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#burn up demonic strategies
sophswritingthings · 4 months
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PART TWO TO THE APOTHECARY WIFE, imagine that Mizu and her Wife are at the cliff during that festival with Ringo and then the four fangs attack resulting Mizus wife getting cut in the waist which made Mizu angry. (Mizu with a wife makes me happy)
pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader
warning(s): blood, swearing
a/n: ooooohhhhh protective mizu how I love you. also, anon, I love you too thank you for allowing me to indulge in this. reader refers to mizu as male when around others <3
summary: after mizu finally allowed you to travel with her, you arrive on Tanabe Island to catch a boat. when the four fangs find her and you’re injured.. let’s say mizu’s not happy.
word count: 982 words / 5,223 characters 
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you're glancing around, your arm hooked around mizu's as you walked. you had came to tanabe island to find a boat; a boat you had been denied until their festivities were over. which means you were stuck here until morning.
It wasn’t all bad; it really wasn’t. time you got to relax with mizu, and a rest from your travels wasn’t bad at all.
“(y/n),” mizu says rather softly, making your head come up to meet her eyes. “why don’t you go with ringo? explore a little.”
your eyes narrow. you know what she’s attempting to do. she’s attempting to keep you out of danger, which, you appreciated. but at the same time, you didn’t want to be coddled like you weren’t a grown woman.
“I’m not leaving your side,” your grip tightened on her arm. “god knows you are going to get yourself hurt again, and I need to be there and help you.”
mizu sighed. she knew she wasn’t getting through you.
“fine, fine,” she grumbled. “but leave five feet from my sight and you'll be going right back here.”
you nod, laughing a little, “I’ve got it, mizu,” you whisper back. “where are you planning to go, anyway?”
“to train,” she replied, taking your hand and leading you out into the snowy forest. you watched your wife train often. you enjoyed seeing her do it; knowing that she was secretly trying to show off for you.
you sat on a tree stump, one she had cut down previously. you watched her precise movements, her clean cuts. you loved the way her mind worked… it worked in such a different way from yours.
perhaps that’s why you fit so well together.
she had a mind for strategy, for battle. you could see her gears spinning in her mind, yet never know when she would strike, and where.
and you had a mind for healing. you knew what worked well together, and how to heal even the deepest of wounds. you were so different; yet you're love burned deeply.
a rustle in the woods piqued your interest.
mizu didn’t seem to hear it; she was too focused on her work. 
you couldn’t see anyone in the forest, so you assumed it was just a small animal. something you didn’t need to worry about. you didn’t dare tell mizu; it would only worry her.
after a while, you two had settled down by a fire. you were nestled up against your wife. mizu was holding your hands, gently playing with your fingers. she didn’t have her glasses on, not her hat, there was nothing to hide between you two.
you knew her secrets. her flaws. you loved her despite them.
when the beating of the drums came, your wife looked ready to get up, and to go and see what was happening. 
but she couldn’t. a sword stabbed through the tree, almost piercing her head. 
you jumped up, sticking close to your wife. she had one arm around your waist, her other hand held her sword. she had her glasses back on, her eyes narrowed to the men that were approaching. 
you're eyes were wide with shock.
the four fangs.
“you can take those off,” one man hissed, raising an eyebrow as his sword pointed at her. “we know what they hide.”
mizu didn’t speak, at first. she tore off her glasses, tossing them to the side. revealing the blue eyes of what they perceived as a demon.
she leant down and whispered to you,
“go. go and run, hide somewhere I can find you when I’m done here.”
you glanced at her for a moment. you saw the determination in her eyes, the strength.
you thought about it, for a moment.
but you had made your decision—you promised you weren’t going to leave her, and you were a woman of her word.
“no,” you hiss, “I’m here with you, my love, and I’m not leaving you.”
“a samurai traveling with his wife… traveling with…”
he paused, gazing at you.
“weakness.”
the four fangs had cornered them onto a cliff. there was four of them… and one samurai. they were indubitably fucked.
your eyes shot wide and your body folded with one slash to your waist.
you fell Into the snow, blood spilling from your wound. you knew it wasn’t a deep wound; but if it wasn’t treated soon you would bleed out in the snow.
mizu stared at you for a moment, her eyes wide and looking as if she wanted to cry.
though it quickly turned to one of anger, looking back at the four fangs—
“you're going to fucking regret that.” she hissed, engaging in fight with the fangs. 
she took each of them down relentlessly; her anger evident from the way this man had hurt you.
she had the last one pinned to the grass, a sword at his chest. he was bleeding from multiple points—specifically where she had sliced his arm clean off, ready to do the same with his head if he tried anything.
“you'll never fucking think of touching my wife ever again,” she narrowed her eyes, stabbing the sword straight through his chest. he screamed in pain, his body convulsing before it eventually gave out.
you were still alive, cleaning your wound as best as you could.
mizu walked over to you, covered in the four fangs blood. she lifted you from the snow, placing you much more comfortably in her lap.
“.. you're going to be okay, right?” mizu asked the question, as if needing you to say yes.
“yes, my love,” you brushed a hand across her cheek. “my wound isn’t deep. It will need to be stitched, though..”
“you have no need to worry about that,” she tucked a strand of hair out of your face. “I’ll handle everything, my darling. you need to heal if we are to travel, soon.”
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a/n: okay so tell me that when mizu said she wanted to go see the “fun” she wasn’t talking about seeing naked women. TELL ME SHE WASNT I DARE YOU (also mizu having a wife makes me happy, too)
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semisolidmind · 6 months
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For the Lion’s Den AU, what was it like when Wukong and Macaque first met Peaches? Love at first sight? Didn’t really notice her until she did/said something? Did they meet her separately or together?
(i briefly mention how they met in one of the earlier lion's den posts, but i guess i should give it some explanation)
reader attends her first meeting understandably apprehensive. she was told explicitly by azure not to draw too much attention to herself, given the nature of his comrades. he would defend her if needed, of course, but she would have to be prepared for their... disapproval, if it arose. she began to imagine what truly frightening beings may be behind the gilded doors that lead to the council hall.
the three demons already seated at the large table were not at all what reader was expecting.
they were worse.
azure failed to mention that his allies were none other than the dreaded monkey king, the six-eared macaque, and the demon bull king. anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention to local gossip had at least heard of these three; the tales of the bloodshed and ruin that followed in their wake were known across the land.
reader had seen it firsthand when the occasional survivors of their conquests would make their way (bloodied, broken, and burned) into her village begging for shelter.
truly a terrifying band.
even more terrifying was the way reader made accidental eye contact with the monkey king every time she dared to glance upward. she'd look down as soon as his golden pupils shot over to her, but reader could feel them on her for a few moments afterwards. even looking away, she could sense the way his sight would drift over to her every time he would address azure; the seating arrangement (azure on one end of the table, reader right next to him, with the monkey king on the other) didn't give her anywhere to hide.
she had to admit, the simian demon was more... upbeat? than she expected? despite his appearance, he acted not as a conquering warlord meeting with his allies to discuss how best to subdue their enemies, but as a man sharing a table with his friends. he joked, he laughed, he talked about old stories.
and what surprised reader the most... was that the demons around him joined in.
were reader not horribly aware that she sat among some of the most powerful demon lords in the world, she'd have felt as though she were back in her village listening to the farmhands after a hard day's work.
it was unsettling knowing that these were the monsters who had killed many innocent people just like those farmhands, and felt no remorse.
reader couldn't wait for this meeting to be over.
---
wukong couldn't wait for this meeting to be over.
as much as he enjoyed talking with azure and the brotherhood, he was much more interested in the human woman azure had brought with him. he could tell macaque was interested, too; any mortal that could catch the interest of one so goal-driven as azure lion must be something special.
wukong really wanted to know what her deal was. but, as much as he would've liked to call on her during the meeting, he got the feeling she'd freeze in fear if he brought attention to her that way. she looked like she wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.
there were little tears at the corner of her eyes the last time she accidentally looked at him.
...it was kinda adorable.
the monkey king glanced over at his brother, finding him staring at the woman as well; seems he'd had the same idea. it also seemed like reader hadn't noticed macaque looking at her in favor of keeping tabs on wukong (which was kinda flattering; he half-jokingly decided that meant she liked him more).
wukong came up with a spilt-second plan. he hid his mouth behind thoughtfully steepled fingers (he was only pretending to listen to the battle strategies being discussed anyway) and whispered it so that only his ever-vigilant brother could hear him.
once the meeting was over, the brotherhood had dispersed outside to get some fresh air. the monkey king crossed the courtyard, intent on distracting azure. he asked the general to take stock of a recent battle so that he and a nearby scribe could make note of it. though azure was a tad confused (shouldn't they have done that right after the battle happened?), he begins to list off information such as casualties, equipment lost, rations used, etc.
conveniently taking the lion's attention away from his little companion, who seemed to be wandering off toward a grove of fruit trees a ways away from the courtyard.
wukong flicked his tail in a certain way, meaningless to anyone but his brother, who took that as his signal.
the shadowmaster sunk into his namesake as soon as eyes were no longer on him.
wukong will join up with them later, once his side of the plan is complete.
---
macaque usually didn't pay much attention to mortals, aside from when he was killing them.
but the fact that the ever-so-honorable (more like hypocritical) azure lion had a little mortal woman at his side? well...that was certainly interesting.
macaque knew that azure was much gentler when it came to human commoners, letting them escape before raiding their towns. the shadowy simian found it amusing that the lion believed he was being merciful; a crowd of defenseless humans with nowhere to go, out in the wilderness? they were basically a demon buffet. and if demons didn't get them, wild animals or the elements would.
deciding to keep that observation in his back pocket for the next time azure nagged him about killing villagers, macaque stepped out of the shadows. the human sat a short distance away, leaned back against a flowering tree. it looked like she was admiring the scenery, completely unaware of him.
what did azure call her...? reader?
hm. azure could've picked anything to give her as a protective pseudonym, and he chose that? wonder what that could possibly say about her. she doesn't really look the academic type.
although, now that he's able to see her a little closer...
perhaps the six-eared demon could understand why the lion was taken with this human, at least physically. she's pretty, she's got nice proportions...but if looks were all that mattered, there's definitely more outwardly attractive humans to choose. her appearance can't be all there is. so, macaque decides to speak to her.
he calls out, casually asking her how she's enjoying the view. she startles and begins to rush out apologies and promises that she didn't mean to come here, she didn't realize she wasn't supposed be here, she didn't mean any harm by it, she'll leave—
macaque laughs, genuinely. she definitely used to be a servant or lower class, no one of any sort of status would apologize just for being somewhere. he goes and sits himself down next to her before she can stand and run away.
he can practically feel her trembling—oh. oh, she's starting to tear up a little...but she's putting on such a brave face.
macaque's pupils dilate a little.
she's just too precious.
after assuring her she's not in trouble, he asks her about herself; where'd she come from, what was her life like before, how did she meet azure?
now that was an interesting story. she actually nursed the stupid cat back to health, despite the fact that he's a big, scary demon? she's brave, he'll give her that. her story would certainly explain why azure took a shine to her. macaque jokingly asks reader if she regularly took demons in, or if azure was just a special case—because he really wouldn't mind being taken care of by her, he says flirtatiously. reader laughs a little at that.
the demons' six ears twitch. he likes that sound, he decides.
macaque can tell reader's getting more comfortable with him. she's opening up, even joking back at him. the attractive blush on her face makes him want to tease her more. the darker-furred demon finds that he likes it when she flusters at a compliment.
he kinda...doesn't want to stop talking with her. it's so easy, like he's always known her.
of course, that's when wukong shows up.
---
wukong had managed to sit through all of azure lion's report without falling asleep, which was an accomplishment all on it's own. afterwards, he managed to get yellowtusk on a long-winded lecture on...something or other, which he always insisted his brothers sit for.
having successfully trapped azure and peng in a manners-mandated lesson (one he knew would keep them for a good while; once the old elephant got started talking, he was difficult to stop), wukong excused himself to "check on dinner preparations." he sped off on his cloud toward where the kitchens were, intent on making a u-turn where the others couldn't see.
if azure wanted to follow, he'd have to interrupt his brother; something wukong knew he'd be hesitant to do.
with that taken care of, the simian ruler quickly tracked his little mark, finding her and his brother under a flowering peach tree. deciding to eavesdrop on their conversation, he stepped gently from his cloud onto the branches above them.
after a moment listening to them (and getting a little jealous that mac had managed to get her to laugh, which was a pretty sound he wanted aimed at him), wukong swung down, shaking some flower petals free, landing gracefully in a crouch at reader's feet. he cheekily apologizes for "dropping in" so unexpectedly.
at her frightened gasp and backpedal, wukong rushes to reassure her he means no harm. he's just curious, he wants to hear her story too, honest! he keeps his tone gentle and playful, and attempts to be as non-threatening as possible (which is tough, since he knows his reputation precedes him).
when reader finally manages to speak (thanks to a little encouragement from macaque), wukong perks up. she doesn't seem as scared of his brother anymore at least, which is a very good sign. as she tells her story, he takes in her features up close.
after hearing how she cared for azure, wukong unknowingly echoes his brother's earlier sentiment; he kinda wants reader to take care of him, too.
he sees how her eyes shine with dewy unshed tears, her face flushed at the demons' proximity (they're both in her space, macaque practically leaning against her shoulder and wukong sitting so close in front that their knees were touching). he notices the way the dappled sunlight hits her skin, the way her lashes frame her eyes. he notes the way loose peach blossom petals decorate her hair. he has to stop himself from reaching out to tuck the little strands that have escaped her updo back into place.
wukong finds himself becoming a bit enamored. his tail curls a bit, and his smile becomes gentler the longer he looks at her.
after talking with her for a while and sharing his and macaque's own stories, wukong realizes that they've been gone for a few hours; the sun is beginning to set, the grove taking on a golden hue. they should probably actually go check on dinner, and (regrettably) return reader to azure.
buuuuut....maybe not right away.
wukong offers reader a tour of the stone palace before she leaves.
---
reader didn't know what was happening.
why was she able to speak with these— these murderers so easily? she should be running away, she should be excusing herself back to azure's side as politely and quickly as she could!
but...but she was having fun. she was having a friendly chat with the monkey king and six-eared macaque of all demons—and laughing, for heaven's sake.
though most of it stemmed from her fear of offending them, the fact that she's speaking with them at all feels like a betrayal of her race. these two, on their own, had killed hundreds, possibly thousands of humans. they could change their minds about playing nice at any moment.
but—but in this light, in this context...they were almost like any ordinary men. were it not for their obviously demon appearances (though reader couldn't say the two were unattractive; the soft glow of the evening light did them many favors), their status, their bloody history—reader could consider them good company.
thinking about it made her want to cry, like she'd been on the verge of the entire time she'd been on this mountain. she wanted to go home and have that cry in the privacy of her bedchambers.
so when the monkey king (he insisted she call him wukong) offered to take her on a tour of the palace, reader thoroughly considered refusing, politeness be damned. she should really just go back to the monster she knows, not run off with one she doesn't.
however, she was curious about what the rest of the cave looked like. she and azure had entered through the massive water curtain, been lead through a large foliage-infested pavilion full of wukong's chattering simian subjects, into the reception hall, and then immediately into the council room. she hadn't gotten to see much, but what she did see she considered very beautiful.
reader, through her anxiety, had marveled at everything she saw. flower fruit mountain was so...alive compared to camel ridge. she preferred it here, at least in that way.
maybe...maybe going on a little tour wouldn't be so bad. it'd give her an excuse for her absence from azure's side, for one (though it wasn't like she was doing anything wrong by not being next to her kidnapper every second). he could stand to not have her near for a few more hours. plus, how could he say no to something as innocent as a tour? and if the eager look on the monkey king's face along with the coaxing smile on macaque's were any indication, they probably weren't going to take "no" for an answer.
well, reader thought in a resigned manner, she'd already gotten this far. what was the harm in spending a little more time with these two?
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casblackfeathers · 3 months
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The Stars Will Remember
fic by @casblackfeathers & art by @diminuel
Being a hunter was all Dean knew ever since his mother had been killed by a demon when he was four. Hunting, offing monsters, and then jumping to the next case was his life. Then he met the most alluring and breathtaking omega he had ever seen and spent the next five years loving the hell out of Cas, their life together filled with the domestic lovey-dovey stuff Dean had never thought he would dig so much. When a simple salt-and-burn goes sideways, it ends up with Cas’ memories stolen from him. Dean is left to pick up the pieces of the life they built together, his ‘make it up as he goes’ strategy to prove to his mate that Dean’s still worth a damn, his only chance at getting Cas back. He’s done a shitty-ass job at keeping Cas safe before, but he will pull out all the stops now to woo his mate again and stir the memories Dean knows are still there buried deep inside Cas’ mind.
Genre: amnesia, established relationship, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alpha!dean, omega!castiel, hurt!castiel, protective!dean, romance, case fic Pairing: Dean/Castiel Rating: Explicit Word count: 60k
READ ON AO3
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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months
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Cupid.
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Yan Chrollo x F Reader.
Synopsis: No matter how much soap is used up, even when the bars are all dissolved in the bathwater and the bottles are empty, you know that from now on all you will be is dirty. You will never be clean again. Never.
Warnings: Yandere themes, heavily implied non-con, past violence, manipulation, and kidnapping.
Word Count: 1k.
Ten Songs Like This Piece:
Memoir #02 [06.12.09] by Maria Pseftoga (feat. May Roosevelt)
I Can’t Handle Change by Roar
A Burning Hill by Mitski
No Surprises by Radiohead
A Pearl by Mitski
Liquid Smooth by Mitski
Six Forty Seven by Instupendo
I Love You Like An Alcoholic by The Taxpayers
Bumblebees Are Out by Jack Stauber’s Micropop
Bathtub by The Front Bottoms
"Now the time has come. I put two bullets in my gun. One for me, and one for you. Oh darling, it will be so beautiful." – Misery (1990)
*~*~*~*
The steam rising feels so thick it nearly suffocates you. That does not stop you from burying yourself further into the water, up to your nose and nearly filling up your ears. No, if anything, the steam makes you want to drown in it so much more. You contemplate putting your entire head under, screaming into the water until no bubbles rise to the surface.
But the demon wearing pale human skin would stop you before your escape attempt is successful. That is what he always does, after all.
Your white wool towel and his gray one is placed on the same rack, on your side. On one of the hooks behind the door are your pajamas, the color of strawberry taffy, and small buttercups on both the top and lower parts of the set. There are twenty-two on the shirt and nineteen on the pants. You know this because you have counted them many, many times before, the first-time being weeks if not months ago, when you thought the worst thing Chrollo could do to you is slap you or ignore you if you ever hit him. If you ever succeeded in that department, with his lightning-fast reflexes. You can only remember being that fortunate enough maybe… a maximum of four times, you think, before you stopped, after your initial fears of him killing you were brushed off, and after your survival instincts adapted to fit this particular situation. 
Rebelling by fighting him is not going to help. You know that it is something ingrained in every human, getting physical in the face of a threat, whether it be a real one or not. However, upon your initial confinement in this place, your primal instinct also urged you to escape. You constantly remind yourself that this is impossible due to the numerous locks on the door and Chrollo's ability to summon a seemingly omnipotent book out of thin air. You are unable to flee, thus your survival instinct must adjust to an alternative strategy. Nevertheless, it fails to do so, prompting you to ultimately confront different adversaries altogether; Chrollo's caresses, presents, and offerings of quality time.
But now seeing where that got you now, you regret not attempting to jump out of his car and run for the hills, not caring if he was behind you or not.
“...” You are silent as you push back further and further until the crown of your head feels the porcelain wall. “...”
Chrollo, in turn at your silence, simply puts some water into his cupped hand, letting his thumb play around in it for a little while before releasing it back from whence it came. “Now, what did we learn today? You don’t plan to be silent the rest of the night, do you dearest?”
You're uncertain about your plans, but one thing you do know is that drowning him in the bathtub is not one of them. Despite your desire to do so, you acknowledge that you wouldn't come out victorious. Presently, you feel apprehensive about what lies ahead. If this isn't the absolute depths to which Chrollo would sink, then what could be?
“...” Your mind wanders at a languid pace, not in a slithering manner, but rather with a slow crawl. It looms menacingly, poised to devour you entirely, leaving you voiceless. To prevent its dreadful consumption, you divert your attention to the objects surrounding you, to anything but the one who holds you captive.
“...If you don’t want to chat now, that is fine,” This time, Chrollo scoops water into his palms and gently pours it over his hair. “You can always do so when we get out.”
The water is still clear, so clear that you can still see the bottom of the bathtub. The salts he put were lavender scented, you think, because something floral is in the steam and the small bits of water that make their way into your nostrils and mouth. There is lemon balm, peppermint, and rose petals floating about too, but one or two of them have clung to your body like seaweed you would accidentally walk near when you went into the ocean’s tides, causing you to squirm to get them off. Chrollo most likely finds this amusing, because he does not think much else of you, does he?
“...” There are seventy-three tiles in all on the bathroom floor that are in plain view, not counting the ones underneath the rugs, the bathtub, cleaning supplies, shelving, and the toilet. “...”
You could recount them again instead of putting water over your head too. “Do you want to do anything related to aftercare aside from this?”
“...” Rather than uttering a word, you choose to count the uncovered tiles on the bathroom floor. “...”
The occurrence can be summed up by a single word: dissociation. To shield you, your mind disentangled the emotional pains from the physical ones, rendering you void of sensation, numb. This was done to prevent you from comprehending the true nature of what transpired, what just happened, when his patience snapped and he tied you to the bed by the wrists, ripping and ripping until–
“...”
You and the devil are side by side. 
“There is no need to repeat what happened today, correct? Then everything will go back to normal. Just hope for your well-being that you remember this.” 
“...I will. I will.” The sound of your voice brings a smile to his face, and he cups a handful of water in his palms.
The liquid flows down from your hair, mimicking a gentle rainfall, only to rebound and retreat to its origin. This rhythmic cycle persists, until unexpectedly, your body surrenders to a state of tranquility, defying the will of your mind. Your head tilts backward, and for a fleeting moment, you feel weightless, as if hovering above the water's surface.
Your mind will now be cleansed of the undesirable side of Chrollo, hopefully ensuring that you never have to witness it again.
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kiatheinsomniac · 1 year
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hiii i see you're taking requests for black butler so i'd like to submit one, hope it's alright 😊 could you write a sebastian x female reader wherein reader is ciel's older sister (she knows seb is a demon and also his contract with ciel) and seb has a soft spot for her and is always gentle towards her because she looks exactly like his former lover who was also a demon and the only one he ever loved. then reader got sick one day and ciel ordered him to attend to her needs and not leave her side (he intends to do so without ciel ordering him), reader is touched but also confused by seb's caring actions towards her so she asks him why he's like this to her and he answers "you look exactly like her" then tells her the whole story, reader doesn't know why but she kinda feels deja vu bcs of that. then few days later when reader has recovered she goes to seb to thank him and kisses him (bonus: ciel and the others caught them in 4k 😆) i understand if you ignore this if the details are very specific. still, thank you 😊
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──── 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ˊˎ -
☾ ⋆゚ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: omg it's been years since I've written for Sebastian! Since my Wattpad days lol
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Sebastian x Ciel's sister! Reader
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.8k
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none
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You groaned at the light pouring in from the doorway as it opened, hiding under your duvet instead so that the light wouldn’t worsen your headache. The sound of the door clicking shut was followed by the wheels of a trolley and footsteps, but you didn’t need those details to know who had entered the room. Sebastian had been looking after you while you fought your way through this illness. Your little brother had ordered him to do so but you knew that, order or not, he would have done so anyway. 
You let out a sigh and pulled the duvet away from your face, the room now dark once more with only the pale moonlight filtering in through the curtains: enough to allow you to see but not enough to intensify your headache. 
“Dinner, my Lady.” The dark-haired butler spoke quietly, mindful of your pounding head, as you shifted upwards, making your cat Daisy at the end of the bed stir awake to check up on you through one open eye before closing them once again. Ciel had been so against you getting a cat but you were his soft spot, the big sister that had brightened up his childhood, always taking him on days out and playing with him in the garden, teaching him the strategies of chess and skipping dance classes with him to get the snacks from the higher shelf in the kitchen that he couldn’t reach. He was the man of the house now with your father being gone and so he just couldn’t say no when you looked so happy with the feline (you have rules to keep her away from Ciel though). Sebastian was almost happier than you were with the outcome. 
“Thank you, Sebastian.” You smiled softly as he removed the cover from the dish to reveal a mushroom soup with buttered bread. Your mouth watered at the sight of the still steaming, sliced loaf and how the butter had melted over it with it being so fresh from the oven. A tray was set on your lap and you quickly tucked in, tearing the warm bread apart and dipping it into the steaming soup, blowing gently on it to assure it wouldn’t burn your tongue. 
Sebastian poured you some tea and set the cup and saucer on your nightstand, pulling at the fingertips of one glove to remove it. The back of his palm pressed to your forehead while you ate, checking your temperature and giving a little hum. You still had a cold sweat to you but you weren’t alarmingly burning up like you had been doing yesterday. It seemed you had powered through the worst of it. Sebastian removed his other glove and set it down on the trolley before picking up Daisy to scratch under her chin and play with her paws, admiring her toe beans and the way her claws would come out when pressed on. Daisy liked Sebastian a lot, arguably more than she liked you and you had to admit that it made you a little jealous in moments like these. As long as she was happy though, you weren’t too bothered. 
The two of you sat in comfortable silence other than short little lines about how cute Daisy was or how you were feeling until Sebastian took your empty bowl from you and replaced it with a generous slice of red velvet cake. 
“You spoil me.” You quipped as the dessert was revealed to you, placed on the tray upon your lap. 
“As the only Lady of the house, it is only fitting that you receive the proper treatment, is all.” He replied, making you smile warmly. It was true that you liked the attention from your brother and the staff as the only Lady of the Phantomhive family, you were rarely left wanting for anything. 
“You say that and yet I know that you defy the Lord of the house when you take me on particular outings into the city or sneak me desserts well past the appropriate time like this.” You replied as you cut off a mouthful of cake with the edge of the fork, humming in delight at how spongey it was paired with the smooth filling. He gave a soft laugh at having been caught out. 
“Then perhaps, yes, I do spoil you, my Lady.” 
“Oh, I never will get you to call me by my name, will I? I don’t care for formalities within my own home as Ciel does, you know this.” You truly had insisted on Sebastian calling you by your name as opposed to your title – you had successfully convinced the rest of the staff to do so and yet Sebastian seemed stubborn. You let out a sigh that Sebastian playfully rolled his crimson eyes at. You adored those eyes: unique and inhuman. You knew how your brother returned from being ‘lost’ those few years ago, you knew all about his deal with a devil and the true nature of the butler who diligently served the last remaining members of the Phantomhive family every day. “Come on, just say it: Y/n. Y-n.” You drew out the sounds of your name. He simply shook his head and resumed petting Daisy. 
“And if I order you to call me by my name?” 
“I would have no choice but to comply.” 
“Because you’re one hell of a butler, right?” You teased. 
“Precisely, my Lady.” You narrowed your eyes, knowing he was just pushing you to order him. 
“Then I order you to call me by my name, Sebastian.” You said before taking another bite of cake. 
“Very well. If that is what you wish, Y/n.” You beamed a triumphant smile at him. You stayed silent for a while as you finished your cake, happy with your win before breaking the silence. 
“You care for me without Ciel needing to tell you to do so, you spoil me rotten and yet you keep a distance. Why? Dare I suggest you seem afraid of something, Sebastian?” You asked quietly, shuffling forwards and reaching out to pet Daisy with him, finding that this conversation would go easier if lacking eye contact. 
“It takes a lot to scare someone like me, Y/n.” You liked how your name sounded on his tongue. 
“So, what is it then?”
“Nostalgia, perhaps? Longing? A restraint for fairness?” 
“You know how I so hate riddles, Sebastian.” You replied simply, feeling Daisy headbut your hand and yet it was a stroke from your butler that got her purring. 
“You look just like her…” You knew he was looking at you now and yet it took you a moment to gather enough courage to look in his crimson eyes. You daren’t interrupt him. 
“Who?” You prompted quietly when he went silent for a while. 
“I had a lover once, she was a demon such as myself.” His lips pulled into a tight smile, “The sort that is unsavoury for a lady’s ears.” Ah, a succubus. You knew that Sebastian wasn’t above seduction when out gathering information for your little brother – had he learned from this lover of his? “She was so very dear to me and while us demons are very resilient, we are not indestructible.” He was interrupted by a mew from Daisy. 
“I’m sorry for your loss.” You piped up after a while of quiet that quickly grew uncomfortable. 
“Thank you…” Was all Sebastian said in reply, “However, I have a new Lady to concern myself with and so I must insist you rest more.” He tucked you back into your bed and tenderly brushed the hair from your forehead, gazing upon you for a moment too long before wishing well for your health and promising to check up on you later. 
“Sebastian?” You called when he was at the door, wincing at how it made your head hurt, “Could you bring me tea and another slice of cake when you come to check up on me?” He smiled at the hopeful glimmer in your eyes, knowing he would cave to bringing you something sweet so late in the night. 
“Of course, Y/n.” He replied with a wink and a finger to his lips for you to stay quiet about him breaking this rule for you. 
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧*:・゚✧ ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧
You beamed a smile when you stirred awake to the sound of the door opening, Sebastian coming in with that familiar trolley and setting a tray on your lap while you sat up excitedly. Daisy was happy to know she’d be fussed again too, getting up and stretching her legs while your tea was poured for you. 
“It’s a shame that we can’t share this.” You mused. 
“Wouldn’t that mean there would be less for you?”
“Well yes, but I think that the act of sharing something you enjoy with someone dear to you is even better than having it all to yourself, wouldn’t you agree?” You were as unlike your brother in as many ways as you were like him and it was amusing to the demon. 
“In some cases, I suppose.” He replied as he set your tea on the nightstand and then sat on the edge of your bed, watching you eat the sweet cake. His hands were combing through Daisy’s fur and yet his eyes were on you: more specifically the cream cheese frosting at the corner of your mouth that you hadn’t seemed to notice was there. Your attention was caught by his little laugh, muffled behind a hand before you furrowed your brows at him. 
“What?” You asked, his smile infecting your own lips. 
“You have a little something…” He reached forwards to wipe it away with his hand but you captured his wrists and set them in your lap instead, leaning forwards. 
“Where?” You asked with faux innocence. 
“Vixen.” He replied and yet he leaned in all the same. 
“Well?” You hummed once he was close enough that his breath was fanning over your lips, “What are you waiting for?” Your body seemed to tense up and completely melt at once as his lips met yours. They were cool and soft against your skin, still slightly hot from your recovering fever and you shuddered pleasantly at the small flick of his tongue against the corner of your mouth. Sebastian’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the room as he gazed upon you for a moment before closing them once more and leaning in, only to freeze. Your lashes fluttered open, unsure as to the reason for his hesitation but he explained before you could open your mouth to ask. “The young Lord is calling for me.” You shared in his frustrated sigh before swooping in for another peck to his mouth. 
“Go and sort him out then come back to me, hm?” You asked softly, thumb swiping over his knuckles. 
“Of course, my Lady.” You pouted at him not using your name and he laughed gently, pressing a kiss to your pouty lips. “I’ll be back momentarily if I can help it, Y/n.” 
“Ok…” You felt in a daze as he got up from the bed and left the room. 
You hoped Ciel wouldn’t keep him for very long.
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colourstreakgryffin · 6 months
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omg haiii it's my first time making a request😶‍🌫️ can u do a Douma x afab reader that is part of his cult? got an idea from one of the stories my mom used to tell me as a kid
It's called "Scheherazade" :DD The Sultan maries women at night and then unalives them by morning. So Scheherazade devised a scheme. She would tell a story every night and leave it on a cliffhanger every time. After 1001 stories, he made the decision of keeping her.
basically- before reader is supposed to ascend to paradise (get eaten alive lolol), she does that ^ so that he'll spare her and let her entertain him every night with her very intriguing stories until he finally doesn't even care about eating him until he doesn't even feel like eating her anymore👍
What’s Afab? Oh, nevermind! I’ll find it out myself with my magic ✨G O O G L E✨ hands! Okay. Hmm, I hope I can do this exactly as you want
Douma- Fascinating Tales
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“Aaah~ really? Continue!” Douma hummed excited, tapping his mighty clawed hands on his dark Hakama pants rhythmically as he continues to flash his somewhat manipulative beam before you, encouraging you on pinpointing the interesting details of your next wild tale. Sat on your knees in front of his glamorous, shiny throne, Douma egged you on to speak once again in your immersive tone like you did just before
Your situation with the one and only Upper Moon 2, Douma was a truly fascinating one. More fascinating than the many stories you told him at the peak of black night. You were a prideful follower of the Eternal Paradise Cult, unaware of the fact you were truly in danger until the very final day you were a faithful sheep to the women body-loving demon. Your beloved leader, Douma himself on one faithful day, selected you as the special one to “ascend to paradise”, the special treatment he always spoke about
You, however, weren’t a fan of being eaten alive by your admired leader so you indirectly fought back on his offer and decided to stall his greedy need to devour you, such a pretty woman, by telling him a story so intriguing that he just couldn’t resist but let you finish up, sparing your life in the process. This precisely developed strategy always saved you from meeting a painful and cruel end as Douma grew eager to hear your far tales and kept you alive slowly to satisfy his curiosity
Over many months, you seemingly never ran dry of your tales and Douma’s almost mind-swallowing desire faded away into nothing, at his own surprise. He didn’t want to eat you anymore, he couldn’t really see you as a another walking lunch but as his all-so-interesting story teller, someone who comes into his throne room at a very precise time and tell him a new fantasy narrative that’ll shake his thoughts for hours on end afterwise
You couldn’t believe your efforts genuinely worked as you gently smiled back at Douma, parting your lips to persevere the lead you were weaving and Douma was all for it with every fibre of his bean. Even if you were to lose your material and spark, Douma knew he wouldn’t want to kill you. You don’t seem like you would taste appeasing to him and he was feeling a little but meaningful flame of passion for you burn within him. He wanted to keep you alive until you perished at natural means, he didn’t mind
He could always have you read him written books if you had nothing left to entertain him with. Douma traced his otherworldly beautiful rainbow eyes over your face, your cute defined face and those pretty sparkling eyes. He always found himself amused by your voice and your passion as you explained the plots to him. Douma found you adorable in every form
“Oh, right~? Is that so? What happened to the siblings after they traversed the woods, Dokusha, my dear~?”
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mactiir · 3 months
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The other day my girlfriend and I got to talking about our strategies for self talk especially re: hobbies and sports.
She was talking about how she has read study after study about the effects of positive talk. if you have a group engaging in negative self talk, one engaging in neutral or solutions-focused ralk, and one engaging in flatly positive self talk, and set them to complete a challenging task -- say, a climbing problem -- the positive talkers will come out leaps and bounds ahead. As a result she has adapted the Bob the Builder theme song into her rock climbing anthem, and she softly sings it to herself on difficult or frightening problems.
Meanwhile, I've been getting into fantasy lit again. As you might know, fantasy heroes occasionally encounter awful mind-warping psychic baddies, who always have some brain attack in their arsenal that tells the hero to give up! you're worthless! you could never win anyway! with the motivation behind the psychic attack being that actually, the heroes are a HUGE threat to the bad guys and will probably thwart all their plans, and that if they could shrug off the mind assault they would absolutely body the bad guy in a fair, non-psychic fight. So whenever I start to beat myself up I internally pretend I'm a Force for Good or like, an anime protagonist so I grit my teeth and go "No... you will not Corrupt me, Demon! I am destined to become the one to defeat you!!" and imagine the unkind words burning away and shrieking like, AIEEEE NOOO.
Anyway, all this to say that the end result of us both having Succeeded at Therapy is that when we run into a really difficult climbing problem she ends up breathy-singing Bob the Builder while I sit broodily on the mat with my brow furrowed doing my best impression of an anime protagonist with beads of sweat dripping down his temples from the psychic exhaustion. Yes, it works. No, we haven't made many friends at the climbing gym.
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demonslayedher · 10 months
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Hantengu: As Bad As You Can Get Without Being Muzan
I've touched on this in old meta entries and I'm just going to wind up linking them here, but a friend got me going on this again today, so I'll state it again: Hantengu is one of the most insidious characters in this whole series, if you're going by sweeping themes of self-mastery which Gotouge may or may not have consciously intended.
For starters, I'm going to compare Hantengu to his polar opposite, Rengoku Kyojuro, mostly by referring you this post where I already explained how Kyojuro displays samurai-style idealized virtues of self-mastery, stoicism, and inner peace about death or aging. A common theme in oni lore is how letting one's passions run amok is what brings out the demon any person has potential to become, whether these passions are greed or worry or even joy. Kyojuro is very clearly a passionate person, but he's self-aware enough to know that his passions must be kept in check in order to benefit from them, and that means putting effort into maintaining them. He's seen how that can lead to burn out as in the case of his father, so he maintains his own balance by recognizing and accepting the harsh truths of any situation with as much grace as he can muster, recognizing and taking steps to overcome his own shortcomings, and recognizing and making a choice to "set his heart ablaze" instead of getting lost in frenzy.
Hantengu, on the other hand, lets his passions run so amok that they take their own physical forms, and even then no single one of them is ever consistently powerful enough to be sustained for long before he's spawned something new based on whatever new frenzy he's in. It's his reckless abandon of self-control that made him so demonically powerful.
There are other characters who lack self-control, though--Inosuke and Zenitsu are who they are because they are the perfect agents to introduce chaos to any scene. They gradually take steps to learn self-mastery, however--Zenitsu is hyperaware of his own failings, to the point of rumination, and Inosuke is hypoaware. However, at their core, their desire to do better by other people leads them down paths of self-improvement, a path which keeps them aligned with humanity as opposed to the allure of powerful demons.
Demons in this series display similarly admirable traits, though--Kokushibo and Akaza have striven as hard as any Corp member to improve themselves, for instance. Gyutaro and Daki might have had blatant disregard for others due to a lingering jealousy and hatred for how much better everyone else always had things than they did, but they have always taken active roles in standing up for themselves and trying to improve their circumstances.
If we dive into more loathsome, demented demons, we still see that they know themselves enough to own their faults, whether they see them as faults are not. Douma is quick to recognize his own lack of passion, Enma is unashamed as about what gives him pleasure and uses his underhanded, self-protecting tactics in order to play the long game in his strategy, Gyokko is an artist, and Muzan is perfectly clear and at peace with who he is and what he wants. Muzan's desires are so plain to him that it even opened up a believable opportunity for Tanjiro to feel sympathy for him in their final encounter, though Tanjiro made the choice not to.
Tanjiro never even entertained the notion of pitying Hantengu, though.
I'll come back to Tanjiro, but to borrow from this post about themes in KnY as they relate to oni lore: In many philosophies, even an excess of positive emotions can be detrimental, and people who follow those philosophies are instead encouraged to not given into any emotion too strongly. Likewise, the lack of a virtue can be bad, but an excess of it becomes a vice.
While the Ki-Do-Ai-Raku fearsome foursome represent the danger of unchecked, excessive emotions, Zouhakuten represents an excess of virtue, which turns it into a vice. From an outside perspective, of course Tanjiro was doing the right thing attacking a tiny oni, because this oni will go on killing people if he doesn't, but Zouhakuten focuses so intensely on the injustice of attacking the small and weak that he is ignorantly convinced of his own self-righteousness.
The other demons don't do this, particularly--they justify what they do, like Daki saying how this is just the way the world works that beautiful and powerful oni can do whatever they want because that is how the world works, but she doesn't claim her actions are righteous. Muzan also makes rational points--which Zouhakuten echos--about how the demon slayers drive a lot of the violence due to their own inability to make peace with their lot in life, and going out of their way to attack demons. However, as much as Muzan believes he is superior, he doesn't belief he is a god who can cast moral judgement on others, nor is he interested.
Zouhakuten, taking the form of a deity that fiercely protects the precepts of Buddhism and threatens those who defy it, makes the daring claim that he is just.
The Demon Slayers Corp members, at least those like Tanjiro, are guilty of the same thing. The difference, however, comes back to self-awareness. For example, Tanjiro is confronted with the question of whether Zouhakuten/Hantengu has ever eaten anyone in Tanjiro's life, and as he has not, Tanjiro must at least question if justice is on his side anyway in attacking Zouhakuten. It was an easy answer, but being mortal and easily killed for sticking his neck out by picking fights with demons, it's something Tanjiro continually has to question and reaffirm.
Yes, the answer is always easy for Tanjiro, and yes, there are Corp members who are only in it for the glory or the money (and these characters are not treated as heroes). However, Tanjiro must also continually self-reflect on his own weaknesses and failings. Taisho Secrets tell us he's even reviewing his training and battles in his sleep to analyze and learn from them, and we see his continual efforts to improve no matter how beaten down he's gotten. In the heat of battle he has to keep himself confident and focused. He's got to keep from beating himself up unfairly, and he's got to keep from getting over-confident, it's a balance to maintain and it takes practice to read oneself with clarity.
He's constantly having to practice self-mastery, which means Total Concentration of whatever strength he needs to pull from, including passions like righteous anger that make it feel like his heart and/or forehead are ablaze. It takes him practice to be able to keep rebounding, but he's got humility to be able to learn from others, take criticism, and analyze himself with clarity.
These are the virtues which Kimetsu no Yaiba extols, and which most separates the paths of righteous from the paths of those who who gave into their passions.
As a few other examples: --Nezuko retains her virtues by recognizing her own weakness and focusing on self-mastery --Rui lost himself in a feeling of entitlement, conviction in his own sense of justice, and disappointment in his parents. Or so he thought! That was all the result of running away from a truth about himself he didn't want to face; the fact that he was the one responsible for breaking his family bonds. --The Pillars, with all their human faults, remain righteous because they could easily succumb to their own sorrows, angers, and self-loathing. The fact that they do not--however much these things have messed them up--and they keep striving to better themselves, for the sake of a conviction in something difficult to achieve otherwise.
Zouhakuten, instead of rising above his own shortcomings, is a deeper concentration of, a wallowing in those unbridled passions. Being so convinced of his own righteousness, he does not have any clear self-understanding, and therefore, has no inclination toward self-mastery.
He is, after all, Hantengu.
Hantengu made himself into what he is because he convinced himself of his own lies about his own helplessness, and this utter lack of self-awareness and his unchecked passions are what make him a demon. By doing nothing to improve himself, he grew out of control. And, ultimately, Hantengu is selfish. Everything must revolve around him and how he is the most wretched creature, the most powerless thing to ever have the harshness of the world thrust upon it. Among a cast of relatable demons, made victims of their own poor luck or circumstance or a desire to amend some wrong done to them, Hantengu is the worst because he got himself there for nothing but his own self-centered lie.
While all the demons have relatable traits which have flown out of control, he's the most realistically like someone we all know or have met. He's the most benign and hardest to catch, one whom many philosophical, religious, or therapeutic texts try to warn against for how his insidious fleeing from truth grows into something monstrous.
The scariest part is that the wallowing Hantengu might be closer than we think.
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lineffability · 4 months
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“Aziraphale,” the Metatron said, putting strange emphasis on his name, as if to remind him of it: his one true name, angelic and given to him by a loving God. Everything had been so beautiful, back then. Why could it not have stayed beautiful? Why did they, their comrades, have to fight and fall? Why had the humans– Why had paradise not even been real when it had still existed? Why had She – let any of this happen? His oldest question, and yet he was afraid to ever receive an answer. Well, he supposed, the world had been born out of it. And didn’t he love the world? 
“Aziraphale, I would not have pegged you as the type to give up so soon. I had such high hopes for you. Do you really want to be remembered as a failure?”
“I’m not giving up.” Aziraphale smiled without mirth. “I’m changing my approach.” 
“And to what, exactly, pray tell? What is your strategy now that you’ve betrayed Heaven and your God, traitor?”
Aziraphale flinched as if burned. Beside him, he could feel Crowley’s demonic energy increase like a match lit with kerosene. 
The Metatron eyed him coolly. With a small movement of his wrist, he snuffed the demonic power out, just like that. Crowley flinched. It wasn’t like the Metatron’s powers were greater than any other angel’s, but they were precisely that: an angel’s. 
They could hold their own against their brethren, angels and demons, but they could cancel each other’s energies out like magnetic force fields. If the Metatron were to attack him in retaliation, Crowley could snuff the power out almost as easily – never quite, it would take more out of him: a reminder of their hierarchy, their imbalance, their damnation. But it could go on– well, forever. Been there, done that. He’d often wondered about the next war, the endless and senseless fighting with no more objective than to deliver the end of the world, just as the first one had been about its creation. He was quite sure about it. On and on, little children on a seesaw of violence teetering back and forth under self-righteous hand-crafted team banners. We’re the good ones, you’re the bad ones. Let’s play until mom calls us home.
They’d never been that different from humans, at the bottom of it. 
“Angel,” he grit out almost inaudibly between his teeth, and his whisper was laced with pain. I can’t save you, angel, I can’t save us. Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t want to have to let you do this, any of this. I want to shoulder it for you. 
“Know your place, demon,” the Metatron said, his voice like gravel under a heel.  
“He knows his place very well. It’s here on earth. With the humans. With me.”
Crowley turned towards Aziraphale in something like shock: the loud voice, the hot-cold anger, the trembling resolution, the simplicity of his world-shattering words.
[read chapter 20 of Meanwhile the World Goes On]
[read from the beginning]
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themainspoon · 7 months
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If you are a WoD fan and you aren’t aware of how fucking wild White Wolf’s strategy for marketing Demon: the Fallen was, that changes right fucking now, get ready.
So, the year is 2002, American Culture is still moving past the Satanic Panic, and your job is to market a Table Top Role Playing Game where you play as literal demons who were aligned with the Biblical figure of Lucifer. The book has a big ass pentagram on its cover, and is filled with information on fictional demons and their demonic powers.
How do you market this?
Well, isn’t it obvious?
You satirise Chick Tracks by making a fake one about how the game you’re supposed to be promoting is satanic. I’ve linked it below, it’s only 23 pages long;
But you may be thinking: “Ok, that’s a funny concept, but why is this such a big deal to you?” Well, buckle the fuck up kiddo’s, because I want you to look at that last panel again:
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Do you notice anything about it that could prompt further inquiry? What about that URL?
You see, the chick track was only one part of this little marketing stunt.
And so, I ask again, how do you market Demon: the Fallen?
You create an entire fake Evangelical church website called the Eternal Grace Evangelical Church, and write a fake sermon in which you claim that the brand that hired you is producing games that turn children into drug addicts and sexual predators, also claiming that Vampire: the Masquerade was involved in real world murders including the fucking Columbine School Shooting.
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Below is a link to the site from the Internet Archives Wayback machine, the main bulk of the interesting stuff is in the sermons section.
Quick note, they used EVERY part of the evangelical bullshit playbook to make this site look legit, they went hard on this. So, the site is satire, but it still feels like it would be a good idea to mention that they satirise everything about Evangelicals, including their homophobic, transphobic, anti-catholic, and anti-pagan beliefs.
https://web.archive.org/web/20031205191032/http://www.father-ramos.com:80/
If you don’t want to read it yourself, here are some actual quotes from this fake Evangelical site that was, and I can’t stress this enough, MADE BY WHITE WOLF TO PROMOTE DEMON: THE FALLEN: (above disclaimer applies here too)
“Eternal Grace Congregation Church is a community of Christians who seek to love, worship and praise Him and to communicate the Word of the Gospel to the world around us while exposing the lifestyles and and recruiting prctices of those deviants who would make this world a place of horrors. Among these are homosexuals, gamblers, drug addicts and role-players.”
“You may find it useful to tell role-players about the Dallas youths who were burned to death in the steam tunnels of Southern Methodist University (of course it was the Methodists) while exploring them for treasure. Tell them about the syphilis-related insanity of Jimmy Cox, a Tennessee teenager who used role-playing games to build around him a coven of homosexuals. Tell them about Michelle Sikes, the Montana role-player who had a sex-change operation. The more perversion you can ascribe to involvement with role-playing the better. You may even wish to fabricate some of your own, to better illustrate the point to your specific at-risk individual.”
“Listening to accounts of the role-players’ games is either the height of tedium (it must be said, pardon my air of judgment) or evinces strong feelings of pity, […] Invitations to participate, if accepted, place the individual in a precarious position himself, and will probably expose him to the scourges of drugs, fornication, homosexuality and Catholicism/paganism in many cases.”
“point out to them that the activity borders on delusion (“You are not an elf, Tommy!”) and heresy (“If God intended for you to act like a demon, he would have made you a demon, Jenny”).”
“In addition, rumors (which is why I relegate this to a side note instead of including it in the main body of my discourse) link the activities of the Columbine high-school “trenchcoat mafia” with Vampires Masquerade.”
“As good Christians, it is obviously our duty to prevent our youth from learning the corrupt ways these books and games teach. Sex, suicide, drug abuse, homosexuality, “golden showers” and many other behaviors proscribed by the Lord and the Good Book come as a result of players taking their games too far. In particular, the moral execration contained with the Demon book takes these aberrations to new levels by openly encouraging players to act in the interests of Satan (or Lucifer, as he is depicted herein).”
“Additionally, role-playing games teach that violence is an acceptable and even admirable way of solving problems. Significant portions of their rules are devoted to combat and weaponry. Demon, for example, also contains systems by which the satanic characters can attack or use magic upon their enemies, with dark arts spawned from Hell itself. These are not unlike the gay community’s reactionary “straight bashing” in response to the more physical efforts of their loving fellows (but loving in the Lord’s intended way) to bring them back into the fold.”
“This Week: Pastor "Father" Ramos discusses the Catholic Church and the 68 Million deaths its evil has caused throughout the world! You won't read this in the history books! Father Ramos also discusses why he has chosen to reclaim the Holy tile"Father" from Catholocism.”
White Wolf was frequently quite edgy, and often wasn’t great at dealing with social issues (you could argue this is still true of the modern World of Darkness in some cases). But honestly I think this is a fun stunt. It mocks evangelicals for all their insane bigoted beliefs, and for basically giving all the stuff they call satanic free advertising. No matter what though this is an unhinged marketing stunt, and it is so wild that they actually did this.
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lullabyes22-blog · 26 days
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Snippet - Cat Demon of Doom - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO
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Vi goes toe to toe with One Bad Bitch.
@frostybearpaws
lmk if anything needs to be changed<3
Forward but Never Forget/XOXO on AO3
Snippet:
"What—?"
Vi is back in the ring, face-to-face with her second opponent. Or—face-to-midriff is a better descriptor.
The woman is full-blooded Vastayan—broad as a barge. Her proportions are uncannily Sphynx-like. A sphynx dunked in a vat of pink dye that gnawed at her fur, leaving behind a washed-pink pelt, tufted at the joints and mottled with old burns. The Vastayan's ears are large, feline, the tips raggedy from torn-off piercings. Between a scraggly mane, her eyes glint a piercing hazel. A scar crosses the bridge of her nose, and her mouth is a rictus of barbed teeth.
She looks like a cat-demon, ready to feast on Vi's entrails.
Vi gives her an appraising stare. No bad angles; no weak lines. This is a pro. Again, that coldwater chill resurfaces. A shapeless trickle of fear.
Blowing a fringe of hair off her face, Vi shoulders up to meet her opponent.
In the center of the ring, they touch gloves. The Vastayan's smile suggests this will be no different from stomping out a cockroach. Vi offers no reaction to the contrary. An overconfident opponent is easier to take down.
Again, the promoter lays down the stakes. Again, a collective roar goes through the crowd.
Vi and the Vastayan collide head-on. Her style is predictably bloodthirsty. Her fist shears through the air. Vi ducks, feeling the Vastayan's arm gust over her head in a powerful sweep, like a wrecking-ball's trajectory. If the blow connected, her skull would've been pulverized.
Swiveling on her heel, powering from her hips, Vi lets rip with her own right hook to the Vastayan's gut. Her flesh contracts in a rippling wave. She grunts, staggering before righting herself.
Vi backs away, bobbing on her tiptoes, and throws stiff jabs, elbows snapping out at the end. Typically, a pitty-patter approach isn't her style. But Vander had taught her that a smart strategy for a bigger opponent is to keep them at a distance. Always counterpunching, always flowing. 
If he's got thin skin or brittle bones, he’d say, the right jab at the right spot'll knock his lights out.
The Vastayan crowds in. One of Vi's blows catches her near the orbital ridge. There is a crunch. Pink fur flies. Blood flows, trickling into her eye socket. She blinks, and a pellucid film sweeps over her eyeballs. A membrane, Vi realizes. A second lid to protect fluid from blinding her.
Fuck.
Sensing Vi's dismay, the Vastayan smiles.
Then she swings.
Vi sees the fist crashing down as if from a great height: a God-Hand of doom. She swerves, but the blow glances off her shoulder, rocking her sideways with a bone-deep judder. Pain blitzes through her arm. Teeth gritted, Vi pivots and counterpunches. Her fist collides with the same spot as before, a snapping gut-punch. The Vastayan wobbles—Oof—then bares teeth limned in gray before bullrushing Vi.
The crowd stir in a gleeful susurration as the opponents circle each other, a rough figure eight across the sawdust, the Vastayan pursuing, Vi in retreat. She knows her opponent's game. Overrun Vi through sheer size, wearing her down in a game of attrition, before closing in for the kill.
Vi needs a better strategy.
Again, Vander's words reverberate: The right jab at the right spot'll knock his lights out.
They are overlapped by Sevika's parting shot: Go for the instep.
Fuck.
The instep.
Vi's eyes flick down, then up. The Vastayan is barefoot. A pair of vein-mapped appendages, grimed in dirt and tufted with fur, but entirely unguarded.
A cigarette flies through the gap in the barbwire cage, hitting the Vastayan's furred arm with a hiss. She snarls, head whipping toward the culprit. Through the blur of bodies, Vi swears that she glimpses Ran coalescing like a phantom back into the shadows.
Then it hits her.
Now's the chance to put the brawl to bed.
The cigarette falls near Vi's feet. She stomps it out as she blitzes forward. The Vastayan notices, firing off a dynamite left to keep Vi clear. Vi weaves nimbly around the blow, adrenaline zipping in her veins, that ecstatic clarity that turns every moment into a burst of slo-mo choreography. Dancing under the Vastayan's cinch, she stomps, hard, on her instep, twisting her torso at the same moment to launch her fist square into the Vastayan's face with all the force her body can summon.
There is the clash of two hard objects coming together. The more brittle of the two gives way. The Vastayan's snout caves in with a crack of cartilage. Blood splatters. Her fists fly up to her face. The moment it happens, Vi snags her ankle and twists sideways.
Like a tree felled by lightning, the Vastayan topples. The crash reverberates all the way to the rafters of the basement.
The crowd lets off a collective whoosh of breath—Aaaaaaaaah.
The Vastayan snarls, red spittle flying from her busted nose. Vi closes in, shutting down that part of her mind that knows mercy. She deals her opponent a final shot that impacts like a tranquilizer dart to her forehead. One brutal roundhouse to make lights flash-pop behind the Vastayan's eyes before—bam—it's fucking bedtime.
The Vastayan falls slack. Her liquid gurgles fill the suddenly stagnant air. The crowd is stunned to silence.
Then the chant begins: Five…four…three...two...
The Vastayan still hasn't moved. Her eyes blink blearily. Blood bubbles from her broken nose. When the gates swing open, three of her buddies arrive to haul her upright and help her stagger away. One of them tosses their drink at Vi. A cup bounces off her bruised shoulder, iced liquor splattering the sawdust.
Vi gives them the finger.
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sirpuddingcup · 2 months
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Before I get into it
SPOILERS FOR THE END AND THE DEATH VOLUME 3
Holy shit this book is great! It genuinely is everything I wanted and more. Volume 3 ties everything up so well that even though I knew the plot outline already just from lore it had me gripped from cover to cover. An emotional and bloody ending to the to the galaxy spanning series.
First off I really enjoyed getting the little updates on what some of the other players are doing while it all goes down. Bobby G and his endless strategy meetings as he tries to figure out how to get to Terra. Lorgar pulling a jonestown as he arrogantly misinterprets prophecies. Perturabo wallowing in self pity as he destroys his room like an angry teenager (the image of him pouting in his broken chair as the room lies devastated around him gives me life). Finally Eldrad and the others arguing over shoulda woulda coulda as they realize this is way worse than they thought. It was nice to check in with everyone before we dive into the trauma of it all.
Speaking of trauma let's talk about the black rage! We see sanguineous's mangled corpse in the lupercal court as the psychic shock sends the entire ninth legion (minus Zephon) into a berserk rage. I really can't think of a better word for it than traumatic. After all they've been through together during the siege to have the blood angels turn into actual monsters against their will is just twisting the knife for the loyalists. From Rans desperate fight for survival against a man he idolizes to Amit waking up dazed and confused at the end of a trail of corpses ("why do the bodys end here?" "That's as far as you got" kills me), it's safe to say nobody is having a good time.
Scratch that you know who is having a pretty good time? Rogal Dorn. Fresh out of the desert of endless boredom Rogal finally gets to let loose a little as he fights his way to Valdor. I love their dynamic and I wish we got more of them hanging out("damn you!"(frustrated) "damn you too."(affectionate)).
We check in with Fo and the genocide crew which ends predictably. I saw him completing the Terminus sanction then getting killed trying to escape a mile away. I did not see him making a fucking clone body and replace Xanthus! I love me a devious old scientist causing problems on purpose! I really hope he comes back in a big way.
The library crew didn't do a whole lot other than Ariman being a creepy magic man. It is buck wild that the archivist turned out to be Lilean Chase at the beginning of her career she goes on to found the fucking Cognitae so get it girl I guess.
The did my boy Loken so dirty in the end but fuck me was it good. They planted seeds earlier on talking about how a demon is made, a reaction in the warp to a traumatic event in real space, how in the warp effect can come before cause. But fuck me I wasn't expecting this. After the dust settles and Loken almost convinces Abaddon to give reconciliation a chance Erebus (fuck Erebus) stabs him in the back dooming the galaxy to endless civil war. And why did he do this? Because Samus is the man beside you, Samus right behind you, Samus is the guy she told you not to worry about, look out it's fucking Samus! The abrupt murder of Loken gives birth to the Demon Samus kicking all of this shit into motion. It truly is all Erebus's fault.
I saved the best for last. The showdown on the vengeful spirit. This is where Horus really gets tho shine. I haven't loved his character like this since the first couple of books. He's a fucking mess and I love it this is the man who's daddy issues burned the galaxy to the ground, and as someone who has a difficult relationship with my father fuck me I get it. Dan Abnet is so good at making fights feel intimate, Horus isn't a one dimensional avatar of evil hes a son confronting his abusive father. Horus doesn't want to kill his father he wants to be better than him, and not just stronger but a better person. He needs the Emperor to acknowledge that he had hurt Horus. Horus loved his father and wanted to reach out him on an emotional level so badly, but the Emperor was simply no longer able to do that. When the Emperor purged himself of the infant god the dark king his kindness and empathy went with it ( going on to create the star child). This emperor is nothing but power and cold fury. He enters the room having already written Horus off as dead. It's such a tragedy from top to bottom because we know from Malcador in his all knowing position on the golden throne, that there is a version of this confrontation where they both walk out alive. That does not happen.
The actual physical fight is nothing to write home about besides the fact that different people see it happening in different ways Dusk sees it as a clumsy slugfest between two lumbering giants while LE2 saw it as the greatest display of skill he had ever seen. In truth it was both. The psychic battle had them tossing each other across time and space and fighting through the sites of each other's greatest sins. They use the settings to try and undermine each other emotionally holy shit. Then the do the next logical step AND HAVE A FUCKING TAROT DECK YU-GI-OH DUEL! I need an imperial tarot card game right now GW take my fucking money. It ends with the cards predicting the fall of cadia (the despoiler unlocking the silver door) and the emperor loses. It has become obvious by this point that the Emperor can't beat Horus. Horus outclasses him in every way but Horus doesn't want to kill his father he wants acknowledgement. So what we get is several desperate attempts by the emperor and several others to fight back as Horus beats his father bloody. But nothing works until Oll and John show up having magically teleported much closer than they ment to. They stand right in front of Horus. Horus is bemused at best giving John just enough time to use the word he learned from the tower of Babel directly in Horus's smug face. The resulting blast nearly kills everyone in the room, but it's the first thing so far to actually damage Horus. While her recovers John makes a run for it but Oll goes to the Emperor gives him the athame (stone knife used to commit the first murder) and tries to wake him up. Only for Horus to wake up first and turn poor Oll to a fine red mist.
Finally Horus stands there triumphant and who is there but his own favorite son Loken. Loken is the only one who tries to reason with Horus to make him see the the chaos gods are using and manipulating him. It was a great touch to frame Horus pov in 2nd person as if someone is telling Horus his thoughts. Loken convinces Horus that he's not really in control anymore and the only way Horus can take back control is to give up the power that the gods gave him. The moment he does back on Terra Keeler uses the power of millions of praying souls to relight the astronomicon and and give the Emperor a font of power to tap into. The emperor rises as if from the dead. Horus at first tries to pull the power back but the gods hold onto it as punishment for spurning them. Then Horus looks at the Emperor empowered as an avatar of humanities faith and he finally understands. The gods panic and try to force their power back into him and Horus begs his father to kill him now while he can resist. Then it happens a father murders his son. The emperor tells Horus "I forgive you and I'll wait for you". Excuse me Dan Abnet what exactly does that mean? Horus returned? Ghost Horus? Reincarnated? What the fuck? From there it's mostly just wrapping up they teleport home and we get the last gasp of Malcador as they place the Emperor on the golden throne.
If you read this thank you this was mostly for me because I needed an outlet for my feelings and I don't want to bother my friends to much with Warhammer. It's been a wild ride and I can't wait to see where it goes from here (especially the third Bequin book).
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waynes-multiverse · 1 year
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Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a heroic, green-eyed hunter, but now, not much of him and his emerald eyes are left after he made a grave mistake and broke the wrong girl’s heart, leaving her empty behind. Y/N, however, is dressed for revenge and ready to take back what once belonged to her...
Warnings: +18!, language, smut (fingering, p in v, dirty talk & slight degrading), canon-level violence, a lot of evil scheming & some dark fluff
Word Count: 4.5k
A/N: First time I’m daring to write Demon!Dean. This has been on my writer’s wish list for goddamn ages. Written for my wonderful bestie’s @avanatural‘s 1,000 followers celebration & antagonist challenge. 😈 You and your stories completely amaze me, so here’s to 1,000 more! Collect ‘em like Pokemon, babe! The crown truly belongs to you! 🥳🥂🖤 My prompts were Billie Eilish’s You Should See Me In A Crown 👑 and a quote, which you’ll find in bold. I also based parts of it on The Bravery’s Hatefuck 🔥 because it certainly is a fitting song for Demon!Dean. Enjoy, my loves!
Feedback is highly appreciated! Get me drunk on it and fill my writer’s juice 🤓🥃
Main Masterlist | Dean Winchster Masterlist
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High noon. The bar was virtually deserted, tranquil, and almost peaceful, cradling every new arrival in a false sense of security if they weren’t smart enough and came equipped with a sixth sense for peril. After all, some dangers lurked in bright daylight and weren’t as easily identified by the naked eye.
Luckily, Y/N was smarter than most and knew exactly what kind of threat was waiting for her there as her black heels on fiery red soles stormed through the doors of the rundown tavern. The remaining guests of the establishment consisted of drunkard patrons lingering around dirty tables and halfway falling asleep in front of their glasses. Her determined and vibrant eyes, however, immediately landed on a tuft of sandy-blond and disheveled locks.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A beautiful, flesh-eating flower. A blazing hot mess. Dean fucking Winchester.
Y/N was a big girl, though. She knew better than to get lost in something shiny, the glitter and glamour, the cheap thrill. Fuck diamonds. They were just a marketing scheme, and she already fell for good packaging once in her life and got severely burned like a child touching the hot plate of a stove. And while the cold emptiness in her chest prevented her from feeling anything, not even a tingle, her heart still pounded a few beats faster once her eyes caught sight of the main prize.
Her mind flooded with memories, vivid images of a life she once possessed. The endless movie nights, the laughs and talks, the tears and touches, the love that was lost. Lost because of him and his selfishness. And while none of it mattered anymore, she swore a long time ago, she wouldn’t let him get away with it. No, he still had to pay for what he did, suffer the same fate she had. She was deadly set on making her vision a reality. 
So, you could say Y/N came prepared, came with a plan. After all, the perfect revenge wasn’t something you could whip up in an hour and implement haphazardly. It took years – years of executing moves, forming questionable relationships, and conducting the most boring research in dusty libraries and tombs. Y/N was absolutely playing the long game, a strategy that’d certainly make every grand master of chess blush.
Of course, the asshole of all assholes didn’t even reward her with a meek glance over his broad shoulder, the bang of a door apparently not thrilling enough for him to spin around. The clicking of high heels on sticky floorboards as she stalked closer to the bar counter, however, seemed to do the trick, her target intrigued enough to finally face her.
The promise of a willing woman, of his next potential prey, naturally forced a predatory smirk onto his plush and sinful lips. A smile, which dropped quite abruptly once her former lover realized who truly stood before his acid green eyes. Oh, she was definitely not the corruptible angel he’d hoped for in his wettest dreams. And while he might be anything but human these days, the shock was big enough to let the black-eyed mask slip, and for a moment, she was reminded of the person he used to be. The good, kind, and selfless hero, full of shame, guilt, and regrets.
God, she hated that fucking guy.
“Remember me, Winchester?” A smirk played across her lips when his instinctive first answer was a light swallow, still subtle enough to pretend he didn’t care. The longer he stared at her, the more it became a scathing glare until the shock had subsided enough, and his defined jaw began to clench under the rough layer of scruff.
“Y/N.” Her name rolled off his wicked lips and nearly caused her to sink to her knees in front of him. It had been too long since he’d last said it, and she almost forgot the sound of it, the deep, shuddering timbre of his voice. The strength it took for him to utter her name in the first place was hidden behind a stoic exterior, however. He’d never thought he’d say it again, either, and it showed. “What the hell are you fucking doing here?”
Her head tilted like a lost puppy’s, brow puckering as her gaze innocently drifted to Crowley next to him, who’d been suspiciously quiet this whole time. “Aw, you didn’t tell him?”
Y/N wasn’t in the least bit surprised that A, the demon tried to cross her, and B, tried to make a run for it with his new bestie. It was what demons, especially Crowley, did best, after all. They couldn’t be trusted. And although she warned the scumbag several times, she naturally expected her peasant’s next move. No one beat the queen of chess.
“Tell me what?” Dean gritted through his pearly white teeth, his glare quickly swerving to his new partner in crime, who swallowed the enormous and craven lump in his throat.
“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley…,” Y/N tsked and casually crossed her arms. “You know, I’ve waited.” She took a step closer to the demon king, the flames in her eyes speaking volumes. “I bid my time. I paid my dues. Don’t you think I deserve credit?”
“Of course, of course,” Crowley scrambled for words, the coward in him ducking so much that even a woman of her small stature practically towered over him. “I couldn’t have done it without your extraordinary genius, my dear.”
“What the fuck is she talking about?” Dean’s patience had dried up like a raisin as he demanded an answer, swiftly pulling out the First Blade. He forcefully slammed it into the wooden countertop of the bar, piercing straight through Crowley’s palm and pinning the demon in place before the slippery bastard could pull a Houdini act on him again.  
“Ow! Bloody–!” Crowley hissed in pain and anger at the former hunter, who, in return, smirked quite complacently at the achievement.
“Tell him,” Y/N prompted with an unsympathetic look toward the demon in agony. “Tell him who found Cain in the first place and came up with the idea. Tell him who told you what the mark would do to him. Tell him you truly did nothing because you’re worth nothing. Tell him who made him into what he is. Tell him who cursed him.”
“You did,” Crowley croaked out while his hand soaked the countertop and painted it crimson red. “And may I add, your Majesty looks incredibly pretty today.”
With a scoff, Y/N rolled her eyes at the demon’s obvious attempt of flattery before she snapped her fingers and painfully forced his meat suit to his knees, his palm still nailed to the bar top as he let out a loud scream. She smirked when she noted Dean’s look of surprise at her little trick show. She certainly had leveled up since the last time he’d seen her. It scratched the little tingle in her belly.
“Yeah? If you think I’m pretty, you should see me in a crown. Don’t make me come for your job, too. Let’s face it, Crowley – you’d make a better servant than a king. Cross me again, and I’ll end you, demon scum,” she threatened, her jaw tightening and nostrils flaring. “Did you pathetic weasel really think I wouldn’t find you, slurping chick drinks in some dive bar no less? Do I really need to wear a warning sign next time I make a deal with you? You were supposed to deliver him on a silver platter for me. Did you really think I wouldn’t hunt you down?”
When the reigning king submissively ducked his head and swallowed like a beaten dog, her lips curled into a satisfied smirk. Cheerily, she leaned over the hunter’s lap and the mahogany counter, her hands going through several liquor bottles till she found one to her liking. She purposely stuck her butt out, wiggling and swaying it in front of the former hunter, still remembering a few preferences from the good ol’ days. It didn’t take long before she felt Dean’s long, thick fingers crawl down her spine and smooth over the leather-clad globes of her ass.
“Wanna take this somewhere more quiet, princess?”
Y/N gleefully hugged the chosen bottle of bourbon and pressed the cool, amber glass to her tits, nodding quite eagerly before placing a contrastingly soft kiss on his cheek. “One step ahead of you, my love. It’s time to celebrate!”
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As Dean closed the door behind them, he watched as Y/N stalked through the motel room he’d called his home for the past months, curious Y/E/C eyes observing the remnants of his meaningless existence. It had been two years since he’d last seen her, since he kicked her out of the bunker and broke his own useless heart with it. She still looked the same. Stunning and breathtaking like the day he’d met her and bitter, cold, and angry like the day he’d lost her.
“You might’ve acquired those pretty new eyes, but your preferences are still the same, Winchester,” she teased, spinning to him with a grin that reached her ears. “Still picking the shady dive bars and gross motels over the five-star hotels. What’s wrong with a little luxury and a comfortable mattress, huh?”
Dean only rolled his juniper eyes, not in the mood for chit-chat or amusing banter, and prompted, “Why did you do this? Apparently, I owe those pretty new eyes to you.”
“Oh, c’mon, don’t play dumb,” Y/N huffed, annoyed with his act of innocence. “You know why I’m here. Contrary to popular belief, you’ve never been stupid, Dean.” A smirk spread across her face and lit up her dimples as she swayed closer. Her index finger hooked into the waistband of his jeans, pulling him flush against her small body, pointed teeth denting her bottom lip. “You’ve never been-,” her hungry gaze wandered down, palming the growing erection behind the denim, “-disappointing, either. At least not in that regard. You know, I fell for these eyes once before, and they’re even prettier now...”
Her teeth sunk into his pulse point as she left her first mark there, the tip of her tongue licking the salt from his skin. His hands didn’t deny themselves the pleasure of roaming her frame, her perfect curves, and her taut skin either, before one hand found rest on her exquisitely rounded ass, her cheek a perfect fit for his large palm as he cupped and groped it, pushing her against his bulging crotch that achingly pressed against the tight fabric of his jeans and begged for release and a warm, wet hole to fill.
While he hadn’t come to a clear decision about her yet, he knew he could postpone any thinking for later. After all, he did whatever the fuck he wanted, no consequences, and right now, he wanted to shove his cock inside her tight cunt and fuck her like there was no tomorrow. Albeit feelings and past attachments didn’t really play a role for him, he still remembered enough of their time together to know she’d always been a good fuck and certainly the best time. The things she’d do for him, say for him, and let him do, had always been wicked, way before his heart was corrupted, and Dean was all about celebrating the good times these days.
Craving the feeling of a blissful high, his mind flooded with images of the bruises and bites he’d left behind on her skin in the past and filled with thoughts of how much he’d missed her taste and smell. He certainly wouldn’t turn down her irresistible offer. So, throwing his resolve out the window, his mouth roughly claimed hers, tongue slipping inside, teeth biting flesh until it drew sweet, scarlet nectar.
His wet lips trailed along her jawline and down to her delicate neck as she became soft and bendable in his hold. “How did you do that to Crowley?” His question reverberated against her throat before he drew and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Last time I checked, you were soulless, not magic, princess.”
He at least had to ensure she couldn’t butcher him before he had a chance to do the same. It didn’t help, though, that their little stand-off was part of the turn-on. Who’d snap first? After all, they’d both been hunters once and knew the game all too well.
Amused, his former lover chuckled with a devilish twinkle in her gorgeous eyes that lit up her entire face. “God, don’t you just love it when they scream? It’s the best sound after cutting someone’s tongue out.”
Dean’s hands then wrapped around her throat, pushing her back into the next wall as he pinned her there and fixed her with a deathly glare, feeling her swallow harshly in his grip. He squeezed a little harder, his jaw tightening with his hold on her. A smirk played across his lips, practically smelling her arousal trickle into her panties.
Dean then pulled the blade from his back and thrust it into the papered wall dangerously close to her head, even drawing a little blood from the tip of her ear. He knew she was smart enough to understand it as a warning. Collecting a scarlet drop on his thumb, he licked his pad and relished in the metallic taste on his tongue.
“You better start answering some questions before I do what I shoulda done a long time ago, sweetheart,” he growled, his nose running along hers as she inhaled his scent like life-supplying oxygen.
But Y/N only smiled mysteriously, puckishly shrugging her shoulders. “Things change. Learned a thing or two after you exiled me. Made some friends in high places.”
“So, what? You did all this for revenge? Little pathetic, don’t you think? All over a good lay…,” he taunted her and scoffed.
Her greedy hands clasped his cheeks, sharp nails piercing his skin as she dragged him back to her addicting lips. “No, baby, I did all this for you, for me, for us. Don’t you see? After everything that happened, after what you’ve done to me… you can finally make it right. I know that’s what you wanted the most, even now with that little curse on your arm. And now, we’re the same without all those icky feelings getting in our way. We can just fuck and make the world ours. One by one.”
“There’s no more us, sweetheart,” Dean bit, flashing her a set of onyx orbs.
“Cute. There’s always an us,” she replied like his answer didn’t even matter to her, leaving no room for further discussions. “Do you still feel guilty about it, hm? You were so, so selfish. At least now, you’re honest about it and not hiding behind feigned heroics anymore.”
“Old me felt guilty, yeah,” he admitted and let out a dark chuckle. “But that’s kinda one of the perks of the new me. Now, I just think those people we used to be were pathetic and weak... I was weak. I sent you away when I shoulda just fucking killed you.”
“Or maybe you should’ve just let me die the way I was supposed to in the first place,” Y/N gritted bitterly. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so fucking self-serving and let me go. But you couldn’t do that, could you? You had to save me because that was what the great hero Dean Winchester did, right? But the other thing you did so well was fucking things up, and boy, did you fuck this up, didn’t you?” she mocked and smirked when his look darkened and his upper lip twitched in shameful admittance, teeth grinding down. “Do you like my plan so far? You know, not having a soul is almost like already being dead. No dreams, no future... There’s nothing alive inside of me. Might as well sleep in a damn coffin. And because you showed me no mercy, I made sure I showed you none either, my sweet baby boy.”
It was true. It was all his fault she had lost goddamn everything. Her love, her family, her home. As weak as he was, Dean couldn’t let her go when she got hurt during a run-of-the-mill hunt. He brought her back to life, a spell that chipped away her soul till there was nothing left of it. And still, as foolishly smitten and in love as he was, he thought he could goddamn fix it, fix her, fix them. But there was nothing left for him to love and nothing that was capable of loving him back. Yet, he still didn’t have the guts to kill her in the bitter end.
“Want me to correct my past mistake, huh? Is that why you’re fucking here? ‘Cause I’d be happy to do just that,” he growled warningly into her ear as he leaned closer, hearing how her heart rate accelerated as his hot breath fanned against her delicate neck.
“You might be a demon, but I know you still don’t have the fucking heart to kill me,” she giggled in amusement and placed her palm on his chest where the miserable muscle pounded underneath. “Who’s pathetic now, huh?”
“Don’t fucking test me, Y/N. It won’t end well for you, honey,” he threatened, far from admitting that she’d seen right through him and called his bluff. “But then, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been a slut for me.”
While Y/N’s little plan, apparently forged in hellfire itself, certainly made them more alike, the difference between them was that he still had a soul. His was just blackened, clouded by darkness, and disfigured over time by an abundance of pain and anger and, well, one little curse. Hers, on the other hand, wasn’t there at all. She was just an empty vessel, no feelings and emotions inside.
Old him couldn’t trust her; new him didn’t care, though. The new and improved version of him even recognized her worth. Y/N had always been cunningly smart, certainly smarter than him and even smarter than Sam. Dean could recall memories of vivid discussions with Bobby, the two of them rattling off weird trivia facts almost to a competitive degree.
Dean needed her. He could use her to his advantage. She was valuable.
Plus, Crowley had started to become annoying fairly quickly. The only reason the former hunter hadn’t stabbed the demon’s meat suit yet was that Dean really didn’t want to take over the duties of kingship. He could care less about Hell. All he wanted was to fuck around, drink excessively, and do a little karaoke.
Y/N, on the other hand, would make a good queen. Smart, driven, just. She’d make fair decisions and reign with an iron fist and a fucking brain. In fact, Dean thought she’d make an excellent ruler of Hell even. She was right from the start: This was what he’d wanted since the day she left him – a way to have her back in his life, didn’t matter if the plan was perfect, good, or straight-up evil. Being a demon, freed from all the chains of humanity, was the best fucking thing that ever happened to him – and he owed it all to her.
“Yeah?” She provokingly nudged his nose as her hand slid under his waistband and inside his boxer briefs, her palm rubbing along his throbbingly hard dick, causing him to growl lowly. “Show me, baby. Show me what a bad guy you can be,” she purred and tore into his plump bottom lip before letting it pop back in its place. “Show me how much you used to love me, how much I meant to you. Show me by fucking me like you hate me now... I wanna be your favorite toy again. Play with me, baby. Love me mercilessly.”
Effortlessly, he twirled her in his hold, pressing her tits against the wall. With one motion, he roughly pried the tight leather leggings over her asscheeks, his hand slipping to her front and cupping her bare and leaking pussy, her arousal trickling onto his finger pads.
“So fucking wet, hm? Did my slut miss me this badly, huh? You missed this cock, baby girl?” he breathed against the nape of her neck and inhaled her intoxicating scent once more before his teeth tore into her smooth flesh, making her cry out. His dick twitched in delight when her moans filled his ears as his digits rubbed at her clit and set the sensitive nerve endings on fire, her nails clawing away at the grimy motel room wall.
One hand then gripped her upper arm tightly and pinned her writhing body in place, his broad chest pressing against her back as his mouth marked her shoulders and spine.
“Cum once now, and I’ll fuck you into the next life, my little plaything,” he husked challengingly into her ear, and just as he thrust his first thick digit inside her waiting, hot center, she came undone and trembled in his hold.
That was one.
Kissing the salty drops from the slope of her neck, his chuckles vibrated against her heated skin. “Still a good girl after all this time. Impressive. You were almost fucking polite. Some things really don’t change, huh?”
Breathlessly, Y/N spun around to face him, the swell of her breasts that spilled out of the revealing top heaving with each erratic intake of air. She grinned crookedly up at him and locked her fingers behind his neck. “Well, haven’t you heard? All the good girls go to Hell. And I believe you promised me something,” she sang like the prettiest, most innocent damsel.
“Don’t be a brat, baby girl. Impatience is a vice,” Dean reminded her, eyes as dark as midnight while his thumb traced her kiss-swollen lips before stuffing his wet fingers into her mouth. Hungrily, he watched her suck them clean as she tasted the mess she’d made, the tip of her tongue provoking his pads and desiring something with more girth.
“Thought we were all about those vices now, my love,” she giggled darkly and kissed his open palm on her cheek before chasing his lips in a drunk delirium, clashing with pointed teeth and tongue.
His hand traveled to the back to cup her head, fingers weaving into her hair and tugging a fistful. Her knees were becoming wobbly, bending and giving in slightly, pulled down by his gravity on her planet, an instant reflex that only came from years of orbiting around each other.
“I want you so badly, De,” she breathed needily against his lips and caressed his cheek with a gentle touch, almost treating him as breakable, whispering, “I might not be able to love you anymore, but I still remember what it felt like, you know? It was so… pure.”
A smile graced his lips, one corner of his mouth rising higher than the other. “Yeah, I know what you mean, sweetheart.”
“You don’t have to worry anymore, baby. I’ll take care of you again. I’ll turn us into something great, amazing even,” Y/N vowed pantingly, the excitement sparkling in her eyes before she desperately claimed his pillowy lips like an addict chasing their next high.
Swiftly, the zipper of his jeans opened, the denim and cotton boxers pooling around his ankles before he gripped his rock-hard cock. Y/N rid herself of her leggings, her hand wrapping around the grip of the First Blade, still firmly stuck in the blood-stained wall. His hand quickly curled around hers on the weapon, a distrustful look glazing his dark green eyes.
“Trust me, okay? I’m not here to cramp your style, baby,” she assured him, a smile playing across her pink lips, and something in her vicious eyes told him that he could confide in her.
Dropping his hand from the blade, he smoothed his palms down her curves and gripped her hips tightly instead as she hoisted herself up on the blade and wrapped her legs around his waist, ankles crossing behind his back. His lips crashed against hers in a scorching kiss, teeth tearing and biting before he lined himself up with her entrance and violently thrust inside her dripping pussy to the hilt. She gasped a loud moan that surely could be heard all through the motel as he bottomed out completely, his dickhead slamming harshly against her cervix. He groaned and closed his eyes for a heartbeat as her warmth enveloped his entire cock. She’d always been the perfect fit for him.
“Missed this, huh?” Y/N teased him, grinning smugly, and watched his brow form furious creases.
“Shut the fuck up,” he grunted and pulled out enough to slam back into her with full force, one hand finding its way back to her throat.
“Oooh, bossy. I like the new you. So raw,” she smirked and gasped anew when he hammered into her again. “F-fuck, baby... That’s it.”
This time, it seemed to do the trick as Y/N’s voice stumped, and she fell silent, her head thumping back against the wall in pleasure as his hips snapped against hers, pounding into her at a furious and relentless speed, the motel room wall shaking with her body.
“You know, by the end of the night, I’ll make sure my cum’s leaking out of every pretty little hole of yours, baby girl. How would you like that, huh?”
With one deafening scream at his next hard and deep thrust, Y/N sinfully smirked at him and nodded eagerly. “Oh, I’d fucking love that, baby.”
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Dean tenderly kissed the burning red scratches on her bare back, soothing the bittersweet pain a little as his fingertips traced his marks along her spine. He made good on his promise, fucked her into oblivion without showing her any mercy, so much so that they both lost their sense of time and the meaning of life and love. In the end, it all just trickled down to meaningless, random shit. Pleasure and power were all that truly mattered in this deranged world, after all.
Y/N giggled sweetly as he found another ticklish spot before she turned in his embrace and caught his lips. “So, morning light is here, baby boy. Time to make a choice,” she prompted, smirking broadly. “Wanna team up for a little destruction?”
Dean sent her a smile, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of her face as he gently caressed the rosy apples of her cheeks. Finally, he sealed their deal with a sacrilegious kiss.
“Alright, glad you made the right decision, baby,” Y/N teased, her wicked smile almost splitting her face in half. “You know what we have to do first, though, right?”
“Yeah, we need to kill Sammy, Cas, and Crowley before they ruin our fucking fun,” he replied and kissed a path down to her tits, sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth.
“Ding, ding, ding,” Y/N grinned happily upon his correct answer and wiggled her eyebrows before pushing his head further down between her legs to her abused cunt. “But first, make me scream for mercy again, my love.”
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Dear Chuck, you better hide from this toxic af couple 😂 Hope you enjoyed this, babes! There’s another smutty one-shot coming tomorrow for V-Day and then I’m done harassing you 💖😉
Everything Jensen Tags: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373​ @lyarr24​ @deanwanddamons​ @deanwithscissors​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @justrealizedimmascifygurl​ @akshi8278​ @flamencodiva​ @chriszgirl92​ @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul​ @djs8891​ @leigh70​ @snowlovespie​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78​ @muhahaha303​ @mimaria420​ @creepzeyecandy​
Dean Tags: @parinarain​ @hobby27​ @fromcaintodean​
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Text
AU time: what if Root had survived?
Hahah I want everyone to suffer today. This is a break down, book by book, of an alternate universe story for "if Root had survived".
Opal Deception: In the seconds before Opal's bomb exploded, Root managed to find a weakness in one of the restraints binding it to him. He managed to subtly take out his combat knife, slicing the arm and throwing the bomb away from him as it exploded and Holly flew away, truly believing he was dead. For the rest of that book, Root is in critical condition, severe burns all the way down his left side and one arm missing below his elbow.
At the end of the Opal Deception, the Fowl team defeats Opal, gets taken down to Haven, but just as Ark Sool is on his rant Root comes out and screams "You tried to murder my officer!" . Holly is so shocked she ligit collapses. In the end, Holly gets exonerated for the situation but takes a leave of absence, since everything that happened kind of proved to her that the LEP did not have her back when she needed them and were willing to throw her under the bus at the first opportunity. She goes to work part time with Mulch as a PI, and Root has to go on an extended medical leave for his injuries.
Lost Colony: Same as before, Artemis is up to some demonic BS, and Holly gets roped in by Section 8 to help. Root, mean while, realises he's no longer the right person to be commander of the LEP and has thus retired, being granted a spot on the council. The other council members assumed, however, that Root would merely see this as a pension and leave the governing to them. NOPE. Our man has some major changes he wants to implement and he is doing so LOUDLY.
He's also become regular drinking buddies with Mulch, and although they still have their differences, they have a much stronger respect for one another.
Through the adventure we cut back to him having to smooth things over with the council to help Artemis and Holly, making deals to get them and the demons the help they need.
After the time skip to Hybras, they come back to find that Root is head of the council, and the fairy people are thriving under his leadership. Although his belief in the LEP being able to solve all the crime in Haven by brute strength alone is a little concerning. He was also Foaly's best man at his wedding since Holly couldn't be there. And visits Butler on the surface for weeks at a time, since as much as Butler is waiting for Artemis, Root is waiting for Holly. And Butler makes him promise that, if he dies before Artemis and Holly return, that he'll keep up the watch for them.
Time Paradox: Much of this books plot is the same, with the slight tweek that Root comes to the surface with the LEP once its revealed that Opal is behind it all. He now has a bit of a chip on his shoulder about her, seeing her less as an opportunistic pest, and more an evil he will do anything in his power to stomp out.
Atlantis Complex: Root attends Artemis's arctic summit with everyone else, and witnesses the Mars Probes attack. He is very torn up about Vinyaya's death, and does his best to keep everyone safe using the various gadgets Foaly built into his prosthetic arm. Once Orion turns up, Root is put in charge of keeping him entertained (so Holly doesn't strangle the poor boy) by recounting elements of the reign of King Frond and his battle strategies.
He is distraught once he learns about what his brother is doing, and is the first to suggest that they hunt him down. While they travel, he gives Artemis his prosthetic arm to repair so he has something to focus on other than his own mental breakdown (how considerate). Root tries his best to calm down his brother when they find him, but can't. And that fact, along with Turnball and Elanor's sacrifice for everyone in the hospital, will haunt him for the rest of his life.
Last Guardian: Through out the last guardian, Root is determined to stop Opal, giving Artemis, Holly, and Butler access to his personal security clearance so they can cut through all the red tape and get to the surface as quickly as possible.
While they're top side, Root jumps in Foaly's van to help rescue Caballine, narrowly escaping the time stop field as it closes over the goblins.
When they hear about Artemis's death, Root insists that the council hold a Haven wide memorial for the boy who saved them. He's far more choked up about it then people thought he would be, so much so that Holly and Foaly actually tell him about the clone they're growing. Root insists on helping, even going so far as to give up a whole room in his house for them to grow the clone Artemis in, since it's safer then keeping it in a storage unit. Besides, the mud boy needs someone to keep him company. He is right there with them on the day they bring Artemis back, and personally takes it upon himself to explain everything to his parents so they don't freak out.
Overall I could see Root becoming a much mellower person as the series continued, realising there is far more to the world then the military life he had clung onto for so long, and realising there were still many ways he could help the People.
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phantasmiafxndom · 3 months
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You should talk about your ocs here more often :3. I feel like a lot of people who like your KnY content would like HTBM, so... Which Here There Be Monsters characters do you think would fit the best as a demon in a Kimetsu au?
Thank you!!! >w< I really should try to talk about them more, and I very much appreciate the prompting to do so~ For the sake of keeping this post from getting too carried away, I'll only be taking non-human characters into account; feel free to ask about the Mages separately, if you'd like.
(For context/Oc info, check @phantasmagoriaoriginals)
. . .
Skorpion — Her personality, to begin with, consists of picking fights with as many people as possible and eating things she shouldn't. She'd do great as a demon... though her reckless, persistent harassment of every Hashira she can find might not lead to a very long lifespan as one. Not that she'd care too much about dying...
Suu — Tbh, he wouldn't be all that different as a demon. Same merman-like appearance, same zero braincells, same life strategy of hiding out in the deepest river he can stake his claim on and devouring anyone unfortunate enough to go in the water... He'd be happier as a demon (downsides included) than a human, by far.
Jericoh — Douma vibes, but more "scam artist/crime boss" than "cult leader". Takes way too much pleasure in tormenting poor, helpless, stupid humans who can't fight back. Probably collects Nichirin swords as trophies/to fulfill his sparkly-valuable-objects fetish. Either evades detection for centuries, or gets his ass in trouble REAL quick.
Mithri — Smug snake bastard is now a picky-eater demon who's actively offended when humans aren't honored to be devoured by them. Vain to an extent that makes Gyokko look modest, they'd likely end up picking constant fights with Slayers out of sheer spite. They'd have poison-based abilities, with dreadfully versatile tactics.
Cinnabar — They'd be one of those demons that looks far too much like a person/child (and takes advantage of that). Definitely sets mass wildfires/burns down entire towns just to munch on the charred corpses afterward. Doesn't have much interest in direct combat, but finds it hilarious to watch hopeful, determined Slayers burn alive after not landing a single hit on them. Uncontrollable in a dangerous way; Muzan would probably get sick of them very quickly.
Kegare + Kiyomi — These two have to stay together regardless of the Au (do not separate, as the joke goes), so I can picture a sort of Daki and Gyuutarou-ish situation for them. Kiyomi would likely be the stronger one of the two in this setting (mostly due to how many humans they'd eat), but Kegare is the one going out of his way to cause as many problems as possible (especially for the Slayer corps).
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cyb-by-lang · 1 month
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okay so i've been thinking about A Ninja's Guide to Gotham and i think i know what Ra's al Ghul's plan is, at least what he (and Zetsu) want to do
the plan to set Kei loose on Konoha didn't go well for Zetsu and Madara, she had her team to help (and the power of foresight) but the gist of the idea could still work, if Zetsu sets up the stage right
Kei has a pretty good grasp on her emotions, but Hayate (specifically, Hayate in danger/hurt Hayate) being her trigger is known to Zetsu. so it makes sense to isolate the two from the rest of their village. drop them into a batshit (ha) crazy city, keep them separated, really pile the stress on Kei and wear her down.
all the while, they've got a Zetsu army cooking for maximum trauma later.
Ra's al Ghul wants to destroy Gotham, and this Zetsu has essentially handed him the trigger for a massive walking bomb, but can only be activated under very specific circumstances. and Kei, as stressed as she is and even with almost losing it a couple of times, has done an excellent job reigning her fury in (thanks Isobu)
AND there's the fear toxin. i imagine they've been adjusting it this whole time to actually work on a Jinchuriki.
i don't think they really want Kei to join them, necessarily (though it might save them a few steps) i think all the attacks serve mostly to increase Kei's stress until she starts breaking.
and then Zetsu was trying to take Hayate. because what would be the one thing to almost certainly break Kei?
idk if this is how it will play out exactly, but i'm guessing this is the gist of Ra's and Zetsu's plan:
Zetsu army attack, with giant Zetsu monster included to spread out the Bats and allies. try and separate Kei from team. keep her focused on the attacks without provoking her yet, but wear her down.
take Hayate, or at least manipulate the field to put him within sight of Kei. kill him where she can clearly see.
use that moment of shock to shoot as many fear toxin darts at her as possible. if she's distracted enough, she might get a few doses. and it doesn't matter much how quickly Isobu burns through the poison, because all they need is that initial ignition of super enhanced terror and trauma for her to explode into a raging Jinchuriki. throw the Zetsu monster back at her, and they take out half of Gotham ripping each other to pieces.
(the Bats and Kei's team hear her agonized beastial screech, even the ones on the other side of the city, and know this is Worst Case Scenario)
this is an excellent narrative strategy for maximum pain and plot drama for Kei and friends, and i can see it coming so close to fruition (if i'm even in the ballpark here, this is all an educated guess)
unfortunately for Ra's and Zetsu, Batman exists. he knows how Ra's operates. once the fear toxin came into play, and Batman listened to Kei talk about her past, i'm pretty sure he could connect those dots.
"Superpowered ninja host of a demon able to level a city, if pressed, and her main trauma trigger is her brother being threatened or harmed in any way. Right. Best keep the brother out of harm's way. If only they could all stay put."
also unfortunate for Ra's and Zetsu, Jason exists. i doubt they were expecting Hayate to adopt Gotham's newest menace, nor for Jason to take to it like a mother goose. Kei might be correct in thinking Hayate is safer with Jason than with her, bc as volatile and explosive as he can be, he's not quite "city-leveling" tier.
as DC stories tend to go, the villains plot usually gets to play out at least most of the way. so maybe Hayate does get hurt at some point, maybe Kei does lose it, but this could be where Jason finally works with the Bats + Team Minato to save the day (and his new little brother....)
anyway, idk how much of this is right, but the pieces have been fitting themselves together in the back of my brain for a while. and if i'm on the money on any of this and you'd rather not post bc spoilers, no worries!! i just wanted to share how much i've been thinking about it, it's on a short list of things i play in my mental movie theater ಠ⁠◡⁠ಠ
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[image description: a GIF of Kronk from Emperor's New Groove saying "Oh yeah. It's all coming together." end description.]
I love it when readers send me their analysis. It really helps me figure out what's working when I write and what is sticking with people.
And I hope you feel like a detective for having figured out most of today's evil plan (credit to Ra's al Ghul) before a fair number of the characters in Gotham have. I'm glad you picked up on it!
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