must have been staring too long because Shinobu leaned away from her hand, catching it with her own before (Y/n) could withdraw it completely. Shinobu squeezed the hand a moment, (Y/n) swore her heart froze upon seeing the ghostly smile painted over Shinobu’s lips.

“You’re right. No point in fretting over it, is there?”

“...Right,” (Y/n) blinked, “yeah. You’re going to do great.” (Y/n) managed a smile in return but she could feel the corner of her lips tremble at the effort. She wasn’t sure why, but this smile Shinobu was sporting sent chills down her spine.

“I’ll be off then,” Shinobu stood, releasing (Y/n)’s hand as she stepped away from the engawa, “Do make sure to keep everything in order while I’m away.”

“Of course!” (Y/n) winced at her own volume and Shinobu exhaled a quiet chuckle before turning away to make her way down the path. (Y/n) watched until the haunting haori could no longer be seen between the wisteria trees.

***

It was rather late when Shinobu returned. (Y/n) had just helped the youngest girls of the estate get ready for bed and was heading to the kitchens to prepare some tea to help her sleep. She had jumped in her skin when she saw the back of the butterfly patterned haori in the dim lantern light. Shinobu turned at the sound and sent a small, tired smile (Y/n)’s way.

“I thought I’d catch you here before you turned in for the night.” Shinobu spoke. “You almost always take a cup of tea to bed. I hope you don’t mind having some of what I’ve already prepared.”

It wasn’t the first time Shinobu caught her going to the kitchen to make tea. Though usually it was much later in the dead of night when nightmares and grief kept sleep at bay. (Y/n) wasn’t sure what kind of leaves or brewing Shinobu did, but her tea always managed to knock (Y/n) out cold into deep, dreamless bliss. Something about the way Shinobu was speaking was rubbing (Y/n) the wrong way however. There was none of the familiar attitude. The bashful bitterness that came with the sweetness of the tea. (Y/n) decided to shake it off and returned Shinobu’s tired smile. It would take time for things to seem normal again.

“You know me too well. Thank you.” (Y/n) graciously took the cup, relishing in the cup’s warmth and the relaxing scent that wafted off of the steam. “How did today go?”

“It was... fine.” Shinobu’s smile faltered and she quickly disguised it by sipping her own tea. “I’m officially a Hashira. Insect Pillar Kochou Shinobu.”

“It has a nice ring to it.” (Y/n) put in after a moment’s consideration hidden behind the guise of her clearing her throat. She didn’t know if a ‘congratulations’ would be what Shinobu would want to hear give the circumstances that led up to her new title.

“And how was holding down the fort?” Shinobu asked. It seemed she wanted to shift the topic of conversation away from herself. Not that (Y/n) could blame her.

“Everything went smoothly. Well, Aoi did get a bit aggravated with Kanao about one of her coin decisions but we worked it out. Sumi, Kiyo and Naho are picking up the recovery training lessons quickly and are doing very well. The Kakushi have been taking great care of the infirmary. All patients were still stable last I checked in.” (Y/n) reported.

“Thank you for keeping up with all of that.”

“I have to pull my weight around here somehow.” (Y/n) replied, hiding a yawn behind one hand.

“It’s getting late. You should get to bed before the tea kicks in any further.” Shinobu said, putting her own cup down.

“Aren’t you getting tired too?”

“I made myself a different brew, actually. I’ve got more work to do.” Shinobu allowed herself a little sly smile at the tiny frown (Y/n) wore as she looked into her own empty cup as if it had betrayed her somehow.

“Well, don’t forget you need to sleep too. Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Goodnight, (Y/n).” Shinobu called over her shoulder. She was already walking out of the kitchen.

“I mean it Shinobu. Promise me you’ll sleep tonight.” (Y/n) gently demanded, slipping into the hall to fall in step beside Shinobu.

“I’ll promise to try. Is that acceptable?” Shinobu asked, a bit of familiar snark came through and it made (Y/n) relax a bit and nod.

“Alright. Goodnight, Shinobu.”

At the end of the hall they broke off in different directions. Shinobu to the lab and (Y/n) to her room.

***

(Y/n) went through most of her morning routine before going out of her way to find the newly appointed Hashira. She hadn’t seen her since they parted last night. (Y/n) groaned inwardly, already assuming she’d find the young scientist still balancing equations and mixing beakers.

(Y/n) adjusted her butterfly hairpin before knocking her knuckles against the door, waiting for a reply.

“Shinobu?” (Y/n) had called out after another knock led to no reply. (Y/n) frowned and slid the door open of her own volition, closing it behind her once she was inside. It didn’t take long for her to find the exhausted girl hunched over an array of papers, dead asleep.

“When I told you to go to sleep last night, I had your own bed in mind, not a desk.” (Y/n) sighed quietly.

(Y/n) startled at another knock at the door.

“Who is it?” She asked, keeping her voice soft as to not disturb Shinobu.

“It’s Hayato, miss.” The muffled voice called. Ah, one of the Kakushi. “Kochou-sama has guests to attend to.”

“Set them up in the garden with tea, please. Kochou-sama will meet them just as soon as she finishes these papers.” (Y/n) said. It would not do to have news of the young master of the estate sleeping so late in the morning, and at her desk no less.

The Kakushi dismissed himself to carry out his orders and (Y/n)’ shoulders relaxed as his footprints faded down the hall. (Y/n) didn’t want to wake Shinobu, but if her presence was required, then the meeting must be important.

“Hey, Shinobu,” (Y/n) called softly, gently shaking Shinobu’s shoulders, “you have guests that need to see you.”

Shinobu managed to curl further into herself, mumbling a few curses under her breath that (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle at.

“Maybe you’d feel better if you had actually gone to bed instead of passing out like this.”

“Who is it, what do they need?” Shinobu grumped, sitting up to stretch her abused spine.

“I’m not sure. A Kakushi came by to tell you about them. I asked him to set them up in the garden with tea.”

“Thank you for taking care of that,” Shinobu rubbed her eyes and stood, her chair scratching against the floor, “I should get going then.”

“Let me fix your hair quick at least.” (Y/n) said, already freeing Shinobu of her own butterfly clip. “Hold still.”

“It’s a little hard when you keep tugging your fingers through my hair.” Shinobu winced.

“Sorry, just a second.” (Y/n) spoke around the butterfly wing that she held between her lips as her fingers worked to gather Shinobu’s hair. Once Shinobu’s hair was neatly clipped back into place, (Y/n) circled her and smoothed out the wrinkles in Shinobu’s clothes the best she could before finally backing away with a satisfied nod.

“Are you done yet?” Shinobu asked, a faint dusting of blush powdered her cheeks.

“Yeah, you still look tired, but at least you look a little more presentable.” (Y/n) said, opening the lab door and ushering Shinobu through it.

“Presentable.” Shinobu scoffed. “Come with me to the garden?”

“I don’t know if that would be appropriate. I’m not sure who is visiting.”

“Just make yourself busy in the blooms. You live here, you can go where you please.”

“Okay, I’ll come.”

The young girls made their way outside, it was warm and sunny, a bit humid as well after all the rain the week before. The sweet smell of the flowers invited deeper breaths to swallow up the scent into every bronchiole of their lungs.

(Y/n) broke off from Shinobu with a little wave, giving a respectful acknowledgment to the people waiting with their tea before busying herself with the flora. Checking on the quality of the plants as Kanae had taught her. The memories spent with the older girl who had taught her so much made (Y/n) shiver despite the warmth of the sun beating down.

(Y/n) would on occasion, discreetly observe the progression of the meeting. The smile Shinobu wore as she spoke to the visitors unnerved her. Even just the way Shinobu was holding herself now, prim and proper, (Y/n) wondered what they could possibly be talking about.

Then the familiar cawing of a crow circling over her head broke (Y/n) from her thoughts. She released her gentle grip over the flower she had stopped to smell and craned her neck to see her crow calling out to her. A mission, her heartbeat picked up in pace. She hadn’t been on one since a few days before Kanae’s death. How out of practice could she be?

“Pardon the noise,” (Y/n) bowed. The meeting had paused in their hushed conversation to observe the bird as well. (Y/n) hardly gave Shinobu a glance as she past. Her fingers trembling slightly as she made her way back inside to retrieve her nichirin blade from her room. (Y/n)’s mind buzzed and her crow’s caws sounded muted and muffled, far away. She kept walking, willing her breaths to remain controlled. Her concentration broke as a hand reached out from behind her and tugged her back.

(Y/n) turned to meet Shinobu’s eyes. Though more subdued, the concern she saw there was genuine.

“(Y/n), I kept telling you to stop. Are you listening to me?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I was just focusing on the mission ahead.”

Shinobu breathed deeply releasing the air in a shaky exhale before gripping (Y/n)’s face in one hand, surprising her.

“No you weren’t.” Shinobu’s grip was firm, “You need to concentrate on your surroundings. I was almost yelling at you just now. I need to know you are going to be able to keep your head about you out there.”

(Y/n) tried to nod her head but Shinobu’s hand kept her head in place.

“I need to hear you say it.” Shinobu said.

“I can keep my head. I will.” (Y/n) swallowed uncomfortably.

Shinobu searched (Y/n)’s face, slowly releasing her grip from (Y/n)‘s jaw and instead grabbed at the neck of (Y/n)’s uniform pulling her so close their noses bumped.

“You better,” She spoke softly.

“I will,” (Y/n) repeated.

Shinobu untensed, her fingers released (Y/n)’s uniform and she wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug that (Y/n) quickly reciprocated.

“Your meeting,” (Y/n) recalled after a moment.

“I asked to be excused. I’m the master of the estate, I can get away with escaping for for a few minutes.”

“I wouldn’t make a habit out of it if I were you.” (Y/n) attempted to joke.

“Only when it matters.” Shinobu nodded seriously, causing (Y/n)’s heart to leap.

(Y/n)’s crow cawed impatiently and the girls parted. (Y/n) left to retrieve her blade and Shinobu watched her back as she left, her hands clenched into tight fists beneath the sleeves of her sister’s haori.

***

Night after night, the missions kept coming. (Y/n) had begun to wonder if she’d ever get to go home again as days became weeks. Scattered letters between waves of demon slaying were the best she could manage to make sure everyone back home knew she was alright.

Another night, a new moon. A few more nights and it would be a full month since she’d last seen everyone. She was glad she took the time to say goodbye before she left. She never imagined she’d be asked to work for so long without reprieve.

Another well timed flower breathing technique beheads another demon and (Y/n) falls against the trunk of a tree breathing hard. She is uninjured but greatly fatigued. The thought to sit and rest hardly enters her mind before her crow commands her eastward to eliminate another threat before dawn.

Breath after breath, technique after technique, night after night (Y/n) fought until everything ached and beyond. When she saw the the sun peak out over the horizon it was almost enough to bring (Y/n) to tears, but she never faltered. She had to stay strong. This was the life she chose to pursue. To save people from the same fate that befallen so many people she had cared about.

It was during an exceptionally hot day when the sun was at its highest point that (Y/n) flinched awake at the shrill squawks she had grown to loathe.

“What?” She hissed between her teeth, her fingers knotting in the grass that had served as her bed for the day.

“Return home to the Butterfly Estate! Return home to recover and rest! Await further instruction!”

(Y/n) lifted herself to rest on her elbows to stare wide-eyed at the bird sitting in the tree branch overhead. For the first time in that very long month, she allowed the tears to finally fall.

***

(Y/n) felt nervous coming back after so long. She opted to return from the rear entrance in an attempt to not garner too much attention. She allowed herself a tentative smile as the gardens came into view. Her fingers skimmed across the colorful blooms as she walked, freezing up only when she saw Shinobu collecting herbs in the distance. Her foot snapped a twig, alerting Shinobu to glance behind her.

“Hi, stranger.” Shinobu simpered, getting to her feet. “Oh!”

(Y/n) forgot all her previous worries and jogged up to Shinobu, picking her up with the added strength that she had built up in her month long absence and twirled her around with abandon.

“(Y/n)?” Shinobu chuckled with surprise, bracing her arms around (Y/n)‘s shoulders as she was flung around.

“I missed you!” (Y/n) sniffled, finally putting the girl down but still holding her tightly.

“I missed you too.” Shinobu said, rubbing (Y/n)’s back. “What took so long getting back, hm?”

“Mission after mission after mission.” came (Y/n)’s bitter reply. “I actually cried when my crow told me I could come home... I don’t know why I told you that. That’s embarrassing.”

Shinobu laughed, pulling back from (Y/n) to get a good look at her. “My, (Y/n), I can tell your time away had made you stronger. Even if you are still a bit of a crybaby.”

“Hey!” (Y/n) pouted.

“(Y/n) is back!”

“Woah!”

(Y/n) was sent stumbling backward a few steps by three blurs of white. Naho, Sumi and Kiyo spoke a mile a minute filling in (Y/n) on all the goings on of the estate. Aoi and Kanao came by soon after and gave (Y/n) their own greetings, expressing their happiness over the slayer’s return in their own ways.

It was good to be home, it was. But after a few days, (Y/n) really got a chance to see how different Shinobu had become.

The tone of her voice carried like a soft breeze and a polite smile could always be seen on her lips. Aoi reminded (Y/n) more of the Shinobu she remembered than the current Shinobu before her. It unnerved her. The way Shinobu would tilt her head just so and giggle daintily into her hand... it was like staring at a ghost.

(Y/n) thought she could get over the change, but she simply couldn’t. Not when staring into those dark, purple eyes. Oh, how they swirled with anger and despair. If Shinobu couldn’t fully believe in the persona she had crafted for herself, then (Y/n) wouldn’t either. Late one night while helping Shinobu in the lab, (Y/n) finally decided to confront her.

“Why do you keep smiling like that?” (Y/n) frowned, worrying the page of the textbook before her between her fingers.

“Hm? I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean.” Shinobu replied casually, smile still firmly in place as she crushed some herbs under her pestle.

“You do too know what I mean,” (Y/n) eyebrows furrowed slightly in aggravation, “why do you keep smiling like you’re okay when you’re clearly not?”

“What have I said or done that makes you think I’m not okay? I’m perfectly fine, (Y/n),” she chuckled, “you worry for nothing.”

“That mask might have everyone else fooled... or maybe they’re just complacent, but I’m tired of pretending nothing is wrong. Talk to me, Shinobu.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shinobu shook her head, “there is nothing to discuss. Perhaps I’ve kept you up too late.”

“You shouldn’t have to hide what you’re truly feeling,” (Y/n) persisted, “not from me at least. I thought we were friends.”

“We are.” Shinobu’s tone was nearly clipped as she crushed the herbs a bit more vigorously.

“Then stop acting so, so fake!” (Y/n) spat, wincing almost immediately as fast has the words came out. There was probably a better way she could have said that. Before she could apologize and try again, Shinobu put the pestle on the table with a harsh clink and stalked over to where (Y/n) was sitting. Fighting to keep her tone in check, she stared (Y/n) down with that plastic smile and spoke in a low, hushed tone that filled (Y/n)’s veins with ice.

“So I’m fake, is that right? People change, (Y/n). You were gone for a month, you can’t expect everyone to wait for you, to not change or grow in your absence.”

“People change, yes,” (Y/n) swallowed tightly at the proximity, “but whatever this is Shinobu, I really don’t think it’s healthy. I can tell you’re bottling something up. Kanae—”

“Leave.”

“...what?”

“Leave,” Shinobu closes the textbook in front of (Y/n) and although she does so with care, the sound is deafening in (Y/n)’s ears, “I don’t care where you go, just get out of my lab. I’ve had my fill of this mindless chatter.”

“Are you being serious right now?” (Y/n) clenched her fists and stood from her chair, the legs slid roughly against the wood below.

“Yes, I don’t have time for immature children right now I’m afraid.” Came Shinobu’s airy reply.

“Immature— stop acting like you know better than me, we’re both kids, we’re fourteen!“ (Y/n) seethes, “I’m worried about you! I care about you! Don’t you get it?”

“Your worry is unfounded. It’s late and you are being of no help to me like this so I’ll ask you once more, leave.”

(Y/n) felt heat pricking the corners of her eyes. “I feel like I don’t know who you are anymore.” She breathed. “But fine, I’ll leave if that’s what you want.”

“At this moment in time, I couldn’t ask for anything better.” Shinobu replied, turning her back to (Y/n) to continue what she had previously been working on.

Once (Y/n) shut the door with finality and her quick footsteps became softer as she ran down the hall, Shinobu exhaled harshly, gripping the pestle tightly in her hand as she mercilessly pounded the dried herbs into dust.

“Only immature people don’t control their emotions... only immature people...”

As Shinobu repeated her mantra, (Y/n) burst into her room and looked around her. With trembling hands she changed into a fresh uniform and packed a small bag of belongings and slinging it over her shoulder. She grabbed her haori and attached her nichirin blade to her hip.

She looked around the room once more and caught her reflection in the little hand mirror on her desk, catching the bright colors of a wing that secured her hair in place. She reached back, freeing her hair from the clip and stared at it. She ran her thumb over the decorative clip before setting it on the desk. She reached for a plain hair band and tied her hair back with that instead.

(Y/n) left her room, sparing one last hurt glance at the butterfly clip before exiting the estate grounds. Before long, her crow circled overhead and (Y/n) held her arm out for the bird to take perch. The crow cawed at her expectantly, questioning her.

“If she wants me to leave, then what else is there to do?” (Y/n) shuddered in the wind. She turned away from the estate, willing herself not to turn back.

“Where will you go?” The crow asked.

“...I don’t know.”

With every step leaving the warmth of the estate farther behind, (Y/n)’s heart grew heavier in her chest.

***

“Have any of you seen (Y/n) today?” Shinobu asked the girls once they had come back in after hanging the laundry out to dry.

A chorus of negatives and head shakes met her and she sighed inwardly. “Very well then. Thank you.”

Shinobu traveled through the maze of hallways that made up her home, easily finding herself in front of (Y/n)’s door, knocking politely. With no reply, Shinobu forced herself not to roll her eyes and opened the door.

“(Y/n), if this is about last night...” Shinobu blinked at the empty room. Futon made, clean floors, not a thing out of place, but no (Y/n).

“Perhaps she’s out training.” Shinobu said to herself. She was about to close the door and head off into the gardens when a glint from the desk caught her eye and she approached. A soft gasp left her lips as she picked up the hairpin. Cradling it in her hands, Shinobu forced her breaths to remain controlled. (Y/n) had never gone a day without wearing the pin since the Kochou sisters gifted it to her.

In the safety of the empty room, Shinobu allowed herself to slump over the desk. She held the discarded hairpin close to her chest, immediately understanding what this small symbol meant. Yes, she knew what it meant, she just wished to know why. She fought against the waves, against the feeling that she was drowning again.

***

Four years was a long time, and if you asked (Y/n), the demon slayer would say that was especially true with her line of work. The demons were never the same, but the routine in between was lonely and dull. Kill a demon, settle down at an inn or in the trees for the day, move to the next village and repeat. Sometimes the stays were longer, but that was the gist of it.

(Y/n) kept to herself most of the time. There wasn’t really a point in making anything more than loose acquaintances with the constant traveling and dangers her work presented. Even on the few missions she had been paired up with other slayers in the area, she focused on the job at hand before quickly making her way to her next assignment. That started to change after she met Kamado Tanjirou and his demon sister Nezuko.

They did not get off on the right foot to say the least.

(Y/n) had been sent to the same location as the young slayer for a mission and knew something was off about him right away. Something off with that box he carried around anyway. (Y/n) opted to let him be for the time being, focusing on the mission ahead. Skip forward to the heat of battle, and (Y/n) could hardly believe her eyes when a demon burst from the boy’s box to attack another demon that had snuck around Tanjirou’s back.

(Y/n) had no time to watch and focus on this new development at the moment, she had her own demons to take care of. Her flower breathing techniques weaved through her enemies and heads went flying. Before long, the mission was completed and (Y/n) turned to the boy breathing heavily in the dirt with the demon from the box hovering over him looking at (Y/n) with curious eyes.

“You’re really skilled, (Y/n)-san!” Tanjirou praised, somehow unaware of the danger his sister was in, “You don’t even look like you’re out of breath.”

“I’ve been doing this for years. I know a lot. For instance,” (Y/n) spoke, her face stern as stone as she readied her blade, startling Tanjirou, “every demon must be destroyed.” She went in with a quick slash aimed at the demon’s neck  only to pause at the last second when the foolish younger boy leapt to his feet to shield the demon from the blow.

“What are you doing?” (Y/n) asked sternly.

“Wait, she’s my sister! She’s a good demon!”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that what you are doing is against corps rules. I can sympathize with wanting to hold onto your loved ones, but there is no such thing as a good demon. Step aside.”

“No, Nezuko has never eaten a human and she never will!” Tanjirou held his ground while his sister growled at (Y/n) from behind him.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. “Alright then,” she said with a sarcastic sweetness, “prove it.”

“What?” Tanjirou blinked.

“Prove it, take off the muzzle. Let’s see if she has as much control as you claim she does.”

“But—“

“It shouldn’t be a problem, right? If she’s as docile as you claim what’s the issue?”

Tanjirou grit his teeth and gently pulled the muzzle to rest around his sister’s neck. (Y/n) stepped forward, her face inches away from the demon. She wasn’t worried, if the demon lunged for her she was confident she could slice its head the moment the air changed.

“Well demon?” (Y/n) sighed, surprising Tanjirou by slicing the pad of her thumb on her sharp blade, “hungry?”

To Nezuko’s credit, she hardly flinched. However, her eyes followed the path of the blood and a small trickle of drool slid past her lips. (Y/n) taunted her a bit further, waving the bloodied hand in front of her nose, still Nezuko held strong and even went as far as turning away.

“...I must say, I’m rather impressed,” (Y/n) finally spoke, stepping back from the demon and licking at her own wound, “marechi blood such as my own usually makes the demons go crazy,” she turns back to Tanjirou, “still, you must know that keeping a demon alive like this, especially as a slayer, is dangerous for both of you.”

“I know,” Tanjirou bowed his head.

“Well,” (Y/n) stretched and sighed, “as long as you know I guess it’s your own problem.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, just don’t call me out if a Hashira finds you out. I don’t feel like dying a disgrace.” (Y/n) waved him off. “You’re going to have to work even harder and be more discreet. That’s my advice to you.” And (Y/n) was going to leave it at that and walk away, but then her crow chanted in tandem with Tanjirou’s, calling them to continue forward together. (Y/n)′s eye twiched at the grating sounds.

“It looks like we’ll still be working together for some time, (Y/n)-san!” Tanjirou smiled, catching the older girl off guard by the sincerity behind it. You’d think he’d be more put off considering (Y/n) was planning to kill his sister not five minutes ago.

“I suppose we are.”

“Say, (Y/n)-san, you’re strong. You can help me get stronger too, right?”

“Mm!”

“Hey, get her off of me!” (Y/n) momentarily panicked as the demon wrapped her arms around her waist.

“Nezuko, manners!”

(Y/n) wasn’t sure what she had done to get saddled with the strange siblings, but she could tell her job just went above her pay grade.

***

As it turns out, the Kamado siblings weren’t so bad. In fact, (Y/n) was starting to get really attached to the two. It was when Inosuke and Zenitsu were pulled into their little group, that was when (Y/n) realized she didn’t know what true pain was.

“(Y/n)-san, marry me!”

“Flower Girl, fight me!”

All damn day and night.

(Y/n) thought she’d finally have reprieve once Tanjirou had healed up at the Wisteria House, but of course the two boisterous boys were being sent with them to their next mission, Natagumo Mountain.

Zenitsu cowered at the forest edge and (Y/n) felt no remorse in leaving him behind as she sprinted ahead of Inosuke and Tanjirou, freeing the puppeted Mizunoto slayers.

Eventually they had been split off from each other to fight their own battles. (Y/n) was tired but otherwise unharmed, surprised when a small Nezuko came barreling into her.

“Nezu—?” (Y/n) gasped as the air shifted above her and she dodged the quick swipe aimed at the tiny body that clung to her. She quickly pivoted, blade in hand, and crossed swords with the assailant her eyes blowing wide at the placid face in front of her.

“Kanao?!” (Y/n) yelled out, the nostalgia and adrenaline coursing through her body was an odd, slightly terrifying combination.

Kanao tilted her head, her lips parted ever so slightly as recognition gleamed in her eyes. Despite this, Kanao did have a mission to complete and (Y/n) was keeping her from completing her orders. She continued swiping at the older girl she used to know, trying to behead the demon she could not fathom why she was protecting.

(Y/n) parried and blocked best she could, taking a defensive approach while she tried to talk Kanao down. She didn’t want to hurt Kanao, but she didn’t want Nezuko to be killed either.

Finally a saving grace, a crow swooping by with a message that saved Nezuko’s neck. (Y/n) sighed in relief as Kanao pulled back. Still looking at (Y/n) she pointed to the small demon that had wrapped herself tightly over (Y/n)’s back.

“Is this Nezuko?” She asked looking for a positive ID on the demon in question.

“Yes.” (Y/n) easily replied.

“Come with me then.” Kanao said, already corralling (Y/n) and her demon backpack in the direction of the forest edge.

(Y/n) walked alongside her a bit begrudgingly. If she made a break for it, she could have probably gotten away, but it was very likely Tanjirou and the others were already in custody. The best chance they had now was to do as they were told and hope Nezuko’s resolve would stand firm.

So (Y/n) hid Nezuko in her haori as the sun began to peak over the hills and followed Kanao to the clearing of bustling Kakushi. On the way, she began preparing her story for the trial she was sure her little team was bound to endure.

She was immediately broken from her thoughts at the ethereal sight of the Insect Pillar emerging from another point of the woods with the Water Pillar and a badly beaten Tanjirou on his back.

(Y/n)’s breath caught in her throat as those deep, dark eyes found hers at it was like time was at a stand still. At least it would have been if not for Shinobu steadily making her way towards her, her expression painfully impassive beyond the small upturn of her lips. Shinobu kept coming until she was directly in front of (Y/n).

Nezuko stirred in her sleep, clutching at (Y/n)’s back as if she could sense anxiety in the slayer’s heart. The demon was the only thing grounding her at this point as Shinobu tilted her head, an almost sinister look in her eye as she observed the small demon bundle protected by (Y/n)’s haori. All too soon, her cold eyes found their way back to (Y/n)’s and she spoke.

“I’m not going to have to tie you up, am I?”

(Y/n) closed her eyes briefly and tried to take a calming breath. With a short, almost imperceivable shake of her head, she hoarsely replied.

“No.”

“Let’s try to keep it that way then.”

Shinobu and Kanao had let (Y/n) help Nezuko into her box, but then they immediately separated the two, having a Kakushi carry the box with a wary look in her eyes. (Y/n) did her best not to look behind her where Kanao and Shinobu walked, no doubt watching her for any sign of flight.

She gulped, eyes nervously shifting to the Water Pillar walking beside her, and the Kakushi who was now carrying Tanjirou in his stead. The Water Pillar spared her an emotionless glance as he forged ahead.

“Is he going to be alright?” She asked in a hushed tone.

Enough time had passed after her question that (Y/n) had figured the man wasn’t in the mood to talk, understandably so, but (Y/n) was worried about the state Tanjirou was in. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he actually answered her minutes later.

“That will all depend on how the trial goes.”

(Y/n) felt dread pool in her stomach as they continued to march down the mountain.

***

The garden of the Master’s estate would have been lovely on any other occasion, but (Y/n) could only bring herself to stare at the pebbles below her knees and Tanjirou passed out at her side. They had taken Nezuko somewhere else in the meantime, she could only hope they would let the demon be, let her prove herself in front of them instead of killing her on principle.

(Y/n) could feel that Shinobu was standing just behind her but she dared not engage. Four years of silence between the two and a trial for treason in the highest regard had brought them together again. (Y/n) wanted to scream.

Finally Tanjirou began to stir and (Y/n) allowed herself to push away her turmoil to rouse the younger boy gently. The last thing they needed was for him to be all up in arms before the trial even officially began.

“(Y/n)-san,” Tanjirou winced, “where are we? Where is Nezuko?”

“We’re at the Demon Slayer Headquarters,” (Y/n) replied, her voice was hardly above a whisper as she felt the pressure of all the Hashira’s eyes boring into them, “I don’t know where they’re keeping Nezuko, but right now you need to focus on the trial ahead.”

“The trial?”

“For harboring a demon, Tanjirou.”

“I wouldn’t bother trying to justify it! A crime as heinous as yours only ends one way!” Rengoku Kyojirou loudly proclaimed, rallying a range of replies from his fellow pillars.

“Now that he’s finally awake to witness his punishment, let’s behead these traitors and the demon and get on with our lives.” Uzui Tengen added.

“Please,” (Y/n) forced her voice not to waiver, “allow him to explain the situation at least—“

“You’re in no position to be asking for favors, girl.” Obanai Iguro cut her off, glaring down at her from where he lounged on a tree branch. “You had best hold your tongue. A slayer at your rank should be ashamed. I’m surprised you haven’t already sliced yourself open for the embarrassment you’ve brought to the corps.”

“Iguro-san!” Kanroji gasped at the harsh words.

“Who are these people, (Y/n)-san?” Tanjirou groaned, noticing for the first time that his hands were tied tightly behind his back.

“Tanjirou, are you serious?” (Y/n)’s tone was hushed and urgent, “they’re the Hashira! You know, best of the demon slayers?”

“I don’t know, umph!” (Y/n) hastily covered his mouth, a nervous sweat gathered at her brow.

“Just try to be respectful, will you? You already broke the thin ice you’ve been traveling on, let’s try not to drown as well!”

“This isn’t right, (Y/n)-san! Where is Nezuko? Zenitsu? Inosuke? Murata?” Tanjirou spoke out, his voice heavy with emotion as he fought his way up to his knees.

“What I want to know is why we haven’t tied Tomioka or the Kinoe ranked slayer.” Obanai sneered from his tree, ignoring Tanjirou’s desperate tone. “They are both part of the boy’s schemes and should be punished as such. How are we going to teach them a lesson?”

“Oh they’ll be fine,” (Y/n) shivered hearing Shinobu speak above her from where she knelt in the pebbles, “we’ll come up with a penalty later.”

(Y/n) froze, her eyes refused to look up beyond the feet that stood before Tanjirou and herself.

“What I’m interested right now, is hearing this boy’s story.” Shinobu said. “He’s been traveling with a demon all this time, and I wish to hear why. It must be quite the tale to have Tomioka-san break ranks,” the feet take a step closer and Shinobu’s voice dropped in volume, “and you as well, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) tightened her grip over her pant leg, still refusing to look up. She could imagine an array of expressions her old friend could be wearing right now that could cut her deeper than any blade. Pity, anger, disgust, smugness, apathy, that blank smile... no, (Y/n) couldn’t bear to look up.

“So why, Kamado Tanjirou?” Shinobu asked.

“Who cares?” Uzui scoffed from a few yards away, yet he waited for the boy to explain himself.

“She’s my—“ he broke into a fit of coughs and (Y/n) tried to soothe his back, telling him to breathe.

Shinobu stooped down, a gourd of water in hand, offering the water to Tanjirou and finally catching (Y/n)’s eyes as the boy drank the medicated water. When Shinobu’s eyes returned to Tanjirou, (Y/n) remembered how to breathe.

“She’s my little sister!” Tanjirou proclaimed. “She’s never hurt anyone and she never will!”

A few of the Hashira began casting their doubt, but Tanjirou powered through.

“I became a slayer to find a cure for her! In two whole years since she became a demon, she’s never eaten a single person! Let her continue to fight by my side!”

“Well, well, looks like the fun’s already starting.”

(Y/n) turned her head and her breathing hitched. Of course the Wind Pillar of all people would get his hands on Nezuko’s box.

“Is this the boy who has been traveling with a demon? Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Shinazugawa asked with a sinister grin.

“Please put down the box Shinazugawa-sama!” The Kakushi (Y/n) recalled to have prior possession of the box pleaded.

“Shinazugawa, please do not act out of line.” Shinobu warned.

“Nah, run that by me again, kid?” Sanemi jeered, holding the box precariously in one hand, “fighting alongside a demon? Impossible, you idiot!”

Tanjirou and (Y/n) called out in horror as the Hashira rammed his blade clean through the box, skewering Nezuko.

Tanjirou scrambled to his feet and lunged at Sanemi, (Y/n) was about to get to her feet as well, but Shinobu held her firmly in place, clutching (Y/n)’s arm tightly while shooting her a warning glance.

(Y/n) could only watch, mouth agape, as Tanjirou head butted Shinazugawa to the ground.

Mitsuri attempted to stifle a snort, covering her face in her hands.

“If you can’t tell the difference between good demons and bad ones, then you don’t deserve to be a Hashira!” Tanjirou yelled.

“We’re doomed.” (Y/n) whispered weakly. She felt as if all her blood was sinking to her knees, sinking as fast as their chance of forgiveness down the drain.

Before Sanemi could retaliate, a couple of Oyakata-sama’s children announced the Master’s arrival. (Y/n) was quick to follow Shinobu in a bow, wincing when she heard what could only be Sanemi pounding Tanjirou into the rocks, forcing him to bow.

“Hello everyone,” Oyakata-sama addressed the garden, his voice carried in the warm breeze, “how good it feels to have you all here.”

Sanemi greeted the Master, formally asking for an explanation. If not for the seriousness of the moment, (Y/n) would have rolled her eyes.

“The Kamado siblings have been sanctioned, you see. I request you all respect that.” Oyakata stated simply.

An array of mostly negative objections arose at this ending with Sanemi calling for punishments for Tanjirou, (Y/n), and Giyuu.

The Master stood silently for a moment before asking one of his children to read a letter aloud. A letter from a previous Hashira, detailing Nezuko’s history. The letter also revealing that should Nezuko fail; Urokodaki, Tanjirou, and Giyuu would atone through seppuku.

A few of the Hashira were still willing to speak against such a plan, swearing that it was not a risk worth taking. Once there was a lull in their heated remarks,  Ubuyashiki saw fit to address (Y/n).

“(Y/n), my child.”

(Y/n)’s head jutted up at the sudden call of attention to her presence. “Ye— yes, Master?”

“Why do you think that of the squad that has been built around you, only you are here?” Oyakata-sama asked with an warm smile.

“I would suppose it would be because I should know better than a ragtag group of Mizunoto, Master.” came (Y/n)’s subdued reply.

“I would hope so.” The Master chuckled, causing heat to bloom across (Y/n)’s cheeks. “Why didn’t you kill the demon?”

“I was going to, but she proved herself to me,” (Y/n) began speaking more evenly as she recalled the moment, “I presented her with my blood, my rare blood, and she turned away. I have traveled with the Kamado siblings for weeks and not once had Nezuko hurt anyone. She protects people, she sleeps to replenish energy. Based on everything I have observed, I believe in Nezuko. I believe in Tanjirou.”

“Would you stake your life on this along with the others listed here today?” Oyakata-sama asked.

(Y/n) breathed in, firmly nodding her head. Her eyes meeting Ubuyashiki’s milky blank one’s despite his lack of vision.

“Yes, I would.”

Shinobu’s hold on (Y/n)’s bicep curled. (Y/n) hadn’t realized she had still been holding her down.

“And here we have three, now four, people willing to take responsibility for this demon. What say you, my children?” The Master asked the Hashira warmly.

“Forgive me Master, but this is not a matter of numbers!” Sanemi yelled, “Demons are sick creatures that need to be put down and I’ll prove it to you now!”

Sanemi sliced his arm, much more blood than (Y/n) had conjured with the small cut to her thumb that she had presented to Nezuko. She and Tanjirou watched as the blood dripped to the box, staining the lacquered wood.

“No good doing this in the light.” Obanai said, “it won’t come out unless it’s dark.”

Sanemi dashed to the shaded engawa, enticing Nezuko to come out with another stab at the box.

“No!” Tanjirou yelled, he made to scramble to the engawa, but was quickly subdued by Obanai.

“Stop!” (Y/n) echoed Tanjirou’s sentiments, pulling against Shinobu’s hold. “Why are you being so needlessly cruel?”

Sanemi ignored them, a wicked grin on his face as he watched Nezuko emerge from the box, growling lowly.

“Well then, demon?” He sneered, holding out his arm.

(Y/n) could tell Nezuko was straining against the pull of the marechi blood. With all of the injuries she had sustained working against her as well, it couldn’t be easy for the demon to hold back.

“Nezuko!” Tanjirou wheezed as Obanai was pincering his lung painfully with his elbow.

“Kamado-kun,” Shinobu addressed, “don’t struggle too much while in that hold, your lung might burst.”

Tanjirou only struggled harder, surprising everyone when he broke through his rope restraints and stumbled towards the engawa. Tomioka stopped Obanai from pinning him again.

“Nezuko!” Tanjirou called again.

His voice seemed to finally break through to Nezuko and after a few tense moments, she turned away from Sanemi in disgust.

(Y/n) couldn’t help the relieved smile that overtook her lips.

Once the scene was relayed to the Master, he seemed pleased with the report. He told Tanjirou that although Nezuko had done well to prove herself, they would need to grow even stronger before they could be fully accepted by the others. With that wisdom, he said they were free to go.

(Y/n) startled as Shinobu finally let her go, raising her arm to speak. “If all is well then Oyakata-sama, allow me to provide lodging for them.”

Both (Y/n) and Tanjirou seemed a bit wary of this sudden hospitality, (Y/n) even more so, but if Shinobu noticed or cared she didn’t show it, signaling the Kakushi who had been standing by to gather the injured boy and the demon.

The Kakushi tasked with carrying Nezuko seemed a bit frightened of the little demon kneeling in her box, so naturally (Y/n) rose to carry her instead.

“I’ve got her.” She smiled kindly and reached for the box and secured it shut, but not before giving the demon girl a few well earned head pats that rose Nezuko’s mood greatly.

Another Kakushi picked up Tanjirou then (Y/n) and the two Kakushi quickly made their retreat. That is, until Tanjirou bursted back into the garden asking to headbutt Sanemi.

“Please excuse us!” (Y/n) and the two Kakushi bowed deeply once they got him back under control and sped off twice as fast. (Y/n) and the Kakushi running beside her berated Tanjirou from where he sat on the other Kakushi’s back for such a disrespectful display after being allowed the impossible. 

When they reached the Butterfly Estate, (Y/n)’s heart squeezed in her chest. The grounds looked to be near the same as the night she had left. No one was there to greet them at the door, so they went around the gardens and found Kanao standing amongst the butterflies.

“Hi, Kanao.” (Y/n) greeted the younger girl bashfully. Now that they weren’t battling over keeping Nezuko’s head, (Y/n) finally took in how much she had grown in four years.

Kanao stayed silent, a serene smile on her lips as she merely observed the group that had approached her.

“What are you all here for?” A sharp voice called from behind them, causing the Kakushi to jump and spin to quickly explain they were here to put Tanjirou in the infirmary.

“Well then come with me...” Aoi’s words trailed off a bit once her eyes found (Y/n)’s face.

“Hi Aoi,” (Y/n) gave a nervous half wave, “you’ve gotten a bit taller.”

Aoi marched straight up to (Y/n) and berated her with a barrage of small fists pounding painlessly against her chest. “What would you expect after being gone so long!” She sniffed, “Four years without a single letter or visit? We thought you were dead, idiot!”

“(Y/n)-san? Do you know these people?” Tanjirou asked from Gotou’s back.

“Yeah, I uh, sorta used to live here.” (Y/n) replied, allowing Aoi to continue hitting her to her heart’s content.

“‘Sorta used to live here’, you’re family! You have always had a place here! Now come on, I’m sure Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho will have a bone to pick with you as well. And Shinobu-sama!” Aoi’s fist struck especially hard at the thought, “Shinobu-sama is going to have some choice words for you when she gets back I just know it!”

Aoi led them all inside, occasionally throwing a few more jabs into (Y/n)’s side to make sure she was really there. She didn’t admit that was what they were for of course, she played it off more as a punishment for disappearing for so long.

There was screaming coming from the infirmary and (Y/n) would have been worried if she hadn’t recognized the sound almost immediately.

“Zenitsu!” Tanjirou called excitedly.

While Tanjirou and poor Gotou were dealing with the sobbing, snotty boy, Aoi had dragged (Y/n) over to Kiyo who had been tending to Zenitsu only moments before.

“Look who finally decided to come home.” Aoi told the younger girl who looked up, tilting her head. (Y/n) almost thought Kiyo hadn’t recognized her. Being as young as she was, she wouldn’t have blamed her, but then she burst forward and hugged (Y/n) tightly around her waist.

“What’s going on in here? Hm, Aoi-san, Kiyo?”

Naho and Sumi had made their way into the infirmary with a basket of fresh linens and paused at the entryway for a moment before they realized who their friend was hugging and ran over to join her with tears in their eyes.

“(Y/n)-san, where have you been all this time?” Naho whimpered.

“Why didn’t you say anything before you left?” Sumi cried.

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) knelt down to better hug them all, “I know it’s not enough to make up for anything, but I’m sorry for leaving like that. It wasn’t fair,” she looked up to meet Aoi’s stern blue eyes, “to any of you.”

“Well, make it up to us by sticking around from now on.” Aoi said, crossing her arms. “No more running away.”

“But...” (Y/n) was conflicted. Had Shinobu not told the girls why she had left? (Y/n) mustered up the best smile she could and nodded feebly. “All right.”

“(Y/n)-san, your box is... humming?” Sumi pointed at the wooden box.

“Oh, um, you see... in this box is my friend, Nezuko,” (Y/n) treaded carefully, not wishing to startle the girls too badly if she could help it.

“You have someone in a box?” Aoi barked, “well let them out for goodness sake!”

“It’s a little bright in here...” (Y/n) shifted her vision to where Tanjirou and Zenitsu were talking, catching sight of Inosuke as well. Poor boar boy looked like he’d seen better days. “And I’m not sure that Shinobu-” should she still speak of her so informally? “-would be pleased if I let her out without her blessing.”

“Why wouldn’t Shinobu-sama allow you to let someone out of a box?” Aoi rolled her eyes.

“It’s complicated. I’m sure she’ll want to talk to you all about it once she comes back. Until then, Nezuko will be fine in here.”

The girls, though incredulous, let the subject drop for now. Although, they couldn’t help but eye the box with suspicion. Once Tanjirou was settled in the infirmary, the butterfly girls dragged (Y/n) away to talk about the goings on of the last four years which soon devolved into hounding (Y/n) for her own stories to share, even Kanao had come by to sit and listen.

“...And that’s how I helped the fishing village take care of the demon that was lurking in the sea.”

“Tell us another one, (Y/n)-san!” The youngest girls pleaded, kicking their feet in the air behind them. They had migrated to lay flat on their stomachs as the stories progressed and watched (Y/n) recount her adventures with their heads propped up on their arms with rapt attention.

“I’m afraid that will have to wait for another time, it’s quite late you know.”

Everyone turned to the door to find Shinobu staring down at them. The youngest girls pouted a bit, trying to get a bit more time to stick around, but Shinobu held firm and directed them to their rooms.

“You’ll still be here tomorrow, right? (Y/n)-san?” Sumi asked from the doorway.

“I...” (Y/n) pulled at the sleeve of her uniform and subtly pursed her lips while trying to figure out how to proceed, to her surprise, Shinobu spoke up on her behalf.

“I promise you’ll see her in the morning. Now of to bed. (Y/n) and I have much to discuss.”

The thought of having a prolonged conversation with Shinobu sent shivers through (Y/n)’s spine. Once all the girls were well out of sight, Shinobu redirected her attention to (Y/n).

“Let’s drop off your cargo first,” Shinobu said, motioning to the box sitting beside (Y/n), “I’ve arranged a room and Kamado-kun has been wondering where his... sister, has been.”

“Of course.” (Y/n) stood, shouldering the box.

Apparently the room was rather far. (Y/n) felt as if the silence between them was slowly eating at her until she finally decided to speak. For better or for worse.

“You’ve taken all of this extraordinarily well,” (Y/n) commented, testing the waters.

“Mm, I’d like to hold off on any conversation until we drop off the demon. Use this time to gather any thoughts, if you have them that is.”

(Y/n)’s brow furrowed slightly, eyes narrowed. She was sure that was some kind of dig at her intelligence, but she held her tongue.

They dropped off Nezuko, (Y/n) and Tanjirou bid each other good night, and then (Y/n) was led to an all too familiar space, the lab.

Shinobu motioned for (Y/n) to sit at one of the less cluttered tables while she closed the door firmly behind them. (Y/n) would have been lying if she said she wasn’t even just a tad bit concerned by the setting of this ‘talk’ that was about to unfold. Finally, Shinobu took the stool across from her on the other side of the table. She laced her fingers together, using them to prop up her chin as her endlessly amethyst eyes bore into (Y/n)’s. That ghostly smile seemingly perfected after four years of separation, had (Y/n)’s hands clench into fists under the table.

“So,” Shinobu began, her voice deceptively sweet, “when exactly do you think it was when you completely lost your mind?”

“Excuse me?” (Y/n)’s eye twitched.

“Defending a demon, offering up your own life for a demon to live... how insanely idiotic. I thought you were smarter than that. I suppose it had been.. four years, was it? Four years since you ran off. And I thought that was the most careless thing you could ever do. You really have outdone yourself!”

“Stop,” (Y/n) had heard enough of these little jabs and she new well enough Shinobu could go all day as long as she hadn’t changed too drastically in their time apart. However, Shinobu powered through.

“Everyone was devastated when you left you know. We were a family and you just up and left in the middle of the night without a word so soon after—“ After Kanae, “Now you’re putting everything on the line for some demon? You’re a coward. A selfish coward.”

(Y/n) was really angry now. She stood up so fast her stool clattered to the ground behind her. She slammed her hands against the table and stared furiously into Shinobu’s placid expression, though she could detect a hint of a heated spark in those deep purple eyes.

“Don’t act like you’re so innocent in all of this! You told me to leave! You want to judge me for trusting Nezuko with my life, fine! But I only did what you commanded of me when I left. You don’t get to say I just fucked off because you think I didn’t care enough!”

Shinobu had the nerve to chuckle, though no trace of humor was there, as she slowly rose to her own feet and assumed a similar stance over the table as (Y/n).

“Did you really think when I said that, when I told you to leave the lab, I meant I wanted you to walk out of my life?” Shinobu asked seriously.

“I didn’t know what you wanted! You weren’t the same person anymore! Don’t try telling me that it wasn’t what you wanted either, you never came looking for me. You never sent your crow. Tell me you weren’t ecstatic when you woke up that morning and didn’t have to deal with me anymore!”

Shinobu slapped her own hand against the table, a vein pulsed painfully under the skin of her forehead. She opened her mouth to retort, poisoned words ready to lash out with a flick of her tongue, but as luck would have it, a Kakushi nervously called from the other side of the door.

“Kochou-sama, the treatments for the, uh, despiderfication of the slayers from Natagumo Mountain are ready to be carried out with your supervision.”

Shinobu closed her eyes, breathing in deeply before opening them again and looking significantly more drained.

“I see. Please inform the others that I’ll be there in a few moments.”

“Right away, Kochou-sama.”

As the footsteps pattered away, (Y/n) fixed her stool upright before heading in the direction of the door, assuming she and Shinobu were done talking, or screaming rather. (Y/n) was surprised to feel Shinobu grasp her hand as she tried to pass by.

“You remember where your room is, right?” Shinobu asked, the undertones of her voice still taut with anger.

(Y/n) too tired to fight on, responded simply with a mute nod.

“I had the Kakushi clean it earlier today. Everything should still be as you left it.”

Shinobu let go of (Y/n)’s hand and it immediately felt cold. The Hashira opened the lab door and stepped out into the hallway, her back to (Y/n) as she made her last parting statement.

“If you know what is good for you, you won’t step a foot outside of estate grounds without speaking to me first.”

“And if I don’t?” (Y/n) asked just to be obstinate.

“Then I guess I’ll have to hunt you down for sport.” Shinobu quickly replied, turning to face (Y/n) just to show her how serious she was.

(Y/n) couldn’t help the weak guffaw that left her lips. To hear such a threat delivered by such a soothing tone was practically oxymoronic.

Shinobu lingered for a moment longer before gliding off to see to her patients while (Y/n) turned down the opposite end of the hallway and traveled down a few more to find herself standing outside of her old room. She opened the door, the space was clean as Shinobu promised. She closed the door softly behind her, blocking off the light from the hall. There would be time to be sentimental in the morning. Right now, between the Mountain, the trial and the emotional battle with the Insect Hashira herself, (Y/n) was exhausted. She scooted her way into the freshly made futon and fell asleep with the nostalgic smell of wisteria petals drifting through her airways.

***

(Y/n) awoke around mid-morning to the sun shining through her window. She stretched and got dressed, her fingers pausing over the last few buttons of her uniform as she glanced over the desk.

The butterfly hair clip she had once worn with pride sat in front of her. It appeared to be left untouched by time. Not even a speck of dust adorned the colorful wings. She reached out to it, but her fingers curled just before she touched it. She pulled her hand back as a knock sounded on the door.

“Yes?”

“It’s Aoi.” A voice called from the other side.

(Y/n) quickly took the last few steps needed to reach the door and slid it open to greet Aoi but before she could, the stern girl stepped inside and pulled the door shut again.

“Were you and Shinobu-sama fighting last night?” She asked hurriedly.

“Where did you hear that?” (Y/n) answered the question with one of her own.

“The Kakushi are partial to gossip. Now what did you do!” Aoi huffed, jabbing (Y/n)’s shoulder.

“Why does it have to be me? Shinobu was the one who started it!” (Y/n) backed up, rubbing her shoulder.

“You two better make up soon. It will hurt Naho, Sumi and Kiyo if they find out you’re still mad at each other,” Aoi crossed her arms over her chest.

“It’s not that easy, Aoi. It’s been four years. It’s not all going to go away overnight.”

“Do I have to do everything around here?” Aoi grumbled to herself, passing a hand over her face. “I’ll help you, but you better try to be civil.”

“Aoi, I don’t need help. I’m sorry that fight got back to you. If Shinobu and I talk again, I promise I’ll try harder to keep my temper in check, okay?”

Aoi sighed and shook her head, “Fine. That wasn’t what I had come to talk to you about anyway.”

“Oh,” (Y/n) tilted her head, “then what is it?”

“Your friends,” Aoi pinched the bridge of her nose, “they’re driving me crazy. I need you to get the blonde and the boar to participate in recovery training.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” (Y/n) answered with slight reluctance. She knew just how difficult those two could be.

Aoi and (Y/n) arrived at the room that was being used for the boys’ recovery training. Tanjirou was already working hard, trying to catch Kanao in a game of tag, while Zenitsu and Inosuke watched from the corner with bitter disinterest.

“Hey,” (Y/n) addressed the younger teens, “what’s the problem? Don’t you guys want to get better? Stronger?”

“It’s pointless.” Inosuke weakly answered.

“(Y/n)-san, this training is too difficult!” Zenitsu cried.

(Y/n) dodged the weepy blonde’s attempts at hugging her and bonked him on the head with the side of her fist.

“I feel no sympathy for you. Aoi and the others are working really hard to get you back in fighting shape, the least you could do is put a little bit of effort in!” (Y/n) crossed her arms, “before you know it, Tanjirou will leave you both in the dust. Do you really want that?”

Zenitsu and Inosuke grunted, still refusing to budge. (Y/n) motioned for Naho to hand her a cup of medicated water and promptly splashed its contents all over the boys.

“What was that for?” Zenitsu screeched.

“Want revenge? Come take me on.” (Y/n) motioned to the table of cups.

Naho, Sumi and Kiyo made small sounds of excitement, trying to encourage the boys, but they just grumbled and walked back to the infirmary.

“You guys are going to regret walking away!” (Y/n) called after them. “Let me know when you are done moping and want to get back to work!”

“Oh my.” Shinobu giggled as she walked in, watching Zenitsu and Inosuke sulk past her.

Shinobu turned to observe the room, pausing at (Y/n). Her eyes flickered down at (Y/n)’s chest and stayed there long enough for the other slayer to notice.

“What?” (Y/n) had grumbled mostly to herself as she followed Shinobu’s gaze downward. Heat shot to her face immediately as she realized she had forgotten to finish buttoning her uniform after Aoi distracted her. It wasn’t showing a lot, just her collar bones and a bit of her chest, but it was still jarring. With a strangled chirp, she quickly buttoned her uniform the rest of the way.

“Oh please, no need to cover up on my account.” Shinobu easily teased, though she felt a bit embarrassed to have been caught staring. She wasn’t entirely sure why her vision gravitated there to begin with.

After a few false starts, (Y/n) finally choked out, “what do you want?”

“I need Kanao and Aoi to help me gather more herbs for spider demon antidotes, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Kochou-sama,” Aoi interjected before (Y/n) could retaliate, “Kanao and I are helping Tanjirou complete his recovery training for the day. I’ve asked (Y/n)-san to fill in for us and she has readily agreed to take our place.”

(Y/n) gave Aoi a look, prompting the younger girl to pinch at (Y/n)’s side discreetly. A message to keep her mouth shut. Kanao simply blinked, twisting on the ball of her foot to dodge another one of Tanjirou’s lunges.

“Very well then, keep up (Y/n). I hope you still remember a thing or two about plants in that thick skull of yours,” Shinobu glided past (Y/n) to step out onto the engawa, “though I wouldn’t be too surprised if all of that knowledge fell out of your head along with your common sense.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth before shutting it firmly closed. Remembering that the younger girls were there and what Aoi had asked of her, she pursed her lips and silently fell into step beside the Hashira, walking with her to the nearby forest where the herbs they needed flourished.

“You recall what Aralia Cordata looks like, correct?” Shinobu asked once they were well within the trees.

“Yeah, kind of hard to miss that shrub if you know what you’re looking for.” (Y/n) groused.

“Fine, fine. Don’t come crying to me if you touch something poisonous.”

“I won’t. Won’t touch anything poisonous I mean. Because I know what I’m doing.”

“Are you telling me that or are you just trying to reassure yourself?”

(Y/n) chose not to reply, instead she split off from Shinobu to one of the shrubs in question and began harvesting a few leafy tendrils from it. Before long, her basket was filled and she turned just in time to see Shinobu turn back to her own bush, pretending to examine one of the tendrils she had cut.

“You know,” (Y/n) sighed as she stood back to her full height, “Aoi only made me come here in her stead because that fight we had last night got back to her. She expects us to make up.”

“Mm, I figured it was something like that,” Shinobu hummed, “I do believe that for once, she is too optimistic in that regard.”

“Well, you never did like admitting when you were wrong,” (Y/n) shrugged, “or saying you’re sorry. It’s comforting to know you haven’t completely destroyed your old personality.”

“And what exactly have I been wrong about, (Y/n)?” Shinobu’s forehead pulsed, “what exactly have I done that requires an apology?”

“You lie to everyone Shinobu. You hide behind plastic smiles pretending to be someone you’re not to fill a void. Saying your fine and shrugging everyone off while holding them at arm's length. When I tried to talk to you, you pushed me away and told me to leave. You were dismissive, cold.”

(Y/n) wrapped her arms around herself as if a chilling wind overcame her. Continuing on, she spoke lowly before Shinobu could speak her denial.

“Not to say that I don’t have my own fault in all of this. Even if I thought you really wanted me gone that night, I should have fought harder for you. I knew you were hurting, but I gave up and left anyway. That is something I’ve thought about a lot in our time apart and I regret it every day because you were worth fighting for.”

(Y/n) blew out a harsh breath of air, running a hand over her scalp she made her closing statement.

“If there was one thing you were right about last night, it’s that I’m a coward and I’m sorry that I didn’t try harder.”

(Y/n) chanced a look at Shinobu’s face. The Hashira’s eyes rounded and her mouth was ever so slightly agape. The silence hung in the air until a sweet wisteria breeze swept through the trees and (Y/n) cleared her throat and looked away.

“So if we could at least pretend to get along for the sake of the girls, I think Aoi would appreciate it.” (Y/n) added before reaching down to collect her basket. A sudden noise, like air being rapidly released through one’s nose, came from behind (Y/n) and she paused in her movements to glance back at Shinobu who was looking down at the leaf she was worrying between her fingers.

“I... apologize, for pushing you away in such a way that made you think you had to exile yourself. It was also cruel of me to say you didn’t care about us when I knew that you thought of this place as your home. I was trying to hurt you back and that was wrong of me. I’m sorry.” Shinobu solemnly said.

Now it was (Y/n)’s turn to stare. Soon, Shinobu leveled a cocky smile and stood with her basket of leaves and a few other miscellaneous plants she gathered.

“Looks like you were wrong about my ability to apologize, hm?” She said.

“Shut up. Don’t ruin the moment.” (Y/n) smiled, reaching for her own basket.

The atmosphere surrounding the girls leaving the forest felt a lot more relaxed than it had upon entering.

***

Days turned into weeks and everything seemed so much better after. It was still awkward at times, but (Y/n) and Shinobu were finding their rhythm again. There was still a little hostility at times, but rather than avoid each other, they talked it out. It was almost frightening how in sync they were when they were working well together.

(Y/n) split her time between helping Shinobu with the slayers turned spiders and helping the younger girls train Tanjirou. She was elated by the boy’s progress as he finally managed to catch Kanao. She had noticed Zenitsu and Inosuke lurking nearby and gestured to the room. Now that they knew recovery training was possible and Tanjirou was leaving them in the dust, the rambunctious boys finally felt the need to catch up with their comrade’s progress.

Before long, the boys were well enough to continue the training on their own and (Y/n) found herself spending more and more time with Shinobu. They would spend hours talking or saying nothing at all, just enjoying each other’s company while they worked away on medicines and poisons.

It didn’t take long for (Y/n) to notice the difference. How Shinobu took up more than her fair share of space in (Y/n)’s thoughts. Even just catching sight of her across the garden was starting to make (Y/n)’s heart leap. On the occasion Shinobu would spot her she’d smile and wave, making (Y/n)’s heart stop all together before kicking into overdrive. The lingering touches and whispered words Shinobu would share with her as they worked in the lab certainly didn’t help either. Just when (Y/n) had thought they finally found their dynamic... Why was it changing again already?

(Y/n) was telling Naho, Sumi and Kiyo the story of how she met Tanjirou and Nezuko while she patted the demon’s head. Ever since Nezuko had woken up, the younger girls, though skittish at first, had grown to be fascinated and even enamored with her. As (Y/n) retold the tale, Nezuko humming happily at her side, Shinobu happened upon the group.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this session short. Tanjirou and the others are ready to get back out on the road now. Something about joining Rengoku-san on his next mission.”

“How did I not here about this plan sooner?” (Y/n) frowned.

“That’s a question best suited for Tanjirou to answer I suppose.” Shinobu replied rather emotionlessly, concerning (Y/n).

So while everyone else was getting ready to leave, (Y/n) pulled Tanjirou aside and asked him what was going on.

“I didn’t tell you we were leaving because I hope you’ll stay and continue to rebuild the relationships you have here, (Y/n)-san. I appreciate everything you’ve done for Nezuko and I, and now I hope to return the favor.” Tanjirou smiled brightly.

“And how do you figure you’re doing that?” (Y/n) crossed her arms.

“Because the longer you get to stay here, the more time you get to spend with Shinobu-san! I can smell that you two want to be together more now than ever.”

“You and your nose I swear,” heat radiated off of (Y/n)’s cheeks, “I think you have intuition and that sense mixed up.”

Tanjirou merely laughed in response.

“So, you guys think you’ll really be okay without me? You’ll stay out of trouble?”

“Don’t worry, (Y/n)-san! We’ll see each other again soon!” Tanjirou beamed.

(Y/n) smiled in return and they rejoined the send off.

“Where did Shinobu-san go?” Tanjirou wondered.

(Y/n) looked around and sure enough, the Pillar was nowhere to be seen.

“She must have had something urgent to attend to,” she answered, making a note to search for her later.

(Y/n) stood out in the garden until the loud group disappeared into the trees and their shouts could no longer be heard over the rustling of the leaves. She took a moment to stare out into the clear blue sky before returning inside.

(Y/n) was going to go look for Shinobu, but she wanted to go to her room to change her uniform first since Zenitsu had snotted all over it in his tearful goodbye.

She opened the door and was surprised to find Shinobu already inside. Shinobu’s back was turned to her as she quickly ran a sleeve over her face. She cleared her throat before facing back with a weak smile.

“(Y/n), forget something?”

“Huh?” (Y/n) blinked, still trying to process why Shinobu might have just been tearing up in her room of all places.

“The others must be ready to leave now. You better pick up what you needed so they don't have to wait too long.”

“They already left, Shinobu.” (Y/n) explained. “I hadn’t planned on going with them.”

“Oh.” Shinobu turned to look outside the window of (Y/n)’s room, hoping the blood that buzzed in her cheeks hadn’t burned its way to her ears as well.

“Shinobu, is something wrong?” (Y/n) tested.

“I just feel a bit silly now I suppose.” Shinobu admitted, bringing a slight smile to (Y/n)’s face with her honesty. “I thought you were gone again.”

“Well, I wouldn’t leave without a proper goodbye, not again.” (Y/n) came up beside Shinobu, intending to give her hand a comforting squeeze when she felt something other than skin instead. Looking down she saw her old butterfly clip in Shinobu’s hand, a quick look at the empty spot at her desk confirmed it.

Shinobu noticed that (Y/n) had noticed and rose the hairclip up between them with a subdued exhale.

“You know, every morning I wonder if it will be the morning you feel comfortable enough to wear this again.” Shinobu said, twirling the insect in her fingers. “When I thought you were gone and I saw this still sitting on your desk, it brought me back to places I’d rather not think about.”

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) rested her hand over the back of Shinobu’s haori, “I just haven’t felt... I don’t know, worthy of it? I didn’t intend to make you feel bad.”

A small puff of air left Shinobu’s nose at the words. “It isn’t a matter of worth, it’s about whether or not you feel like you belong here again. Whether or not you’re comfortable here.”

“Agree to disagree.” (Y/n) joked. “But if it makes you feel better, I’m glad I get to spend more time here. I’ve been happier in these last few weeks than in the last few years.”

“I’m glad.” Shinobu watched a couple of butterflies flutter against the window before turning back to the garden. “And if you insist on it being a matter of worth, you are more than worthy. It’s not even a question to me.”

“Thank you.” (Y/n) simpered. Her breathing hitched slightly when Shinobu reached up to run her fingers through a loose lock of (Y/n)’s hair.

“Would you let me do your hair?” Shinobu asked softly.

“I’d like that.” (Y/n) whispered.

Shinobu guided (Y/n) back to the desk and sat her down on the chair. She freed (Y/n)’s hair from its plain hair band and quietly ran a brush through her locks with such softness that (Y/n) felt like she might fall asleep. Shinobu gathered the hair in her hands and styled it as she wished, clipping it together with the butterfly hair clip. Shinobu checked over her work, her hands resting on (Y/n)’s shoulders.

“You look perfect.” (Y/n) shivered. She hadn’t expected Shinobu’s lips to be so close to her ear. Neither had she expected the lips to ghost over her cheek in a light kiss.

“I just remembered I have a meeting I need to attend. You’ll help the girls with the infirmary won’t you?”

(Y/n) had almost forgotten how to speak but managed to pull it together. “Of course! I’ll, um, see you when you get back?”

“Perhaps,” Shinobu removed her hands from (Y/n)’s shoulders, “I won’t be back until late though.”

“Okay.”

A shy hug (in slightly awkward positioning due to the gross state of the Kinoe’s uniform, courtesy of Zenitsu) and Shinobu parted ways with (Y/n). (Y/n) met up with the girls in the infirmary and was almost immediately met with a chorus of cheers from Naho, Kiyo and Sumi when they noticed her hair. Aoi and Kanao smiled at the sight as well. A full day of caring for the infirmary made (Y/n) excited to finally get into bed for the night.

She awoke with a scream caught in her throat. Old demons had visited her in her sleep. As she worked to calm her heart, she noticed the light of the full moon streaming through her window. With a few more deep breaths she sat up from her futon and wrapped her haori around her shoulders.

Quietly exiting her room, she padded through the halls until she found her way to the kitchen, a smile pulled at her lips when she found Shinobu already there boiling water.

“Rough night?” Shinobu asked. She was also in her bed wear, her hair hanging loose from its usual style.

“Yes,” (Y/n) moved to stand beside her, “it’s been awhile since the last one I had.”

“How did you deal with that when you were on the road?”

“I would buy little sacks of tea leaves as I went. On bad nights or whenever sleep eluded me I’d boil up some water and try a new blend. Yours was always the best though.”

“I was already going to make you a cup, no need for flattery.”

“No flattery here. Just the truth.” (Y/n) swore, making Shinobu’s smile just a tad fuller.

Shinobu finished preparing the cups and as (Y/n) took hers about ready to leave, the Hashira asked her to wait.

“It’s a full moon tonight. Want to watch the stars for a moment?” Shinobu asked.

“I’d love to.” (Y/n) nodded.

The pair walked outside along the engawa until they had a pleasant view of the full brightness of the moon. They sat along the engawa’s edge, letting their legs dangle as they sipped their tea in the drowning noise of cicada and cricket songs.

(Y/n) chanced a glance at Shinobu in her periphery and marveled at how the moonlight highlighted her skin to the point where she almost appeared to be glowing. The way it reflected off of her eyes was absolutely enchanting. (Y/n) forced her attention back on the sky. Though beautiful it seemed to pale in comparison to the girl next to her.

As her eyes traced over the larger craters of the moon, she thought back on an old saying she had read at one of the inns she had frequented. An old, battered collection of pages that she read through when sleep didn’t come. She had read that particular work quite a few times.

She wondered if perhaps Shinobu had read it too. Though more likely the girl had her face buried in medical texts than anything else. (Y/n) then wondered, if perhaps she could get away with saying it. A confession without consequence, but on the off change that Shinobu was knowledgeable on the old text it could damage the progress they had made in healing their relationship. Perhaps it would be better to just enjoy the moment. (Y/n) took another sip of tea.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

(Y/n) nearly choked on her tea, spluttering and coughing as she tried in vein to stop herself. Finally she managed to calm down only to notice how intently Shinobu was staring at her.

Had she meant that literally? Shinobu was looking at (Y/n) so expectantly, but it could easily just be because she had nearly blacked out from inhaling her tea!

“...It is.” (Y/n) finally answered hiding her face in her cup, looking at neither Shinobu nor the moon.

Another long silence filled by the chirps of insects enjoying the humid night air. (Y/n) had finished her tea and set her cup to her right, her free hand that had been resting between Shinobu and herself was soon covered by a cool and calloused touch.

(Y/n) shyly turned her head to meet the Pillar’s gaze and jumped a bit when her nose unexpectedly brushed against Shinobu’s.

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” Shinobu repeated barely above a whisper. She was not pulling away.

(Y/n) felt her throat dry and she wished she had just one more swallow of tea left. With a slight quiver in her lips, she responded. Doing her best to stay focused on the purple irises before her.

“Yes,” she answered with a slight nod, careful not to bump head with Shinobu, “it is.”

“(Y/n)?” Shinobu called to her, cupping her face gently with the hand that wasn’t already resting on top of (Y/n)’s.

“Y.. yes?”

“Would you kiss me if I asked?” Shinobu murmured, filling (Y/n)’s senses with a dizzying wisteria scent. The slayer didn’t even try to talk herself out of answering such a query as the thumb of Shinobu’s hand swiped the corner of her lips.

“Yes.” She replied, nearly breathless already and her pupils blown wide.

“(Y/n), please kiss me.”

It was all too easy to lean in when they were already sitting so closely. The hand Shinobu had been using to cup her cheek weaved through the hair at the back of (Y/n)’s head, pulling her closer yet as their lips met a bit clumsily in buzzing, mind numbing bliss. (Y/n)’s free hand, the one not currently being clutched in a near death grip over the wooden floor, found home at the back of Shinobu’s neck, lightly massaging the skin there.

They broke apart a few times but the breaths they took were quick and few. Eventually they rested against each other while their abused lungs burned with a hunger for oxygen.

“I have wanted to do that for longer than I’d like to admit.” Shinobu quietly confessed, twisting a lock of (Y/n)’s hair though her fingers.

“Even when we were fighting?” (Y/n) joked, rubbing the back of Shinobu’s neck with her thumb.

“Strangely enough, yes. There were times when I thought about doing it just to shut you up. Though I didn’t dare allow myself to entertain the thought for long.”

(Y/n) chuckled and leaned in to steal another kiss, much less heated then the last few and much quicker as a chorus of surprised gasps made them pull apart and turn around.

“They kissed! They’re kissing!” Sumi cheered while Aoi tried to quiet her and push her back into the mansion.

Sumi and Kiyo emerged from the doorway that Shinobu had left open when she and (Y/n) first came out into the moonlight and were immediately hounding them for confirmation.

“We missed it! Do it again!” Kiyo pleaded.

“It’s like a fairy tale!” Naho cheered.

“You three!” Aoi grumbled with embarrassment. “Kanao, help me out here!”

Kanao looked between Aoi, the rowdy girls, then her sister and senpai, before settling on a nice golf clap of congratulations. This made Aoi lightly smack herself in the face and completely give up on trying to rein in the younger children.

“My, what are you all doing up I wonder?” Shinobu smiled.

“We wanted to watch the moon too Shinobu-sama! Aoi-san even made tea!” Naho clapped.

“But it’s clear you’re, busy, with something and we should go back inside.” Aoi rushed.

“Nonsense, it’s a lovely night. These things are best experienced with those you care about, don’t you all agree?”

“Yes!” Three excited voices readily agreed before wiggling in between the older girls with light blankets and their tea.

Aoi grumbled a half hearted reminder to be careful with the tea before sitting down beside (Y/n) with her own cup. Kanao took a seat beside Shinobu, lightly kicking her feet over the engawa as she started up silently at the moon.

They stayed up for hours, naming constellations, spotting shooting stars, and listening for the occasional loud croak of a far off frog in the thick of the cicadas and crickets.

Dawn wasn’t too far off when Naho, Sumi and Kiyo fell asleep. (Y/n), Shinobu and Kanao each picked one up and returned them to their rooms. Aoi gathered the discarded cups and helped with the doors before bidding the older girls goodnight, Kanao trailing behind her.

“What a lively night. I’m afraid chores will suffer tomorrow.” Shinobu mused as she walked (Y/n) back to her room.

“We’ll figure it out.” (Y/n) said, shyly brushing her hand against Shinobu’s and smiling when Shinobu laced their fingers together.

Once at (Y/n)’s room Shinobu raised (Y/n)’s hand to her lips with a smirk, planting a kiss on battle worn knuckles.

“This is where I leave you. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Why does that feel too long?” (Y/n) laughed quietly.

“I’m not sure, you’d think after four years of bitter silence a couple of hours would be a walk in the park.” Shinobu chuckled in return.

“I guess we just have a lot of time to make up for, huh?”

“Mm, that is a plausible line of reasoning,” Shinobu hummed, a spark growing in her eyes, “might I trouble you for one more kiss before I retire to my room?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

(Y/n) hardly got the words out before Shinobu was on her. Four kisses later and they pulled away with matching grins.

“I’ll see you in my dreams.” Shinobu added one last peck before pulling away.

“As will I.”

***

Well into the next morning (Y/n) awoke energized and ready to fight the world. She changed into a fresh uniform and pinned her hair with care, straightening the butterfly pin before rushing out of her room to begin her day with the young woman who had gifted it to her.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #shinobu kochou #shinobu kocho #shinobu x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #kny oneshots #kny x reader

[mythicamagic]

Enemies to Lovers - Sesshoumaru is injured - "Lean on me" prompt

AN: Because there’s a lot of prompts to get through I probably should have/could have spent more time on this one due to the heavy subject matter buuut since in the anime Sesshoumaru only gets 11 episodes to recover from the loss of his arm, I don’t feel too guilty XD

Warning: body trauma

---

Inuyasha's wench had found him around an hour ago. Unlike Rin, she'd deliberated approaching for a few moments. Unsurprising. They were still foes after all. Crimson eyes remained burning, glaring listlessly at her face.

She'd seemed to silently decide something, determination steeling her expression. The yellow nekomata he vaguely recalled belonging to the slayer was her sole companion, who growled at him warningly not to try anything. As if he would.

The miko carried a large cumbersome bag, so he assumed she'd been headed somewhere before running into him within the forest.

Kagome cleaned his wound as best she could, before binding it to try and stop the excessive blood loss. She'd then approached with the beast, proceeding to kneel beside his bloody form. Sesshoumaru remained where he was, reclined against a tree and settled at its base.

Kagome winced, arm secured around his waist after having removed his armour.

"I can't just leave you like this. Lean on me. I'll take your weight enough to move you onto Kirara."

Sesshoumaru turned his head, gazing at nothing.

His lips moved, speaking too softly for her to hear.

"What?"

He repeated himself in a tight voice. "What is the point?"

Kagome stiffened against him. Her heart thudded quicker, fear brushing his senses.

Sesshoumaru allowed his hazy red eyes to dull into empty gold, staring right at the woman.

He could survive a missing arm. Had adjusted his fighting style enough to manage.

But the Killing Perfection could not survive the loss of a leg too. His body would save him from blood loss, but his spirit lay broken, irreparable.

Kagome swallowed loudly, resting a hand on his upper thigh. His leg ended below the knee.

"T-this… it's nothing for you," she mumbled quietly. "You're going to be okay. You'll find a way to walk again."

Sesshoumaru chuckled dryly, resting his head back against the trunk. "Why do you care, wench?" he flashed sharp teeth at her. "We are not allies. Leave me."

"I won't," Kagome moved closer, grabbing a handful of his hankimono. "Listen, I might not be your friend and you've tried to kill Inuyasha more than a few times, but…" her hand shook. "But you're the strongest person I've met. If you fall, then what hope do the rest of us have?" she questioned softly. "Despite myself, I admire people like you and Kikyo. Always so crazy strong."

Sesshoumaru scoffed, gripping her hard by the hair and forcing her head down to look at the stump of his right leg. "Do I look strong to you, miko?" he hissed in her ear.

Kagome braced her hands on his available leg, twisting in his grip to look at him.

Sesshoumaru stilled.

Unshed tears lay in her eyes.

"Yes," she muttered with conviction. "So long as you don't give up now."

Sesshoumaru stared. Inky black hair slowly fell limp around his fingers. He settled back against the tree.

Kagome straightened, winding an arm around his waist again. "At least come with me to find shelter. You can't stay like this out in the open."

Sesshoumaru remained dead weight. He did not see the point in trying.

He could not hope to recover from this.

Kagome tugged and heaved at his body, his mass much too big for her to hope to move.

She sighed with frustration, blowing air at her bangs. "I'll tell Inuyasha about this," she grumbled.

Sesshoumaru blinked, sliding his gaze back to her. "I would kill you before you managed to leave."

Kagome smiled a little, patting his shoulder. "That's better. You look a bit more like yourself when you're threatening someone."

He wanted to snap at her. To snarl and bite the soft looking skin of her neck, frighten her enough to leave.

He was tired. A part of him felt content to die after his pride lay in such shattered tiny pieces.

And yet…

And yet a part of him, instinctive, strong and indomitable, refused to lay down and perish. It appreciated her continued efforts.

The thought of him hobbling about so pathetically was almost too much to bear, but Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, realising very wretchedly that this meant he did not in fact wish to die.

"We can do this," Kagome was muttering, trying to angle him enough to lay on Kirara, who pressed in close, offering assistance.

Sesshoumaru stifled a sigh, making a silent choice. He begrudgingly leaned against her, shifting his remaining leg beneath him.

Kagome gasped, "that's it!" she encouraged, helping him into a crouching position before he fell forward onto the beast. Kagome adjusted his leg, ensuring he was steady, before nodding for Kirara to stand.

Sesshoumaru did not pay attention to their surroundings, the forest passing in a blur.

If he'd just been quicker, the bull demon who had humiliated him would have perished sooner. The beast had produced a second weapon out of thin air, axe cleaving through muscle and bone. All he could do was pull back- lest he lose his entire lower half.

He felt no pain. Surprisingly, everything remained numb. His flesh was cold and clammy, and he lay as if outside of his own body.

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, lapsing into unconsciousness.

---

The scent of rain stirred his senses.

Sesshoumaru turned his head, finding himself laying down upon a strange futon that resembled a squashed cocoon. The nekomata lay behind him, keeping him warm.

Sesshoumaru blinked. The miko had found them shelter. He soon located her sitting at the mouth of the cave, looking out at the rain while a fire lay in the centre of the cool space.

When she noticed he’d regained consciousness, Kagome rose and offered some water from her strange water container.

She’d changed clothes, donning more unusual clothing Sesshoumaru was unfamiliar with. Her pants clung to her form distractingly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, hovering close.

He tsked, passing back the water after taking a swig. “Like I have one leg and one arm. How do you think I am feeling, mortal?”

She winced, “shitty.”

“Indeed,” Sesshoumaru lay back down, staring at the cave ceiling soberly.

“Do you want something to eat?” a crunchy noise rustled from her pocket as the woman produced a rectangular bar of some kind.

He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice, eyeing a picture of the food on its strange packaging. “What is it?”

“A peanut butter and chocolate energy bar,” Kagome winced. “Look I don’t know how to hunt-” he scoffed, “-so this is the best I’ve got. Sorry, your Highness.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you may keep it. I do not eat human food. Least of all bizarre creations such as that.”

“Fine but it's your loss.”

His expression became blank, noticing her wince and start apologising for the wording. He wasn’t listening anymore though. The initial shock was beginning to wear off, and now he was more than painfully aware of the shooting pains running up and down the remainder of his leg, from stump to upper thigh. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, refusing to show his discomfort.

“...You’ve used a human arm before,” Kagome said carefully, sitting beside him and crossing her legs. “And what looked like a dragon one. By that logic, you could attach a demon leg to yours, right?”

Sesshoumaru slid his gaze to her, silently thankful for the distraction. The coming agony would be something he’d already dealt with due to the loss of his arm. Phantom limb pain was a real bitch.

“Yes,” he managed, before taking a steadying breath. He managed to arrange his features into something smirking and lofty. “Are you implying you will fetch me a new limb, little miko? How very generous.”

Kagome’s eyes turned flat. “I’m not about to go out and lop off some poor demon’s foot just to help you. But...if…” she said slowly, “if I’m attacked- which happens often because of the jewel shards- maybe I’d…”

Sesshoumaru dropped his smug expression, frowning softly.

The rain continued to pour, pelting the ground hard. It was a sobering reminder that if she’d left him to the mercy of the elements, he’d be in a much worse state.

He ran careful attention over her features. “Why?”

Kagome’s deep blue eyes held his probing stare, not a flicker of deceit in them. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, “things can’t go back to normal for you right away- or at least, they shouldn’t. You should take the time to recover. I don’t know how the hell you managed to come after us so quickly after losing your arm. It likely wasn’t healthy for you.”

He arched a brow. Repressing every single fibre of the experience and any feelings about the fate that had befallen his left arm had worked wonders for his recovery. Granted it made sleep difficult at times, but none had ever had the audacity to lecture him about his decisions before.

“But- I also don’t want you to be vulnerable to attacks or starvation,” Kagome kept rambling. “Giving you a leg won’t solve everything but it’ll help- ah, are you burning up?” she noticed a bead of sweat roll down his temple, reaching out automatically.

Sesshoumaru snatched it mid-air, pushing up with a burst of speed and yanking Kagome down, simultaneously rolling atop her. Her back hit the ground, punctuated with a squeak from her startled lips.

Silver hair hung down, creating a curtain that blocked out the rest of the world. Those blue eyes widened, breath hitching. Their lower halves pressed intimately together, stomachs meeting as Sesshoumaru leaned closer, using his hand to brace his weight above her. A fire burned within the back of his throat, ancient, tattered pride stinging. He found that he resented her slightly. Resented her for seeing him so weak. It hadn’t mattered when Rin had found him wounded. A battered child had no relation to him. But this girl, Kagome- was an enemy. She should not have seen him thus.

“Do I seem so very vulnerable to you?” he asked in a hushed voice, mouth inches from hers. The fire crackled, rain pouring. Her breathing sounded a touch quicker, heartbeat loud in his ears. Drumming.

Against all logic, he felt her body relax beneath his. She even smiled a little, “no,” she muttered.

“Is something amusing?”

“I’m just glad you proved me wrong. I’d rather you kept acting like a jerk than look so...defeated like you did earlier,” Kagome gave a nervous giggle, gesturing between them, “uh...if you could let me up now though that would be great.”

She tried to rise, but he let more of his weight sink down upon her soft, warm body. “No, I do not think I will.”

Kagome gasped, drawing a knee up and inadvertently opening her legs, allowing him to fit snugly against her. If he hadn’t lost a limb several hours earlier that same day and wasn’t experiencing agonising, blinding pain, Sesshoumaru had to say, the feeling was enough to make him...consider something previously thought impossible between himself and humans.

As it was, he hissed a breath through grit teeth, the stump licking phantom flames of blazing fire around the wound.

“Sesshoumaru? Sesshoumaru!”

He shuddered, trying to prevent himself from crushing her beneath his weight, arm shaking.

It hurt. It suddenly hurt like hell- and nothing was working. No distraction could take him from the blistering, lonely, maddening sensation that holy fuck his leg was missing. He wanted to do something as meaningless as wriggle his toes and he could not-

Suddenly, her arms were around him. Pleasant fresh scents assaulted his fractured senses, citrusy and clean. Kagome pulled him down while rolling herself, flipping their positions.

“I don’t have anything for the pain,” her voice strained apologetically. She quickly moved off him, but Sesshoumaru wasn’t paying attention anymore. He panted, temples pounding. His body shook, pain shooting through the nerve endings in the remainder of his leg.

Something cold and wet lay over his marked forehead. Cracking the burning suns of pained golden eyes open, he watched Kagome adjust the cold compress, before checking his leg.

“You heal quick, but you need new bandages. M-maybe that’ll help until I can go home for painkillers,” she muttered, grabbing her bag and digging through it.

Sesshoumaru panted softly, seizing the fretting miko’s wrist.

“Your...scent,” he grunted.

“What?”

If he were sober he’d never request something so undignified, but Sesshoumaru kept talking, somewhat delirious now that all sense of shock had worn off. “Come here...again. I want your scent.”

Kagome’s shocked features were lost to him as the Daiyoukai hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

The scent of citrus returned after a moment. Soft, curling locks of dark hair brushed his nose as Kagome gingerly embraced him.

Sesshoumaru wrapped an arm around her shoulders, burying his face into the black fall of citrus-scented strands. He lost himself to instinct, gripping onto the stable, pleasant sensations that took the form of Inuyasha’s wench. She let out a tense breath but soon relaxed against him, verbally assuring Kirara when the nekomata growled.

For the second time that day, Sesshoumaru unwillingly lost the battle for consciousness.

----

She was gone by the time he awoke in the morning, but the nekomata remained. She growled and hissed softly whenever he looked at the beast for longer than necessary. Kagome left a note, explaining that she’d be back soon.

Sesshoumaru had little to do except wait. The pain had become a continuous throb, which was easier to deal with but equally as irritating, exhausting him.

When Kagome returned several hours later, she produced wrapped pieces of cooked chicken from her bag, cheerfully explaining that she’d returned home. Sesshoumaru turned his nose up slightly at the food.

“I would have preferred the bird...raw.”

“Wait like freshly dead?”

“Alive, favourably.”

Kagome gaped, leaving the lunchbox with him. “That's terrible!”

Sesshoumaru stared at her flatly, opening his mouth and drawing out his tongue, transforming his features into something more monstrous and canine while placing the food into his mouth and eating it in one quick snap of his jaws. “Demon,” he muttered pointedly.

She rolled her eyes and let him finish his meal in peace.

---

They fell into an odd routine of planned visits for several days, talking about the strange things she brought back from home. He came to learn she was from the Future, of all places. They discussed its advanced technologies while she bandaged his leg.

He suspected the miko felt some sense of responsibility for him now. The thought set his teeth on edge, mildly humiliated.

When he brought up the subject of his vassal, ward and steed, Kagome shrugged and told him they’d been accepted into Inuyasha’s group for the time being. They worried about his continued absence and Inuyasha complained about having to share a space with Jaken, but bared with it. Not one person knew about his situation except Kagome, for which he was thankful.

By the end of five days though, Sesshoumaru needed to move. He began by pulling himself along the ground via his hand and knee, which proved awkward but not impossible. Next came standing, which- after many failed attempts- he finally managed to do, gripping onto the cave wall.

Walking was impossible, of course. And by the time Sesshoumaru realised the very sobering truth that he’d have to hop everywhere the rest of his life or walk with the use of a cane or crutch unless he could grab a demon leg- he wondered why he’d bothered moving at all.

“You’re standing!”

Dulled golden eyes slid to the miko, who stood at the mouth of the cave. In her arms was a large sack faintly marred with blood, and he could tell from the wrinkle of her nose exactly what it was. Surprise slammed into his gut.

“Miko-”

Kagome set the bundle down, hurrying over and steadying him when he tipped too much to one side. “Are you alright? You should be resting-”

“Give me the leg, miko.”

Kagome fell silent, eyeing his stump. He’d stopped needing bandages two days ago. She didn’t protest, merely looking at him carefully. “Are you sure?”

Sesshoumaru leaned against her, allowing her to help ease him down into a sitting position. He briefly touched her cheek, gliding a thumb there and watching it redden. His heart thudded with gladness. “I am sure.”

She nodded, soon bringing the bloodied sack over. She explained that he’d gotten lucky, as while the first two demons they’d faced in a group of three had been too large and bulky to fit his build, the third had been smaller. Inuyasha had been extremely disturbed and suspicious when she’d asked him to hack their leg off once all three were dead.

“It’s not been easy, avoiding his questions, you know. He’s tried to follow me here more than once. I managed to convince him that this leg was for my weird Grandpa.”

Sesshoumaru blinked, finding himself watching her instead of studying the leg as it was revealed to him. The miko had been astronomically helpful and considerate in all the ways one could to a demon lord. His chest felt strange. Warm, upon realising the extent of her actions for his sake.

“Well, do you like it?”

Sesshoumaru jolted, focusing on the red-scaled leg laying before him. From its scent, he knew it to be from a lizard demon. Not his first choice, but this was no time to be picky. Sesshoumaru grabbed it and pressed the severed end to his stump after aligning it. He didn’t so much as flinch as muscle and bone wove together, the process over in seconds. Kagome gaped with amazement.

When he moved to stand, she quickly assisted, pulling him to his feet. Sesshoumaru took a step and staggered, looking downwards.

Ah.

Kagome’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh. Oh no...it's too short isn’t it?”

The height was off by a few inches.

He made to reply- before stiffening, scenting salt. “Why are you crying about it, foolish woman?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she waved it off, some tears escaping down her cheeks before she roughly brushed them away. “I just wanted it to be perfect but now you’re kind of...tilted.”

Despite the situation, a smile tugged at his mouth. A noise bubbled up from the back of his throat, escaping as a quiet laugh.

Kagome froze, tears clinging to her lashes.

“It is fine, miko. More than...fine.”

Sesshoumaru held onto the wall for support, feeling the bite of putting weight onto the leg, his stump flaring. It would take time for his body to adjust. Despite this, his warrior heart filled with purpose again, powers working to heal him. Just having the ability to walk after having it stolen away renewed his spirits.

Kagome watched him with a smile, occasionally offering aid but largely keeping her hands off. He could sense various soft emotions rolling off her in waves. Admiration, relief and something else. Something he could not name. It remained untouched and unnamed long after he left the cave behind one afternoon.

He had no writing utensils to leave a note, instead carefully tearing out a segment of his sleeve, leaving the red and white flower symbol of his family crest for her to find.

---

Kagome panted hard, catching her breath and folding down into a crouch, gripping her bow tight.

“Are you alright, Kagome?” Rin asked, closely followed by Shippo as they approached from Ah-Un, having kept away from the random attack on the village. Thankfully the hoard of boar demons had finally been dealt with, but Kagome’s nerves were shot to hell after racing around so much, trying to protect villagers.

“I-I’m fine, guys, thanks,” she smiled, looking between them both. The orphans had bonded quickly, and she felt a surge of warmth, happy they had a companion their age to talk with. It had been two weeks since she’d last seen Sesshoumaru since his disappearance, and while she loved having Rin around, it did make her worry. Sesshoumaru always returned to his group. Where had he run off too?

Maybe he went to find a better leg, she thought, taking the children’s hands and walking towards Miroku- who was helping up an old man from where he’d fallen. Perhaps he needed time to get used to walking on what’s essentially a prosthetic.

For humans- such a thing took up to one year. Demons really are something else.

Kagome’s lips curved, picturing the burning, determined gaze of the Daiyoukai.

Or rather, Sesshoumaru is something else.

“Kagome, look out!” Miroku yelled.

Jerking, Kagome sensed a lone boar youkai barrelling towards her through the forest, knocking trees aside. It was quicker than anticipated- and despite Kagome grabbing the children and trying to run out of its way, it charged straight for her, grunting, throwing its head wildly.

People were screaming her name, but they were too far away. Kagome twisted her body, pushing the kids aside and in order for her to take the brunt of the hit-

Red light exploded to life, consuming the boar demon before it could reach them. Hide and blood were caught up in the attack, leaving Kagome mercifully free from the boar's flying carnage.

She panted, shaking a little and gazing at the steaming remains of the demon. A pale figure floated to the ground, landing elegantly.

“Lord Sesshoumaru!” Rin cried happily.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?!” Jaken’s distant yell could be heard.

Kagome straightened, heart doing a funny thing in her chest. She immediately looked at his leg- finding him clad in white hakama pants and black boots. The same as always.

Blue eyes widened. He appeared completely unchanged. Somehow, he must’ve found an inhuman demon and took their leg so that he could masquerade as his usual self.

His tiny group circled around him joyously, while Kagome’s friends gathered together a little ways away. Inuyasha’s ears pinned back to his head with displeasure.

Jaken hopped up and down. “Where have you BEEN, mi lord!”

“Nowhere."

“Tch, bastard,” grumbling, Inuyasha raised his voice a touch. “Hey- you could at least thank us for babysitting your damn group while you were probably out doing power-hungry shit.”

Sesshoumaru’s gaze slid over the Hanyou dismissively, stopping on Kagome. Her breathing hitched.

“I am not here to thank you, Inuyasha.”

Kagome remained frozen as a shadow fell over her face, his head of silver hair blocking out the sun. Golden eyes replaced the burning circle in the sky, blazing and intent. Slit pupils pinned her in place.

She was vaguely aware of her friends exclaiming in surprise and alarm, thinking he meant to harm her. The sound of Inuyasha drawing his sword was enough to make her mutter ‘sit boy’ absentmindedly, paying no attention to his subsequent impact with the ground.

Sesshoumaru raised a hand, resting pale knuckles against her cheek in a slow drag down to her jaw, skin cool, clashing against her warmth. White lashes lowered, becoming half-mast.

“You’re okay?” she breathed.

“Hn, I merely needed some time,” Sesshoumaru’s low rumble melted her insides.

She cleared her throat, cheeks tinging red because of his proximity, his dark youki brushing her senses, his touch- his everything. Reaching into her pocket, she produced the segment of his clothing, the pattern of his clan. ���Did you want this back-?”

“Keep it,” he closed her fingers over it, catching her eye. “You have my loyalty for what you have done for this one, miko. Keep it,” he said softer.

Kagome nodded slowly, opening her mouth to ask more-

Firm lips slanted over her own. Stiffening, she became deaf to her friend’s even louder exclamations of surprise, Miroku quietly voicing his awe, impressed.

The miko inhaled sharply through her nose, feeling Sesshoumaru’s mouth move, brushing against her own in several lingering kisses. Blushing, it took a moment for Kagome to get over her stupefaction. But then she pressed a little closer, kissing him back perhaps a little nonsensically. But it felt right. Her toes curled at the feel of him.

A low groan rumbled in his throat and his lips softened against hers, mouth parting to brush his sinuous tongue against hers.

Kagome shivered and wondered if he could hear how her heart hammered in her chest. His palm felt steady upon her back, arm encircling her waist. When they finally pulled away, their lips lingered close.

“What...what was that?” she breathed, cheeks flushed.

Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked, “that was this Sesshoumaru conveying my deep sense of gratitude, miko.”

“Funny way of thanking someone, but I’ll take it,” Kagome’s eyes glittered. She could think about the consequences of such an action later. For now, she was content to hold his gaze and keep his secret safe- for however long the prideful Daiyoukai needed.

#sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesshoumaru #kagome higurashi #sesskag fanfiction #enemies to lovers vibes

[ghostmartyr]

Well, they’re not arcane nor locked tomb, but if you’re game, Luz and Amity for 54, reading a book together?

Reading, Mittens, Amity heard plainly in the back of her head, is to be done silently. If you can't maintain your studies without announcing to the world what it is you are doing, you will find your every deficiency turned into the weapon of your enemies.

The first time she'd heard that, she'd pictured Ed and Em, giggling and prancing illusions of Otabin on top of her head.

They weren't enemies yet.

She wasn't sure she even knew what an enemy was, then. A wild witch? A palisman without a witch? Rain?

But when her mother spoke, she listened.

This is for your own good.

She nodded her head and went back to her book. And it was hard at first, to keep the words inside. It was so hard she wondered if there was something wrong with her. She would watch Em and Ed, scampering around the house, bursting with noise, and think, for a few traitorous seconds, that she didn't care about enemies. She wanted whatever it was they had.

She learned, though.

She liked to think she was good at learning. That was one thing Ed and Em could never seem to manage, for all their talents and joy.

Amity could be quiet, and hide all her flaws away.

She could squash the urge to bounce on her bed when the Good Witch Azura vanquished her foes. Nothing was making her growl in Malin Gael's rasp when a prophecy was revealed. No one needed to know if sometimes the only thing that felt worth anything were those few stolen moments in between schoolwork where her heart tricked her into thinking it could sing it all out and it would be okay.

The library job was only for extra credit.

She was a Blight. Putting on a performance was what they did. An audience full of children wasn't that much different than an audience full of shareholders. The children at least remembered how to smile.

It didn't say anything about her except that she was good at her job.

Then... Luz.

Everywhere, all at once, there was Luz, and there was blushing, and loudness, and being so, so stupid about every little thing in ways she was supposed to have outgrown, or should have been better than, or something. Anything. Luz with her smile, and the twinkle in her eyes, and her glyphs, and her heroic stubbornness and -- reading.

Luz came to the library a lot.

Not her words.

Amity had overheard Emira teasing her at the end of one reading hour.

"What? No, no. No. This is totally the normal amount. Nothing to see here, nothing to tell anyone about, because this is all cool."

Luz had winked and pulled out an ice glyph. Amity had snorted, and blushed, and wanted the demonic hole that was trying to eat aisle 20 to come and swallow her up instead.

It was the normal amount for Amity, but it was a new habit for Luz. Research was part of it, so she claimed, but Amity couldn't think of any type of research that would need her to spend so many hours in the children's section.

Especially when she didn't look at any of the books.

She looked at Amity.

Amity was a professional. She wasn't going to stutter, or miss lines, or forget names just because Luz was there. Staring.

(She wasn't imagining that, right? She knew what staring felt like. Not this sort of staring, where the starer had glitter in her eyes and seemed enthralled instead of judgmental, but it was all -- it was all just looking with eyes, wasn't it? Normal eyes. That maybe had a few extra features because what even did normal mean for a human? Was that where the glitter came from?)

She did go red. Braxus asked for permission to bring her a cup of water, because he was worried.

Luz ran and got it instead.

It was a library, she shouldn't have been running.

But it made Amity's chest feel a good sort of warm, and she managed to pull off smiling when Luz came back with the water.

She always seemed to show up when Amity was reading. Sometimes with an offer to hang out afterwards.

There wasn't any way Amity could come up with to deny it, and most of her wanted the idea to be true: Luz was there for Amity. Whatever that meant.

Today, it meant awkwardness.

Not on Amity's part.

Well, maybe?

Some of it might have been.

But Luz was awkward too. Noticeably so. More noticeably than the red Amity's beating heart was sending into her entire face.

"Could we -- I mean, if you wanted to, no one's saying you want to, but do you maybe want to --"

Amity was dying and more alive than she'd ever been, and blurted out her "Yes!" before Luz had provided any context clues for what she was agreeing to.

Which Luz, of course, noticed. Because the whole stumbling conversation was happening out loud, and Amity was still probably dying. This kind of staring was not the kind she wanted a repeat of.

"I -- I mean," Amity said primly. "Go on."

Luz shuffled her feet a little, but smiled so brightly that it kept it all from feeling horribly hopeless. "I was hoping maybe you'd want a partner for next week's Azura showdown," she said in a happy rush. She cleared her throat and struck a pose with her arms pointing dramatically to the ceiling. In a deep voice that cracked near the end, she declared, "For the one, the only! Tragedy at the Torturer's Terrarium! Hecate and Azura battle it out, on opposite sides once more?!"

Without a trace of embarrassment, she continued grinning up at Amity, hopping a little on the balls of her feet. "What do you think? I'm not the master voice actor you are, but I have been known to know my way around a boom mic or two."

Amity had no idea what that meant. Even if she could have figured it out, her brain felt very stuck. Like it was caught in abomination goo that wasn't listening to her.

"I -- my voices aren't that good," she felt herself say.

"What?" Exclamation points formed in those beautiful eyes. "No, they're fantastic! I'd show up every week just to listen to them." Followed by an alarm that made Amity's heart beat way too fast. "Not that I do! I just would. I'm so used to the way I do them, so hearing you is like hearing the whole story all over again. It's great!"

They were both red, and that did not make it better. Amity floundered. She grasped at the only foothold she could find. "You read to young humans in your world?"

Luz rubbed at the back of her neck. "Uh, no, nothing like what you do. Just -- when I'm on my own," her smile turned quieter, "it's exciting, and acting out everyone's parts makes it even better."

Amity knew, sort of, that she was early on in her life. She was young. Ed and Em were young. There was a lot left, and she whatever she'd seen so far, there would be more later. Just because she was allowed to know it, if nothing else.

But at that moment, she was pretty sure she felt one of her life's guiding truths, and that truth was that she would never, ever meet someone as amazing and extraordinary as Luz.

Without even looking around to see if anyone was there to listen in, Amity took on her Azura voice, quoting straight out of The Field of Deadly Fates.

"'I would be honored to have you as my partner.'"

And Luz smiled, and -- if there was even anything quiet left about Amity's feelings, she wished, so much, that it would go away, and she could shout to the whole island how much the light growing in her heart meant.

...For a second.

She wasn't ready for that, just yet.

But maybe she was ready for one special person to hear it.

#lumity #fic #mine #I don't care that the tag's banned I just can't #first time writing for these kids so I hope it's okay #I also hope my blatant disregard for things like. yknow. the prompt. is okay #(I am so sorry this happens whenever I take prompts it's just full on 'ty for the domino i'm gonna have it commit crimes') #The Owl House #toh spoilers #not really but I guess if you want to go in blind

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt #11 ~ Reclaimed Living

♫Overpowered♫

Another cleansing of the soul came with reinvigorated steps loudly revisiting a place of his bearings. His latest and most formidable enemy awakened him from a ghostly remnant he served. He wasn't the same. The last Crew finding them behind his follow weren't the same that collapsed, or buried with his old ship. The rover returned to a rancid pub front-steps. In a dead and remote location, where used to be celebration, came to cease. Now it was just nesting drunken sailors who held no direction. Majority of the Crew that served a Captain were family members, other associates, all drowned and dead brought by his endeavors, curses, afflictions. It was never easy to confront a past, but proper healing cannot begin without it, that's where his wisdom had found of recent date. It was the most despicable and deplorable thing a feeling could present in a leader. The people under your helm perished but the Captain didn't go with his ship and men. Although all held belief he remained deceased, this would be soon uncovered in a twist. He unstrapped his holstered revolver. Swallowed nerves. Then proceeded. Inside were grievers those at the bottom of bottles, they felt too. Sapped of motivation. Chained, jailed, life had no meaning. The peers that died, killed them too. Outsiders didn't come to this enclosed location. So as creaking old planks of wood were heard they drew alert. Until a stoppage. A shadow between the doors. Even in their rancid and intoxicated states they drew arms. The two loose doors flung open as the perished ghost became alive. In a series of insurmountable clicks and aim's hundreds of trained gun's re-positioned. Dirks, brass knuckles, a plethora of last resistance shown. If they were to be raided, they'd go with bangs.

"Minfilia's oversized tits, blimey o' bastard... I don't believe it. Ye chose a poor choice t' ruse us n' appearance." They didn't follow a leader. Each of their voices left were who seized first in their mass. The interloper had them cautiously on standby. "Nay. It b' me." The Seeker discarded his only means of defense and slid a kick over. They had the right to take their shots. Tension was stacked in disbelieving soaring heights. Each still felt a beguile footman who stood at their gate. "Ye inconceivable fool. T'is a reason why, Dead men tell no tales..." Cocking mechanisms of flintlocks surged. Another chimed in when Captain went to peace. "Best ye tell a helluva' tale. Of what ye live..." This served a code, a message in a bottle, but parchment became waterlogged, useless. If there was ever a moment etched within his time, to become unspoken, now was it. He would be a preaching to a choir. Chewing and clacking his gums, he'd lower the tricorne to his heart. A ferocity lit in his hues, rebellious. "From conception we're met with opposition. There ain't a single-choice upon what we calls origins being dealt, whether by some invisible puppeteer, deemed an author, or some putrid sack ov' excuse-spinner." Revving up, "Educated, groomed, taught t' be the same way, that results t' a history never ending but repeats, wondering why we live under th' same shadows ov' all our dated descendants who fell. Constantly wishing or reflecting back, things were simpler, better, desiring do-overs. No-one looks forward t' a clock, only backwards when bloomed." The fulfillment of dreaming in youth, gets devoured, in due age, later when matured. What could've been, spawns. He took brash steps even while being trained on with blunderbusses. "Thrust into environments where eating metal, doing whatever it takes to survive! --- They call us problems." Speaking out to the rebellious that still swelled, "Sentence t' unexplained diseases, festering rot n' us. We start giving into instability, alongside insecurities, it racks us into a trail of bottomless failures, believing we've nothing of importance... Told by our closest endearing whispers, who mutter the same air of our doubting thoughts... It encourages demons, t' vices, to a point, a visit only ov' ferryman can accept us." He registered and conveyed a lot of personal emotion. "Bein' pirate everyone thinks our take ov' freedom means pure unadulterated chaos, anarchy, destruction. To be feared... Truth it means we're standing against what governs us all, growing bone's where they've gone missing." Showing teeth and taking a stand on top of a tavern table between, the disheartened. "Authority, Order! These things are presented as principal things that are required to function, n' keep peace... But it's artificially made-up. Think to yourselves! How many label's have been created to categorize yourself? To try separating you from being an individual, just so someone can stand-out against on a perch! you don't even know how t' stand anymore! ...Thinking by being on your two-legs that's all? You b' so far drowned, you cannot impose those who wear their crowns, cause you accept it as all-purpose... O' if a mass-herd flocks, it's natural to' fall in that line and try to be included at all costs, thinking it'll grant you an audience, notice, give you validation." His speech began boiling up, resonating something in a few, they became domesticated too. "Words, like 'martyr', 'rebel', thrown around. Placed to maintain control, they subjugate, they'll bend rules, whatever it takes! They'll use their fancy speeches t' rile you into a false-sense to stay kneeled over, stating it's a 'we' or 'us', ignoring really they're out their own business." He presented as their so called pirate king was faceless, removed, abandoned all the free-spirited left. That continued with the powers in place. "Same almighty forces that are throwing us into forgotten. Trying to remove us, are the some who were us, once..." The red-coats weren't someone to be all idolized. Innocent's rain rampant on

those, it was not-self sacrificial, they were govern. "Free. Isn't exclusive. It's within us all, a lifestyle, something that any are capable of taking with zero discrimination, no hierarchy, or diversities preventing you at some barrier for entry! Reach down! Battle against your illnesses, wounds, oppressors! Wobble on your soles and fight to stand against what you disagree with, crawl even, gnarl at that hilt! Die fer passion, what makes you feel who, who gives you it! That's what actual breathing looks like! This IS yer rightful treasure, yer CLAIM. Get it back into your hands and you'll know this is a world you own!" Climatically blew through in his renegade passion. The very air he exhaled into these words weren't laced, they came from personal, raw emotion! Casting away not only to his own liberation but his former folks. "This is living's meaning!" Reaching down grabbing a bottle and smashing it against his arm into a tearing cut, bloodied arms formed outwardly, like wings he threw his arms. Drops of resolve and armed weapons fell in unity. 'The Captain ov' the Five Seas' approached them, and said, I am alive, but so are all those who died, they're in me! I haven't lost this War, It's only getting started. Waves, winds, change, so I've adapted. Here, I am.'

The lawless bellowed out an uproar outcry and jolly, shooting their guns into the ceilings. Smashing and slugging each other with haymakers, drinking and thrusting into debauchery, they were free, once again! Label's no more! Defined, never again! Each saw their passion, the moment was seen! What went obscured. Captain leapt into the brawl, of celebration, he was home, alive! The storms were still remaining but he found many places to call shelter when they came.

#Prompt - Preaching to the Choir #FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite #-Captain Kuro Solaire #The Unspoken #Rebel Speech #I'm Alive. #Gif #The Conqueror of Winged Freedom #Creative Writing #FFxiv #Tales of the Goldbrand #A cult of personality #Miqo'te #Seeker of the Sun

[s8ncake]

Originally I wasn’t planning on posting this here, but a friend of mine convinced me. You can also check it out on ao3!

🔞The following fic is nsfw. Minors dni.🔞

Sacrilege

Summary: Simeon has fallen, but he doesn’t view himself as such. No, given the feelings he has towards you, this could only be an ascension; one beyond anything he had in the Celestial Realm, and anything the Devildom could offer. Now he serves no one, only you. His one and only god.

word count: ~5700

⚠️c/w: gore and blood (but Simeon and the reader are fine), yandere!Simeon, sacrilegious themes, blasphemy

Additional note: the reader is gender neutral, and the reader’s genitalia isn’t specified

In ao3, I tagged this with Dead Dove: Do not eat. That still applies here. Make sure you’ve read over the content warnings before proceeding / interacting.

🔞And once again, minors dni.🔞

Falling’s a strange thing, a concept that Simeon never quite understood. It happened to angels who were wicked, those who sought to undo his father’s plan. So they were cut off. From the heavenly host. From their powers. Their wings turned black, and their light faded. Until the only thing left was a darkness, one that sought to consume everything that they once were. They either died or transformed, becoming monsters. Beasts. Demons.

Simeon is none of those things. He didn’t fall to oppose his father, nor did he seek to undo any sort of plan. He’s an author after all, and authors create.

And what could his muse be, other than you?

Your soul is brilliant, a beacon of light amongst everything else in this miserable realm. It took him far too long to see that. But thankfully, his eyes have been opened. And never again shall they shut. In the long span of his existence, he’s seen everything that the universe could offer. Stars. Galaxies. The rise and fall of human civilization itself. Existence itself is always in a state of flux, constantly shifting and warping as things are created and then destroyed.

But you… You exist beyond that.

Your soul never tarnishes, nor does it fade when things get rough. Instead, it fights. Nails. Fists. Some would say that it’s barbaric, but Simeon had always found it to be beautiful. It’s a philosophy that he’s tried to emulate. Words are meaningless, unless they are used to praise you. So now he resorts to action. And well, the saying is true. So perhaps it’s only natural that he uses it to replace his books, that the tales he creates are no longer works of fiction. No, fantasy has lost all meaning now.

There’s only you.

You have always inspired him. Even now, Simeon can’t help but write poetry about you as he moves. The world that he’s in is dark. Depressing. Very little of it is worthy of being compared to someone as brilliant as you. But that doesn’t prevent him from trying.

Today, he starts with a crumbling city. It’s silence echoes throughout the land, and you are the slight breeze that rushes past his ear. The moon, although unlike its cratered surface, you have no imperfections. No, the dips and grooves along your skin are beautiful. Like the glinting of a knife, the way the metal slices through the air. You have pierced his heart just as easily. But that’s okay, it’s yours after all.

It’s a shame that he can’t carve out his own and give it to you. That despite everything, he is still limited by this corporeal form. But if he were to be anything else, then you wouldn’t be able to look at him. And that would get in the way of his worship. A god must be able to view their subjects after all.

Besides, this new form is perfect for him. It’s yet another form of his art, a piece that was made specifically for you. His horns. His tail. His cock… He considered it all. Like a good follower should.

No one else would be able to do that. They are limited by their pathetic mortal frame. Rats. Parasites. They’re unfit to even look upon you. But with another flicker of his knife, they are handled. And he will morph them until something better. Something more suited for you.

The process of creation is a never ending one, especially given the thousands of pieces that he’s working on. Some of them are grand, and others are small. But all of them are for you. How else would he pay tribute?

There’s a gust of wind. Your arrival is soon. He can sense it. It comes with everything that is right. The sun peaking over the clouds. Starlight reflecting off of a lake. The rippling of water as it reveals the creatures that lurk within its depths. The sound of laughter, followed by the blessed silence that he’s come to adore. That is who you are. An omen of things to come. The others say you are bad, but Simeon knows better. It is impossible for you to be anything other than good.

For you are greater than the heavens, and the earth itself. His father was nothing, but you—

There’s a scream as Simeon feels blunt nails dig into his arm. It’s followed by a shove, and footsteps frantically scrambling away from him. ...How annoying.

His latest sacrifice had just ruined his internal monologue. And it was going to be such a good one too. What a shame. If only he had a pen and paper nearby…

They don’t travel far. There’s another sound, although this one is a plea. Simeon silences it with a crunch, and tsks when he looks at his hands. That was messier than he had intended, but it looks like no longer needs any ink. An amused chuckle falls from his lips. Would you like that? Poetry written in the blood of your enemies, the very nonbelievers who seek to destroy the world that the two of you are trying to create?

...Perhaps that’s something to try next time. Right now, he has something more important to focus on. He’s still in the process of creation after all, and he’s not finished decorating. Thankfully this… creature (it can’t be a human, for nothing could compare to you) should provide him with the rest of the materials that he needs. So Simeon gets to work.

This too is a form of art, and one he would never have considered before. But he has expanded beyond quills and parchment. Now he builds sculptures out of the very people who would defy you. Those who are unworthy of being graced with your presence. They are broken down, and fashioned into a suitable idol.

Another splash of crimson. The breaking of bones. Wire. Nails. And then it’s done. Your new altar is complete. Simeon takes a step back, appraises his work, and grins. It’s perfect.

Fresh blood drips off of it, reminding him of rain, the way it softly drizzles and brings life to those around it. This is a form of life as well, one that does nothing but speak of your greatness. The various limbs that have been tacked and strung above it make a rainbow, an icon of the color you have given this dull and drab world. Maybe one day you’ll be able to color it all. But the best part about it is when you stand away, when you view his masterpiece from a distance. It takes the shape of a heart, one that resembles his own. And it exists entirely for you.

The wind picks up, howling in his ears, and he knows that you are here. Once you enter the room, Simeon falls to his knees. He doesn’t have to stay there for long; it’s simply a gesture of formality, one that reminds you of how important you truly are.

“You may rise.”

He follows the command without hesitation. Your voice is a melody. A soothing tone that seeps into his bones and leaves him feeling lighter. It truly is an act of kindness that you’ve allowed him to stand as your equal, if only for a brief moment. But he will be on his knees again soon enough.

He can’t wait.

A sigh falls from your lips once you notice the various remains that litter the floor. “Those were supposed to be the new recruits. I guess none of them were willing?”

Simeon nods. “They were all unworthy of you.”

“A shame.” Your eyes then roam over his altar. He awaits your response with trepidation. ...Do you like it?

But as always, there’s no need for him to voice his question. Like the god you are, you already answer it with a grin. Your power, your majesty, truly knows no bounds. “You’ve found a better use for them though. I’m pleased.”

A shiver runs down Simeon’s spine. Your approval means everything. It is the air that fills up his lungs and allows him to breath. He feels incredibly lucky, to be blessed with such a thing.

It only inspires him to work even harder for what comes next. There is no church here, nor is there a temple. But those measly little things are unneeded. Your body outshines it all. And that is what he shall worship.

A strike of a bell, and then Simeon kneels before you once as you sit upon your handmade throne. It begins now. Sacrament. He licks his lips in anticipation.

You are an image, perched atop yet another one of his creations. Although this one is his favorite. There’s no flesh or bone, only gold. Treasure that he had stolen from the Celestial Realm and the Devildom alike. Melting it was difficult, but the result was definitely worth it. For now you have a throne, one that suits your majesty.

It makes him feel small, as it should. Your presence is grand, a shining iridescent star amongst the blank canvas that he’s created. And it’s reflected in his eyes once you beckon him forward.

He delicately peels each and every garment off of you, savoring the sight of your body as it’s slowly revealed to him. He’s seen it before, yet you never fail to take his breath away. Every hair, every scar, all of the dips and grooves that make up who you are; Simeon loves it all. How could he not?

Beauty takes the form of your legs, the way they spread open before him. Magnificent is the sight that greets him, your most intimate parts bare now before his gaze. Adoration is what he feels when you whisper his name and guide his head forward. And divinity, well... that is what you taste like.

He dives in with enthusiasm. You immediately grab onto his horns, and pull him in closer. Simeon groans. They’re handles after all, ones that he made specifically for you. To tug. To control. He is but a follower, and you are a god. One that will never fail to help him find the right path.

And everything about this, the taste of your essence on his tongue, is right.

Every noise that you make spurs him on. This is what you deserve. The pleasure that courses through your veins. The moans that fall from your lips. It’s a shame that he can’t give you more, not yet at least. One day the world will be yours, but until then… an orgasm will have to do.

You cum with a cry, one that could shake the very heavens itself. A part of him hopes that they've heard you, but the other knows that they are unworthy of such a thing. He laps up each and every drop. It would be a sin to allow any of it to spill. Nothing you create should ever go to waste. Especially when it’s this good.

Once your orgasm ends, he pulls away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. It’s a shame that he cannot taste you forever; that like all good things, it must come to an end. But his worship of you is far from over. No, the two of you have only just begun.

Your eyes meet, and Simeon’s tongue lolls out, wiping away the spare traces of your cum. A chuckle, then you gently pat his head. “Such a good boy Simeon. You’ve improved.”

Pleasure shoots down his spine the moment you praise him. This is what he’s after. This is the reason he exists. To serve you. To please you. Your fingers begin to run through his hair, and a moan falls from his lips as he leans into your touch.

“You remember what comes next, don’t you?”

Of course. His worship of you is a form of art, one that he has practiced over and over again. Simeon nods, and then finally removes the last of his clothing.

His cock springs free. It’s hard. Leaking. He wants you, as always. But how could he not? Your visage is the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen. Your voice rolls through his mind like honey. He loves you.

It’s normal of course, for a follower to love their god. Yet even the word itself feels unsatisfactory. One day he’ll have to create a new one. But until then, love will have to suffice. Besides, he has better ways to show his devotion. Actions speak louder than words after all. So despite the desire that courses through him, he doesn’t even make an attempt to touch himself. His own pleasure is unimportant. The only thing that matters is you.

So instead he stays on his knees. Where he belongs. He starts with your ankle, placing feather light kisses along each one as his mouth slowly works his way up to your calf. You gasp once he reaches your thighs, and then the next part of sacrament begins: creation.

In the past he created galaxies. Stars. Nebulas. Simeon had the luxury of forming several of them before that task was given to someone else. But thanks to you, he can perform it once more. Only this time the materials are different. Instead of creating constellations in the sky, he makes them on your body.

Today he starts with the Big Dipper. He lightly suckles on your thighs, mapping out each and every star, and once that constellation is done, he moves onto another. Caenis Major. Orion. Cygnus. Your body looks even more breathtaking like this, so he adds a few more. These ones are new, ones that he just made up. They have yet to have a name, but for now… Consecratio will have to do. Perhaps he’ll be able to come up with a more official title for them later.

Your name falls from his lips, along with a moan, and something inside of him slips. He falls even further into your depths. Beautiful. You’re so beautiful. His name never sounded so pretty; but everytime you say it, he can feel his cock begin to swell. He is the one you want. The only being that makes you feel like this, and the only one that ever will.

You are his god.

Blood rushes through him, staining his cheeks, hardening his cock even further. In the haze of his own mind, his mouth parts from your skin, and his fingers enter you instead.

You mewl at the intrusion. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. This step comes later on, yet Simeon can’t wait. He wants to see you cum once more. To hear your praise as he pleasures you beyond your own comprehension.

Perfect. Stunning. Simeon adds another finger, his gaze fixed on your expression and nothing else. Finding that spot within you is easy. He had memorized its location long ago as proof of his devotion. Each and every part of your body has been mapped out, a never ending piece of parchment that he keeps in his head. In truth, Simeon has never been much of a navigator. But your body is the only thing that he needs to know.

You moan once again. You’re close, Simeon can feel it. Although he’s neglected to take his own pleasure into account. He’s close as well.

Simeon hasn’t even laid a hand on himself, yet his own noises grow louder. Every gasp. Every groan. Knowing that he’s able to do this to you spurs him on, his cock aching from how much it desires you. Yet your image drowns all of that out.

His peak arrives, but he never gets to fully reach it. Instead, your hand clenches around the base of his cock, preventing him from cumming.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. Recite your scripture as punishment.”

His labored breathing echoes across the room, and Simeon’s eyes widen once he realizes his mistake. He was being selfish, allowing his own pleasure to get in the way of yours. Lust is a vise that he should have had better control of. He was a fool to let it get in the way of his love, so he accepts your punishment with grace.

Magic soon replaces your hand, creating a cockring that now leaves your fingers free to move up and down along his shaft. His breathing stutters, but he’s thankful for the intervention. More of your magic curls around his body, brushing up against his skin. It’s a sign of what’s to come, yet he shoves that excitement aside, or tries to at least.

Simeon frowns. The cockring was sorely needed. It makes sure that he doesn’t forget about what’s truly important. No matter what, he isn’t allowed to cum before you. The only sin that exists is putting his pleasure before your own.  Yes, he deserves to be punished for this. His devotion towards you never should have wavered.

So he opens his mouth, and speaks; his voice not faltering despite the way your hand moves across his shaft. “The steadfast love of you, my god, never ceases. Your mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning.”

You press one of your fingers against his slit, smearing some of his precum along the head of his cock. A shudder runs down Simeon’s spine. Your touch is a blessing, one that he can never get enough of. But he cannot focus on it. No. The pleasure is unimportant. You must be worshipped.

“There’s no greater love other than this: to lay down my life for you.”

He focuses on the words instead, and on everything that they entail. He would gladly die for you. In both this timeline, and any of the other ones that follow. The universe is full of constants: gravity, matter, humanity itself, and the devotion that he feels towards you. Those are all things that shall exist in every universe.

No matter what, Simeon loves you. And he will die and fall as many times as he needs in order to prove it. Although he’s never met any of his alternate selves, he already knows that it’s true. His love cannot be contained in any vessel. It flows throughout time and space, and every spec of it is dedicated towards you and you alone.

Your hand leaves his cock. Simeon feels it twitch under the absence of your touch. A part of him wants to whine, but he holds that in. He refuses to sin once more, to tarnish his reputation as your most devout follower. So he simply continues reciting the words that he’s come to know by heart.

Indeed, you’re no longer stroking him. But that’s only because your hands have wondered elsewhere. A finger traces the rim of his ass, and it doesn’t take Simeon long to put two and two together. Ah. He had never—

You enter him. Slowly but surely, although there’s no resistance. Another one quickly joins it. Your fingers are slick from his precum and some of your own spit, not to mention your magic… It widens him, making lube unnecessary. Not that he would ask for any. No, he’s being punished right now. This is simply another example of your benevolence.

The feeling is strange, but he continues. “I give thanks to you, for everything about you is good. Our love endures forever.”

Your fingers haven’t stopped moving. They’re searching around for something, although Simeon doesn’t know what you're looking for. There’s nothing left of him to find. You have seen it all.

“And I know that in all things, you do good for those who love you, who have been called according to your purpose.”

And then you brush up against a spot inside of him, one that has him seeing stars. He’s unable to stop the surprised “Oh!” that falls from his mouth, or the way he tries to fuck himself on your hand. Thankfully that was the last verse, so there’s no harm in letting another mewl spill from his throat.

You laugh. It’s a beautiful sound, one that Simeon is blessed to hear. “What a good little follower. If you beg for me, I’ll let you cum.”

He wants to. To immediately get on his knees and beg for you to fuck him, as you take away the last shred of innocence that he has. Ah, but take isn’t the right word. Give. He would give it all to you. That purity is nothing more than a cocoon, one he’s been working on shedding himself of. It only gets in the way of loving you. Besides, how could he perform his tasks if he was worried about heaven’s definition of sin? No, there’s too much work to be done. And what he’s doing is okay. You’ve told him so.

Submitting to the desire that's coursing through him would be easy, but this is a test. One that he refuses to fail. Worshiping you takes precedence. It always does. “No. I wish to pick up where we left off. My only desire is to pleasure you.”

You flash him a smile, one more brilliant than the sun. “Your devotion truly is admirable. We’ll begin our worship again shortly. But first, I’m going to fuck you like this, okay? Remember the feeling of my fingers Simeon. Because next time, you’re going to cum around them and nothing else. Do you understand?”

Next time. He’ll be ready then. And you will finally own all of him. He can’t wait. “Yes, my beloved. I’ll do as you ask.”

You hum in approval, and then your fingers start moving once more. Pleasure courses through him, and he bites his lip as he smothers his gasp. You are everything. This is everything.

“I don’t want you to hold back Simeon. Let me hear you.”

Of course. This is a form of devotion too. How could he have forgotten that? A high pitched moan immediately falls from his lips. Words are hard, but Simeon still manages to speak. You wanted to hear his voice after all.

“G—Good. So good.”

Another finger gets added. Somehow the pleasure increases. His cock aches. It’s hard and weeping, yet he doesn’t care. The pleasure that you have shown him outshines it all. And he never wants this moment to end.

His mind is slowly becoming blank, the fog of lust threatening to consume his every thought. But Simeon shoves it all aside. Vocal. He has to focus on being vocal.

You briefly pull out. A fourth finger teases at his entrance, and your voice coos into his ear, “Can you handle more?”

More. The possibility excites him. He had no idea that it was an option. But he will do it. Of course he will. As your follower, it’s his duty to handle every inch of you. That’s why he created this vessel in the first place. And Simeon leaps at each and every opportunity to put it to the test.

He has to think, to piece the fragile bits of his mind together in order to form a response. But as soon as he comes close to making one, the magical ring around his cock vibrates. It’s slow, a low thrum that’s incredibly unsatisfying, yet it leaves him shivering all the same.

It’s a warning. He still can’t cum after all, and unless he performs well… he may never be able to. A response. You need one now. “Fuck. Y-Yes I can handle more.”

And like the benevolent god you are, you give him exactly that. Yes, you’re so wide inside of him. He didn’t even know that it was possible to feel this full. That his body could accommodate this much. And the fact that one of your limbs is inside of him... Simeon keens.

Truly, he’s unworthy of such a thing. Your fingers, your hand, should be elsewhere. That you would even consider touching him there is already enough to make him cum. Thankfully the cockring is still in place, so the pleasure never has to end.

He focuses on the shape of your hand, the dip and groove of each finger; the way it scrapes against his walls as you slam into him. Your pace is rough. Brutal. Heavenly. His mind goes hazy underneath it all. No. He can’t let this consume him. This is only a preview of what’s to come, and you are gracious enough to give it to him.

It’s another test. But this one… Oh, this one is his favorite.

Another wave of pleasure. He’s a shivering mess, one that can do nothing more than scream for you. Time itself has no meaning. There’s only this; the fullness that you provide, and the love behind each and every gesture that you make. He mewls out your name once more, and then it’s over.

He’s repented for his mistakes.

Your fingers… no it was your fist, pulls out of him. Simeon briefly whines at the loss. He falls to the floor, and then you place that very same hand in front of his lips. He lavishes it with kisses, and groans. More. He needs more.

And he knows that there will be more to come. It’s all a part of his worship after all. The taste of your inevitable union will be even stronger, richer. This is but a treat, a kind dessert that you have gifted him. The real meal comes later on. But Simeon is willing to wait. Once he’s finished lapping at your hands, he moves to your altar and lays himself upon it.

This is his final offering. His body is yours to use as you see fit.

You get up. Although Simeon cannot see it, he hears your bare feet walking across the abandoned chapel’s floor. There is no choir, but the ex-angel wants to sing when you impale yourself upon him.

A purr leaves your throat. “You feel perfect.”

He’s glad. Like his horns, his cock is made for you. Every ridge, every bump, was created to maximize your pleasure. No toy will ever compare. Simeon made sure of that.

You begin to move. He allows you to set the pace as his nails dig into your thigh. Perfect. You fit perfectly around him. He feels an incredible amount of pride as you gasp and moan with the rise and fall of your hips. Out of all of the offerings that he’s made, his mortal form is definitely the best. The flush of your cheeks proves it.

The magic around his cock finally loosens, and you clench around him. Simeon’s climax quickly follows your own. The tangling of tongues. The squirting of cum. He finished inside of you, but you don’t remain on his softening cock for long. No, you pull yourself off of him, and Simeon watches as his cum flows out of you.

He licks his lips. This is it. The moment that he’s been waiting for. His favorite part of worship.

Your voice is a command, one that never fails to send a shiver down his spine. “Clean up.”

He immediately begins lapping at your dripping hole. The taste of your cum has melded into his own. Your union has created this, the most delicious thing that Simeon has ever consumed. The essence of a god flows into his mouth, along with the proof that he was the one who had pleasured you. And now it is inside of him. A bond that cannot be broken. He hungers for more.

Simeon lewdly moans as his tongue reaches deeper and deeper into you, searching for every bit of his cum that he can find. Noises fall from your mouth, but like always, he drowns them out with his own. This is a feast, one that the Celestial Realm could never recreate. Their food pales in comparison. Simeon doesn’t understand how he was able to stomach it before.

Another orgasm ripples through you, and he keens as he consumes each and every drop. Were he in a more poetic mood, he would compare it to ambrosia, but he can write verses about you another time. Instead, he focuses on completing this final act. It doesn’t take long. Once he’s thoroughly licked every trace of cum off your body, he pulls away with a grin. You pat his head, and Simeon hums as he leans into your touch.

“I love you.”

The words sound beautiful coming from your mouth. It’s something that you’ve said before. A sentence that led to this exact moment, and many others like it. Yet he’ll never tire of hearing it, of knowing that he has earned those very words time and time again.

“I love you as well. My god. My beloved. And one day, the world will love you too.”

The two of you embrace. And in your arms, Simeon comes up with ideas for his next altar. It’s sure to take everyone’s breath away. It’ll be bigger than the last one. More limbs. More blood. Wires. Nails— Ah, he’s already getting excited.

It’s amazing; how quickly you inspire him, and all it takes is a hug. You truly are an excellent muse, one that he hopes to be completely worthy of someday. But until then, he is simply an author. An artist. One that exists to worship you.

Eventually you take your leave. There’s work to be done after all, especially for a god such as yourself. And although Simeon longs for your embrace… that just makes it more precious when it actually occurs. Besides, he wants his creations to be a surprise, and it’s impossible for that to happen if you’re looking over his shoulder. So the two of you part. And like the quiet whisper of the wind, you’re gone.

The silence doesn’t last long. It’s interrupted by the ringing of his phone. A number shows up on his screen, one that he hadn’t seen in an incredibly long time. He had tried to block it ages ago, but eventually gave up. Technology still confuses him. ...Some things never quite change.

He accepts the call, and Lucifer’s voice greets him. “Simeon.”

He hadn’t heard it in awhile. The man’s tone sounds deeper than he remembered, and it’s entirely different from your own. The contrast throws him for a loop, if only briefly. Simeon clears his throat. For some reason he doesn’t hang up.

“Yes?”

“This has to stop. The two of you are upsetting the balance. If this continues, then Lord Diavolo will intervene.”

A threat. Of course that would be why he called. But Simeon doesn’t care. No one can stop either of you, including the most powerful demons in the Devildom. Your love transcends beyond that. ...It’s a shame that Lucifer still is unable to comprehend what the two of you are trying to achieve.

A part of Simeon can’t help but feel disappointed at the reminder. “Perhaps he’ll join us. You’re welcome to as well, of course.”

“No. What your doing is wrong. You know that, don’t you?”

“I’m simply serving my god.”

“They are just a human, Simeon. And can easily be replaced. There are billions—“

Anger rushes through him; the intensity of it causing him to crack his phone’s screen. His grip loosens, but the rage still festers within him. How dare he.

“Watch your tongue, lest I rip it out of you next time we meet.”

A pause. The silence seems awkward, sad almost. Lucifer eventually breaks it. “...I see I am too late. The others are right. You have fallen. And unlike me, you’ve had no family to help put you back together again.”

“I don’t need one. I have my god, and they have been by my side through thick and thin. What have you done for me, Lucifer?”

Silence. No other answer is needed.

After a minute or two Lucifer sighs. “I must report my failure to Lord Diavolo. You have exactly 48 hours before he arrives. Use them wisely.”

There’s a click, and then the number vanishes from his screen. Lucifer must have hung up. Yet his words echo around in Simeon’s head.

You have fallen. It makes him want to laugh. There is nothing wrong about this. The love that he feels towards you cannot be tainted, nor will it ever waver. For you have given him something that he’s never had before: Freedom. From the Celestial Realm, from his boring day to day life. Simeon had not truly lived until he abandoned it all in favor of following you. No, this was an ascension. One that everyone is too foolish to understand. And Diavolo seeks to destroy everything that you’ve built. But that’s okay, Simeon has a plan.

A few magic circles… some stolen holy relics… and even the future Demon King can be captured. So when he comes, Simeon will be ready, and the foolish prince will walk right into a trap.

A manic giggle bursts from his mouth. This is perfect.

Diavolo will be made to see, like so many others before him. It’s impossible not to after all, given how grand you are. Ah, but Simeon will deny him the privilege of serving you. No matter what, you will only ever have one follower. Diavolo can beg and plead as much as he likes, but he will never get to feel your touch. He hasn’t earned the right, and he never will. Once he has served his purpose, he will be disposed of, just like the rest.

Simeon grins. In truth, The world doesn’t even need to have people in it. A god does not require subjects in order to be considered such. So why bother expanding your little cult, when no one else will ever be able to serve you like him?

You are his. His human. His god. His everything. And no one is going to get in the way of that. This realm will be made into something that is worthy of you, even if he has empty it himself. But once every single creature is gone, and he is the only being left... Then the world truly will love you, won’t it?

#obey me #omnsfw #minors dni #obey me simeon #fallen!Simeon #simeon x mc #simeon x reader #the reader is gender neutral #my writing! #sacrilege

[symphonyofthewrite]

If These Walls Could Talk (Ch3) (with cover art!)

(AMAZING cover art by Junki Sakuraba on Instagram and Deviantart!!)

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Chapter Summary: “‘Alucard’, they called me. The opposite of you. Mother never liked that. Did you know that? She hated the idea that I might define myself by you. Even in opposition to you. She loved us both. Enough that she wanted us to be our own people. Living our own lives. Making our own choices."

Chapter 3: “Alucard”

The castle doesn’t like it when Adrian leaves.

Adrian is a child of both worlds, so he must walk in the day every once and a while. He cannot stay in the castle, in the night, forever; he must travel outside the room, feel the sunlight without the glass. He must understand his mother’s people; his human half. A glass half full is a glass half empty, and he understands his duty to fill in the blanks where humanity is supposed to be.

Castlevania is unsure. Afraid, perhaps. It does not know much of humanity…but it does know that their blood tastes sweet, their words sound sour, their hands feel bitter. It knows they are not likely to treat the son of the vampire king with kindness.

It knows of only one human whose touch and words are sweet without taste.

If his mother can be kind… is it possible other humans can be too? Or does being a mother simply necessitate kindness? Is it possible there is more to them than sour speech and the bitter fists? That they are more than just something to fill its master’s appetite and quiet his boredom?

Lisa tells them all so. She gathers her family in the room, and tells them stories of knights and heroes, witches and villains. Of good kings, and evil priests. Of good gods, and evil queens. Of demons and zombies and the heroes who rose up against them—(and maybe Adrian can be one of them, some day). Of people who have nothing but manage to change the world anyways. Of people who have everything but are empty all the same—(that one started to sound a little too familiar). And not all of the stories are read out of books. Some are real, were history. Some she’d even seen herself. Some were told to her. She said she heard some of the most wonderful ones from a Speaker once. She even made some up. Until Adrian himself formed stories when she wasn’t there to tell them.

Dracula looks out the window at the rain, chuckles to himself at the fact that too many of her stories end happily…but something deep inside his eyes is trying, trying to believe her. To believe there’s truth to these stories, even those she made up. To let the light in her eyes flow into his. He tries to make up his own stories too, sometimes. But the darkness in his presence does its best to swallow the light in her words.

Adrian snuggles up beside her and the gleam in her eyes reflects in his without a second’s resistance. Enough that after a childhood of listening to these stories, begging for his parents to take him outside, he can barely wait to experience it himself.

That’s not to say he never left. She took him out on little trips, letting him take bites of the world out there. Each time he came back with treasures—(well what he considered treasures)—in his hands, and a grin secured firmly to his face, and he’d ask with voice bright and fast as a hummingbird, where they’d go out next, and how long he’d have to wait. Even his father took him out to the enchanted forests and grottos of the world for lessons, but always made sure they were the deepest, most well-kept secrets of the world, where no human would find them.

Well, most of the time. There were times when he came back with tears in his eyes. He’d ask What’s a ‘monster’?, and his father would lean down, put his hand on his cheek, and say Definitely not you. Lisa would plead or argue with her husband, but when Dracula would leave, the moon would turn red, and he’d remember what blood tasted like.

But this is different. This isn’t some day trip to come back with trinkets, some night lesson to come back with knowledge. The time it’s stretched out, and stretching them thin.

When he leaves and doesn’t come back that night… that morning…the next…the room tries to speak but finds there’s no breath in it, like it got the wind knocked out of it.

This is a different emptiness from what Castlevania was before. It isn’t a principal, not simply a fact of life. It is an absence. An absence of something living. An absence of a fact of life. A true emptiness in that the room was once full.

It doesn’t take long for the room to know what I miss you means; that absence creates ripples of yearning in its wake. That emptiness aches to be filled. It misses the games he played in the sunlight, it misses the lullabies, the drawings, counting the stars and sitting by the fire, the moments when the family would tell stories to the walls they didn’t know were listening.

It even misses the crying.

The clock tower’s ticking eats away at them from the inside.

And within the ticking, the room, the castle, wonder what the humans will do to him out there.

Will he be a monster in their eyes? An enemy, a beast, an ugly thing? Will they not see the light in his nature, rather the dark that nurtured him?

Will he be a cacophony to their ears, the screeches and howls of undead things, instead of the symphony they know his voice to be?

Will his blood be that of demons and beasts to their noses, and will they cast him out for not being human enough?

Will he be a toy in their hands, just as he played humans-and-vampires, just as he pretended to fight monsters with wooden swords?

…But he is alive, and living things ought not be played with, for they cannot be imagined into something they’re not.

And if he is a toy to them…what will they make of him? Will they imagine him as a human like them? Or will they imagine him into a monster he is not? Will they realize he is neither? Will they think he needs the night when he is perfectly fine in the day? What stories will they tell of him?

Castlevania has not met many humans. But those it has were prone to make monsters out of decent men, and weapons out of instruments of peace.

Will the humans’ mouths be forked and deadly as ever? Will their hands be weak and empty as ever? Will they assess him as fuel for their ever-greedy fire? Will they take the life—they who have so much of it—take the single life they have here, the one that brought it to them all—and crush it out of him, figuratively or literally?

Will they bully him, and scorn him, and lie to him, and cheat him and hate him and…hurt him?

The room twists and spirals in its thoughts, as if going down a hill, and throbs at the last word.

Or… says the castle softly, Will they welcome him? Will they understand him? Will they see him as we have? As he truly is? Will his light withstand the darkness in them? Can he bring life to these bloodthirsty beasts?

When Adrian returns, what—or who—will he be?

The castle and the room wonder, and wait, and question, and long for him as they are left in the dark, holding their breath until breath itself is but a fleeting memory.

They couldn’t say how long it had been since he left, it could have been a lifetime. But one day, as black and white as the rest, the morning comes with spreading color, and breath tumbles into the deepest corners of the room again.

They are equal parts nervous and eager to hear the stories he has to tell; for these monsters and men are more than toys.

And he does have stories to tell.

Out there, adventure exists in more than just books. Out there he can learn without charts and lectures; he can learn by doing, by experiencing. He can put to use, and to the test, all the spells and techniques he practiced indoors. Out there the scenes that were pictures before are real, are alive—the rain licks and the snow bites, the grass whispers as the wind sings its haunting melody, and the rivers join in response. Out there he can smell the trees, and flowers, the campfires, listen to the howls and chirps of the animals, and feel the sun on his skin without the glass to separate them. Taste the world. And out there the heroes and villains are animate too—he can speak to them, and won’t have to dream up their responses. He can make friends and enemies out of words and actions instead of wood and clay. Out there the threats, the demons and monsters are real too, and he has to fight them with something sharp—be it his pen or his sword. Out there, imagination is a weapon against reality. Out there he doesn’t have to imagine his world to life because it already is. And he is alive in it…this is his life that he is finally living.

That is what a life is. The idea echoes in the room.

(If this is a life…are we alive? The room asks.

Alive isn’t the same as life. Castlevania mutters softly, and doesn’t explain.)

And, amongst all the adventures they learn that while he walked the world a spell, his mother’s people gave him a new name:

“Alucard.”

Alucard. The reverse of Dracula.

They looked at him, they listened to him, they spent time with him and they understood—(breathe again and be still, they understood)—they understood that he was not the dark and the cold and the death his father is. In fact, they thought that he was so different from his father that this reversal must be his name.

The room is proud of him, happy for him, relieved, for this was its purpose, its hope. Relieved to have him back—more full of life and light than ever.

Lisa, while always proud of him, doesn’t like the name. She named him after all, it makes sense that she wouldn’t appreciate a dismissal of the name she chose. But…there’s more to it than that. She doesn’t want him to be defined by his father. She doesn’t want him to be a difference, a reverse. She wants him to be himself. Him and his father to be different people. She wants them to be themselves; not dividends, fractured pieces of one another put back together in different orders.

(But aren’t we all fractured pieces of each other? Don’t we take fragments of each other to make up ourselves?)

This is a strange thought to Castlevania, for it has always been defined by Dracula, and never minded, but perhaps mirrors ought not mind their reflectors. Adrian is no mirror. Still, the castle has always compared the boy to his father. The room was always meant to be the opposite of the Dracula, of his castle. The boy’s very existence has always spelled the reverse of everything they knew. Its only fitting the boy would be a reversal of his father.

‘Adrian’ is a nice name…but ‘Alucard’ fits like a tailored suit.

Adrian likes the world. Makes sense, he likes the sun, the day, the mirrors, the books, the stories, the people.

But what doesn’t make as much sense, and what’s more important, is the world likes him. At first its strange, but as the castle thinks about it more it makes sense; they may have come with pitchforks before, because they didn’t like Dracula. …But Alucard is not Dracula.

The room breathes deep, more alive than ever. And, as its master returns, tells his story, the room learns too.

Castlevania may be able to move for its master, but the room is stuck in its place. It cannot see the rest of the world like the boy can. It understands now that Alucard being different from Dracula also means that he cannot stay inside like his father does. That though it hurts when he leaves, the room can never be everything he needs the way the castle can for Dracula. That he is made for something bigger than four walls…even if those four walls were part of what made him.

It understands that breath cannot be a constant for it. That its master will leave, and the room will be hollow and ache for certain periods of time. This is a fact of life. This is what living is.

But it also understands that he will always come back. This isn’t something it reasoned or multiplied out. This is just something it knows within the oldest parts of it; that they will never be apart forever.

Now that the room is alive within the castle it will always be its own existence. Even if it’s empty, even if it gets broken and battered, it will always be the universe they built for him, a universe can’t be destroyed by mortal hands. It can never be fully erased as long as Alucard lives.

(…And Castlevania understands that is dangerous.)

The room understands that though life was always a stagnant thing for the castle, it is more dynamic and elusive for it. It will go through periods where there is nothing in that room, and the emptiness will throb, but in the same way that Alucard has the kind of life Dracula could never have, the room will have the kind of life the castle could never have.

The room’s breath will ever be catching itself and falling, like a dance, as if always during the most exiting part of a story.

#alucard #castlevania #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania alucard #alucard castlevania #castlevania netflix #castlevania fandom #castlevania fic #castlevania fanfic #dracula #adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes #Vlad Dracula Tepes #vlad tepes #dracula castlevania #castlevania dracula #lisa tepes #lisa castlevania #castlevania lisa #tepes family #mine #antihero writings #netflix castlevania

[bansept]

Ichihime - Samurai AU

Couldn’t do a fanart so i write this instead haha. I like this AU a lot, hopefully you guys too!

A bit of a disclaimer : I have less than basic knowledge on how the Japanese society worked in the Edo period, so I might mess the titles, names, foods and cultures, and many other things. Please forgive me if I ever mistake anything, my only help is Google :’(

Gashadokuro (yokai) : from what I gathered, it is a gigantic skeleton that chases of the living and kills them in a rather horrible way.

Return

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

As long as he could remember, Ichigo had felt void in a tasteless and colorless world. Everything around him was empty of emotion, of warmth and of care. The only thing that was taught to him was the way with a sword, how to celebrate a victory with sake, or how to kill your body rather than your honor if a battle was lost.

The day he had worn his red and black armor on for the very first time, the Samurai Lord had finally felt emotions, fire burning his body, from his heart to his fingers. Hatred, disgust and madness grew on him like wildflowers on forgotten temples, but they were poisonous. No one could sprout them out, no one could soothe their bright crimson burn, and the young Lord was soon called The Human Gashadokuro, his fury unstoppable as he massacred any enemy forces by stepping on their bones and cutting off their heads.

Reminding himself those times was painful.

He knew the past couldn’t be changed, that all those deaths could never be reverted. When Ichigo wasn’t fighting, he would order all his people to remain away from him, to leave him alone… In peace. Even if peace was a pathetic term that hid his despair and pain.

Many years, from the age of 16 to the age of 23, he sat in his Samurai seat, thinking only of battle and how to atone his sins.

And, like an unexpected rainbow after a rainstorm, Lady Inoue was introduced to him.

Ichigo could not even pretend she was like the other noble ladies he had met and almost married off to. Inoue Orihime was beautiful, inside and out, warm and calm, her smile as incredible as her will to remain joyful. She was the only human being that made the mad feeling of hatred fade from his cloudy mind.

Of course they got along. Who would resist the charms of such a woman? Who could tell her “no” when she walked up to you with those clear and big grey eyes, imploring to learn how to cook from the servants, even if she was noble? Who could whisk their hand away when she took it and shyly leaned her face in the palm of it?

Not him. His only weakness was her, and all of the things coming from her.

.

.

.

The wars didn’t end. His armor was as if sewed on his back for a solid year, with no chance of returning home to his new wife anytime soon. The phantom of the blood thirsty Gashadokuro was hovering his brain, trying to take control several times. Make him forget the other feelings he had learnt with his Orihime. But it never succeeded, the monster pushed away as the horses galloped home.

He came back on a rainy day. The blooming flowers had retreated back inside their green shelters, the rain pouring hard on them without causing any damage, and the sky’s tears washed away the blood that had somehow remained on his armor. The horses were tired, and the men exhausted after running for so long.

Stepping foot on the muddy ground, Ichigo took off his helmet and gave it to the servant beside him, giving him a pat as he stared at the gates, the gardens, everywhere.

Before he could wonder where she would be, a female servant came to him, bowed profoundly and muttered the lady was asleep.

“Why would she be sleeping at such a time?” He wondered out loud, feeling his eyebrows return to their original form. “Is my wife unwell?”

“My lord, it seems she was having trouble eating and resting for the past few days. She has finally fallen asleep after waiting for your return day and night.”

Ichigo gave a sharp nod and a quick sigh, rushing as fast as his heavy armor could go inside, opening the wooden panels to reach his private quarters. Worry was evident on his face, and no one dared wishing him congratulations for his victories.

Seeing her laying on her own bedding, on her back and one hand extended to his own futon, Ichigo kneeled next to her sleeping form, silently taking off his armor piece by piece.

“You worried me, my love. I thought… That someone had attacked you. That you were sick. That you would be far away from me, even though our bodies are close… I am happy those were merely nightmares.”

He told her, tone calm and gentle, whispering to not wake her. It took a few more moments until he was in a human state again, bare as the day he was born, and sliding in his futon, gathering his wife close to his chest.

“You should have woke me up! Ah, I feel so bad for not welcoming you…”

“Don’t… I couldn’t dare wake up my tired wife… You looked as exhausted as my men. But not as muddy, which I’m grateful for.”

She gave him a pout, stopping her hand from hitting his tempting chest, turning around and huffing. Ichigo chuckled, sticking his front to her back and his hands imprisoning themselves around her waist.

“I missed you.”

Three simple words, not as powerful as the other ones he enjoyed proclaiming to her, and it was enough to calm his sweet lady, her head shifting to look at him.

Months. 10 months. That was how long they had been apart. For so many days and nights, forced to live in the dream of holding each other soon, of seeing their faces contort in happiness and mischief. Her big eyes were calling on him, begging him to forgive her, and he pulled her against his lips, easily forgiving her.

“Will… You go again?” She asked, hands toying with the sheets around them, a few hours later.

Her fear was evident, the anxious and atrocious feeling of yearning prepared to come back. But he smiled, soothing her by playing with her long hair.

“No. All the threats are gone now. No war should explode anytime soon. And if it did, I wouldn’t go for long.”

“That means… You’ll stay?”

.

.

.

He did stay. For days and days, until they turned into months and they forgot about a war. The demon was still in his mind, taking over his body to kill the ones responsible for her body ache, the poison useless against her. She had tamed the Human Gashadokuro, and in return, he protected her.

Ichigo Kurosaki didn’t know all the emotions. His life had been dull, then violently sharp, red and black the only things he could feel. But with one woman and her will to warm him, wait for him, and love him, he could finally feel human, by her side.

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

I love this AU because I can be gory and fluffy at the same time.

Here, it was merely just one idea, I’ll write more!

#ichihime #bleach #ichihime fanfiction #ichihime headcanon #ichihime writing #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #ichigo x orihime #ichihime samurai AU #fluff

[sleeplesscenarios]

Jealousy is a Bitch

Characters/pairings: FengQing (background HuaLian)

Genre: fluff and fun with a hint of jealousy

Word count: 3117

Summary: Mu Qing has a new friend. Feng Xin is suspicious. Xie Lian is giving out advices while sipping tea. Hua Cheng is annoyed. Feng Xin and Mu Qing realize that no matter what, the both of them are just big idiots whose love language is fighting.

“And then do you know what they fucking said?” Feng Xin’s aggravated tone echoed all around the room of the freshly renovated Puqi shrine.

Xie Lian, put his teacup down and patiently asked, “What did they say?”

“Those assholes had the nerve to say that I’m overreacting and there’s nothing wrong with General Xuan Zhen having a new friend. I swear I’m not going to help them the next time a ghost tries to eat them.”

“You’re kind of overreacting, though,” Hua Cheng commented, sounding extremely bored and mild annoyed after having to listen to Feng Xin’s problems for so long.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m talking to His Highness, not you!”

Xie Lian cut in before those two could have continued arguing.  

“Feng Xin, what exactly is bothering you about this new friend of Mu Qing?”

“Can’t you see it, Your Highness? We’re talking about that Mu Qing! He’s the opposite of friendly, how could he suddenly get so close with that guy? Something isn’t right about this!”

“I mean... I agree that it’s unusual but even he could have a friend or two.”

“He already-” Feng Xin stopped himself, sighing and demolishing the ridiculous he already has me, he doesn’t need anyone else thought that was threatening to slip out of his lips. “Anyways, I’m telling you that something is fishy about that guy.”

Hua Cheng spoke up again, “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You came here to bother us because you’re worried about your crush leaving you for someone better, didn’t you? So I’m asking what you’re planning to do. Don’t tell me that you’re just going to whine to His Highness and then sulk in a corner.”

The eyes of Feng Xin twitched, “Your Highness, can I punch him just once?”

“I’m afraid that if I let you punch him; I would have to let him fight back too. And if San Lang beats you up, who would make sure Mu Qing’s new friend is harmless?”

“I hate the both of you.”

With that, Feng Xin burst out of the door, slamming it behind his back.

“Tch, gege is kindly giving him advice and he’s not even thankful...”

Xie Lian poured fresh tea for both Hua Cheng and himself. “Well, I’m sure he took the advice to his heart.”

Hua Cheng raised his brow. “Do you really think so?”  

“He didn’t deny that he has a crush on Mu Qing, did he?” Xie Lian smiled and took a sip of his tea.

*****

Feng Xin was so angry that the passing heavenly officials swore they could see steam coming out of his ears. That damned Crimson Rain Sought Flower! How dare he?! Assuming ridiculous things! He does not have a crush on Mu Qing!

Who would even have a crush on someone as boring, apathetic and hostile?!

Not Feng Xin.

Definitely not Feng Xin.

He merely visited out of worry and suspicion. But if nobody was willing to listen to him then so be it!  

“Don’t come begging to me for help when things go wrong!” Feng Xin yelled at nothing in particular and stormed into his golden palace. He passed several alerted subordinates before arriving to his bedroom where he slammed the door shut and punched the wall for good measure.

This was ridiculous.

Everything started a few months ago when the Heavens shook signaling that somebody ascended. The brand-new heavenly official was called Mo Huan and he was a martial god. Apparently, he came from the southern territories and after defeating fearful demons and selflessly protecting the mountain village where he lived, he passed a heavenly calamity and ascended. He seemed like a common little martial god, nothing too special.

Feng Xin would have never bothered to spare more than a glance to newcomers of his kind and so did Mu Qing however, this particular newcomer obviously had other plans. From the first day, he expressed great interest in General Xuan Zhen in particular. He kept babbling on and on about how he’d always visited his temples in the mortal world and that if he ever ascended, he wanted to meet him first. As expected, Mu Qing listened to him indifferently then walked off. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary was that from this day onward, Mo Huan kept following Mu Qing around like an enthusiastic puppy, claiming that he wanted to learn from him. Feng Xin expected for Mu Qing to roll his eyes and tell him off but instead what he said was, “Do as you wish.”

And thus, the suspicious friendship between the newly ascended little marital god, Mo Huan and the god of southwest, General Xuan Zhen began. At the same time, the god of the southeast, General Nan Feng’s misery of watching while seething in jealousy also began.

After the battle with the ex-Heavenly Emperor, the relationship between Feng Xin, Mu Qing and Xie Lian gradually started improving. Even without the supervision of Xie Lian, Feng Xin and Mu Qing were not always at each other’s throat. Of course, saying that they argued less would be a stretch, but instead of threatening to kill each other every time they got into an argument changed into merely fighting with words. After a year or two, the missions they took together had also increased and they found that their teamwork was actually very good so they didn’t oppose too much when they had to share the merits. They’d slowly come to realize that going together just meant that they would be able to finish earlier.  

Soon, the public relationship between the two generals wasn’t that of two generals fighting for dominance over the southern region but that of two generals guarding the southern region together.

They were almost something like partners.

And maybe, just maybe Feng Xin started to quite enjoy the company of his partner.

And now it was getting stolen away.

By that suspicious, shady asshole.

Whatever!

If Mu Qing would rather hang around that newbie, Feng Xin wouldn’t stop him. If Mu Qing was too stupid to realize that there’s something wrong with that guy, Feng Xin wouldn’t care.

*****

“I definitely do not care, I’m just giving a last warning,” Feng Xin muttered to himself while pacing in front of Mu Qing’s golden palace. “If he still won’t listen, he can die for all I care.”

Steeling his resolve and organizing his thoughts, he turned to the door, raised his hand and-

The door opened before him as Mu Qing stepped out. Their gazes met for a moment, and both of their eyes widened in surprise.

Mu Qing collected himself first, asking as he closed the door behind him, “What do you want?”

“Be careful with that new guy. He’s definitely scheming something,” Feng Xin stated. Mu Qing rolled his eyes and Feng Xin could feel the irritation growing in himself again. “I’m warning you for your sake!”

“Don’t you think that I would notice if he was ‘scheming’ something?”

“W-well... maybe you’re being a dumbass and he deceived you!”

Mu Qing’s brows twitched. “Yeah? If you’re done with calling me a dumbass then I’m going. I have a mission with him.”

Feng Xin’s entire face turned red from anger, frustration and a sense of betrayal. It was a well-known fact in the Heavenly Capital that General Xuan Zhen never ever goes on missions together with someone. He’d always been working alone. He’d only ever joined hands with Feng Xin, claiming that it’s only because their territories are very close and it’s unavoidable. Now he was saying that he was about to go on a joint mission together with that shady newbie who kept sucking up to him?  

“What’s so good about him anyways...” Feng Xin muttered through gritted teeth, a second away from exploding.

“Well for starters, he’s a lot less annoying than you.” Mu Qing turned his head to flash him a taunting smirk before leaving, his grin widening as he heard the string of curses flying from Feng Xin’s mouth.

*****

Of course, Mu Qing knew that Mo Huan wasn’t hanging around him out of the pure goodness of his heart. He had been a god for more than 800 years now. He wasn’t that easy to fool. Some might call him the most unapproachable man, why would he blindly trust someone after a bit of flattery?  

Feng Xin was truly the most annoying out of all. Mu Qing didn’t trust him for a whole 800 years, why would he ever begin to think that he’d lost all sense of reason for this new guy? Was he out of his mind?  

In any case, as the saying goes: keep your friends close and keep your enemies even closer. He would find out what Mo Huan wanted from him and deal with it himself. In the meantime, he might as well entertain himself with watching Feng Xin lose his mind over it.  

However, what Mu Qing didn’t expect was that after that warning last time, he wouldn’t be able to see Feng Xin lose his mind and flap around in frustration anymore.

*****

“And then do you know what he fucking did?”

Xie Lian took a sip of his tea as he listened to Mu Qing, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu wash over him. “What did he do?”

“He slammed the door against my face! What the fuck?” Mu Qing slammed his own teacup harshly down on the table, spilling its contents.

Hua Cheng shot him a glare, daring him to waste even a drop of the tea His Highness generously gave him. Xie Lian quickly interjected to dissolve the tense atmosphere.

“And what happened to this new martial god?”

“What do you think happened? I knocked him out. Fucking bastard, trying to steal my merits.”

“If I recall, something similar happened before, didn’t it?”

Mu Qing snorted, “It’s the third time this century. These newly ascended brats have no shame, I swear. That’s not the point. The point is that dumbass Feng Xin is throwing a temper tantrum again and if he keeps at it, I’m gonna smash down his golden palace. What the fuck is even wrong with him?”

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng shared a look.

Xie Lian nodded.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Hua Cheng asked.

“What does it have to do with you?” Mu Qing glared.

“Gege, can I punch him just once?”

“Come at me, you bastard!”

“No fighting in my shrine.”

The two of them kept glaring daggers at each other but otherwise didn’t do anything. Finally, Hua Cheng sighed, “You came here to bother us because you’re worried about your crush refusing to talk to you, didn’t you? So I’m asking what you’re planning to do. Don’t tell me that you’re just going to whine to His Highness and then sulk in a corner.”

“None of your business, I’m leaving,” Mu Qing downed the remaining of his tea in one gulp, angrily slammed down the cup again and stormed out of Puqi Shrine.

Hua Cheng grinned. “I can’t believe this actually worked.”

“He didn’t deny that he has a crush on Feng Xin, either,” Xie Lian chuckled then poured another cup of tea for himself and Hua Cheng.

*****

Mu Qing rammed his fist on the door of Feng Xin’s golden palace, yelling, “Open up, you bastard!”

Crushing the whole thing down was a last resort but if anyone doubted that he would dare to do it, they were horribly wrong. Feng Xin had three more minutes left before his beautiful palace became one with the ground.

Who did he think he was? Giving unneeded advice, taking Mu Qing for a naïve fool then refusing to see him and sulking. It was way too unreasonable even for someone as stupid as Feng Xin. Just what the hell was wrong with him? Fucking dumbass making him think about him and worry. He totally deserved having his door bust down.  

“What are you doing here?” Feng Xin’s voice came from behind and Mu Qing turned around as fast as a strike of lightning.  

Turns out Feng Xin wasn’t home…  

In any case, Mu Qing stomped his way over and unceremoniously punched him in the face.  

Feng Xin flew a few meters back but it only took him a second to jump up to his feet and yell, “What the fuck was that you bastard?! Did you finally go insane?!”

Mu Qing caught up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his robe with two hands. “It’s the least you deserved, you shithead! Try avoiding me again and I’ll beat up your sorry ass!”

Feng Xin looked away and spat through gritted teeth, “You didn’t seem like you need my company…”

“What?” The rusty clogs in Mu Qing’s brain turned around and around before a light bulb suddenly lit up. The fists around Feng Xin’s robe loosened and his eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous…”

Feng Xin’s cheeks reddened and his voice faltered for a second. It was only a minuscule gesture but it was more than enough for Mu Qing. “W-why would I be jealous?!”

“Are you scared of me replacing you with the newbie?” he taunted.  

“Fuck you, I don’t care who you’re hanging out with.”

“If you don’t care then why are you avoiding me?”

“Because I don’t want to see your stupid face!”

“What if I want to see your stupid face?”  

“What?”

Feng Xin saw a flicker of light passing through Mu Qing’s dark eyes and in the next moment, he felt a pair of lips press firmly against his own. His mind was wiped clear in that second and he only regained his senses when the absence of the warm lips left him with a sense of need.  

“W-w-w-what the fuck was this??”  

“A kiss, idiot,” Mu Qing rolled his eyes.  

“I’m asking why you k-k-kissed me?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Fuck, Mu Qing would it kill you if you used your words for once?”

“Would it kill you if you used your brain for once?”

“…”

Mu Qing sighed, “Anyways, you don’t have to worry about Mo Huan anymore so stop avoiding me.”

“What happened?” Feng Xin got successfully side tracked. His brain was really too simple.

“Left him in a forest in the mortal world after beating him up,” Mu Qing shrugged, his grin reappearing by the sight of Feng Xin’s gaping. “What, I told you I can deal with him myself.”

“But weren’t you guys getting along? You said he’s less annoying than me?”

“Feng Xin, literally everyone is less annoying than you.”  

“F-“  

“But at least you’re not insufferable…” This time, it was Mu Qing’s turn to look away as a blush crept up on his face.

Feng Xin stared at him, completely dumbfounded before his cheeks also took on a pink hue as he slowly realized that this, in fact, was the nicest thing Mu Qing had ever said to him. He couldn’t stop his heart from fluttering.

“What’s the stupid grin for?”  

Feng Xin quickly cleared his throat and muttered a “nothing” but for some reason, he couldn’t quite wipe the smile spreading on his face even wider. In the end, Mu Qing’s embarrassment got the better of him and he promptly decided to leave.

Seeing his retreating back, Feng Xin collected himself and jogged up to him, saying, “No need to be embarrassed, I like you too.”

“Shut up.”

Feng Xin followed Mu Qing back to his golden palace.  

“Do you really like me, though? I mean... you don’t really... like people...” Feng Xin said, closing the door behind himself and meeting Mu Qing’s glare head on.

“You know what, I don’t really mind if you ignore me. Get out of my palace.”

“No way, you already kissed me.”

“So what?”

“So there’s no turning back. Finish what you stared.”

“It was you who started by being stupid and jealous.”

“That’s not the point.”

Mu Qing felt a headache coming up. “That’s exactly the point. You were a jealous sulking little bitch instead of using your nonexistent brain to figure out that I’m not a dumb 10 years old who’s so easy to fool.”

“Who are you calling a sulking little bitch?” Feng Xin’s short fuse was once again ignited.  

“Do you see anyone else here? Are you not only brainless but also blind?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

A glint flashed in Mu Qing’s eyes. Arguing with this man was really the best thing in his life. It was fun, it was interesting to examine his reactions and the way his expression changed, it kept him on his toes, it made him feel excitement instead of apathy and disgust. Above everything, it was comfortable. The two of them had been at it for more than 800 years without a break, they knew every single one of the other’s buttons to push. They were on the same level so neither of them got hurt and even if it escalated to a fight, they could just fight it out and release stress without having to worry about gravely injuring their opponent. For Mu Qing, Feng Xin was just the perfect partner.  

So when Feng Xin told him to shut the fuck up, he only smirked and said two words, “Make me.”

And as if it was all according to a script, Feng Xin grabbed him by the collar and smashed their lips together. The kiss was messy, their teeth were clashing but it was filled with unsaid passion and a weird sense of comfort.

It was only then that they could confirm what they had begun to feel already.

They’re feeling the same for each other.

They’re dealing with those feelings in a similar way.

They finally understand each other without words, and they could understand the hidden meaning behind each word.

That whatever they had to give, the other would accept it readily.

That they were equals.

*****

“Gege, they started making out,” Hua Cheng reached out a hand to show Xie Lian the image the wraith butterfly displayed. Xie Lian stared at it for second before smiling.

“It was time.”

Hua Cheng quickly dismissed the butterfly and pulled Xie Lian into his arms. “Gege’s so kind and patient for helping those two fools, they don’t deserve you.”

“I didn’t do anything. If anything, it was you who gave them a little push.” Xie Lian’s eyes sparkled with fondness. “So, that means you’re kinder and more patient than me.”

“...” Left speechless and embarrassed, Hua Cheng opted for capturing Xie Lian’s lips, feeling quite content with how everything turned out.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #fengqing #hualian #feng xin #mu qing #xie lian #hua cheng #tgcf fanfiction #heaven official's blessing fanfiction

[mikazukinika]

Let the Wind Tell You [ENG Lyrics][Fan Translation]

Photo via @kurattes on twitter!

[First chorus]

Klee: When your blue skies suddenly change / into pouring rain / know that's me blowing up those clouds above

Venti: When gentle winds flow through your hair / my feelings are there / Even far away you're who I think of

[Spoken, Klee]

Are you busy? Is your work finished? Let me see~ Wow! That's a big fish! Um... I want to blow it up, so could you give it to me? hehe~

[Verse, Klee]

You look like you've been crying / I'm not sure what just happened but / Let's start by eating something!

Spoken, Xiao: Is this even edible...

[All]

Worries go away! x2 / Overtime's cray! x2 / bad luck today... x2

Enemies to slay x2 / Dunno what to say x2 / Slimes in the way! x2

[Repeat Klee and Venti chorus]

[Spoken, Qiqi]

Oh... It's my turn now... Are you busy? Is your work finished? Let me see... Wow! That's a huge fish! Could you... let her [Klee] blow it up if you're done? ......Ah, I can't finish my part...

[Verse, Xiao]

Away from the shining lights / there are demons I need to fight / this is for their sake so please don't pay it any mind

In hardship life is tinged / Karma's cycle still spins / Throw those worries to the wind!

[Second chorus]

Klee: If you can't take another step, just / keep this a secret / I'll blow your every hurdle to the sky

Qiqi: Although I don't like warm things / these are my feelings / I still want to hug you so... can I?

[Third chorus]

Xiao: If you're reminiscing the past, can't / seem to make it last / I will write poems of all you've been through

Venti: If gravity causes endless sighs / and you want to fly / I'll make sure... every wind in the world reaches you

[Repeat Klee and Venti chorus]

That's it! I worked on these lyrics for anyone who wants to sing this song in English for fun or wants to make a cover (you can see what the creators have said about making covers in the pinned comment on the yt video). I tried to stay as faithful as possible to the original lyrics, but there may still be some things lost in translation...

Please support the original content on YouTube and bilibili, and look forward to the song's release on Apple Music and Spotify! I posted these lyrics in the comments of Kurattes' video, so maybe you can try them out without switching between apps (if you manage to find them 💀).

Enjoy!

#genshin impact #let the wind tell you #fansong #nika translates #genshin venti #genshin xiao #qiqigenshinimpact #gi klee

[newnitz]

Howl's Moving Castle & the Power Narrative Holds Over Reality

Like most 90s borns, my first anime was Pokémon. I watched the first three seasons diligently, and my tooth fairy gifts were always VHSs of memorable episodes. But like most Millennials and even Gen-X before us, my first real entryway to Japanese culture was Hayao Miyazaki. On the tiny TV screen, behind even for 2002, where my mother would watch her TV shows as she worked out, I watched Spirited Away. Chihiro/Sen's coming-of-age story and the movie's numerous themes deserves their own essay, and one I think better bloggers, vloggers and ordinary people have written before me. But after such a masterpiece, I jumped at the chance to see the next Studio Ghibli movie, Howl's Moving Castle. I rushed to the local library to read the book before it aired in the nearby city's bus station mall's small cinema. 18 years later, too nauseous for schoolwork and mooching off of my dad's Netflix account, I decided to rewatch this film. ***Spoiler alert for both book AND film*** The film itself is a staunch anti-war message, released around the same time as the invasion of Iraq, informed by Miyazaki's own childhood in the final years of Imperial Japan and the horrors inflicted on his home country to set the stage of the Cold War. The exposition includes a bombing of Sophie's hometown with...banners. The citizens of Ingary are terrified of the flying machines descending upon their skies, they expect bombs and destruction and untold death and unspeakable horrors. So when they instead get rained down paper pieces with pictures and words we are never privy to, they treat it with suspicion. They refuse to so much as touch them, since it's of the enemy. And the day after, when Ingary soldiers distribute their own country's propaganda banners, they drink it down without a second thought. Again, we are never privy to what they say. Perhaps it was meaningless. Perhaps, to the common contemporary viewer, the content would be incomprehensible. But for me, it got me thinking: What if this was the "enemy" spreading missing posters of their prince? What if this was a warning for the townspeople to evacuate, as they expect to take point there? And if it was, what the hell did it accomplish, outside of everything BUT what it tried to? The people are too scared. They see it as psychological warfare, whether intentional or not, and therefore the papers become a terrorizing presence, whether they were filled with graphic threats or pleas for cooperation, all it ended up doing is scaring the population into a deeper layer of hatred. I personally disagree with the film's apparent message, but I agree with how much of war is the matter of spinning the truth. No character represents a better allegory for spinning the truth than Sophie Hatter, the main character of the movie. The first thing we notice about her is how intricate and colorful all her creations are, while she sticks to a plain hat with minimal detail. We see her displeasure with her own appearance even when trying it on in front of the mirror. She dresses plainly for she thinks herself plain - wearing a mousy dress in both the source book and the film adaption. The book elaborates on this narrative and its subversion: In Ingary, fairytale tropes are accepted as divine truths. Sophie and her sister Lettie have had their mother die as toddlers, so when their father remarried and produced a third sister(briefly referenced in the film), Martha, Sophie and Lettie were doomed to be wicked, hideous stepsisters. But not only did their stepmother raised them as her own, but both all the Hatters were stated to be beautiful, with Lettie in particular having the entire town's male population vying for her affection in both book and film. In fact, the cunning one is the designated "Cinderella", Martha, who uses her guile to warn her half-sisters. See, another trope specific to Ingary was that the firstborn of three siblings will never find their luck - if they ever dare try, they will encounter disaster after misfortune and end up poor and miserable. According to Martha, her mother wanted to enjoy a life of luxury, so she sent Lettie to work in a bakery where she will surely find a man of her liking to start a life with, and shipped her own daughter off to be a magic apprentice far far away from her. Sophie is the only one she kept close, because she knew she buys into the tropes and will make her fortune for her, preferring the safety of her late father's shop to the dangers of the unlucky life of a firstborn. But in both film and book, this blissful avoidance of any exploration is torn away in a chance encounter Sophie has with the notorious wizard Howl. While her sister(s) are terrified for her safety, Sophie has no fear of the 'heart-eating monster' as "he only eats the hearts of beautiful girls", believing her plainness protected her. But oh, how she was wrong. Or was she? In both book and film, the Witch of the Wastes barges into the hat shop. In the book, she seeks Lettie whom Howl is taken with(like literally every man in town) and enters the shop where an overworked Sophie loses her temper at her, and mistaking the hatter for her sister, she curses the girl to become old. In the film, she's explicitly exacting revenge on Sophie, whom Howl is interested in, and follows her and invades her shop after closing time, cursing her to be ninety years old. This is supposed to devastate Sophie - rob her of her youth, beauty and health, ending her life before she started them. But in both versions, Sophie acclimates to the change rather well, constantly noticing the perks of living as an old lady - she can mumble to herself and be seen as normal, she can be assertive and commanding without being inappropriate and/or bossy, and since she has nothing to lose, she might as well go exploring the world, if only to lift the curse. To revisit this as someone who didn’t expect to have the option of growing old, this is an empowering message on its own - growing old is what you make of it. But despite subverting the Witch's narrative, Sophie remains a helpless victim of her own narrative. Book Sophie is explicitly said to be a powerful sorceress unaware of her own powers, even enchanting her hats into the client's shape with her words alone, while in the film it's only implied. But in both versions she Unconsciously Maintains Her Own Curse: She reverts to the eighteen year old in her sleep, or when something silences her insecurities enough. In the film, she's explicitly shown to de-age as she gains confidence in herself under the role of the household maid, going from the frail ninety-year-old into someone who looks and acts as a woman just past middle age - I don't think this is incidental, as many women are at their most confident at that age, when they no longer feel pressured to worry about trivial matters such as beauty and childrearing, and retreat back into the original cursed form when Howl calls her beautiful - a compliment she can never accept. In the book, Howl eventually comes to the conclusion that she likes being old and gives up trying to guide her out of it. The book takes narrative subversion even further. Remember cunning Martha? Turns out, the Hatters didn't conform to their mother's narrative either - Martha was bored by wizardry while Lettie craved it. The two concocted a plan to glamour as one another, which of course the mentor witch saw right though, and preferred Lettie's genuine interest to Martha ghosting the craft. This stings extra once Fanny is shown to be a caring mother who attacks who he thought cursed her stepdaughter - perhaps she fell for the same sort of thinking Sophie did, and wanted her stepdaughter to have the best life possible for someone doomed to fail, thought extroverted Lettie enjoyed the attention and choice of men and wanted Martha to be a powerful, self-sufficient young woman who led a life more glamorous than she did, as someone who lacked magic? That Fanny was a real parent - a well-intentioned woman who completely misjudged her children and their future? Is it possible Martha’s own narrative has poisoned her relationship with her mother, perhaps beyond repair? As for Sophie, in the book she breaks her own curse by breaking the contract between Calcifer and Howl. But the film gives it more nuance - Calcifer and Howl are clearly in a codependent relationship: In both versions Howl gave Calcifer his heart in exchange for magical powers (as well as saving the fallen star's life, depending on your interpretation of the character), but by the time Sophie employs herself at the Castle, Calcifer feels more like a slave than a powerful demon. Howl himself has his own internal struggles, and many online have made convincing cases for BPD being among them. Calcifer is an essential part of his support system. Each one of them believes that if Calcifer isn't fed properly, or gets dunked with water, they'll both die. And once Sophie does so to stop the wizened, depowered Witch of the Wastes from literally being consumed by her obsessive desire for Howl, she too believes to have killed them both with her rash actions. But they live, because Sophie's part in a time loop led her to think otherwise and refuse to give up on them. Within the film’s universe, this ties into Sophie’s innate magical powers talking reality into her perception. But I know real-life, ordinary people who’s own narratives have changed grim fates.  Now, I don’t live in Ingary. I don’t believe the world around me has literal, reality-warping magic. I’m not a spiritual person. But this is precisely why Howl’s Moving Castle appealed to me - because the characters’ thoughts don’t perfectly dictate reality, but the way they act on their perceptions does. I know a man who is alive because his (now ex-)wife changed the narrative of his deathbed to one of optimism and efficacy. When I stopped trying to have my self-image reflected in the eyes of others, I transformed into a more confident, capable person practically overnight. I’m not delusional - I’m well aware of the Dunning-Krueger effect, of how reality exists whether you live in it or not. I’d like to think I live strictly within the boundaries of what is proven beyond reasonable doubt to be real. 

But your spin on reality dictates your life. It can dictate parts of the lives of your close ones. But the message isn’t one of just changing your own view of a situation around you to become happy, oh no. Lettie and Martha didn’t just choose to be happy in apprenticeships they had no passion for. Sophie didn’t just relocate to some quaint cottage to live the few years that weren’t stolen from her as an old hermit. They acted to transform the existent reality within their means, but they could only do so because they felt empowered enough to question their life’s narratives. 

#howl's moving castle #movie essay

[cosmopoliturtle]

The Forest Mother

A series I did inspired by “Elden Ring”, Fromsoft’s enigmatic next title, believed to carry on the Soulsborne legacy. The entire family tree from Demon’s Soul to Sekiro are easily among my favourite titles in the entire medium, and have inspired my own work intensely. 

The bear and the woman are part of a 2-phase boss concept I submitted to VaatiVidya’s art contest to design a fake boss for Elden Ring. The first piece is the enemies I imagined would reside in the area the boss inhabits, but are not part of entry itself. 

I was inspired by bear worship throughout European culture, descending back to Palaeolithic times. The crux of my design is focused primarily on the pagan worship of bears in ancient Finland. 

The Journey:

You, a lone rider, braves the haunting wastes of a world left broken after a great war. Your only source of companionship is a horse you’ve ridden with for what feels like an eternity, though despite countless hardships, has remained a stalwart friend. The land you roam together has been claimed by beasts who hunt upon old battlegrounds, and husks of lost souls left to sleep in beds of soot and ash in forgotten ruins. Howling, frigid winds echo between creaking trees, and combined with the beat of hooves, provides a dull but eerie rhythm to the empty roads you travel. What almost looks like a dream phasing into reality is a far-off forest bathed in rays from the Sun, where the clouds allow for dappled light instead of an intense shroud above. As you approach, the trees slowly become more vibrant and lush, the flora sparkling with an emerald sheen as dew drops and a constant, light rain provide them with an ethereal lustre.

The deeper you venture, you begin to find surprising signs of life. Tents of animal hide, wooden totems, and clean cut stone altars create a makeshift village within the dells of the forest. Aside from the occasional fresh deer kill laying upon tables and animal skulls hanging from trees, there are few signs of anything insidious happening. The people who live here sing, pray, and dance together, or hold processions led by a wise-woman, who guides them around the forest. They are all dressed from head to toe in simple, white garments with a few accents of bright colour. They look nothing like the depraved wild men or the harrowed warriors you have battled with before, and they are somewhat ghostly and meek in appearance, most of them stopping what they are doing to shrink away or cower at the sight of you. Some lunge out unceremoniously with knives or spears, trying to get you to turn back, but they are easily felled, their cloth garments not meant for battle. The greatest threats here are the crowds led by the wise-women, who are emboldened by her presence and arcane words. Among the feeble worshippers are occasionally hulking guards, covered in bandages and adorned with animal hides, who wield tools like cleavers, saws, and hammers as weapons. The further you travel, the more resistant the forest folk become to your presence, and despite death after death at the hands of the frenzied mob, you persist forward, as you have before.

Finally, at the heart of the forest, there is a wide glade which has been blessed by a gentle breeze. Compared to the tight alleyways made by the forest folk’s tents and the natural overgrowth, this woodland prairie feels like a welcome place for your horse to stretch their legs and enjoy the soft wind, but it is also feels like a vulnerable place, where one may be caught in the open. As the centre of this field is reached, the ground quakes and the trees rattle as a gigantic, haggard bear emerges from the darkness of the deep woods. The ridge along her back still gleams in the sunlight, but her mane gives way to spots of mange and old scars, transitioning into what looks like hardened, scale-like calluses. She eyes you up and down sternly before she braces her legs and roars. Her bellowing cry is so loud it feels as if your chest is about to explode and the world around you will be shattered into dust. The rain stops, a ring of mist forms around the trees of the valley to halt any idea of escape, and the sun shines down upon your duel with the Forest Mother.

The Battle:

Despite her worn look and heavy frame, the Forest Mother makes it apparently clear how fast she can chase you down, charging and lunging at you with unnatural speed. Her movements will completely control how you fight if you choose to combat her on foot, but you can match her better on horseback, turning the battle into a deadly jousting match. She attacks using her entire body: swiping from either side with her claws, pouncing towards you with her full weight, rearing up to slam her column-like limbs down on you, or simply using her entire front half to ram you into submission. Some of her strikes dig into the ground, and fling dirt, grass, and rain water into the air, these attacks having more of a wind up but easily being fatal if they land against you. Any attacks behind her often result in a quick turnaround sweep of her claws, but she can also let the full weight of her massive body simply fall upon you as she disrespectfully crashes her backside atop your head.

You strike her again and again, whittling her down bit by bit. Eventually, she will slow down to stand on her back legs, only going on all fours to either crash her limbs downwards or to quickly leap and readjust her positioning. Her attacks become somewhat more predictable as she slashes at you, but are still incredibly powerful. This short phase seems like a desperate reprieve from the whirlwind you had to face moments ago, but the Forest Mother is using this time to test you, as you shockingly have managed to last as long as you have. As the battle reaches its midpoint, the Forest Mother’s proud stance begins to hunch, and she starts writhing and shifting in odd, unsettling ways. Her convulsions cease when the blade of an axe splits open her throat from the inside and tears down her gut. From the slit a giant, woman-like figure forces her way out of the bear’s hide, but keeps it sitting upon her like a cloak. She readies her axe and lets loose a passionate but monstrous battle cry, causing the breeze to pick up tremendously and the trees around you to burst into autumn colours. The fight with the Forest Mother resumes with red and gold leaves flourishing each gust of wind.

With her new form, the fight has become an entirely new affair. In a silent frenzy she charges forward, easily keeping up with you on horseback if you choose to remain mounted. Her axe sweeps across the ground and is brought down in a mighty overhead strike. Her strength is so overwhelming that some of her strikes bite into the earth, and the heaving motion of dislodging the axe deals heavy damage and creates a blinding geyser of dirt. After frenzied lashes and heavy strikes, the force of her axe moving through the air creates slicing winds that stampede towards you, able cut into you from a distance. Despite her massive frame and equally large weapon crashing against you, she will also inject quick hits with hand strikes and kicks to try and catch you off guard and throw you off balance. If she wishes to try and fell you in a single hit, she will dig her axe into the ground and charge towards you, ending with a massive upwards sweep, or in a rare moment of stillness, she will let the winds whir around her and plant her axe into the ground, resulting in a phenomenal tornado of razor winds and burning, scarlet leaves. Fighting the Forest Mother on foot or horseback is viable, and it takes an incredibly keen eye to find the right moment to parry any of her colossal attacks. Despite her connection to the forest, she is resilient to fire magics, but ice or raw arcana can pierce through her hide now and again. The Forest Mother is enduring and belligerent, with few counter measures to truly turn the tides. It is a true battle, one that requires a mastery of both ferocity and patience.  

Once her frenzy is finally quelled, she falls to her knees, clinging to her axe to keep her from collapsing entirely. Despite her best efforts to stand up again, she crumbles and withers into ash. Falling into a heap, the wind dies, and the forest quickly begins shedding all of its foliage and colour. You have absorbed her essence, and gotten what brought you here in the first place.

The Aftermath:

Below the Forest Mother’s remains, a frost has spread through the ground and into the now barren trees. This place has become as desolate as the rest of the world. What forest folk remain in their village are now either huddled against the cold earth or are praying at their altars, sobbing and shaking violently, too overwhelmed to bother noticing you. The patrolling assemblages lay cut down by the larger forest folk, who now feed on their remains. They are the only ones left to challenge you, discarding their tools and fighting with bare hands in a rage. If not eating their former neighbours, they can be found on the fringes of the woods, skirmishing with wild boars and packs of dire wolves that have encroached into the forest. The empty edges of this place that once bewildered you with its idyllic glow and the gentle pitter-patter of rain on full-blooming trees has been replaced with barren twigs and stagnant air filled with the howls of hungry animals and the cries of demented brutes, joining the dismal state of everything it sought to hide from. You have found what you were looking for, and with the power of the Forest Mother seeped into your soul, you ride onwards. You are much stronger for coming here, though whether it was an essential step on your quest eludes you. There is a greater toiling in this world that you must become a part of, and whatever must be sacrificed to reach those ends will be. You persist forward, as you have before.

#elden ring #soulsborne #dark souls #bloodborne #demon's souls #fromsoft #fromsoftware #fan art #full works #cosmopoliturtle

[once-upon-a-scenario]

Safe: a demon!Senjuro AU

For the anon who requested: Could you please write a scene where senjuro gets turned into a demon and for a few months he lives in the forest. He doesn’t know anything about his life before becoming a demon but when a fiery haired hashira comes along he feels like he can trust him? (And senjuro is a good boy so he wouldn’t eat humans like Nezuko) please and thank you :))  Gosh anon I’m really sorry, I think you might’ve been looking for something more fluffy but unfortunately I infuse angst into everything I touch :(((((( feel free to re-request if you didn’t like how this turned out!  _______ 1. Earth rushes past beneath feet. Dirt and dead leaves. Brown. Green. Red. World tilts. Chest hurts. Breathe, breathe, breathe- Where am I? Where am I? What am I?

Chest hurts. Eyes hurt. Head hurts. Body aches. Heart beats wildly, a thrumming, frightened voice chanting run, run, run, run-

Hungry. Empty. The stomach folds in on itself, twisting, growling like an animal, a beast in the woods. Wet drips down chin. Food. There’s food. He can smell it. It smells red, bright red, it smells like- Metal. Metal is what swords are made from. Metal smell is what comes out of bodies. What is a sword? What is a body? Why, why do you care? Don’t know, don’t know, but I can’t eat this. Sword is what protects. Sword is something that belongs to somebody, somebody important. Who? Why? A body, he can’t hurt a human body with red, metal smell pouring out of it- Earth comes tilting upwards, brown and green and red. It smells like red. It smells like rain. World goes dark. 2. Eyes open. Sky is bright, glows like fire. The glow burns skin. He recoils into the tree-shadows, hissing in pain. Hurt, the hurt is back. The stomach is still twisting inside of him. The red smell is gone. There is no food. No meat. Back slides down the tree trunk, legs hit the earth. Sit in the shadows, hiding from the light. Light is bad. Light hurts. (But light was warm? He tries to remember. He thinks it was warm. Fire was warm, too.) Bury the head in hands. Head hurts. Too much thought. Hunger claws inside his body, howling to be let out. He misses the red smell. He curls into himself and waits, and sleeps. 3. Sleep is soft. Sleep is stronger than hunger. The light comes into the sky and then it goes away again, but even when it goes down, there is no red smell. No meat for the hungry howl in his stomach. So he sits, and he waits, and he sleeps. Close eyes. Deep breaths. But sleep can be cruel. It shows fake pictures, things that aren’t there. Even with closed eyes, he sees. Long black hair. A body lying under cloth. Cool skin touching his forehead. When the eyes open, they feel wet. Something hurts, something that isn’t the stomach. He touches his chest. Flesh. Blood. Bones. Something inside there is in pain. Eyes are still wet. Hush, hush, just a little longer. You will be alright, dearest. Whose voice? Don’t know. Woman’s voice. What do the words mean? Eyes close, breathing slows. Sleep comes once more. The woman with black hair murmurs lullabies in his ear. 4. Remember to be kind. He hears rustling in the leaves at night, feels vibrations through the ground; footsteps, voices, red smells, smells of meat and hunger. Hush, just a little longer. Wide eyes, eyes in a small face pale from terror, and the child stumbles back, one step, two step. The tiny, warm body smells like food. Mouth is wet, saliva runs down chin, nails dig into palms and blood runs out, drip, drip, drip into the earth. Hush, hush. Hold on. This child’s blood will not quench your thirst. Drip, drip, drip. The child screams, a high-pitched, horrible sound that thrums through his ears and shakes his very core, it sounds fragile, it sounds frightened, frightened of what, of me? Voices in the distance, high and sharp with concern, and the child backs away, one step, two step, then breaks into a run- The hunger dies down as the earth rushes upwards. Knees hit the ground, wet, crimson-stained hands dig into the dirt. It hurts, it hurts so badly. But it’s strangely warm, too. He’s glad he didn’t eat. It’s lonely, though, lonely and silent once the child is gone and the voices die away. It’s alright, little one. You did well. You won’t be alone for much longer. 5. Rengoku Kyojuro is aware of three things: 1: Demons are killers 2: To become a demon is to surrender humanity 3: Once a demon, always a demon. But make that the past tense- was. Was aware of three things. Kamado Nezuko, after all, is not a killer. Neither has she lost her humanity. The world is a strange place, Kyojuro thinks, sword half-in, half-out its scabbard. Breathe in, breathe out. The woods smell like rain and blood. The lines that define his enemies and his duties have shifted and curved. He sees his mother’s eyes reflected in the face of a demon. Senjuro is a kind child. Senjuro is timid and innocent and warm of heart; Kyojuro has known this since he was only a small child himself, staring in wonder at the small, fragile bundle of new life in his mother’s arms. Right now, Senjuro’s eyes are wide and wild, pupils in thin black slits like a cat’s. His clothes, the same clothes he wore when he disappeared, are torn and soiled with dirt and rainwater and brown stains of what might be dried blood. There’s blood on his hands, running down in rivulets, drip, drip, drip into the damp earth. But- there’s no blood on his mouth. (You’ll always protect your brother. Swear to me, Kyojuro.) The duty of the strong is to protect the weak; the duty of a brother is to embrace his own. Kyojuro looks at his little brother’s bloodied hands and wide eyes and thin, hunger-starved chest heaving with gasping breaths, and hopes beyond hope, because this is Senjuro and he isn’t attacking and the blood his only on his hands and clothes, and there was Kamado Nezuko, after all- if the world has already begun to change, can’t he be allowed this chance? (Mother, guide me. Tell me this is right.) “Senjuro,” he calls, trying valiantly to smile. “Senjuro, let’s go home.” The answer comes in the tears brimming in his brother’s eyes. 6. He doesn’t know who this man is- tall, big, hair that looks like fire- but he feels warm. The wounds on his hands, closed and reopened by sharp, searching claws, have healed into new skin again. In the arms of the stranger, who he doesn’t know but almost recognizes, he allows his eyes to fall closed once more. In the split-second moment before sleep claims him, he sees the figure, long black hair, soft gaze. You’re safe now, Senjuro. 7. “Rengoku-san,” Tanjiro’s voice trembles a little, hesitation tempered by courage, eyes wide and bright. Kyojuro turns to him. “…I know Senjuro never hurt anyone. He’s like Nezuko. He’s a good person. So please…you trust him, right?” Ah. Kyojuro rests one hand on his sleeping brother’s forehead, and the other on Tanjiro’s shaking shoulder. He smiles. “Just like you trust your sister.”

#kimetsu no yaiba #Rengoku Kyojuro #Rengoku #Rengoku Senjuro #kny senjuro #Rengoku family #Rengoku Ruka #kny AU #Rengoku brothers #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kny fanfic #tw: blood #Mod Eve #first non reader insert piece on this blog #huh