sqquidzz · 3 months ago
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If the Hashira Adopted a Child with You
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Hashiras x fem!y/n
Summary: How would the Hashira feel about adopting a child and the process of raising them together and living life. Includes Rengoku, Sanemi, Gyomei, and Obanai.
Tags: Fluff, Insecurities, Brief Mentions of Past Trauma, Married!Y/n, Some Angst, Crying, Arguments, Major Character Death, Grieving, Sadness and Fluff with Bittersweet Endings, Mentions of Blood and Gore, Injury, !Spoilers for Demon Slayer Manga!, etc.
A/N: Hello lovelies!!! I'm so sorry I haven't been posting content. I was dealing with a few family issues and wasn't able to get to writing. Thankfully, the issues have been resolved, however, I never got back to writing because I almost forgot about this account! I hope you guys will enjoy this fic! This fic idea was courtesy of @rupkatha-banerjee!
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Rengoku:
When you first mention the idea of adopting a child, Rengoku immediately agrees that it is a great idea with his signature smile
You have been hesitant to ask him if adopting a child is okay because you are aware of his family's traditions of how as the woman holds the child in her womb, she must stare at a fire to bring the bright colour of flames to the child's hair
The nest day, Remgoku insists to take you to an orphanage that he had come across during patrol the night before
You both take a wagon into the city, and soon you come across the orphanage that Rengoku mentioned
You walk in and are immediately greeted by the sight of children running around everywhere, and the owner comes over to greet you
You spend some time talking and playing with the children, but you notice a small boy sitting in the corner of the main room alone
You come over to him and greet him, but he says nothing, staring at you behind his blonde bangs with dead orange eyes
You realize that the boy's eyes and hair distinctly remind you of Rengoku, and feeling empathy for the boy who seems to be unable to get over the fact that his family was gone, you decide to adopt him
At first, it was very hard
The boy would not say one word to you or Rengoku, sitting in the corner of the bedroom, simply staring into nothingness
But that didn't stop you, and you say by him every day talking to him about your life and Rengoku and all the other Hashira
You would especially tell him about Tanjiro's adventures with Zenitsu and Inosuke, laughing to yourself as you recount the hilarious events (you got to know these things thanks to Rengoku)
Soon enough, the boy, who you decided to name Yuki, warmed up to both you and Rengoku, and was talking non stop with both of you, playing outside and helping around the house
You spent as much time with him as you could, teaching him basic skills and educating him
He got to meet all the Hashira and met the infamous trio as well as Nezuko, who he surprisingly warmed up to the most
However, when you got the news that Rengoku had passed on during a mission, you and Yuki we're devastated
Yuki shut down completely, not speaking to anyone, leaving you back at step one
Seeing the state of your son, you cried and cried tears that were bottled up ever since your childhood
Through your sobs and wails, you could see your son moving towards you
You realize he was embracing you, and from that day, you both promised to save each other and never leave each other, no matter the cost
You continued to raise Yuki, watching him as he followed his father's footsteps to become the new Flame Hashira
You were concerned that he would one day not come back, but you had faith in him
One fateful day, your time had come to an end
You had successfully lived to old age and passed on peacefully with your son by your side, as he kept his promise to never leave you, ever
Sanemi:
When you first proposed to adopt a child, Sanemi was afraid
He was scared that he was not cut out to be a parent due to his severe anger issues and aggressive nature, especially after thinking about what happened with Genya
Obviously, Sanemi being Sanemi, he lashed out at you, asking: "Why the fuck would we need to adopt a kid!? Stop being fucking stupid!"
Instead of bursting into tears and running away like he thought you would, you hugged him from behind and said with a smile: "You'll be an amazing father, trust me."
By the time Sanemi turns around, there are tears in his eyes, and he silently cried into your shoulder with you rubbing comforting circles into his back
The next day, you two both go to the orphanage in the city in hopes of adopting a child
As you enter, you immediately get along with the kids, playing and talking with them as Sanemi sticks to one corner
However, a little boy about 7 years old comes up to Sanemi and asks in a harsh tone "What do you think you're doing oldie?!"
Sanemi being Sanemi again, he retorts back yo the kid, and before you can stop them, they are both having a screaming match
You realize in that moment that this not is the right one for your Sanemi
He was able to match Sanemi's temper, and he seemed to be enjoying himself just as much as you could see that Sanemi was
You decide to take him home, and while the owner tried to warn you, you simply tell her that he's the right one
However, the nest few days in the house were chaos, to say the least
The house was never quiet, with yelling and screaming bouncing off the walls so often that you were temped to get earplugs, but you wouldn't trade it for the world
The boy you adopted, who you named Sake, seemed harsh on the outside, but was a real sweetheart on the inside, just like your Sanemi
However, it took just one sentence to ruin this to what seemed like beyond repair
The normal arguments were going on between Sanemi and Sake, but it seemed to be more serious this time
Before you could intervene, Sanemi, out of a fit of rage, yelled, "Just because we adopted you from that orphanage doesn't mean that we won't dump you back there!"
The silence hung like a blanket that was too heavy, suffocating everyone under the weight
Tears rolled down Sale's face as he looked to Sanemi in shock, betrayal and hurt shining in his eyes
You watched as Sake's eyes dulled so much that his eyes almost looked black, void of emotion, and his tears dry up instantly
You recognise the look on his face
That was the look you had on your face when you were abandoned by your family, a defense reflex for when you knew that if you were to cry, things would just become even worse
"Sake....?" You called to him, but he doesn't seem to see you
Before you or Sanemi can do anything, you hear something come from his mouth, too quiet to be heard the first time, but then you realize what he is saying
"I'm sorry.... I'm sorry...."
You feel like bursting into tears upon hearing this, and you go to hug your son
You got a glimpse of Sanemi's face, who was equally as shocked, not only by his words, but the reaction that he got due to them
Sanemi managed to snap out of it, and immediately came to join your hug, apologising for what he said, trying to reassure him that they wouldn't abandon him and telling Sake to not apologize for what Sanemi had done
At these words, Sake broke, sobbing into you and Sanemi, wailing so loudly that your's and Sanemi's hearts broke
After what seemed like forever, Sake had fallen asleep, exhausted by all the crying
As you tucked him in, Sanemi sat in the kitchen, a look of hopelessness on his face
"I told you I'm not cut out to be a father," Sanemi's voice echoed in the startlingly quiet house
"Mistakes happen, but it is up to us to fix them," you simply reply as you both watch the sunset, too filled with sorrow to say any more words than those
The next day, you wake to find Sake not in bed
This frightens you, and you rush out of your room in search of him, only to find him sitting outside, plucking the grass
You remember one memory where Sake and Sanemi were fighting about pulling the grass, and they both ended up pulling grass from the ground and throwing it at each other
They both got an earful from you, but you could see them grinning at each other like idiots
That memory made you smile, but your smile faded when you saw the dull look in your son's eyes
You don't even realize it, but Sanemi walks towards Sake from behind you and kneels infront of him, looking him straight in the eye
"No matter what I or you say or do, I will never abandon you like I was abandoned, never," Sanemi whispered as he looks at Sake for any sign of acknowledgement
After a few agonizing minutes, Sake's head slowly rises, and you can see tears glinting in his eyes
"You mean it?" he asks, and you know he's trying to stop his tears
"Yes, both of us do," Sanemi promises, and you give Sake a smile when he looks to you
Another minute passes by, and your concern slowly grows, before the tears in Sake's eyes overflow and he's jumping into Sanemi's arms, wailing loudly again, but this time in relief
You join their hug and tears of your own are shed, and you all sit there together on the grass, sobing and comforting each other, knowing that this quite promise to be together always was made
After that day, everything goes back to normal, and you witness as your son grows up to become a Demon Slayer alongside his father, creating a new breathing technique based on Wind Breathing and rising the ranks
As the final battle comes and goes, you find yourself at Sanemi's side as he quickly approaches his demise due to the Demon Slayer Mark
You and Sake hold both his hands as he takes his last breath, never leaving his side until the very end
Despite your Sanemi being gone, you try your best to live and enjoy life
You visit the Kamados and Zenitsu, Insokue, Kanao, and Genya with Sake, and you help take care of them with the occasional visits from Urokodaki and Tengen Uzui
As the days go by, you soon find yourself lying on your bed, drawing your final breaths with Sake at your side
You can tell he is trying to hold back his tears, but they flow anyway, and you brush them away with your boney, frail hands
You lips barely mouth the words I love you before your last breath falls from your lips and you pass on peacefully of old age with Sake at your side, and you know he will stay at your side, always
Gyomei:
When you tell Gyomei that you would like to adopt a child, tears stream down Gyomei's cheeks
You were afraid you made him cry out of sadness, but he reassures you that he cries tears of joy
Out of excitement, you drag Gyomei with you to the city is hopes of finding a child in the main orphanage of the city
However, before you arrived, you caught a glimpse of a little girl in an alley dressed in rags, desperately feeding a ghastly thin cat a small piece of meat
You approach her from behind and tap her arm
She immediately flinches away from the touch, looking up at you with frightened eyes
Gyomei slowly follows, and seeing his holding form, the girl crawls back helplessly, tears starting to stream down her dirt ridden cheeks
Gyomei simply sits down infront of the girl and holds out his large but surprisingly welcoming hand
The girl takes his hand hesitantly, and finds that ur is warm, though hard to the touch, is pleasantly comforting
It seems that exhaustion took her over as she slumps into his hand, her head resting on the hand that lays on Gyomei's warm palm
The cat she was feeding also goes to brush up against his hand and curls next to it contently
You knew from the moment you must take her and the cat in as your children
The first few days was filled with a lot of cleaning
The girl, who you decided to name her Sayo at Gyomei's request, was frightened at first by the unfamiliar environment, but soon warmed up to getting in the bath as Gyomei guided her
To give her privacy, he stepped out as you washed her, and you got to know how she ended up on the streets
You reassure her that you and Gyomei will take care of her, and that her cat is also safe, as Gyomei was washing him outside in the garden
She told you the cat's name was Cookie, because she loved cookies but could never have them often because they were too expensive
As you walk out of the shower with her, you find Gyomei on the porch feeding Cookie some meat from your and his kitchen
Sayo walked over to Gyomei and sat next to him with no fear, touching him lightly as if she didn't want to scare him since he was blind
Gyomei smiled slightly, and both Sayo and Gyomei sat together petting Cookie, as you watched them bond silently with only the setting sun as their witness
As the years went by, Sayo got more used to you and Gyomei
She met all the Hashira, the Kamados and Tanjiro's crew, as well as Master Kagaya and those at the butterfly estate
She especially got along with Kanao, with both of them being soft spoken and their similar pasts
As Sayo grew, she helped out at the butterfly estate, especially as the Demon Slayers prepared for the final battle, helping develop the Anti-Kibutsuji drug
Once the battle was over, news had reached both you and Sayo that Gyomei had passed on fighting valiantly against Muzan Kibutsuji and the Uppermoons
You and Sayo were devastated, but despite that, you both decided to live on to keep Gyomei's memory alive in your hearts, knowing that he was not really gone, but he was resting in both your hearts, eternally
Obanai:
When you finally brought up the suggestion to adopt a child, Obanai almost spit out his tea
Obanai couldn't help but think of all the things that could go wrong if he were to become a father
The one thing he couldn't get over was the fact that any kid would probably be too scared to even look at him because of his scar
Obanai obviously didn't say anything to you, but you could see the inner turmoil he was going through on his face
"Relax, Obanai! I know you'll do great as a father!" you gave him your signature smile and Obanai knew that he couldn't say otherwise
It took a few days to convince Obanai to actually come with you to the orphanage, for Obanai was afraid that, with so many kids around, the bandages around his scar would be pulled down accidentally, leaving the monstrous thing out in the open for prying eyes
Instead of shutting Obanai down, you let him voice all his concerns at once, knowing that Obanai would like to be able to voice his concerns before you look for a solution
"It's not possible to say that those things won't happen, but you just have to trust me," you smile as you run your fingers through Obanai's straight, jet-black hair
Obanai had said nothing after, simply watching the moon shine it's pale light over the both of you, the only witness to this affectionate moment
The nest day, Obanai wakes you early and says, "Come, Y/n. If we want to go to the orphanage, we better leave before traffic picks up."
At Obanai's words, you immediately brighten up, reading Obanai about how he was the one waking you up to go to the orphanage
After you hassle around the house trying to get ready, you and Obanai share breakfast that he made for both of you and you head out to the city soon enough
As you enter the orphanage, you experience a sense if nostalgia, for you remember the time you spent in the orphanage as a child before being thrown out because of shortages in supplies
Obanai sulks behind you, giving a nasty glare to whoever tries to come up and talk to him
However, one child comes and tugs on Obanai's haori lightly
Before Obanai can turn and tell the kid to "fuck off", he notices the bandages around one of her eyes
Quietly, he could hear her say, "You have bandages just like me."
Obanai's eyes widen slightly, and he brushes his bandages unconsciously with his hand
The girl simply stares at him, not saying anything more as the awkward silence continues
Unknowingly to Obanai, you have been watching this interaction, and you tell the owner of the orphanage that you'll take her in
As you, Obanai, and the little girl all take a cart back to your home, you see from the corner of your eye that the little girl is leaning against Obanai, probably sleeping, and Obanai is simply sitting there, watching the sunset
You knew you had a feeling that this child was right for you and your Obanai
It was the middle of the night when you realized the little girl you adopted was not in bed
You immidiately started to panic, startling Obanai awake as you run around the house trying to find her
You end up finding her outside, staring at the moon, her bandaged eye now uncovered, revealing the gruesome scar that hid beneath
You were unsure of how to approach the little girl, who seemed so lost as she simply stared at the moon, however, Obanai walked over from where he was standing behind you, taking a seat next to the girl
You realized that his mouth was not covered with bandages as it usually was, displaying his equally large scar that ran from the corners of his mouth
The girl looked over to Obanai, eyes wandering over his face curiously, before stopping at his scar
She reached out, tracing the scarred over tissue around his mouth, her mouth agape in what you thought was surprise or awe
After exploring Obanai's face, tears pooled in her eyes and ran down her pale cheeks, and she whispered, "You look like me."
You smile as Obanai agrees with the little girl, taking her hands in his and holding them against his scar
"No matter who tells you you're ugly because of your scar, or if you think your own scar is ugly, remember that you are not the only one suffering. You can always come to me," Obanai said sweetly as he lets go of her hands, though her hands stay on his face
The night grows deep as the little girl continued to shed tears hidden behind a wrapped face, the moon as witness to this moment as feelings are shared for the first time
As years go by, yours and Obanai's daughter, who you named Rin, became a Demon Slayer alongside you and her father
She made many friends on the way, meeting Tanjiro and Nezuko, as well as the rest of their friends and the Hashira and those who worked at the Butterfly Estate
She got along very well with Genya, though he was too shy to speak to her at first, and they shared everything with each other and bonded due to the face that they both have a scar running across their faces
You couldn't help but smile as you saw your daughter laughing along with Kanao as Tanjiro and Zenitsu were chased by Inosuke
Everything felt perfect... until the final battle
As a Demon Slayer yourself, you were present during the fight against Muzan Kibutsuji, trying to defend your comrades as best you could while keeping an eye on Obanai
However, you must have been engrossed in the battle, for by the time Muzan was ended, Obanai was lying on the ground, almost lifeless, with lacerations running across is face and multiple wounds that were bleeding profously
You hold him in his finaly moments, pressing a slight kiss to his forehead as Rin joins you, holding his hand and shedding tears that streamed endlessly down her blood-stained cheeks
Obanai simply whispers the words, "I love you" before the grip on Rin's hand grows slack
Your own tears fall as you and Rin silently grieve the loss of a father and a husband
But the battle wasn't over yet
Muzan has passed down his blood to Tanjiro, causing him to become the Demon King, and drawing out the battle further as the sun still rose, not fazing the new Demon King in the least
You and Rin struggled to fight due to the injuries you both sustained, but you both managed to buy enought time for Kanao to bring Tanjiro back
As everyone embraced in joy as Tanjiro became human again, you and Rin cried silently to the side, still grieving the hole that your family now has
After the final battle, you try to enjoy the days that you have left
You were one of the rare Demon Slayers to have unlocked your Demon Slayer Mark, causing your demise to come rapidly as you reached the age of 25
Your daughter sits at your bedside as you struggle to keep breathing
You know Rin is struggling to hold in her tears, and you caress her scar, giving her a loving look before the light dulled from your eyes and your arm dropped lifelessly
As you reach the light, you can see a faint silhouette of a man, holding his hand out to you
You know it is Obanai as you reach out to take his hand and wrap him in your embrace, both reunited once again
Back down on Earth, Rin's tears fall from her eyes, but she is smiling, knowing that you were finally reunited with your one true love
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cinnamon-galaxies · 7 months ago
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Unspoken Feelings
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Pairings: Alastor x gn reader Warnings/Tags: gn!reader, tension, lots of tension, unspoken feelings, hurt but also comfort?, Alastor is bad at feelings, inner conflict, suppressed feelings, does the ending count as (light) angst?, bittersweet ending, I'm bad at tagging Summary: Loving you is hard, but being with you is harder. And being with Alastor is dangerous. Wordcount: 1.9k A/N: This one is very short compared to my other fics but full of (heartbreaking) tension. *****
{Masterlist}
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You sat at the grand piano in the dimly lit lounge of the hotel. Your fingers glided gracefully across the keys, seamlessly transitioning between the notes with a captivating elegance. With closed eyes you surrendered to the enchanting melody, completely entranced by its spell. Your soft voice sang along, a subtle sound that harmonized with heartbreaking lyrics of the ballad that had such a special place in your heart, reminding you of bittersweet moments and cherished dreams.
   Alastor sat not far from you in an armchair with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His crimson eyes remained fixed on you, captivated by your fervent performance that fully caught his attention. Though he heard you play before he had never witnessed such a fiery passion put into the music that came from your fingers. Your singing voice was enchanting, echoed from the high ceiling like a siren’s song casting a spell on every person who could hear you. It was as though you were revealing a concealed message and opening your heart to whatever you had in mind.
   He closed his eyes while he let himself get bewitched by your spell, fully succumbing to your beautiful performance. Were you even aware that he was watching you? Listened to you singing and playing like a muse? He didn’t know it but also he didn’t care as long as you kept playing and filled the hole in his heart with the sound of your song, as a clenching feeling tugged on his stomach, clouded by a pang of longing. He knew exactly what he felt right now. How he felt about you, but expressing those emotions was a different story. He wasn’t good at feelings, let alone at admitting them. It was hard to even admit them to himself, just to begin with. He found himself caught up in denial for far too long and had blamed it on his mind playing tricks on him – he even preferred to diagnose himself as mentally ill than to just accept the fact that he had grown fond of you. Way too fond.
   That he started longing for you.
   Loving you.
   Love.
   He let out a dismissive laugh that was far too quiet for you to hear over the sound of the piano.
   Love was a feeling he had never felt before. At least not in this way. He had loved his mother unconditionally. She had been the closest and dearest person to him that ever existed in his whole lifetime. And there were other people who were close to him and who he cared about a lot. But nothing like this could be compared to what he felt in your presence. What feelings you evoked deep inside of him as he looked you in the eyes, felt your lingering gaze on him, listened to you talk and laugh with all your heart. The way his thoughts about you occupied his every breath and kept him awake at night because otherwise if he closed his eyes all he could see was your beautiful face haunting his mind like a tormenting ghost. Oh sweet hells, he even dreamed about you. Was this really the love people were so obsessed with and that was considered the most beautiful thing in the world? There was no way he could comprehend this; no matter how hard he tried. You possessed his every thought and made him question his sanity. It was an uncomfortable feeling that tugged on him, almost completely tore him apart. He hated it. But yet he didn’t want to miss it.
   He opened his eyes again, watching your graceful silhouette moving in front of the grand piano and couldn’t help but smile contendly, his eyes glowing with sparks of joy. Though no matter how many feelings of happiness tingled in his guts, he felt heartbroken at the same time. Your relationship has always been complicated. You danced around each other, both too far to take the leap. There was so much on you that Alastor admired. Your view on life and your admiration for the smaller things. The way you animatedly gestured around while you told him something and how your eyes sparkled with anticipation whenever you were about to do the things you adored the most. He admired your creativity and your talent, the passion you put into your music when you played one of your instruments and used your powerful voice to sing along. The way you danced with him as if you were a graceful swan. He also admired your strength and independence, your self-confidence, your stubbornness, your abnormal sense of humor and psychotic tendencies that always reminded him of the fact that you were in hell for a reason. He admired the way you weren’t afraid to show off your insanity, even implemented some of your sickest fantasies on hell’s worst spawns. He admired you.
   Alastor took a sip of his whiskey. His thoughts made him sound like a fool – an immature and cheesy teenager – whenever he tried to unravel the clot that every oh so normal person considered love.
   By now he was aware that he himself had become a victim of this cruel but also beautiful torture. But no matter how confident he was of his actions his own demons held him back to fully commit to you and the feelings he harbored in his chest, carefully tucked away in a heart shaped box. He was everything but a saint. He’d never be enough for you because he knew that he would never change. All he could give you was sorrow and pain and if there was one thing he didn’t want you to bear, it was you suffering from his incapabilities of being the lover you deserved.
   The song came to an end and that was when Alastor noticed that he had swallowed his whole drink within the shortest amount of time. Not good, as he already felt the effects of the alcohol starting to cloud his senses.
   Through the corner of his eye he saw you move and when he turned his face towards you, you caught him by surprise as he met your gaze. Time stood still for a short moment, his heart pounded in his chest as he returned your startled gaze. You obviously hadn’t been aware of his presence until now.
   Alastors smile widened in amusement at your dumbfounded expression but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his voice was calm and smooth as he said, “That was quite the performance, my dear.”
   You forced yourself to smile, trying hard to hide your embarrassment in front of him – unsuccessfully. What a cute sight, Alastor thought but shook off the thought as soon as it entered his mind.
   “Thank you, Alastor,” you responded to him, your voice much more confident than your startled body language expressed. A wave of reassurance overcame you and you calmed down, recovering from the surprise of your unexpected listener. “It’s always nice to have a captive audience. Even though I would’ve preferred to be aware of it,” you then added with a soft voice, a genuine smile forming on your lips.
   Alastor chuckled softly. “Well, consider me captivated, indeed.”
   The room became silent for a moment as you and Alastor exchanged glances, the air heavy with unspoken words. There was a moment of silent understanding between you, a shared acknowledgement of the unspoken feelings that lingered beneath the surface. Alastor knew he had to say something, to break the tension between you, but the words caught in his throat, unable to be spoken out loud. It was one of those moments when he should have risen from his seat and approached you, embracing your delicate presence and pulling you in a tender kiss. It was what he had dreamed about for weeks, one of those perfect moments that needed no words but mere actions to confess your feelings for each other. There was no doubt that you felt the same for him. Alastor knew that you returned his feelings (at least in some similar way). You had to. Otherwise you would have acted differently in his presence, less nervous, less attentive in his personal needs, less affectionate. You would’ve maintained less eye contact with him, not lingering your gaze longer on him than necessary and not secretly stealing glances. Yes, he knew about it but not only because he could sense it when he was watched, but also because people had told him. Not only Charlie had tried to confront him about the supposed ‘tension’ between the both of you, but also Angel couldn’t help but joke loudly about it. Alastor was told how much you smiled in his presence, how much more vivid you behaved, those subtle tries of yours to catch his attention without raising suspicion. Well, your attempt to remain inconspicuous seemed to have failed – at least in the eyes of the other residents. If no one had told Alastor about it and he wouldn’t have spent time actively paying attention to your changes in behavior around him, he would have never noticed. Never guessed it. You were truly bad at concealing your feelings. Did you even try?
   Normally Alastor would’ve laughed at this thought. But in this moment there was nothing to laugh about as the tension between you burned with a subtle passion, drawing the both of you to each other in an unspoken longing.
   You loved him at least as much as he loved you.
   You wanted him at least as much as he wanted you.
   And you needed him at least as much as he needed you.
   At least that’s what Rosie had told him when he had spent a whole afternoon conversing with her about that peculiar demoness that made him feel things he never thought possible. But yet, Alastor remained in his armchair, returning your loving expression with unveiled eyes. His breath was heavy and his heart pounded in his chest like a drum on a battlefield.
   Oh, how much he wanted to touch you.
   To get close to you.
   To hug you.
   To kiss you.
   To make him his. For the rest of eternity.
   But he knew his inner demons would show you no mercy. That he would just hurt you to a point of no return. And that was something he was determined not to allow under any circumstances. Something he would never forgive himself for. And he would hurt you. He knew that.
   Alastor felt a lump building in his throat and held his breath as it was too painful to continue breathing with that pressure clenching his chest. 
   The both of you stood there for a moment longer, staring at each other but remained in your unmoved state, silently confessing to each other without a spoken word.
   Without making a sound Alastor stood up, his hand wrapped tightly around his empty whiskey glass, knuckles whitening under the pressure. He offered you a small, toothless smile before turning around to leave. His heart was heavy from unspoken desires and the pain of his decision tore his heart into shreds as he left you alone. The door swung close behind him and Alastor couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss wash over him. He knew that loving you was hard. And being without you was even harder.
   Cruel.
   But it was for the best.
   He could never love you the way he wanted to – the way you deserved it. And if protecting you meant tearing himself apart in the most gruesome ways, so it should be.
*****
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livelaughlovekny · 4 months ago
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You apply ointment on his hands
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Notes: Original AU, Gender neutral reader , 2nd person POV,
Summary: Before the war, the both of you fall into a routine where you apply ointment on his hands.
a/n: oh dang its been a while guys. this is really short btw !!
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  He was most definitely indulging you. Which demon slayer has not had their fair share of blisters and skin rubbed raw from training? As Hashiras, it is absolutely not a surprise that you have all gotten to used to the pain. In fact, your hands were probably roughed up and used to it. Only idiots who had too much free time would even attempt to heal the wounds on their hands. Muichirou was, without a doubt, not of one them. Yet, he never objects when you would unscrew the cap of a small bottle of ointment and gesture for him to hold out his hands after a long day of training.
  Maybe it came as a surprise to you the first time he obliged without any hesitation, but really, deep in both of your hearts, you both knew that this was just the calm before the storm – every act of affection that could be shown is a luxury. He never expresses his longing and love outright, though he has been more open ever since he came back from the blacksmiths, but neither did you. Perhaps it was because saying those three little words aloud would be your breaking points, the one thing that could prevent the both of you from joining the war. It’s really unfair but at least you are the given the chance to have these little peaceful moments where the only thing that mattered was him and you.
  With one hand gently holding one of his, you dig lightly into the oil with your other. Gently running your finger across the rough surface of his calloused hands, you hum a little. You trace the lines on his palm and draw little circles on it, noting for the nth time how he’s not ticklish at all.
  Muichirou watched you intently, his focus on you and only you. He watched as you determinedly but gently apply the ointment onto his hands, the way your brows furrowed ever so slightly, as if the rough edges of his palm frustrated you. He thinks that it does. He can guess why but doesn’t allow himself to think too deeply into it. After all, you too had the same rough edges and blisters on your palms but you didn’t seem to care about that. He notes with mild irritation at himself for not offering to care for your hands too. It’s unfortunate, but he realises that he’s too embarrassed to do the same. One day, he promises to himself as he continues watching you.
  His left palm glistens a little from the oil but it’s a while before you switch to his other hand. Repeating the same procedure, you slowly apply the oil onto his right palm. Despite knowing how he was un-ticklish and numbed to small pains such as these, you still took great care in rubbing the ointment into his palm. You enjoyed this feeling. This feeling you get when you are able to care for him. It’s a warm and fulfilling one. When you are done, you slowly let go of his hand, seemingly reluctant to do so. To your surprise, Muichirou grabs and entwines your fingers together. A new kind of silence falls over you two.
  The both of you stay in the state for a while. The oily sensation from the ointment on his hands wasn’t pleasant but neither of you minded. Holding his hand, you could feel how calloused his hands were and briefly wondered, if maybe, somehow, in another world, he would have the smoothest and prettiest hands you had ever seen. Hands that proved that he had never had to suffer through the ordeals he did in this one. In that moment, you wondered how much you would like to see him with smooth hands and if that was why you had even bothered to start this routine.
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a/n: so it turns out i can still write, albeit terribly, when I'm avoiding work !!
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hyvyinjie · 6 months ago
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CHANCE.
TW! implications of death.
bittersweet! melancholic
t. muichiro x f. reader
graciously requested by @muuumuiiii ! thank you so much for requesting, you sweet lovely lad<3
who would have anticipated it? the mist hashira, of all individuals, displaying a concern that surpassed anyone else's for you—the spirit pillar; a warrior whose technique came at the steep cost of a gradual erosion of your life.
THE MOON; THE BRIGHTEST PEARL SUSPENDED IN OUR VELVET SKY THAT FLOODED THE INKY DARKNESS WITH ITS SILVER GLOW.
a radiant disc it was. casting its ethereal glow upon the shadows of the night, while also heralding the relentless onslaught of a few infamous entities—demons.
a symbol of hope, this pale sentinel embodied a goddess-like presence, standing as a timeless guardian, observing the earth with an unwavering gaze as warriors valiantly battled the monstrous creatures scattered throughout.
above, the luminous orb commanded the vast expanse of stars, illuminating them all. yet, even in this peaceful night, two particular slayers found themselves immersed in the serenity, although one seemed burdened by a more pressing concern, far beyond the tranquility itself.
in a world where such creatures roamed, the perfect harmony would remain elusive.
thus, what purpose did survival serve if death constantly loomed, a persistent visitor at one's very doorstep?
well, the purpose of life is to be happy. or at least, that's what this young man believed.
said boy possessed an acute understanding of this belief, as if it had become ingrained in the very fabric of his being—an awareness that, perhaps, bordered on the excessive.
the sheer ecstasy of savoring every moment of existence, embracing its essence in its entirety, was undeniably a remarkable achievement—a feat that deserved to be celebrated with fervor.
thus, he found himself utterly incapable of comprehending—indeed, he never had—how she could nonchalantly dismiss the imminent cessation of her own existence, as if it were a trifling matter. the weight of her disregard for her own life gnawed at him, like a persistent ache that defied understanding.
..then again, had he been any different?
"—and…now you’re spacing out, again.”
ah, the sound of that melodious voice; both longed for and dreaded, resonated within him and snapped him out of his reverie. even though he had incessantly poured out his thoughts to her since he awakened from his coma, with her faithfully by his side, deep in slumber—despite her own exhaustion—she had remained.
as your words echoed in his ears, he shifted his gaze to meet your own—and oh, those eyes.
he would give anything to forever witness his own reflection in the depths of your eyes.
in a mesmerizing dance, your gazes intertwined; an exquisite tapestry woven with delicate threads of connection.
he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnificence of your irises—their majesty akin to rare crystalline treasures, gleaming beneath the majestic canopy of the nocturnal sky.
as a gentle zephyr whispered sweet nothings, its delicate touch caressed their beings, a tender embrace from the invisible hands of nature. he watched, his eyelids descending to a half-closed state, surrendering to the enchanting symphony of the night.
the breeze, like a playful sprite, felt as if it alone, could carry away his worries and sorrows, dispersing them into the velvety darkness.
yet, amidst this reposeful tranquility, a question lingered in the depths of his soul, an enigma that remained elusive and enigmatic.
it was one of the few riddles that continued to elude his grasp, an enigmatic puzzle that defied comprehension, regardless of whether he had regained his former self or not.
why, he pondered ever so deeply, did your well-being hold such profound significance to him?
why did his heart ache with an inexplicable yearning to protect you, to ensure the radiance within you remained untouched by the shadows of the world? it was as if his very purpose revolved around safeguarding your light, shielding it from the encroaching darkness threatening to dim its brilliance.
no, he never intended to diminish your worth in any way.
on the contrary—he understood, with a profound certainty, that you’re fully capable of caring for yourself alone.
yet, despite his awareness, a veil of mystery draped over his consciousness—that of a delicate wisp of mist teasing the boundaries of his understanding. it remained tantalizingly close, yet perpetually out of his reach, an enigma that eluded his grasp.
similarly elusive was the faint, almost imperceptible yet weighty pang in his heart each time his gaze flickered to your bandages that dressed your wounds.
he struggled to fathom its origins, to decipher the emotions that coursed through him with every glance. was it concern, fear, or something different altogether?
of course, he chastised himself for overreacting. after all, you were healing, weren't you?
...right?
at least, that was the relentless mantra he repeated to himself, like a haunting melody, a lullaby of self-deception.
perhaps it was a lie he constructed, a defense mechanism to shield himself from the harsh reality. deep down, he knew all too well that you were pushing yourself to the brink, sacrificing fragments of your own well-being to save countless others from the clutches of death.
how he yearned to tell you—to implore you—to cease using the very essence that slowly, yet inexorably, eroded your own vitality. the desire to shield you from the self-inflicted harm, consumed him.
yet, who was he to stand in your way?
who was he to dictate how you should pursue your purpose—your solemn vow? who had the right to demand that you discard the only technique you knew, as if acquiring a new skill were a trivial matter?
perhaps, for you, it had maybe once been a tangible option—a plausible alternative.
however, it clashed with the very reason why you chose to persist in wielding the power of spirit breathing, despite its unfortunate and devastating toll on your own being.
it was a conundrum that weighed heavily upon his soul, yet another conflict that tugged at the frayed edges of his limited understanding.
then, abruptly—his consciousness snapped back to reality, like a fragile dream shattered by the gentle sweep of a waving hand.
in that instant, the symphony of your voice, a sweet and melodious tune, graced his senses once more, stirring his spirit from its slumber.
"hello? earth to tokito?"
your words danced in the air, adorned with a delicate blend of amusement and genuine concern—whilst he, silently observed your actions. his gaze lingering for a fleeting moment, as if capturing the essence of your graceful movements.
soon enough, his eyes blinked, like a dormant star awakening to illuminate the night sky, as he finally stirred from his reverie.
with a subtle tilt of his head, he emitted a soft hum—a melodic expression that intertwined intrigue and acknowledgment in response to your beckoning. the notes of his hum danced through the air, a secretive melody that conveyed both his curiosity and the recognition of your presence.
meanwhile, you watched him with an internal sigh of relief.
the young man, whom you had believed to be forever lost in the bewitching realm of his perpetual daydreams, had returned to the realm of the present. the transformation within him, from introspective to effervescent, had you spellbound, never failing to leave you even in but a speck of awe, of these rare moments of clarity that graced his being.
"seems like someone's finally awake."
a faint smile blossoming upon your lips, akin to the first delicate bloom of a spring flower. lowering your hand with graceful grace,
you adjusted yourself to a more comfortable position beside him on the edge of the engawa outside the butterfly manor—a perch where you and him had been leisurely spending time together, without a care in the world, rambling on about. relishing in the comfort in one another’s presence—like a normal pair of souls basking in the way of life.
"you’ve been staring at me for quite a while.”
pausing for a breath, you tilted your head—the radiance of your irises blooming with an enchanting glow, as if the secrets of the universe were hidden within their depths.
"what's wrong?"
in the midst of an enchanting moment, a subtle hint of wounded innocence played across your seductive countenance, evoking a mysterious allure.
"do i look that bad?"
your voice, though as mellow and gentle as always, carried an underlying touch of vulnerability.
in an instant, he reacted, tilting his head with a subtle mixture of surprise and denial.
"what? no."
aa he blinked, his words slipped out absent-mindedly, like a whisper from a dreamer's lips.
"far from it, actually."
he confessed, his sincerity palpable.
with a gaze that held a painter's eye for detail, he saw your flaws not as imperfections, but as intricate brush strokes that added depth to the masterpiece of your being. inexplicably, he adored you, to the point where it practically pained him.
and who could blame him? for you were way more than a mere beauty that could be captured in words. you were a tapestry of emotions, a symphony of sensations that defied description.
to him, you are everything.
your brows raised slightly, captivated by his ever-unpredictable nature. truly, like the wind, he embraced the freedom to wander in any direction he pleased.
reminiscent of an owl, you blinked a plenty amount of times, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of his flattery. it seeped into the recesses of your heart, stirring a delicate blend of bashfulness and gratitude.
"then..."
unintentionally mimicking his gestures, as if dancing in synchrony with his spirit, you then asked, avidly yearning to explore the depths of his thoughts.
"mind sharing what's got you so..distant?"
although it was not deemed uncommon for him, of all individuals, to maintain a silent disposition, you possessed a deeper understanding—having witnessed something greater, something more.
despite the mere span of a few days, you stood as a crucial observer to the sudden shift in his demeanor. having been privy to a bewildering yet endearingly interactive side of the boy since his awakening, it became slightly disconcerting to witness him potentially regress into his characteristic, distant, and dazed state.
the memory of those extraordinary moments lingered, and it was disheartening to question whether they were mere illusions or if they held the promise of something genuine.
as of now, the male in question pressed his lips together, creating a slender line as his gaze wandered away from yours, as though searching for a brief respite from reality.
seeing this, you reassured him. carefully observing these subtle occurrences with your keen irises.
"you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
responding with a weary shake of his head and a sigh escaping his lips, his gaze flickered back to you, and as his eyes connected with yours once more, a subtle softness overcame them.
truly breathtaking were his eyes. they possessed a hue reminiscent of emerald, yet they gleamed like the replesdent glow of the moon above.
however, what truly captured your attention was the way his brows furrowed just as the corner of his lips downturned, for internally—a cascade of emotions crashed upon him all at once. moreover, a despairing layer seemed to coat his eyes, a poignant sorrow that caught you off guard.
"i don't like it."
he stated firmly, his words hanging in the air, leaving you perplexed.
your head tilted slightly further, eyes widening as you regarded him with curiosity and intrigue.
in response, he raised a hand to the area where his heart resided, his gaze lowering and narrowing towards the ground beneath you both.
"this feeling..."
his voice carried a weight of uncertainty, gaze delicately shifted back to meet yours—and in that moment, you could have sworn you saw his frown deepen as the hint of sorrow on his features became even more pronounced.
"and knowing you could..."
he trailed off, unable to bring himself to complete his sentence. yet, the unfinished words were enough for you to grasp the essence of his meaning.
your brows upturned, sensing the profound depth of emotions he struggled to express fully through words. you had a hunch that it might be something like this, but witnessing his reaction with such intensity was, without a doubt, enough to evoke a painful ache in anyone's heart.
the desire to comfort him welled up within you, an overwhelming longing to ease his burdens. yet, you couldn't help but question how you could possibly offer reassurance.
would it be by telling a blatant lie about something that was inevitable?
now, that would be nothing short of cruelty, no?
to suggest that you would overcome it would only exacerbate the pain. moreover, you were uncertain how to approach the situation without inadvertently triggering a devastating chain of events in the unavoidable future.
truth be told, if he were anyone else, you might have dismissed the matter with a casual remark, wouldn't you?
but with him, it was different.
you couldn't bring yourself to say so.
unable to find the right words in that moment, your gaze somberly shifted away from his, fixating on a distant point ahead. yet, in a sudden and unexpected instant, you were taken aback as you felt the weight of something new but vaguely familiar resting upon your shoulder—soft strands of supple hair gently brushing against you. along with it came a delicate warmth, enveloping you in an oddly soothing sensation.
"you don't have to say anything."
he quietly uttered, his honeyed voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and reassurance. he simply needed to release his thoughts into the open, to let them be heard, even if it was just a single sentence.
there had been no intention to pressurize or burden you, but rather a desire to be the one offering reassurance while subtly seeking comfort himself.
in a silent plea to convince himself that he wasn't caught in a dream, he gingerly leaned his head against your shoulder, and though was making sure not to add any more damage to your wounds, he did so without a hint of regret.
your heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed by the depth of his actions. turning your attention back to him, you found solace in this unspoken gesture of support. that tender gesture conveyed a profound understanding, a connection that surpassed the boundaries of words. it was a silent reassurance; of ones comforting presence for the other, especially in the face of uncertainty.
a sentimental smile graced your features as you felt immense gratitude for his selfless deeds. even in this moment, he made sure you were as comfortable as possible, going above and beyond to provide solace. the warmth of his actions filled you with a deep sense of appreciation and reinforced the unmatched bond between you.
"..thank you,"
you whispered in a hushed breath, your voice carrying the weight of profound appreciation.
though the words seemed simple, they held within them an entire universe of gratitude—a universe that bloomed with vivid colors, dreamlike aspirations, and meaningful connections.
with a delicate grace, you lifted your hand and allowed your fingertips to dance upon the canvas of his raven tresses. each strand, like a silken thread, wove a tapestry of sensations beneath your touch.
the texture was soft and supple, akin to the gentle caress of a summer breeze. as your fingers glided through the ebony strands, you embarked on a journey of intricate care, smoothing out the knots that dared to disrupt the harmony.
in this intimate act, time seemed to suspend, creating a space where the world faded away, leaving only the two of you in a transcendent moment. your touch, as mindful as the brushstrokes of an artist, traced a path of tenderness and care. each movement held intention, a pledge to protect and cherish him, ensuring no harm would befall his vulnerable spirit.
It was a silent symphony, where the language of trust and gratitude flowed effortlessly through the whispers of your fingertips.
as you continued this tender ministration, a vibrant tapestry of emotions unfurled within the depths of your heart. gratitude, like a delicate fragrance, mingled with a sense of wonder, weaving a spellbinding combination.
the tenderness you shared painted a tableau, akin to a cherished memory, where hues of warmth, understanding, and appreciation blended harmoniously.
pleased by your touch, a contented hum escaped your companion's lips, his eyes finding solace in the comfortable embrace of closed lids.
a smile, brimming with emotions, blossomed upon his visage, a testament to the profound impact of your presence.
his heart fluttered with a bittersweet ache, caught between the beauty of the present and the uncertainty of the future.
yet, even in the face of daunting odds, a glimmer of hope persisted within him. it discreetly clung to his being, refusing to be extinguished.
it was undeniably a childlike hope, both fragile and resilient; to yearn for the possibility of a miraculous turn of events.
still, muichiro wanted to embrace that chance, to patiently wait for the magic of a future with you.
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alizera62quartz · 1 month ago
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Meet Incubus! Alphonse~
🩷😈💕
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mintygreencake · 7 months ago
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Mfs be asking me what I'm listening to in class and I gotta pull something out my ass because I'm not gonna tell my professor that I'm listening to a blonde rat getting choked out by an emo bitch with a chain
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luckyollieboy · 27 days ago
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Let's Meet Again
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» Paring/Characters:
DemonSlayer! Giyuu Tomioka x F! Reader
» Content/Warning:
Bittersweet. Sad so sad, lots of suicide ideation and implied deaths and just sad. Gang this broke me to write. It's so good but so sad. Forbidden love kind of? Reader is a girl specifically because the mother is mothering. Guys it's literally just sappy sad and bittersweet. Reader has fourteen siblings lmao, just roll with it.
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The Water Hashira sat silently on the mountain's edge, his blue eyes starting off into the distance. In your eyes, you could tell he was deep in thought, even if his voided expression said he was empty headed. You've been on a mission together for three days, and in those three days you've learned a lot about the Water Hashira, Giyuu Tomioka. He was kind hearted, lonely, and always so full of thoughts.
His voice broke the silence, "This is a dangerous mission. Why did you choose to accompany me? You could have denied."
You blinked from where you were swinging upside down from a tree branch. You pondered the answer to his question for a moment before speaking with a small smile, "You chose me, which means you don't think I'm weak. Besides, I'm used to dangerous missions. I'm on the Slayer Corps Suicide squad."
He glanced in your direction, watching you as you swung from the tree branch. For a moment, his expression seemed to soften slightly, maybe in pity or in general confusion, "You shouldn't be so careless with your life."
He looked forward again, his voided expression returning as he watched the water flow in the river that peeked from the trees blow the two of you. The sun wasn't up yet, but it was starting to rise ever so slowly.
"I'm not careless," You corrected him as you sat up straight on the branch with a sigh, "I just don't fear death. Knowing I could die makes living more fun, if that makes sense? It makes life have meaning to me."
You went back to dangling upside down after speaking to watch trees sway on this mountain. It was a breathtaking sight, early morning dew drops and rain clouds coming in really made this place feel comfortable. If only demons didn't exist, maybe you two could have been here for a different reason.
He glanced back at you once more, studying you as you hung upside down from the tree. He found your carefree attitude both frustrating and admirable at the same time. His expression held a hint of curiosity at your response. There was a beat of silence before he asked, "You've always been like that? Not fearing death."
"I think all my life has been surrounded with death and suffering. I suppose it's conditioned me in some way?" You said as you dropped to the ground, slightly stumbling as you went to sit next to him on the mountain's edge.
He listened to your response, pausing for a moment, as if debating whether or not to ask a question that had been on his mind for a while.
"Have you ever lost someone close to you?"
A beat of silence filled the air. You looked down at the trees below you, seeing the river peak out occasionally as your hands fidgeted with your Horai; it had at least thirty patches of cloth stitched onto the original black cloth. You replied to his question softly, "My Horai has patches for a reason."
He had never really noticed it before, but now he took a closer look at it. His eyes widened slightly as he truly comprehended the number of patches sewn onto the original black cloth of your Horai.
"Thirty... That's a lot of patches. Are they all for someone dear to you?" His voice was timid, hoping he wasn't crossing any boundary he wasn't aware of. You always seemed so carefree, gentle, open. He would hate to upset you.
"Some were dear to me, some are just those I've failed to save on a mission, comrades, demons who had no hope or no one to love them as humans." You leaned back, using your hands to keep your body up, as you stared at the sky with an unexplainable emotion in your heart. "Those that have been lost."
He watched you in silence, the stoic expression on his face wavering slightly as he listened to your words. He understood all too well the feeling of losing comrades, family, and those he was unable to save. He had seen countless deaths throughout his years as a demon slayer. But hearing it from you, someone who seemed so carefree, it hit him differently. It made his heart heavy. He looked down at the path in front of them, his thoughts consumed by your words.
"Must be a heavy weight to carry."
"It's not so bad." You said with a reassuring smile, "I'm strong so it's easier for me."
He looked back over at you, his expression softer. He could sense the underlying weight in your words, despite your dismissive attitude. You must've held an intense amount of survivors guilt, maybe even self hatred for surviving.
"Being strong isn't necessarily an advantage when it comes to carrying a burden. In fact, it can sometimes make it even harder." His gaze shifted back to the sight before the two of you. "You don't have to shoulder the burden alone, you know."
You gently shook your head, "I'm part of the demon slayer corps suicide team. I do carry it alone."
You looked at him, a happy smile on your face, "But it's okay. I enjoy every moment with my team, when I have them. We make memories that I would never forget. We fight for a good cause. And I'm proud to be here. Proud to give my life to ending the world's plague of Muzan."
Your cheerful approach to the death you're surrounded by, the possibility of your own death, stunned him. It was admirable. You had such a pure soul, a kind heart, and a strong resolve. He couldn't understand why you were a demon slayer, you should've been a beautiful wife and mother to a good man.
"You're truly a remarkable person. Most would crumble under that kind of pressure, yet you carry yourself with such grace and courage." He complimented before looking at you again, "Just remember to take care of yourself, okay?"
You looked at him for a moment, your eyes glistening like you were about to cry— but you grinned before laughing. A full body laugh, laying on the dirty mountain ground clutching your stomach. Your laughter had Giyuu shiver as he felt a wave of an unfamiliar emotion wash over him like a soft tide at the beach.
"Giyuu Tomioka, you're a beautiful soul." You said as your giggles died down. "If we weren't slayers, I'd probably have tried courting and marrying you by now."
His eyes widened at your sudden outburst and laughter, his face burned once the words you said clicked in his mind. He wasn't sure how to respond to such a compliment, not used to it whatsoever. He avoided your gaze, turning his head away and cleared his throat before mumbling a response, "You're the one with the beautiful soul, not me."
You giggled again as you watched him from where you laid. You glanced at the sky slowly being covered in rain clouds and baby rays of early morning sunshine. You raised your hands to the sky with a small soft smile, "Do you think in another life we met somewhere in the mountains like we did this life? I wonder what we were doing."
He glanced back at you, watching as you looked up at the sky, he thought for a moment about your question. Admiring you and the way you stayed so hopeful despite everything.
"Who knows. Maybe in another life we did meet in the mountains, maybe under different circumstances."
He paused, his gaze shifting back to the path ahead, "Maybe we were just two ordinary people, enjoying the peace and tranquility of the mountains."
You nodded, "If I was ordinary, I would have been a caretaker at an orphanage. What about you?"
He thought for a moment before responding, "If I was ordinary...I probably would have been a simple fisherman, living a quiet and peaceful life."
"Caretaker at an orphanage, huh?" He looked over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "Sounds like you've always had a nurturing side."
You nodded again, sitting up with a red face, "I use to have fourteen siblings, I took care of them because our mother died after the youngest was born and our fathers left us. I was the fourth oldest but I was basically the most stable."
You smiled as you thought about your younger siblings faces, their smiles and laughter. The pure children you had once cared for. You felt tears burn your eyes but you took a deep breath and shook you head, "I've always been good with children. So if I was ordinary I would want to take care of as many as possible."
He listened intently as you spoke about your past, his eyes softened as he saw the tears well up in your beautiful eyes. He could understand the loss of a sibling, he empathized with you silently. "So you practically raised your younger siblings... That's quite a responsibility for someone so young. And fourteen of them, you must have been incredibly busy."
He paused, looking at you for awhile before whispering, "You would make a great mother, I'm sure of it."
You looked up at him with surprise and redden cheeks. It took you a moment to gather yourself, smiling with a small laugh as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "You think so?"
He glanced over at you, noticing the surprise and embarrassment on your face. He chuckled inwardly, finding your reaction endearing, "Yes, I do. You have a natural maternal instinct and a big heart. It's obvious that you care deeply for others and have taken on a motherly role before." His voice became delicately light as he continued, "You'd make an amazing mother, there's no doubt in my mind."
You blinked a few times before looking back down at the river farther down the mountain. A smile, a really raw and shy smile, rested on your lips. Your heart fluttered at his words, in truth you've always wanted to be a mother, but your job— the life you lived— would never allow it. You played with your hands and the breeze filled the comfortable silence between the two of you.
You found yourself wishing for that ordinary life you mention before, where Giyuu and you had met here— but for normal reasons. You wondered if you'd... Find something more in each other. If the two of you were ordinary, he would have made a beautiful and amazing husband.
He noticed your sudden shyness and the smile on your face, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of something in his chest. He knew it was dangerous to let his emotions run wild, but he found himself wondering what it would be like if things were different. He glanced over at you, watching as you played with your hands while deep in thought. Observing the way the breeze tousled your hair. He couldn't help but imagine what a life together with you would be like, if only you two were ordinary people. He shook his head slightly, clearing his thoughts and focusing back on the path ahead.
You impulsively decided to test the waters, resting your head on his shoulder as you sat on the mountain edge watching the morning sunrise together. You knew you could never be normal, not in this life. But you could get a glimpse, right? You deserved it after everything.
He was caught off guard when you suddenly laid your head on his shoulder, but at the same time, he didn't push you away. Instead, he found himself leaning into your touch, enjoying the feeling of having you so close to him.
"In our next life, let's meet again in the mountains, yeah?" You whispered as you offered your hand, holding the pinky out for the two of you to hold pinkies. The most innocent form of hand holding.
He chuckled softly at your words and the way you held out your pinky, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He gently wrapped his pinky around yours in return.
"In our next life, we'll meet again in the mountains, I promise."
He couldn't explain why, but a sense of comfort washed over him as he made the promise with you. For a brief moment, the weight of their current reality faded away, and they were just two people pinky-promising to meet again.
...
Oh if only you could have lived that final battle, maybe you two could have been together the proper way in this life. His shaky hand locked pinkies with your cold hand, tears slipped down his face as he whispered, "In the next life, we'll meet at the mountain."
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zootopiathingz · 7 months ago
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A Promise in the Dead of Night
“I’m scared…”
Her voice is but a whisper, that Alastor barely registers her words at first. When he does, he feels himself tightening his arms around her, his mind already preparing to shield her from danger that he’s not made aware of.
Something’s been off about Charlie’s behavior and he hasn’t been able to determine the reason. From the moment she stepped in his room, he’s known she hasn’t been in her usual perky mood. It’s not unlike her to pay him a visit in the dead of night. Hell, it’s practically become routine for them. If he doesn’t end up falling asleep with her in her own bed, he can expect to find her hours later in his room, quietly requesting that she stay. And he never refuses. How could he possibly turn down such a request from the radiant, smiling princess of Hell?
But tonight, that gorgeous smile of hers that normally greets him when she enters a room was absent from her face. Her piercing eyes that could read all the secrets of his soul were puffy from tears she must have dried before coming to see him. She hasn’t uttered a word until now. She simply opened the door and walked over to join him on the sofa he sits on and crawled her way into his arms. He hasn’t questioned her, but he finds it odd that she had been so quiet. Not even a laugh, or even a breath. Has she been holding her breath the whole time?
Alastor brings his hand up to the back of her head that lays against his chest, raking his long claws through the soft strands of her golden hair. “Of what, dear?” He asks, his voice only slightly louder than hers.
She doesn’t answer. Not with words, at least. Instead she just further nuzzles her head against him, burying her face into the fabric of his coat like she’s trying to hide from something. Alastor swears he hears a faint whimper escape her—a sound that not only catches him off-guard, but fills him with rage. Several thoughts run through his mind like a herd of deer. What could have happened to her that would send her into such a fragile state? Who hurt her…?
Before jumping to conclusions, he decides to continue with his gentle approach. He shifts slightly, taking her chin between his fingers to lift her head away from his chest, her gaze instinctively meeting his. He’s met with the most heartbreaking look of vulnerability she’s ever displayed. He doesn’t like it one bit.
“What’s troubling you, my darling?” He questions her again, his thumb tenderly caressing the soft, milky skin of her face.
Charlie sniffles and briefly shifts her gaze downward as she struggles to answer in a way that makes sense. “I.. I don’t know.” She sighs shakily. She knows it’s a pathetic response, but she doesn’t know how to explain the hell-storm wreaking havoc in her mind.
Alastor stays quiet, only giving her a look that urges her to go on. And when she looks at him again, she does, however reluctantly.
“Oh Al.. I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and no matter what I do, it won’t leave me alone.” Charlie lets out a small hiccup of a breath, leaning her head forward slightly, longing to lay on his chest again. “I keep having these horrible dreams. They play out differently, but they all end the same way…something bad happens, or someone attacks us, and one way or another, you get taken away from me. I don’t know what happens to you after. I always wake up before I can find out, but I’m afraid that it means you were…”
She pauses, not wanting to actually finish the thought aloud. She knows she doesn’t need to, anyway. Alastor can easily fill in the blank.
His signature smile, sealed by his lips at the moment, tightens at the corners. Charlie doesn’t see it, but his blinking eyes go wide for just a moment. It may be just a coincidence, it had to be. But what are the odds that they were both struggling with bad dreams about losing the other to some unknown force of darkness? Alastor hasn’t let it affect him like Charlie clearly has, because to him it shouldn’t have meant anything.
But to know that his princess was facing the exact same troubling phenomenon…that was a cause for alarm.
He doesn’t tell her of this. No, he refuses to worry her any more than she already has been. It’s his job to ease her worries, not increase them. It’s a burden he’ll bear for them both. What’s one more, anyway?
He pulls her in close to him as she snuggles into his arms. “Oh Charlie, you must not fret over something like night terrors.” He assures in a calming tone, trailing his hand up and down the length of her back. “They’re just dreams, after all. They cannot hurt us.”
“That’s the thing. What if they’re not just dreams?” Charlie argues, her body growing slightly tense at this thought she only just now realizes she has. “What if..it’s a warning?”
Alastor doesn’t even want to entertain the idea. He doesn’t want to imagine that that’s the reason behind their shared unconscious terrors. No, he won’t give into the fear. It will only consume them, and then they will be doomed to face it.
“You shouldn’t think like that, dear.” He says, leaning his head down, resting his chin atop of her head. “It will do you no good. You mustn’t let your fear control you.”
Charlie closes her eyes, her voice reverting back to its pitiful hushed tone. “I can’t stop it.”
There’s a brief moment of stillness between them. Neither dares to move from the warmth of the other’s touch. The air grows quiet, with only the cackling flames of the fireplace providing any source of sound. That is, until Alastor slowly lifts his head and pulls her back to face her again. The look in his eyes takes her aback. His grin is as wide as always, but there’s a subtle glimmer of sadness in his gaze that she’s never quite seen before. She’s not sure if she should feel touched that he’s grown so comfortable to express such vulnerability in front of her, or horrified of the meaning behind it…
“Then tell me what I can do to make it go away.” He raises his finger up to brush her bangs away from her forehead, before resting his hand against the side of her face, cupping her face in his palm. “Whatever it is, it will be done. Just name it.”
Charlie frowns softly, staring at him quietly for the longest minute. She’s not sure there’s anything he can do to make this all disappear. Alastor may be a powerful overlord, wielding immense power that has left even her impressed. But sadly, he can’t just snap his fingers and rid her of her fears like he wishes. Miracles like that weren’t possible down here in Hell.
There’s one thing he can do, though. As simple as it may be, it’s what she needs him to do.
Charlie leans her face into his palm, bringing her own hand up to hold his wrist as she looks deep into his eyes. “Just..promise me that no matter what happens, if anything happens, that nothing will tear us apart from each other.” She says, her voice trembling more and more with each word. “Whether these are just stupid dreams or not, I cannot lose you, Alastor. So please.. promise me now.”
Alastor gives her an incredulous look, raising his brow a little, just before he leans in, inching his face closer to hers.
“Charlie..my princess,” He speaks firmly, his voice lacking any static or filter that it normally carries, “I swear on my damned life, I will never let anything take you away from me. Not Heaven. Not Hell. Nothing is ever going to keep us apart. Do you understand?”
She nods slowly, and as she blinks the tears she’s been fighting back threaten to burst like a broken dam. Alastor kisses her, the tender touch of his lips bringing her a warm sense of comfort. He then pulls her back into his reassuring embrace, and at last the woman crumbles down. She cries into his shoulder, clinging onto him like she may lose him for good if she even thinks of letting go. He doesn’t say anything, knowing he’s said all he can to bring her solace and all he can do now is simply be here with her.
But they both know his words held nothing but truth to them. Charlie’s been the one good thing to ever happen to him in a long, long time. And he would sooner die again than ever let something rip that away from his grasp. He will hold onto her and use everything in his power to fight for her, and he will do it all with a smile on his face.
It’s alright, my love. Is his immediate thought when he hears that dreadful sound of her sobbing. He hugs her as close as he possibly can, letting his eyes fall shut as his face presses onto the mess of hair on her head. The shadow that resembles his shape looms over the pair, hovering its claws protectively over the woman in Alastor’s arms.
Anyone who tries to take you from me will be faced with a fate worse than death…
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itsyagurlchip · 7 months ago
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٠ ˚ ※ ๋࣭  ᯓ⚝ ⋆ .˚✰Down in N'awleans ٠ ˚ ※ ๋࣭  ᯓ⚝ ⋆ .˚✰
✰⋆⁺warnings: alastor(!) ace alastor and reader(!) cussing(!) its hell man idk what to tell u(!) very cultural (!) reader has a strong accent(!) reader is more modern than alastor(!) black reader NOT CAJUN SHE IS NEW ORLEANIAN (!) mentions of gore and blood(!) fem reader(!) angst(!) grieving (!) fluff(!) comfort(!)
✰⋆⁺Im so sad that the only new orleans part of alastor we got to see was a few of his music preferences, and the overused dish jambalaya (as good as it is, its referenced too much when mentioning Louisiana and i sorta hate it-) soooo, as an artist i took matters into my own hands 😈 btw, this is long, so enjoy a piece of my culture!!!
fun fact: did you know that Louisiana has about 400 festivals and events annually? (my favs are strawberry fest, mardi gras, and crawfish fest) btw if anyone is struggling to read it: mardi gras is pronounced madi-grahs. (like ice spice grah 🤪🤪/jj)
✰⋆⁺ Oh what a joy!! Your love Alastor is in hell with you!!! After a whopping 58 years after Alastor's death at 33, with you dying barely at 88 before your birthday, you've finally have found your soulmate!! You're a bit different though, you have a stronger accent, and your tone is..."slangy". Times have changed, but has your love? Of course it does! Alastor couldn't love you more, lovers being apart for too long is straining to one's mental afterall.
"His sister's black, but she is sho'nuff pretty. Her skirt is short, but Lord her legs are sturdy. To walk to school, she's got to get up early. Her clothes are old, but never are they dirty. Living just enough, just enough for the city." You sang, walking along the streets of hell. That song by Stevie Wonder had always brought you comfort...
It gives you a sense of memory, deja vu if you will. Not that you could remember. But you being a young black girl, in the struggles of 1916 brings a comfort to your heart.
...
You closed all eight of your eyes, your afro bouncing as you walked. Walking walking walking. Your dark dress would lift up slightly from the ground, wisping away curiously.
It was pitch black, like your gloves that ran from the tips of your fingers, to the upper part of your arm. If you squint, one could see hints of clear web being shown by light.
People would question why you still wore black even years after your husband's death. Now in hell, you had black skin, and spider appendages on your stomach and hips. How ironic.
You still never answered the question.
Alastor had died at the young age of 33, leaving a 30 year old widow to mourn his passing. That man chiseled his way into your heart and croaked years later. All you could do to keep your emotions in check, was continue your dear husbands work.
The radio station he worked at had begged you to host his morning shows. The town was distraught of his absence. And there's a depression? People were sad, now even more broke, and at the hands of phoney mayors and presidents.
Alastor left a big hole in the role he had as the "Darling of New Orleans". And so did the Bayou Butcher...
What else could you do? Each life you blew off was in honor of your amazing husband. Soon radio was bigger than ever! You'd broadcast the annual 8 killings of casualty due to the new 'Wynoriffic Widow.' This had led on for about 20 years before old age came into play.
You killed 162 people in the name of your love. Never caught, yet never forgotten. You became a big shot, killer and announcer.
While you never had the intrusive thought to do so, you finally understood why Alastor felt a rush of righteousness when he came home after his activities with Mimzy.
Damn Mimzy, the hooch she is. (💀💀)
Let's be honest, the name "Widow" hit too close to home due to recent events, but thats why you only killed eight people per year! And to make things even better, you set 8 things that would happen. 8 games. 8 lines all connecting into a web. And to make things worse for the police, your extermination cravings were sporadic, and not so scheduled.
But it all played out the same.
Something subtle. like a box of rotting spiders at the victim's doorstep.
Next would be a missing, or perhaps "disappearing" passport and driver's license...if they could even afford one.
Now there would be 3 warning letters, the classic "i know what you did". Simple as that.
The second one would be more detailed. Writings of the person's actions would be made for a week before the last and final warning was made.
"Im coming" you wrote in squirrel blood, giggling everytime the person panicked, not knowing it was you all along.
Then nothing....for 2 weeks or so. To lower suspicion per say.
Then its the time to strike. Waiting until exactly midnight to knock out and drag your victim to the very same swamps your beloved died in. You'd take the damned soul, and torture them for as long as you pleased. No matter how many screams, how much blood, their life was in your hands and yours only.
Finally, you'd pray. Pray that this offering of love would suffice for being ripped apart for so long. and as for cleaning up your mess, you'd thank the gators and the wolves for "aiding" with your hobby.
But you began getting old, despite exercising regularly and eating the things your body needed. You couldn't go out and fufill your duties. The one thing that made you happy, second to Alastor. And soon enough you died, welcoming your new fate.
The only thing you questioned was your young appearance. You died of old age, so you didn't understand why you looked like you were 30 again.
You hummed, mimicking a trumpet as you continued your short strides. And here you are now! On the way to reunite with your love once more... it's been far too long.
Welp, it won't be long before you see your life again (despite being dead). Adjusting the big puffs and coils on your head, as well as smoothing down your dress, you knocked onto the hotel door.
Your smile was so big! (You cheeks were starting to hurt from subconsciously doing so much, trying to keep memory of something you once lost).
You looked around yourself as you waited. There was a golden fountain of a majestic dragon creature, with building itself huge yet comfortable. Despite the lights in the front being a bit bright, this place pleased something in your mind.
The door opened for you to see...a short blond man?
"Hello? Is this the Hazbin Hotel?"You asked, restraining and chaining the accent you had, not wanting to be perceived as "ghetto" for the first time.
"Why yes~ Welcome my dear, and what brings you to this place?" The half-pint of a man reached for your arm, kissing it three times before hooking your arm. Your face involuntarily scrunched a bit before coming back to that neutral smile you has once before.
"I would like to see the hotel manager. Alastor, correct?" You asked as the man who tried to pull you forward, even though his head barely surpassed your chest. And surprisingly, for his height i mean, he pulled you along easily.
The lobby was a plethora of shades in red accented with bits of gold, black, and white.
"ugh His office is near the top of the hotel or something Can't miss it. The place sorta looks like a swamp."
"Of course" you mumbled. Thinking about the greenery and fireflies Alastor would take you to see.
"What was that?"
"Oh nothin'!" You smiled, already make your way to the prolonged destination.
Thank god there was an elevator, or you would've screamed. If this place was lavish and beautifully decorated, yet no easy place of transportation for inclusivity, or simply to better convenience of the people living here...
Thought pisses you off.
Hearing the elevator dig, you adjusted yourself again before walking out and looking towards the hallways. Ah, you could see what he meant. While every other door looked like a basic hotel door, the one at the end of the hallway was covered in green glowing floorboards.
It made you tear up, knowing he still had some kind of connection to his home. The fireflies danced around the entrance, enticing you to walk quicker in those heels of yours.
Reaching the door made your body paralyze and vision blur for a second or two. You took a deep breath, and knocked 2 times with a pause, knocking 3 times slower.
It was something you and Alastor did to ensure that the police wasn't at the door, back when you weren't interested in killing.
You hear shuffling, then came a fall and a thump. You hear a woman exclaim in worry. With rushed footsteps came an open door, revealing the one you lost so long ago.
He looked much different, much more red ('to hide the blood' you giggled to yourself'). His skin was more gray than that toned brown, you look up to his head to see...
'is this mf wearing a bob?'
"Alastor! Are you alright?" A doll-like woman came out, in a red suit but the brightest aura.
"Love...?" He ignored her, his knees trembling slightly with his eyes watering.
Next thing you knew you were tackled to the wall, embraced with such longing, infatuation, and a whole new level of care.
"Hello sweetheart..." You combed through his hair, brushing over some antlers, making Alastor shiver in your hold. You smiled, embracing him back with a somber sigh.
"Soooo- The Dappa Demon gotta milf for his troubles?" A white and fluffy man in pink stroller over.
"Um Angel- I dont think now's the time for that-" The Doll woman tried.
"And who is you?" You asked, genuinely curious. Alastor was still hugging you, silent, which is disturbing for a man with a voice like his.
"Da name's Angel Dust sweetpie!" He smirked, looking you up and down. "Why you cuddlin' up to Raspberry Daddy(™) like that?"
"Well, Angel, this raspberry daddy is my husband!" You explained, watching the lanky spider (which you now noticed looked like a spider), blanch before guffawing.
The woman, who you keep on forgetting about, gasped with, which you really hoped wasn't, all of her chest and possibly lungs.
"ALASTOR HAS A WIFE!!! WOW! ITS SUPER NICE TO MEET YOU!!!" She bounced up and down, her blond hair flew up along with it. Speaking of, the short man has blond hair too... welp, aint non of yo business so- "MY NAME IS CHARLIE!! THIS IS THE HAZBIN HOTEL!! AND- AND-"
"Charlie, suga mallow, pause pause! Its nice to meet you too baby!!" You started, "Can we just talk about this, as well as the hotel, in a better setting?- I think doeball needs a moment"
You looked down at Alastor, seeing his ears pinned downwards as well as feeling a small damp puddle on your shoulder.
"Oh! um- okay!! That's completely fine!! Yea! Go do your husband, and uh, wife things!!" Charlie said, pushing you towards Alastor's office once more, prompting you to hold your husband bridal style. You would hate for him to have fallen.
"So we aren't gonna talk about how Alastor isn't an edgy inhuman prince of darkness, gifted to the immunity of normal mortal affection?" Angel asked, still in shock.
The door promptly shut. You looked around his office, which was more of a radio station with shelves and a desk. Everything was in tones of brown, red, and burgundy.
The only thing that set it apart was the glowing green floor, with pale green tree moss around the corners. You smiled as a group of fireflies flew past you two.
You walk towards the chair, sitting down with Alastor's body in your lap, head in your shoulders, like long ago.
You move your hands to his ear, running your fingers through his fur, as well as using your bottom row of arms to turn on the radio, sitting so silently on the desk.
Luckily, for the both of you, calming slow jazz was playing.
"You ready to talk now?" You whispered quietly. His ear twitched before he sat up.
"Yes dear..." He said, his voice barely carrying through the air.
"Well... I wanna start with- where'd you go-?...that night i mean."
The room went silent. You continued to rub his back, feeling his boney spine despite the layers of clothing he dubbed.
Soon words flowed out of him. Like a radio host.
The story he told was one of improv, one he hadn't expected to share for a long time. About his killings, the dogs, his last sight. How his last wish was to kiss you one the lips once more.
And once he finished you told yours.
How much grief you were in. The sudden bloodlust you took after you figured everything out. The way you played with the town's mind. How every body you took was in sacrifice for him. The hope that your love would one day be connected once more, never severed again by dimensions.
The night was filled with silent sobs of two deceased lovers.
In the brief morning, you two caught up with each other. Alastor still liked a lot of the same things he did in the past, but you have changed a lot.
You have an accent. Sometimes you'll replace the word 'are' with 'is' and other times you say 'ain't', or nickname drop people. And when you get angry the accent gets even stronger, humoring him to your irritated dismay.
You can cook now! Before Alastor died, he would cook for the both of you. You managed to burn an expensive pan he got from his mother, he never let you lay a hand on the stove ever again.
You also were more...modern. Luckily not to the point where you were addicted, but it still pissed off Alastor that you had some form of flat screen. You listened to rap occasionally, as well as musicals.
But yet, he couldn't judge you for these new qualities you have. You still have that lovey fro, your beautiful and plump lips, and the way your eyes flow across the room almost brings his rotting heart back to life.
Right now in the kitchen, you two were making beignets in coconut oil. As you rolled the dough out, Alastor questioned your uniqueness of cooking.
"Darling, must you stuff the pastries with dark chocolate? Wouldn't the powdered sugar be enough?"
"Don't worry Baby! m'Made these several times!" You replied. You grabbed the strainer, tossing the raw dough into the hot oil.
"And why coconut oil specifically?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes with a loving smile.
"Cuz! It makes it taste better! Not sure how to 'xplain it, but it just does." You flipped the beignets, ensuring they were golden brown before placing them on the brown paper.
"If you say so, my Dear."
You began to hum softly, to a jazz song you heard on the streets, swaying slowly as you worked. Your husband then held you from behind, swinging with you.
His head was buried in you neck, ears flicking with each tickle of your hair. His arms came underneath yours, holding and pressing your hips.
Plating the food, you set it down in favor of dancing with your love. Dancing to the silent song of adoration, fondness, and care.
Behind the kitchen door, which was slightly propped open, you could hear the excited ramblings of the hotel's owner, making Alastor groan quietly.
"WOW!! They're so cute!!! Omg, they are so sweet together!! EEEEK!!" Charlie exclaimed, struggling to keep her voice down. this made you chuckle sweetly, making the woman utter an apology before leaving.
This is all that you wished for. Your husband, loving and dancing with your soul again. Even if it took a couple of bluenoses to accept it. (cough cough Angel and Husk)
All you could think about were those bands, the trumpets, the parades, Alastor, the food and feel of your homeplace. All of it brang you back, and now you have even more to appreciate.
Dreams do come true, down in N'awleans. Even if it takes years to achieve it.
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btw i gave her lore
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thx to @sharkdukes on Ao3, i now headcannon that you can offer a soul to a demon, which is what reader was unknowingly doing. Which is half of the reason why Alastor is so powerful at the start in hell-
heavily inspired by @drowninnoodles 's Sugar and Sinnamon on ao3.
as well as @pheavampire for this hilarious art
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(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و tags: @kittykittyanon @radicallxser @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl @ziipzeepzop-eez @spongejuice @amorisbackandbetterthanever @cyb3r-st4r if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!
as for the playlist, if you couldn't read bc of the font, its titled: Wynorrifcly Widowing. (ik i didn't spell it right stfu) Please lemme know if there are any places where i forgot to finish thoughts.
©KAL pls don't steal, repost, trace, or whatever an art theif does. you can inspire yourself! just tag me to let me know<3
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slurpyboii · 3 months ago
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That ended exactly how I expected it to and, as expected, I am entirely neutral on it. Wasn't a satisfying ending or a super hype ending or anything like that, literally just the ending that may as well have happened. Not a single thing surprised me that whole conclusion, it felt unfortunately predictable. You can tell he's excited for it's end though so I'm happy for Horikoshi regardless, hope he can get proper rest now.
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bull-shit-suji · 1 year ago
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not to like wax poetic about the literary nuances of Black Fucking Butler but i feel i need to point out how insanely campy it is. oh okay cool the butler is throwing butter knives at people with guns and winning. we're battling undertaker's zombie army by starting a boy band (we actually got the idea from the ZOMBIES' boy band). theres a curry making competition and its so important it needs an entire volume and a continuing motif dedicated to it. the Grim Reaper Death Gods are all cornballs with gardening sheers. the contradiction. the unintended irony.
i think the manga is like. toeing the line of camp. like its silly yet takes itself so seriously but its not too silly. my immersion is not broken by the silliness. but the anime is uncharted levels of camp. what the Hell was going on with pluto. you're gonna look me in the eye and tell me the phantomhives own a fifty foot dog thing and no one has noticed. simply one hell of a deer. ice skating. theres opium in funtom candy. the queen of england is maybe a little girl. speaking of which, the city of london just burned down. yeah the whole thing. the fifty foot dog was there too.
it's so ridiculously out of left field and the fact that none of the characters seem to notice or care feels like being gaslit. camp so visceral it's causing psychic damage. i am constantly begging the narrative to break character just once and acknowledge its silliness but doing so would negate the lack of awareness that makes it camp. its dated and timeless. an absolute milestone in camp history.
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behindthecodes · 2 years ago
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Concept art of The Forgotten Valley
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universallychaotic · 5 months ago
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4 the ppl who need new anime to watch, I got y’all!!
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wangxianficrecs · 9 months ago
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💙 What are the debts of hurt? by leafyleak
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💙 What are the debts of hurt?
by leafyleak
G, 14k, Wangxian
Summary: Wen Qing wants to give Wei Wuxian his life back and she knows no better way than to learn gui dao and reduce the burden felt by Wei Wuxian. To give him choice. It's difficult to see how much her actions can change, if anything at all, because the cultivational clans are rotten to the core? Kay's comments: A very realistic (in my opinion) canon divergence story, which means that despite the divergence, it's not a fix-it and there's still a lot of pain. I absolutely love it though. I loved Wen Qing's and Wei Wuxian's relationship in this story, how Wen Qing slowly came to know Wei Wuxian better and how the Wens eventually became Wei Wuxian's true family. And of course I am living for demonic cultivator Wen Qing. Happy ending for Wangxian and A-Yuan, but it's bittersweet as well. Excerpt: Wen Qing wonders sometimes if he comes because he is unsure whether she can take care of the defences of the burial mounds. It is popo who prevents her from telling Wei Wuxian to stay away for longer - to do what makes him happy. Because what is freedom but choice and if Wei Wuxian chooses to come back, popo says she should consider it a blessing. An opportunity for her to repay her debts by taking care of his health. To provide him perhaps with the community he is missing - for she should not forget he is hardly better than a pariah in the cultivation world. Wen Qing advances his healing - but Wei Wuxian is the prickliest patient she has ever met. It takes consistent badgering from her, A-Yuan’s doe eyes, and Wen Ning’s quiet pleading for Wei Wuxian to sit still and let her check him. It was a visceral shock the first time she checked him.
pov alternating, canon divergence, demonic cultivator wen qing, burial mounds settlement days, burial mounds family as an esemble, families of choice, ghost general wen ning, angst with a happy ending, bittersweet ending, wei wuxian lives, jiang yanli lives, jin zixuan lives, lan wangji/wei wuxian get a happy ending, yiling laozu wei wuxian, wei wuxian in wei wuxian's body, not jiang cheng friendly, cultivation sect politics, jiang family dyanamics, first siege of the burial mounds
~*~
(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)
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reallypleasanttree · 8 months ago
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Another Obamitsu Drabble- Canon divergent. Spoilers for the Hashira Training Arc.
“I won’t live past 25,” Mitsuri said, holding her spoon an inch from her lips. Amane told her the truth of it during the Hashira meeting. No one with a demon slayer mark lived past 25. After the meeting, excluding Tomioka, she invited everyone out to dinner. Now she sat alone with Iguro-San in a private dining room. Everyone else went home. “They say you’ll never know when you’re going to die, but now I have a time frame.” 
She stared at the wall vacantly. It was surreal. She had six years left if it was true. What would she do with the rest of her time? She wanted to be someone’s wife and have children. Mitsuri set down her spoon and looked at Iguro-san. His eyes watched her with empathy, closing a bit more than normal. 
“I am not sure what to say,” Iguro-San said. Under the bandages his lips seemed to twitch and there were worry lines on his forehead. “It’s a sacrifice I wish you did not have to make. If I could I would switch places with you,” he said, glancing away. “You deserve a happy life surrounded by your loved ones.”
This was why she loved him. His kind words and willingness to sacrifice for her and others. There were rumors he was mean and cruel to the lower ranked slayers, but he would defend any of them. He sought out the tougher missions before he was even a Hashira according to Shinobu. Always willing to risk himself for the corps. She admired his dedication and hard work. 
 The pink haired woman licked her lips in thought. Her dream was to be a wife and mother. She didn’t want to be someone’s wife, she wanted to be Iguro-san’s wife. There was clarity in the realization. Setting down her spoon in the bowl, she turned her body towards him. Her temperature rose and her cheeks colored as she decided to jump. 
“I am surrounded by those I love,” Mitsuri started. He looked up at her. “I love everyone I have met in the Corps. The Butterfly House girls, the attendants, the lower ranked members, and the other Hashira…” her voice trailed off. She had to say something more to let him know how she felt. Words escaped her. Iguro-San shifted in his seat. Kaburamaru stared intently at her in curiosity and curled tighter around his friend’s shoulders. 
“You as well, Kaburamaru-San,” she added with a grin and reached up to stroke the snake’s head. He raised his head to meet her hand. The touch forced her to relax and clear her mind. 
“Iguro-San, I love you,” Mitsuri said plainly. It didn’t need to be a great declaration of love where she prepared a long poem or gifted him with expensive gifts. No, it was clear cut. 
The man beside her was silent, but kept eye contact. He grasped his pant leg under the table, the veins becoming more prominent. She reached for his hand and held it in her lap. “If I only have six years left,” her thumb swept over the backside of his hand. “I want to spend them as your wife.” 
The man was stunned and the silence dragged. His hand squeezed hers, so he was not devoid of reaction. Her heart hammered. She could not leave this world without taking a chance. 
“Kanroji-San, I cannot offer you anything,” Iguro-San whispered. “My entire family is dead. When I chose to be a demon slayer I swore I would die fighting until Muzan was gone. I would only disappoint you,” he continued. 
“You’ve never disappointed me and you never will. You try your hardest in every endeavor you take. Why would marriage be any different?” Mitsuri asked. 
“It’s not that-“ he turned his head and looked at the wall. “I’m not good. I am a beast beneath these bandages,” he pointed to the wraps. “My family cut my face for the demon they worshiped. The demon wanted to taste my blood. I was raised to be a sacrifice and I continue to live as a sacrifice. I'm not meant to live long,” Iguro-San said as his jaw clenched. 
Mitsuri was not deterred by his words. She brought his hand to her face and kissed his fingers. “I’m not either. I only have one question and please answer truthfully, do you love me?” She asked. His posture was rigid. 
“Yes,” he breathed, “I love you.” Thud. Thud. Thud. Her heart fluttered and kissed his hand again, unable to contain herself. 
“Then make a sacrifice for me. Marry me,” Mitsuri smiled at him. He twisted himself towards her, eyes wide. “Marry me. Make me your bride. Allow me to love you for the rest of my life at least. Let me love you,” Mitsuri pleaded. 
Instead of replying, Iguro-San pulled the bandages from his face and leaned forward. His lips crashed into hers. She didn’t even have enough time to process what just happened until she felt his hand curl under her jaw. Her hand found his neck and pulled him closer. Warmth spread over her body as they kissed. 
“I’ll marry you. I will make you happy, I promise,” he whispered against her lips. “Until you or I pass into the afterlife.” 
“And in our next life I’ll give you more than six years,” Mitsuri promised, “I’ll give you a lifetime.” 
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vaugarde · 2 years ago
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oh so when moth flight has kittens as a medicine cat and gives them away to strangers, one of which let his own son die and considered killing babies, because she can’t deal and somehow cant ask her clanmates to help, shes noble and brave and wise and shaped things for generations to come and she gets to die peacefully with all her children being like “wow mom that was so cool of you, we’re so happy and you are so smart and epic”, but when leafpool has kittens as a medicine cat and gives them to her sister who she knows wont mistreat them, she’s treated like shit by most people around her and shes so unforgivable that her children can’t help but snark about this at her funeral and shes almost sent to cat hell. ok
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