#and others briefly or mentioned

[demonslayedher]

Filler Arc with Character Beats: Intro

Some time ago, I posted how I would direct a Gokangumi (Five Senses Squad)-centric anime filler arc to go between the Swordsmith Village Arc and the Hashira Training Arc, specifically what foreshadowing and character beats I'd try to make it hit, and what small changes I'd make to make it slip in as seamlessly as possible (like Muichirou being curious about the Mark and doing his own investigation into it before Amane simply tells them about it). As it turns out, over a year ago, I tried writing it in fic form, but lost steam after 5577 words because I didn't have the energy for a long fic. But I just reread what I wrote, and man, I looooove thiiiiis. So I'm sharing what I had below! It's basically Episode 1 of Hashira Training all over again, just with the same content presented in different ways from more fanfic-y character perspectives and off-screen character interactions, so this is nice timing for it since episode 2 of Hashira Training isn't out yet. No plans to continue writing it, but please enjoy the setup I had!

----

Nezuko…

“Good morning…”

Tanjirou relaxed deeper into his sleep as the sunlit scene replayed in his mind. For the first time in years, his sister had smiled.

Good for you, Nezuko… I’m so glad.

It was wonderful that she could walk in the sunlight again, and that she didn’t need to wear that muzzle. Finally, she could again speak for herself. All this time hadn’t been in vain.

--

All this time hadn’t been in vain.

Creating all those demons, granting an excess of his blood to the Twelve Moons, it hadn’t been for naught—Hantengu had lasted a whole night against the demon hunters so that he could witness a transformation Muzan had waited centuries for.

Kamado Nezuko…

His chosen demon, the one who had at last mastered the sun. A pesky one for how she had slipped out of his control, but with the hoard at his disposal, catching one demon wouldn’t be a major obstacle. Or so he had hoped to think, but Nezuko had stood her ground against Daki. With three of his Upper Moons already gone, that left fewer demons who stood a chance of containing her.

It was good he had so many of them, then. Muzan could stand to sacrifice any handful of them in pursuit of the chosen demon.

Hiura had heard a single twang and wondered if it was a biwa when he found himself in a different space than the cave he usually occupied. ‘Different’ rang though his head again to try to describe it, as there was no sense to make of it other than that he must had been in a dream. In any of his waking life, he was certain he had never seen a place like this.

“What is this? How did I get here?”

“What’s going on?”

With all those confused murmurs, Hiura’s dream was not his own, and he concluded that this must have been that space he had only heard rumors of. To his knowledge, only the Twelve Moon demons had ever been there, and there were many more demons here than twelve.

“Silence.”

Hiura shook when that voice spoke, and he spotted the eyes paired with that voice immediately—six eyes. It was his first encounter with any of the Twelve Moons, and it was just his luck that it was the most powerful one. He must have been brought here to die; there was no other reason Upper Moon One would waste time on lesser demons.

“Muzan-sama is present.”

All of Hiura’s shaking went still as his eyes scanned everywhere for the owner of that name. Up, down, sideways, nothing here made sense. There he was directly in front of him, red eyes blaring as icy as they did the night Hiura first encountered and tricked him into turning him into a demon. Tricking him was something Hiura knew he’d never be lucky enough to do again, and even a private inkling of it put him in danger. Muzan’s cells within him reminded him of that at every moment.

Before he had realized it, Hiura was bowing. Everyone was.

“Why do you all cower? You’re all demons who have pleased me.”

Pleased Muzan?

“You’ve eaten humans and gotten stronger. Developed the blood I’ve given you. You should be proud. Unless you’ve done something to displease me?”

Mind games! Muzan was playing them. They couldn’t dare take any pride in his presence. He was looking for a reason to find displeasure in them.

“None of you will speak?”

“Because it’s not enough yet,” thundered Kiritsuna.

Muzan’s lips stretched to a smile that narrowed his eyes. “Precisely.”

Damn that Kiritsuna! Always so self-assured, he must not have felt a shiver of fear in his life! Sucking up as always!

“Why would you have brought us here?” asked Zessou, always at Kiritsuna’s side. Dumb as rocks but always got away looking smart with that pretty face. What was he trying to do with his demon development, improve upon what used to be a lucky human form? Probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“I have three openings in the Upper Moons to fill. If any among you can fulfill for me a task, I’ll consider your promotion.”

The demons all grew excited, gasping or exclaiming with some shrill noises. Idiots, all of them. Muzan didn’t like them that much and they were all fools to think so. Hiura found this his chance to distinguish himself by a more productive question. “What task do you wish fulfilled?”

“A demon that has slipped from my control and uses fire against other demons, Kamado Nezuko. I want this demon brought to me, alive.”

Kamado Nezuko? That was a different name than Hiura had thought he heard before about that broad who got away. Fire, though. That was new and unusual. Not something Hiura wanted to deal with.

Not directly, anyway. If there was one demon to lure her out, another demon to contain her, then he could be the one to subdue her. The one to earn Muzan’s true pleasure.

“Why us?” asked some demon Hiura didn’t know. “Why not from among the Lower Moons?”

At this, Muzan’s smile was gone. “They no longer served any purpose.”

Although there was no sound, there was something like a weight pressing on all the demons, like it was across their shoulders and tied around their necks. Hiura wondered if this was Muzan forcing his will upon them to scare them, but he just as soon realized it was his own cells cowering in their own instinct.

If Hiura didn’t fulfill this request, he’d be dead.

“Prove your worth to me by fulfilling this task. My patience has already been tested enough.”

“Muzan-sama!” cried out one who was dumb enough to use that name. “More of your precious blood! Just a little more, and—”

“Moon Breathing, First Form—”

“What?”

“Breath Technique?”

“Dark Moon, Evening Palace.”

The demon who had spoken out and stood up was in pieces, having been torn apart by crescent blades. The other demons around her shrieked and cowered away from the blood. They screamed louder and sloppily scattered faster as Upper Moon One walked among them to the carnage, but Kiritsuna stayed put with no reaction to the blood splashed across his face, and not a tremor as the superior demon stood next to him. Upper Moon One lifted his hand over the gasping, crying demon spilled in pieces on the tatami, who squeaked, “Muzan… sama…”

“If you fail his expectations as you are… then this task… is meaningless to entrust to you.”

Her scream was cut off as he grabbed her head and absorbed it into his flesh. The rest of the pieces of her rattled and kicked until a dead silence; limp, melting demon remnants. Muzan was long gone. Upper Moon One turned his back, leaving them with the words, “Talent will be rewarded… from whomever proves promise…”

Another twang from the biwa and he was gone. Another twang, and another demon disappeared, then another. As the tempo picked up other demons were standing and ready to disappear, and Hiura lunged his hands out to grab Kiritsuna and Zessou’s sleeves. “There’s three spots,” he said, hurrying to get a smile out at them before the twang of the biwa came for them, “spots to reward all three of us, together—”

--

Tanjirou awoke to the sensation of his Breath being cut off. "Ah!" he sat up with a start, which made Muichirou release his hold on Tanjirou's nose.

"Your response is still pretty dull," he said. He had an impish grin, a light in his eyes, and bandages here and there around his face. 

"It's not as if you meant any harm," insisted Tanjirou, but he guarded his nose with both hands anyway.

"How are your injuries?"

"My foot might take some time. How about you and Kanroji-san?"

"We'll probably be back to work by next week."

"What? Amazing! I've got to work on my recovery to match you two!"

"We can't all be geniuses."

"That's right. I heard you're descended from the original Sun Breath user. Your crow told me and Kotetsu-kun."

Muichirou sent Ginko a look through the window, and she cowered from his gaze, for they both knew she wasn't very nice about it. "It's not a big deal. It's not as if I know anything about Sun Breathing. Mist Breathing is so many steps removed from it that I've only got tiny bits and pieces from my ancestors."

"There's got to still be something, though! I even had memories inherited from my ancestor."

"...huh?"

"At least, that's what Kotetsu-kun said. Now that I think about it, he probably only said that to make me feel better. Sorry, it's weird, I know."

"Make you feel better about what?"

"I thought I knew the person Yoriichi Type Zero was based on. The original Sun Breath user, your ancestor."

"Doesn't that not make sense, though? You're the only one in this whole Corp who knows Sun Breathing, after all."

"No, no, no, no, that's just because my family's practiced Hinokami Kagura for generations! There's nothing inherited about it, my father had to teach me everything!" Tanjirou waved his hand as fast as Zenitsu swiping a plate of dumplings.

"But how did your ancestors learn that?"

Tanjirou paused as he thought back to that vivid dream, and how he had asked that samurai how he must be sad with no successors. That samurai had to have had children later if Muichirou was there now, but something felt off about that. Not that he could say what was off about a passing fantasy in a dream, though. It wasn't even real.

"You've even got the same earrings."

"Eh? You've met him too?" he asked and put his hands to his ears.

"Yoriichi Type Zero."

"Oh," he thought back. Now that Muichirou mentioned it, that doll had indeed been wearing the same ones. Tanjirou had never asked his father what made the earrings special, but the samurai in his dream was wearing them too. That samurai still had them when he left, though, while he was saying he wasn't anyone special. He had to have been special, though, for the Kamado family wasn't the only one to keep memories of him. "The original Sun Breath user was mentioned in a diary of one of Rengoku-san's ancestors too. I don’t know if it'll help me use Hinokami Kagura to fight demons better, but his younger brother Senjurou has been searching through their family records to see if there's anything helpful."

 "Maybe they'll find something there about the mark."

"Mark?"

"I heard that when I fought Upper Moon Five, there was a mark on my face. Around the same time it would have been visible, I felt my heart rate increase to about 200 beats and my body temperature rise. Based on the 39-degree temperature reading Kochou-san took, I assume it was higher than that."

"You can tell in that much detail? Wow!"

"You should have more physiological awareness while using Breath technique too, you know. Still, it did help to get the number from the thermometer. You should have seen her, I've never seen Kochou-san so shocked, even though I insisted I felt fine."

"Oh?"

"And then the little girl who was with her mentioned you could run a fever of 38 degrees for over three days and feel fine, too," he said, then smiled. "You might be in trouble."

"Oh..."

"You get it though, right? How the feverish state made your Breath technique more powerful?"

"Yeah," Tanjirou agreed, "I don’t know if my fever ever got as high as yours, but being in that state makes me feel like my Hinokami Kagura had more of the power its capable of, and like b-b-b-BOOM, BASH, and like... gggrrrraaaahhh, and... you know?"

"...huh?"

"I'm saying something weird again, sorry. There was something else that helped me fight Upper Moon Four, too. When Nezuko burned my Nichirin blade with her fire, it turned red."

"A red blade? Aren't those supposed to be rare?"

"I don’t know if it's like the red blade Haganezuka-san always wanted to see, it turned black again later. But when it was so hot that it glowed, it cut through demon flesh more powerfully than I've ever felt before. Maybe, you think, it's like the same thing? Getting really hot? That BOOM, BA-BA-BA-BA-BA-BA thing?"

"Huh? You lost me."

"Sorry..."

"It made sense until that last part. Nichirin Blades work because they've absorbed sunlight, so glowing red may be due to an increase in the power of the light. Makes it all the weirder that Nezuko can be in the sunlight now! Doesn't that make her invincible?"

Tanjirou's expression softened at the mention of his sister. "It's such a relief. I'm so glad she can walk around in daylight now. She's out of that danger."

"Still weird."

For someone who had known her for twelve years as someone who could walk around freely in daylight, there was nothing strange about it. To Tanjirou, this was a return to what was just.

In many ways, he enjoyed the return of a sister from long ago. Back in the Swordsmith Village, it was like he had his four-year-old sister back, playing with toys and enjoying being tickled, and as feisty for attention as any little kid. Maybe she'd have enjoyed putting her hair in braids back then too, though her 12-year-old self would have only mildly hummed to herself with pleasure having done up her hair as she liked without needing to bother anyone. Nezuko was always like that, even Nezuko of ten years ago was always patient and obedient and sensitive to others like Takeo and baby Hanako. Maybe if she had been stuck in a box every day she'd have had that much pent up energy back then, too. 

Now that they were back at the Butterfly Mansion, Nezuko had the best person around for helping her work off that excess energy: Inosuke, or as he had finally succeeded in teaching her, Boss Inosuke. 

"Cave Explorers! Cave Explorers! We're the Cave Explorers!"

"Caff effporor!"

"Wait! Wait up right there!" he pointed to the ground. "You see that?"

Nezuko leaned her head on Inosuke's forearm to see where he pointed. "Hmmm?" There on the ground, stumbling over roots twice its width was a fledgling, too young to have taken a purposeful dive. Inosuke ran over and skidded to his knees for a look, startling the baby bird with his snout and looming eyes, and it stumbled backwards with panicked cheeping. Nezuko knelt and cupped her hands behind it, and it nestled against them for safety.

"Ha! That makes this your mission, Underling! Take that kid and put him back up in the nest!" 

Though he was already pointing to where he felt the nest was, he looked upward past his finger, and Nezuko followed the same glance with a curious 'hmm.' The nest was easy to spot, but higher than Inosuke anticipated. He felt a smidge of regret because he didn't want to put a girl on such a risky mission right away, especially not a girl so precious to Tanpachirou. Nezuko had no such hesitation, and her claws scratched the bark as she climbed. In a couple of tricky spots she looked around left and right first, but found new spots to grip as swiftly as Inosuke would have, so he found himself more and more pleased and excited with her progress.

Trouble came when Nezuko's long hair got stuck in the branches. It caused her some distress, but the nest was close enough that she could let her hair be pulled taunt as she stretched. "Hmm... mm!!"

"Like that! Just a little further!"

"Mmnhh!" she grunted and willed her reach longer. Vines poured out her veins onto the surface of her skin and her hand extended such that she could pick up the whole nest if she pleased. Her horn had little room among the branches and pressed against one in such a way that it made her head sink down against her neck uncomfortably, but she paid that no mind as she let the fledgling tumble from her hand to the nest.

"That's it, Underling, nice work! Whoa--watch out!"

A screech zoomed toward Nezuko. When she looked up to see the parent swooping toward her with talons arched, she guarded her face with her own arched claws. She caught the bird's foot, and it reacted by flapping and tugging and cawing. When the feathers flapped in Nezuko's face she closed her eyes and leaned backwards.

"Nezuko!!" Inosuke shouted her name. He could tell exactly where she was going to fall before the branches cracked. He dove and caught her inches before she'd have hit the ground rump first, and then chunks and splinters of branches rained on them. The bird kept screeching from the tree top as it settled into its nest, and Inosuke brushed the branches off the top of Nezuko's head as he asked, "Hey! Are you alright?"

"Thank goodness!" she popped her head up and smiled. 

He looked her over for injuries, but had she gotten any, they were already healed. Blood was coming from somewhere, though, and as they both looked for where, they spotted a gash down Inosuke's forearm. "Hngh," he grunted in acknowledgement. 

Nezuko's eyes were glued to a bead of blood that pooled and gathered weight, then broke free of the injury and ran a bright red trail down his toned arm. After it came similar crimson streams, leading her attention back to the broken skin and what layers of flesh might had been revealed.

She clenched her eyes shut, grit her teeth, and pulled herself away as though caught on a fishing line. That momentum took her to her feet and a few steps away from Inosuke. Inosuke could sense the tension down her arms as she squeezed her fists, but he had no moment to ask about it before Nezuko cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted into the forest, "Halp! Halp, halp!"

"Help? No, this is nothing, I'm not injured--"

"Ha-a-a-a-lp!!"

"I'm not injured!!"

"Not injured? Then is that paint? I didn't know you were an artist, Inosuke-kun."

He and Nezuko both looked to a tree behind them and spotted a Hashira in a butterfly haori perched there. Shinobu had the same smile as ever and descended on dainty feet. Nezuko approached her with long arms out for a hug, exclaiming with relief that someone had answered her calls, but without Nezuko taking notice, the impetus to hug her faded as Shinobu took a defensive stance. Nezuko, not conscious of this, stood in front of her to insist with gibberish that Boss Inosuke needed help, and Shinobu looked Nezuko up and down and far back up, to the tip of the single horn. She had heard about this form of Nezuko's, but it was unnerving to see it up close, especially when Nezuko posed no threat and basked in sunlight. Shinobu relaxed, then said to her, "the Butterfly Mansion is that way, Nezuko-san. You were calling to the mountains for help. The mountains. I might not had heard you if I wasn't on my way home."

"Thank goodness!"

"Fighting demons?" asked Inosuke.

"Picking herbs," she said, revealing a satchel. "There's a few in here I can spare for that, but all the bandages are at home. Let's go."

"I'm not injured--"

"I don’t specialize in delusions. If you keep saying that I'm afraid I'll have to send you to a different doctor."

Inosuke didn’t know what she meant by that or why it made her aura so threatening, but he didn't want any other doctors. He followed along, keeping an eye on both the girls from behind as Nezuko walked alongside Shinobu, towering over her in scale. As they neared the hospital Shinobu suggested Nezuko go play with Mitsuri while she has a chance before Mitsuri would be cleared to return to work, and the horn and vines faded as Nezuko shrank to a portion of Shinobu's size, hopped up and down and cheered, and then scuttled off.

"It certainly is a wonder to have befriended a demon," Shinobu remarked.

Shinobu and Inosuke continued to her office, where she instructed him to sit down and cooperate as she cleaned the wound and pulled out the splinters. He didn’t like that part, but the moment Shinobu expressed sympathy that he must be scared, he growled that there was nothing scary about it and proved it by staying as still as he could while she poked and prodded around. He convinced himself he wasn't whimpering. Without commenting on how brave he was, for this was of course obvious, Shinobu rubbed on some soothing ointment and began wrapping a bandage.

"This will be prone to reinjury if you catch it on anything. You don’t need stitches, but the skin needs time to heal."

"I'm not scared of this."

"Oh? Then you're not scared of it getting infected and filled with pus? I am."

"Why? It's just pus."

"I wouldn't want anything else to hurt you, after all the care I try to take of you. Is it so bad that I don’t want to see you hurt?"

Inosuke flushed behind his mask, his head went all spacey and fluffy, but something in her words and gaze made his neck tense up and his chest feel heavy. He relented, "You can put a bandage on it if you really want to."

"You won't take it off, right?"

"Hngh..."

"Inosuke-kun. Promise me you won't take it off?"

"Fine. I promise."

She offered her finger. "Pinky promise?"

"What's that?"

"It means you'll break your pinky if you break your promise. You'll give me that proof, right?"

Inosuke felt what she really meant was that she personally would break his pinky, and he respected a threat like that, so he offered his and they shook. Shinobu's voice took a light and airy tone as she sang 'pinky promise' in tune with the movement, and Inosuke was awash with a sense of familiarity, and an odd curiosity for Shinobu. He stared as he pondered, and Shinobu could feel his stare from behind the boar mask.

"What is it?"

"Your pinkies are weak."

"That's not strange."

"Your face is pale. Are you alright?"

Her face betrayed surprise, and then she smiled deeper. "You can tell? That's amazing! It's just low blood pressure. There you go, you're all set. Be careful."

She hurried him out because she had work to do with the herbs, but Inosuke stood outside the office door a moment wondering where he'd heard that song before.

--

It was another day before Kanao returned from a solo mission. She had been on more of those lately than missions at Shinobu’s side. So long as Shinobu wasn’t away on her own tasks, Kanao would start and end every solo mission reporting to Shinobu. She occasionally had advice, but all Shinobu usually instructed her was simply to cut the head off the demon.

That made it feel simple. Kanao didn’t have to think any more than that, and it had worked so far.

But that was what made her afraid. What would happen if she couldn’t reach the neck, and had to decide something else to do? She was vulnerable when taken by surprise, if ever there was something she couldn’t see coming.

“Good morning!”

Kanao nearly jumped out of her boots the moment an unfamiliar girl’s voice yelled at her. There were just as soon giggling voices that she knew from Kiyo and Naho.

“It’s too late for ‘good morning’!”

“You should say, ‘welcome home,’ Nezuko-san!”

“Nezuko?” Kanao asked, and then she found herself face to face with gleaming pink eyes and a fanged smile.

“Welcome… home!”

What was—but this—she shouldn’t—but--, a swarm of broken thoughts swirled through Kanao’s mind, until at last she blurted, “Is it alright for her not to wear her muzzle?”

“Most people would ask about her being in the sunlight first,” said Aoi, coming up behind Kanao with a bemused smile. She took satisfaction in watching Kanao flush and look back and forth between her and Nezuko as it dawned on her.

“Good morning!” Nezuko added, and Kiyo and Naho started laughing.

--

When Zenitsu at last returned to the Butterfly Mansion, his sparrow was chirping away something or other at him. He could never make out what words that bird wanted to convey, but it was easy to tell when Chuntarou was angry. He had probably heard how much trouble Zenitsu was in with the Corp. Jiichan might know already, too.

The one time he tried to do something to help, and it was unnecessary. All blew up in his face. What was the point of ever having tried? Ever having tried any of this. All this time in the Corp, chasing some dream that he might be useful to someone someday, anyone, just one person, it’d all been—

“—Aa?”

A heartbeat thumped through his ears. A girl’s heartbeat.

Zenitsu looked up and was caught by the most beautiful—nay, that trite word could not capture it—the most sublime sight he’d ever encountered in his life. It was Nezuko, and she was glistening in the sunlight. She was smiling—smiling at him!!

He screamed.

The other girls surrounding Nezuko all covered their ears as Zenitsu, doing the only sensible thing there was to do at such a glorious moment, confirmed that this meant she was eligible to be his wife now. And then—heavenly sounds!—she spoke words to him for the first time.

“Welcome back, Inosuke!”

--

There weren’t many quiet places around the Butterfly Mansion when both Inosuke and Zenitsu were home, but since Tanjirou hadn’t spent any time with Zenitsu since they started their mission in the pleasure quarter, he relished in his company despite all Zenitsu’s threats about murdering Inosuke. It was hard to find an opening to get any words in, but Tanjirou found a way to make Zenitsu temporarily quiet and turn his mood around entirely when he thanked him for his words about Thunder Breath and told him how it helped save the day. As Zenitsu skipped off, Genya lied still with a pillow over his head, aghast with how Tanjirou always had such a way of defusing the people around him. He always had the weirdest thing to say.

He wasn’t so bad, though.

--

Over the course of Tanjirou’s recovery, Inosuke and Zenitsu kept coming and going on their own missions, as did Kanao, though she went on more without her master nowadays. Genya joined them as soon as the little girls got him healed up and fed and back to full strength. From what Tanjirou heard, the demons had been very active lately. Going out of their way to cause trouble instead of keeping to the shadows like they had for centuries.

The one who knew this best was Ubuyashiki Kagaya, confined to his bed and helpless to aid his children. It made meetings with his Hashira harder to find chances for, though any one of them would drop anything but slaying demons in order to answer his call.

“Oyakata-sama, please, don’t trouble yourself to sit up. You don’t seem well.”

“Thank you, Gyoumei,” he replied. Always one to have keen senses, Himejima had stopped him just before he gathered his strength to sit up and be polite with his visitor. He relaxed against his pillow and smiled in the direction of the Stone Hashira’s voice. “I know you’ve had your hands so full, taking over extra territories.”

“You say that like I’m the only one. Shinazugawa, Iguro, and Tomioka have stepped up just as much during Tokitou and Kanroji’s recovery.”

“I’m glad to have you all supporting each other. With Shinobu being busy, I know you’re all spread thin.”

“Could Uzui be convinced to lend a hand?”

“I’ve sent summons, but it doesn’t seem they are reaching him,” Ubuyashiki replied, smiling at the reason why. As the crow told him, one of Uzui’s wives had swatted him with a room and yelled that her husband was retired. He had thought of sending summons to the former Flame Hashira, but he was satisfied that he had only recently begun to take care of himself again, and he preferred to let him rest until the time was right. “Muichirou and Mitsuri will be back to help soon, but with how active the demons are now, I wish for you all to have more help.”

“We’re Hashira, Oyakata-sama. You can entrust us with anything.”

“You say that like you’re unconvinced of anyone else being useful.”

Himejima frowned, for Ubuyashiki was right. “With all due respect, the caliber of swordsmen is not what it used to be.”

“It’s unfair to compare them to the unusually competent Hashira I’m blessed with in this day and age. Their will is the same as yours, Gyoumei. What they need is a chance to rise to your level.”

“You wish to raise new Hashira, you mean?”

“They have a way to go, but they’ve shown amazing resilience in the face of challenges. Even Genya gained experience fighting an Upper Moon, didn’t he? I hope you’ll have more faith in him, and the rest of his batch. If possible, I’d like to see what they all can accomplish against more and more powerful demons.”

“Left on their own?”

“Maybe not right away,” he smiled. “But a mission altogether, that could be good for them.”

--

Tanjirou was eager to go help his friends and progressed smoothly in his functional recovery training. He made it a point to try to keep his body temperature down to normal levels so that Shinobu wouldn’t hold him back, though. She had asked him about it and smelled angry. For now, under Muichirou’s advice, he kept that phenomenon to himself and waited to hear what Muichirou might find out about it as he investigated what archives the Ubuyashiki family might have. Still, Muichirou was a Hashira, and he wasn’t likely to have much time for that, so Tanjirou would have to try to keep refining that skill on his own (as soon as he was out of Shinobu’s watchful eye).

Haganezuka came and visited him, delivering a sword like Tanjirou never laid eyes on. Although, having commented so, Tanjirou was rudely reminded that he had not only seen it, but he had laid hands on it and nearly ruined it forever. As Haganezuka seemed to be in pain from his injuries and exhausted by the sword polishing process, Tanjirou decided to ask him more about red blades another time.

While the others were busy, Nezuko was there to train with him, and she never tired when running alongside him and cheering him on. She misunderstood and thought she was helping when she lifted up the rock on a rope that Tanjirou was training with. It tasted so good to laugh with her again, like it came out of him in a way that resounded with hers. Nezuko’s laugh was irreplaceable, and it was back. If it weren’t for all the demons out there, he’d happily stay put and bask in it forever.

Chachamaru, one day, delivered a letter. Tamayo and Tanjirou were in ongoing correspondence, and they had already exchanged a few letters since Nezuko mastered the sun. Like always, Tanjirou showed it to Nezuko when she peered over his shoulder at the paper.

“It’s from Tamayo-san,” he explained to her. “She says there’s no need to worry anymore about the sun! Your cells aren’t going to go back to the way they were, you get to stay like this now.”

“Hmm!” she replied with a wide, bright smile.

“Let’s see what else she says. ‘…Like how her blood allowed another demon to break free of Muzan’s control, it might also be used to grant mastery of the sun to other demons.’ Isn’t that great, Nezuko? You could help Tamayo-san and Yushirou-san too!”

“Thank goodness!”

“Thank goodness, for sure! Let’s see. ‘Kibutsuji Muzan is sure to be looking for her…’” he trailed off, his mouth dry at the name that just rolled off his tongue. Nezuko did not seem to recognize the name as well as she’d recognize the cells, and she tilted her head as Tanjirou read on, more quietly. “’With all the increased activity, it will be very dangerous if any other demons know about her abilities. For Nezuko-san’s sake, would you reconsider leaving her in our care?’”

He looked up to Nezuko as soon as he said it, aghast at such a proposition after all this time. Nezuko stared back at him, questioning what such words implied. Did she realize it would leave them separated? When she had heard it from Tamayo directly that one time she had understood, maybe it was harder to understand from a letter.

Even without words, Nezuko had made herself well-understood back then. She had a will of her own, and Tanjirou had every intention to respect it.

He smiled and patted her head. “Don’t worry. We’ll never be separated again. You’re going to be fine. Niisan won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Thank goodness,” she beamed and hugged him.

Tanjirou hugged her back, grateful all over again for how far they’d come.

[egophiliac]

he did it! 🐍 and it only took...uhhh...well, there probably could've been less punches, but why hold back!

PUNCHES FOR EVERYONE

[sysig]

The familiarity is not very comforting (Patreon)

[imfinereallyy]

Eddie draws on the edge of Steve’s hip, where his shirt rides up from stretching across Eddie’s bed. He’s humming to himself a song Steve doesn’t recognize, but it soothes him.

“What are you drawing?” Steve speaks softly; something about the moment feels gentle. He doesn’t want to break it.

“Hmmm, it’s a secret.” Eddie peaks beneath his bangs and smiles.

Steve leans up on his elbows, “Well, that’s not fair; I think I should know what’s going on my body?”

Eddie only looks at him with mischief as he continues to doodle. “Be grateful, Harrington. You’re getting an original Munson for free.”

Steve can’t help the laugh that escapes him. It is just like Eddie to say something like that. Playful and mean, it makes something settle in Steve. For a long time, he only knows the pain from harsh comments or a sentence with a bite. It is a welcomed change, to feel a bubble of happiness after a light jab.

“Whatever you say, Munson. Just let me see.” Steve tries to push up further to sneak a peek, but Eddie uses his free hand to push him down to the bed. He just happens to catch Steve off guard, sending him into a sprawl that can only be described as a starfish.

“I’m not finished yet.” Eddie grabs his hips and pins him still while he draws. After a few more moments, he says, “Done!”

Steve looks at his work and releases a snort that breaks the careful tension between them. “Are those boobs?”

“Why yes, they are, and a good representation if I say so myself.”

“Do you even know what boobs look like? Like the live version?” Steve knows he should be mad at the sharpie-drawn breasts on his body, but he can’t find it in him to have an angry tone.

“We’ll no. I don’t. And I would much prefer to keep it that way.”

Steve chokes on his spit a little bit, “Did you just come out to me, Eds?”

Steve isn’t sure what he expects. Denial, maybe, Eddie taking back what he said. Steve knows he isn’t handling this right. He doesn’t think Robin would be too happy with his response.

Steve thinks maybe he should see a little bit of fear in Eddie’s demeanor. That shakiness that comes with telling someone a dangerous secret.

What he gets, in the end, isn’t something he could have predicted. Eddie smiles softly, a little bit of his tooth peeking out, and lays his head gently on Steve’s leg. He’s calm and collected. He’s happy, Steve realizes.

“Yea, I guess I did. Not like it was much of a secret, though. Are you upset?” Eddie draws soft circles around the drawing on Steve’s hip—the rough callous on his thumb contradicting his tender touch.

Once again, although the conversation should be anxious, it’s not. Eddie’s question is spoken like he already knows the answer. Maybe he does.

“No, Eddie. I’m not mad. Never would be for that. Just thought it was a funny way of sharing a secret. Though, gotta admit, a very you way of doing it.”

This time Eddie throws his head back when he laughs, before settling back down on Steve’s leg. His giggles never really settled. “Like I said, Stevie wasn’t much of a secret anyway. Well, between us, that is at least. I like to think some, if not all, the kids are oblivious.”

“Erica definitely knows.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in mischief, “Oh, for sure. Pretty sure she would kick the others' asses, too, if they gave me shit for it. And she kicks hard too.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh. He’s never had this before, this casualness to serious conversations. Before, Steve is used to screaming and punching, drunken confessions in the bathroom, and throwing up on the mall floor. It isn’t like this, now, with Eddie in his trailer bedroom. It’s good. It’s safe.

“Thank you for telling me, Eds. Something like that is hard to share no matter who you tell it to.”

The softness is back again, “Like I said wasn’t much of a secret. Besides, I don’t think there isn’t any secret of mine you don’t know, Stevie. I think even when I don’t tell you, you kinda already know, don’t you?”

Steve leans one arm forward, while he places his weight on one elbow. He gently takes Eddie’s face in one hand, rubbing circles in the same motion as Eddie’s thumb on his hip.

God, I want to kiss him so bad sometimes, Steve thinks.

“Yea, I already know.”

[blighted-lights]

headcanon for the day: by the time ravage is on the lost light, he's got a lot of chronic pain. a lot of it comes from the various injuries that he's recieved over the years (being thrown around, run over, shot, starved, mindcontrolled, and nearly killed will do that to you), but some of it comes from his modification of being a cassette. his transformation cog has a lot of wear on it just based on how often he's transformed over the years, and the impact of being launched from soundwave's chest and landing harshly on his paws over and over has built up to some nasty joint pain in his legs specifically.

also missle launchers on his hips? the recoil on those things must be awful, and they're built into him. his spinal-strut has gotta be a mess.

usually soundwave or the other cassettes are there to help him when it gets to be too much, either by letting him stay curled up in berth/soundwave's chest until the flare passes or helping him stretch and massaging his joints to alleviate some of the pressure. megatron takes over that duty when ravage is on the lost light- mostly because he doesn't trust anyone else to help him with it. except for first aid when ravage gets fed up with megatron, and then later on velocity when first aid leaves.

the lost light is also a sensory nightmare for ravage when it comes to scents. migranes are common and he spends a fair amount of time curled up in dark, quiet corners recovering.

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID: a digital comic based on the owl house, featuring Hunter and Willow. The comic is a redraw of the "alphabet confession" meme comic. In the first panel, Hunter stands nervously in front of Willow, saying "I..". The next panel is a closeup of Hunter as he continues, saying "I...I" with an intense expression. In the third panel Hunter stops and looks suprised as Willow (partly off screen) continues, saying "J, K, L, M, N, O, P...". The next panel is a closeup of Willow, somewhat bashful, continuing listing the alphabet, now on "Q, R, S, T, U, V...". The penultimate panel is a closeup of Hunter as he finishes off the alphabet for her, saying "W, X, Y, and Z". He looks equally bashful. The final panel shows Hunter and Willow holding each other and seemingly spinning in mid air as flower petals circle around them. The comic is in black and white with the gutters between panels being light pink, and Hunter and Willow are both in their post-thanks to them designs. End ID]

HAPPY 1 WEEK TIL FOR THE FUTURE! Here's a silly comic idea that would not leave my head <3 they are so fucking stupid

[mauselet]

The Influencer - And All Is Not Fine

This story is for @ask-the-rag-dolly's blog, specifically The Influencer AU. Honestly, loving the blog so much. Huge thanks to Mod Bee for creating it and if you haven't already, go check out her blog.

Big thanks to WanderingDragon and Foolscap Hamato for helping with the fic.

Yes, the story is named after Entropy by Awkward Marina lyrics. Also, the anon/s that speak in orange and red, you got a reference in there cause it felt fitting.

Well, I really hope you enjoy this story!

Story includes: Ragatha X Pomni (but can be taken as platonically), angst, hurt/comfort

TW body horror, possessive behavior, possession, anxiety/panic attack, haphephobia/fear of being touched, questioning sanity, self-neglect

It's been a few weeks since Pomni found out that there were currently hundreds of voices inside Ragatha's head. Wow, and after all this time it didn't sound any less insane. From what Pomni understood, those voices were a virus that had infected the circus and latched onto Ragatha. They couldn't tell Caine about this because he'd likely kill them and Ragatha refused that. For some reason, she wanted to protect them which seemed even crazier than the whole situation. Some of them were friendly, sure, but others…

They attacked Jax, causing him to glitch out. They taunted Ragatha by plaguing her mind with the worst cases imaginable or calling her names or taking her too literally. They spawned that stupid paper shredder!

Oh, how Pomni hated that thing! The next time she sees one, she’ll personally smash it into pieces.

In short, the voices–all of them–stressed Ragatha out. And who could blame her? Sometimes even your own voice in your head can drive you mad. Pomni was actually impressed that the doll hadn’t reached her breaking point yet with these “anons”, as they called themselves, constantly following her.

Of course, it wasn’t all that bad. Sure, they led to Ragatha temporarily losing her arm, but it was also thanks to them that she worked up the courage to speak to Pomni again. The thought of that always brought a smile to the jester’s face.

She was glad she could talk to her. Not only because Ragatha was nice and overall pleasant to be around, but it was also good for the ragdoll; especially now that she avoided the other circus performers to prevent another Jax fiasco or a possible infection.

The redhead’s absence was noticed by the others and to Pomni’s surprise, they were concerned about her. When Pomni first arrived, she was too busy spiraling down her anxiety to see it, but these trapped souls were friends. They cared about one another, even if it’d be in their own strange ways. So Pomni decided to reassure them all with daily reports on how Ragatha was doing.

And that was usually the extent of her interactions with them. Until Caine’s adventures forced her to stick around the whole day. Sometimes she was able to avoid them, however, there were times when she just couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately for her, adventures like these stacked over the course of the last few days, making it basically impossible for Pomni to check on Ragatha.

By the third or fourth day, Pomni was getting anxious. Throughout the adventure, her fingers were constantly convulsing while stuck in an unnatural position, her eyes turned into scribbles and her thoughts were as far away from the game as possible.

Ragatha must’ve been lonely. It’s been days since she’s interacted with anyone. Well…since she’s interacted with someone who meant no harm to her. Hopefully, she was alright…

Pomni suddenly jerked and snapped out of her thoughts as a gloved hand waved in front of her eyes. Her head shot up and she saw Kinger, Zooble and Gangle who announced to her that they found a way to replace her in today’s adventure and that she could go see Ragatha. If she had to be honest, she didn’t even know what the adventure was, but if she really wasn’t needed there…

She gave the three of them a quick smile and dashed to Ragatha’s room as fast as her short legs could carry her. As soon as she arrived and caught her breath, she rang the bell, waiting and…

Waiting.

Pomni felt a pit in her stomach. No, no, no. She shook her head. Everything’s fine, it’s just taking a bit. She rang again.

“R-Ragatha? It’s me, Pomni. A-are you in there?”

But she was still left waiting.

“Ragatha!” she raised her voice, yet still no response.

Oh God, three days… Three whole days with nothing but those voices. That must’ve been a nightmare for the doll and Pomni left her dealing with that alone. She left her again…

“I’m coming in!” she announced and reached for the doorknob. Her body froze as she held it, overwhelmed by worried thoughts, but also by a sense of déjà vu. She chuckled darkly at the memory of desperately wanting to know what was behind a door she shouldn’t go through and then opened.

A wave of relief washed over Pomni as she wasn’t instantly met with a glitching blob with a thousand glowing eyeballs. She walked in and closed the door behind her.

She looked around the room and her heart skipped a beat. Ragatha was there, sitting on her bed, sewing what appeared to be a suit. She was so focused on her work; maybe that's why she didn't register the bell. Pomni can't actually remember if she'd ever seen her this focused, but she looked surprisingly calm and, the jester had to admit, quite pretty. 

“Um…Ragatha?” the short woman started, walking over, “I'm sorry for barging in, I was just worried when you didn't answer.” But the ragdoll didn't respond; it was as if she didn’t even notice that Pomni was in the room talking to her.

Was she ignoring her? Was she mad? Did she…hate her? All of those thoughts sounded really ridiculous considering that this was Ragatha we were talking about. She doesn’t even allow herself to hate Jax, someone who’s caused more than enough harm to her, so there is no way she’d ever hate Pomni. Right…? Yet all those thoughts, as unrealistic as they might’ve seemed, felt like real possibilities to Pomni.

Somehow despite Jax putting her worst fear in her room, voices constantly screaming at her and hurting her and Caine forcing her into some of the most dangerous scenarios, not being there for her seemed like the biggest crime of them all.

Well, there was only one way to fix it.

“I’m so sorry I took so long,” Pomni let out, her steps slowing down, “I tried to check on you, but Caine’s adventures-”

“Oh, it’s alright, dear,” hearing that gentle voice, Pomni stopped. It was nice hearing her again, but something felt off. Sure, Ragatha occasionally used pet names like hun or sweetheart or even dear–oh geez, Pomni felt her cheeks heating up just thinking about it—that wasn’t the issue. She sounded more nonchalant than reassuring.

That didn’t matter right now. She wasn’t mad and that brought a smile to Pomni’s face. However, that didn’t last long as the doll finally raised her head.

Pomni’s face turned paler than usual if it was even possible, the pinwheel eyes shrunk, making them nearly invisible and her smile vanished as if it was never there.

Oh %$!#... Oh %$!#! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! This wasn’t… This couldn’t have been real!

She wasn’t just staring at a black void with two colorful eyes where Ragatha’s button was supposed to be. She wasn’t just witnessing her friend slowly abstracting in front of her! She wasn’t… She wasn’t…

This wasn’t real!

It… It was just one of the digital hallucinations that Caine mentioned. Yeah! That’s it! That’s…That’s what it…was…

But those eyes, that void, they were still there, no matter how much Pomni convinced herself about the opposite.

Caine. She had to go get Caine! As Ragatha said once, maybe there was still time to fix this.

“Stay here!” Pomni blurted out, “I’ll be right back!” She quickly turned around and ran to the door. She’s going to come back this time. This time she won’t let Ragatha suffer.

She reached for the doorknob, but before she could grab it, arms wrapped around her and she was pulled back. One of the arms held her abdomen while the other was around her neck, not too tight yet still uncomfortable.

Feeling the fabric arms against her skin made her dizzy and itchy. She could sense every single pixel touching her, causing goosebumps to spread over her body.

“Where are you going, dear~?” she heard a whisper in her ear. It was Ragatha’s gentle, calming voice- No. It sounded different and…wrong. The voice was demanding and rough.

Pomni’s breath hitched. Was really something wrong with Ragatha? Or was her mind just messing with her? Well, the physical contact didn’t exactly help her think clearly as her body was plagued with this disgusting sensation.

“Don’t leave me~” For whatever reason, those words made the black-haired woman sick.

The doll’s embrace tightened. The touch of the fabric felt so venomous and paralyzing. It felt sickening. It felt wrong.

The jester wanted to escape that trap. She needed to escape it, yet no matter how much the voice in her head screamed at her body to move, it wouldn’t budge an inch. She was frozen in such a predicament with nothing but her racing heart, uneven breath, and voice stuck in her throat.

She attempted to take a deep breath, only to leave herself coughing.

“Are you alright, dear?” That voice again. It made shivers run down Pomni’s spine.

She sucked in another breath and let out a very weak and broken “Ragatha”. She repeated this a few times until she made a sensible sentence: “Ragatha… Please, let go…”

“Let go?” the doll wondered innocently, “why would I do that?”

“Please…” the jester mouthed.

“It’s not like I want to hurt you.” The grip tightened even more. “I would never hurt you. I would never-” The taller woman went silent. She felt the pale jester in her arms trembling and her heart dropped.

“Pomni…” Ragatha let out softly and her embrace loosened, “y-you’re shaking…” Rather than talking to Pomni, however, she seemed to have told it to herself. Reminding it to herself as if just physically feeling it wasn't enough to make it sink in. 

Even some of the voices were yelling at her to let go while the others objected. Was it the good or bad ones? What even made them good or bad? Were there even any bad voices? Were there even any good voices?

The voices that objected weren’t yelling, but whispering yet they were somehow much louder than the yells.

“Don’t listen to them–” “You can’t let go–” “You can–!” “She’ll find Caine and tell him about us–” “She wouldn’t–” “It’s too great of a risk–!” “If Caine finds out about us, we’ll be–” “What would happen to Rags–?”

“Ragatha, don’t you care about us? Don’t you care about what happens to you?!”

She flinched, instinctively tensing her hold on Pomni. In no way did she help the situation, with the jester’s body convulsing out of control.

“What is it, dolly? Are we too much for you to handle? Are we too loud? Can you even tell the difference between us and your own thoughts? Is there even a difference at this point?”

Oh God, her knees felt weak, her head was spinning, and tears filled her eye. She felt like she was about to collapse at any moment, but there was something forcing her to stand. Something kept her body like this against her will despite her exhaustion.

“Oh, dollface, do you feel the abstraction crawling under your skin? Or well, fabric? Did we do it? Did we f̴i̷n̴a̵l̸l̴y̸ ̶b̷r̸e̶a̵k̷ ̶y̷o̴u̵?̸”

All the voices then started shouting over one another again. Ragatha couldn’t even make out what they were saying as it all blended into an incoherent mess. With so much noise in her head, she wanted to join them. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs; let out all her frustration not just with the voices, but with her whole body. It would be a beautiful relief, but even that was a luxury. Her body wouldn’t let her. They wouldn’t let her.

She’d swear that in the middle of all the noise she heard things that made her want to throw up. She hoped that it was just her imagination and her brain tried to give those noises some meaning, however… That would mean it was her own thoughts and that creeped her out even more. Strangely, some of those words weren’t anything bad, they were just…words. Yet they all sounded so disgusting. So wrong. Every last one of them.

Every last one…

Every last–

“Please…” One voice silenced all of them despite how weak and broken it was. No… No, it was loud and clear. It was…real.

It hit her like a truck. Everything that just happened in the span of a few minutes. How Pomni walked into the room, apologizing. How terrified the jester was when she saw her. How she stopped her when she tried to leave. How she was holding her this whole time despite the pain she was clearly causing Pomni.

Ragatha jumped back, letting go of the jester, allowing her to collapse to her knees. The small woman was sitting there, swinging back and forth, hyperventilating. She reached her hands to her arms as if to brace herself, but she didn’t touch. Instead, she grabbed her hat and pulled, her eyes shut. The bells one would associate with joy and fun now sounded distorted to both of the performers. The bells were… unnerving.

“Oh my gosh…” Ragatha let out as it all sank in. She covered her mouth and a tear ran down her face as she stared down at the black-haired woman. Her heart was breaking at the sight. “Oh my gosh…”

She did this… No, no, no. The voices did. Right…? She…She wasn’t in control, was she?

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, although, she wasn’t sure if Pomni could even hear her, “I-I lost control of them.” She cried more. “I messed up. Ragatha, you idiot… You %$!# idiot! You scared her. You hurt her! Why would I…? I would never-”

She felt tears rolling down her right cheek too, but that wasn’t possible. She wiped the tears with her hand and when she looked at it, her fingertips were covered by dark liquid.

Her heart stopped, realizing what that was. The dark void was leaking. The voices were right…

The bells on Pomni’s head rang again, causing Ragatha to snap out of those thoughts. There was something more important she had to do than pity herself. Her emotions could wait. Her abstraction could wait! She didn’t matter right now. She didn’t matter at all! Pomni did.

Despite her own breakdown, she rushed over to the jester, kneeling in front of her. She was in tears, barely thinking straight, potentially on the verge of abstracting, but Pomni mattered more.

Ragatha reached her hand towards the pale woman but flinched when she realized it wasn’t the brightest idea considering what caused this in the first place. She instead laid her hands on her own knees so Pomni could see them.

“Hey, Pomni?” she spoke up, her voice trembling. That sure was reassuring…

C’mon, Ragatha! Get a hold of yourself! Pomni needs you! Don’t freak her out.

She took a deep breath and ran her hand through her yarn, brushing it over her right eye to hide it. She curled her hands into fists and calmed her breath before speaking.

“Pomni, hun?” She was doing her best to keep her voice stable this time. “Look at me, please. Hun, look at me.” Pomni cringed, her body still going back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s just me. The real me, I promise,” Ragatha continued, “I just need you to look at me.” The big eyes slowly opened, showing scribbles, and looked up. “That’s it.” Ragatha smiled at her brightly. “Good job, sweetheart. Good job.”

The smaller woman was still trembling, still pulling at her hat, still swinging back and forth, still not controlling her breath. 

“Alright, dear-”

Pomni flinched at that, tears streaming down her face as she looked away. 

“O-okay! Okay,” Ragatha said in an unintentional panic. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out. I won't call you that again, I promise. I promise. You’re safe now.”

Still in tears, the jester stopped pulling at her hat, yet the bells kept ringing. Each sob was accompanied by a happy metallic chime as her body jerked. Ragatha had to admit that it made her wails quite adorable and each little jingle seemingly made a voice in her head disappear each time. But she wished more than anything that they'd stop.

“Pomni?” Ragatha knew she had to keep trying. “Hey, Pompom, hun… Can you look at me again?”

The smaller woman didn't seem to listen. She then choked on her sobs as they didn't mix well with her rapid breathing. Seeing this, some of the voices panicked, but Ragatha had to stay calm. She instinctively lifted her hand from her knee, however, thankfully stopped herself from touching Pomni. 

“Please?” the ragdoll’s soothing voice asked and Pomni couldn't deny it. The black-haired woman turned to her, scribbles in her bloodshot eyes. 

“Good job.” A smile of relief and reassurance formed on Ragatha's face. “Now, honey, you're having another episode, but that's okay. It's okay, I'll help you through it. I’m not going anywhere. We'll get through it  together, okay?”

Pomni nodded slowly, choking on her sobs again. 

“I need you to breathe with me,” Ragatha told her, “four seconds in, hold and six out. Four, hold, six.” She waited for Pomni to nod again before she took a deep breath that the jester immediately followed, yet struggling. They held their breath, but sniffles broke them. Then they exhaled together. 

“Now, let's try again.”

And as Ragatha said, they did. Breathing was much easier for Pomni this time around. 

“You're doing great,” the redhead praised her, “are you able to go on your own?” She watched as Pomni nodded and took another deep breath with her eyes shut. “Good, keep going. You’re safe, hun. Focus on me, okay?”

When Pomni opened her eyes again, they were back to their pinwheel look. Ragatha also noticed that she stopped shaking and the swinging slowed down. Her smile widened in relief.

She kept talking to Pomni while the jester calmed her breath. They were like this for a few more minutes until…

“R-Ragatha…?” Pomni finally spoke up and the ragdoll gasped quietly.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Ragatha greeted her, “you feeling any better?”

“A little…” Pomni’s voice was still pretty weak, but she had much more to say. She held her hands together, rubbing her thumb with the other. “But I should be the one asking you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ragatha shook her head. “I just helped you through a panic attack-”

“And I’m forever grateful for that,” the jester blurted out, “but, Ragatha… You’re on the verge of abstracting!” They both flinched at the yell and Ragatha covered the black void on her face despite being hidden behind the hair. “And it’s all because of me.” Pomni shifted her eyes away. “Because I left you when you needed me. Again!”

“Pomni, you can’t blame yourself for that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“‘Can’t blame yourself?’ You’re the one to talk,” the pale woman scuffed. She then took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“No, you have all the right to call me out.”

“Did it happen because of… them?” Pomni glanced at the taller woman, her eyes narrowing at the last word.

“I think so,” Ragatha replied and noticed Pomni inhaling to speak, but she quickly interrupted her, “that’s why you can’t tell Caine.”

“But, Rag-”

“You promised.”

“And you said you wanted this to stop,” Pomni reminded her, raising her voice, “I understand you don’t want them to die, but think about what they’re doing to you. Stress? Mental breakdowns? Abstraction?!” The doll lowered her head in shame. “Rags, you’re suffering and I can’t bear to watch. You care about the people around you and I appreciate that, but for once in this digital life think about yourself first.”

“No need to worry, darling,” Ragatha said calmly, looking up with a bright smile as if the topic was just a casual small talk, “the anons are actually what keeps me from abstracting, otherwise I’d be in the cellar by now.” Pomni cringed at every word due to how cheerfully the doll said them. “We’re also really, really sorry for touching you. We were so afraid of you telling Caine that we had to stop you somehow. Sorry we hurt you.”

Pomni was just staring at her, an unsure expression painted on her face. This all felt wrong and Ragatha’s next words didn’t ease that feeling.

“I’m fine, really. I’m sure that I can join in on the adventures again soon.”

No, that wasn’t right. She just said she’s afraid of Caine finding out, why does she suddenly want to take part in his adventures? And that wasn’t the only thing off.

“What happened to staying in your room to prevent infecting people with the virus?” Pomni wondered, “don’t get me wrong, the others would be happy to see you and they’re definitely worried about you. Heck, Zooble, Gangle and Kinger helped me get out of an adventure to check up on you; it’s just…”

“You’ve been spending so much time with me and you’re not influenced,” Ragatha pointed out.

Well, Pomni couldn’t argue with that. There were still many other issues with this seemingly spontaneous idea, but the more she thought about them the less sense her reasoning as to why they were even issues made. It was as if her mind was getting blurrier the more she tried to use her brain. She must’ve been tired from her previous meltdown.

“I guess you have a point.” She let out a sigh and smiled at the woman softly, but then… Did Ragatha have that wide grin on her face before? That didn’t matter right now; she needed some rest.

“Look, I know I haven’t been here in a while, but I should really go into my room and take a nap,” she explained.

“Oh, no worries, d̶e̶a̸r̴,” Ragatha replied, “have a nice sleep.”

“I’ll try. Thanks.” Pomni stood up and headed to the door. She grabbed the doorknob and turned back. “And I mean it, try thinking about yourself. It isn’t hard to care about you; me and at least three other people can agree on that.” Her smile widened as she opened the door. “And Ragatha? …I… Thank you for helping me through the attack, I really appreciate it. You’re a great friend.”

She then closed the door and stayed in the room. 

She originally planned on finding Caine the moment she was outside. She was well aware that Ragatha didn't want that, however, Pomni was willing to do anything to help her stop hurting. She didn't care if Ragatha hated her for it–she was sure she would–she just wanted her friend to be safe.

But as much as she wanted that, she couldn't bring her body to go through with it. It was as if it didn't obey her. 

“Don't leave me,” she remembered the doll's words. No, it wasn't a memory; it felt like someone just whispered in her ear. 

That's crazy. It was just her imagination. Nothing else. 

“Pomni, please. Don't leave,” Ragatha's voice begged her. It sounded so real. But there was no way Ragatha's whispers could reach her, right?

The more she thought about it, the more her mind was filled with white noise, static. And the longer that went on, the more that noise made sense to her as if it spoke to her. 

“I'm scared,” one noise was much louder. Ragatha's voice.

Pomni's not leaving her again.

She let go of the doorknob and turned around to see the ragdoll still sitting on her knees, showing Pomni her back. 

“Actually, can I stay here?” the jester asked, “I don't want you to be alone and…I'd also feel more comfortable with some company.”

“Why of course,” the doll replied, the huge grin remaining on her face. She got up and headed over to her bed. Reaching into her hair, she pulled out her bow and used it to tie her hair up in a ponytail.

“You can take a nap in my bed,” she said. 

“Oh.” Pomni blushed a little, not only at the offer but also due to the redhead’s sudden hairdo change. Whatever it was, it had some strong influence on Pomni. "Thanks."

Once at her bed, Ragatha picked up the suit she was working on when Pomni first walked in. It was nearly done. It truly was clothing worthy of someone as powerful as her; someone with influence stronger than the ringmaster himself.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Again the sickness speaking but here's something that has been going through my mind since forever:

I feel like a good way to mitigate a lot of discontent with the doa arc ending and in general the whole Dazai-being-flawless issue bsd has going on is by comparing bsd to Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle. Please bear with me for two minutes.

When Sherlock Holmes was being published, people were intrigued and enamoured by Holmes' brilliant and charming, crimes-solving figure. People read the stories for the pure joy of being left gaping at his superhuman wits again and again; they didn't want to see him fail, they wanted to be shocked and amazed by his genius. When Holmes died and then came back, nobody lamented it being unrealistic, because realism was not what people were reading the books for! They were reading to be impressed, to cheer for the hero and then take satisfaction in seeing him turn out victorious. That's the author-reader deal that was made there: to impress and to enjoy being impressed.

As of recently I feel like we've been asking from bsd something it never promised us in the first place. Maybe it's just not that kind of series! Maybe it's more about surprising the reader with how the hero is going to make it and less about highlighting his flaws and insecurities. And like, that's okay! That's why Dazai getting away with it isn't it him getting away with it “again”, it's just how bsd is; in a way, it's what makes bsd bsd.

I think it really clicked with me like it never did before when I watched the last episode of season 5; because the arc ending felt so shocking and unpredictable, very deus-ex-machina trope, a little underwhelming in its lowering the stakes that were there the whole time, and yet so extremely on brand with bsd, I didn't even have it in me to be disappointed. It was so similar to the Guild's arc ending and even more to the Cannibalism arc ending, and maybe it really is just a pattern, maybe it really is what bsd aspires to be, and that's okay too.

Also, I can't stretch this enough: if it's not your cup of tea, that's fine. I can't say it's mine either. But I feel like criticizing bsd now for how it's always been falls quite short, because it really feels like demanding from it what it never promised to deliver in the first place. That's just as far as my current perception of the series goes, though, so feel free to disagree with me on this.

[femboy-central]

… if you want to read my essay on how gay Nick Carraway is it’s under the cut

Until recent years, very few authors had the courage to express homosexuality in their work for fear of institutional punishment or negative social reaction. With stories like that of Oscar Wilde, writers were accurately terrified to explicitly explore the diversity of the sexual and romantic interests of their characters. Despite this, they were not stopped and authors chose to implement their gay characters with artistic subtlety. F. Scott Fitzgerald's most well known novel, The Great Gatsby, homes one example of this type of character. Although he does not live in a time period where he can be open about it, Nick Carraway is a homosexual man and this fact is crucial to truly understanding his self and his relationship with Jay Gatsby.

Perhaps the most damning evidence of Nick's sexuality is the fact that the only sexual encounter he is implied to have had is with Chester McKee after the party in New York (28), but it is not all. Nick's homosexuality is most casually clear in the descriptions he gives of the people in his life. Although he does acknowledge past romantic relations with women, he does not read as particularly interested in them. When questioned about a rumoured fiancée out West, Nick remarks that he is very opposed to "being rumored into marriage," (15) and in his first meeting with his supposed love interest, Jordan Baker, Nick compares her to a cadet (an exclusively male occupation at the time) and points out her most masculine features as ideal including her small breasts and erect carriage (8). In comparison, Nick's descriptions of the men around him are rich with intrigue; Nick notices how Tom Buchanan's eyes establish dominance in his face and the way his muscles move under his clothing (5). When Nick speaks about the train conductor on the hottest day of the summer, he critiques people who think of kissing flushed lips and laying with a partner in the heat despite no one else in that scene expressing those feelings (87). The suddenness of this flustered complaint implies that Nick is reacting to his own desires; desires he wishes he did not have.

While Nick is at least vaguely attracted to multiple men in his story, there is one he is consistently interested in throughout: Jay Gatsby. From their first meeting where Nick goes on about how pleasant a smile Gatsby has (36) onwards, Nick is very fond of Gatsby, going so far as to emphasise that he is the only rich person he did not end up disgusted by (2) and that all of the East was haunted for him after Gatsby's death (137). In Gatsby's life, Nick even expressed his affections to him in whatever ways he could. For example, when Nick agrees to reintroduce Gatsby and Daisy, he does not allow Gatsby to reimburse the favour (62). Also, after Myrtle's death, Nick only leaves Gatsby's side because he feels like he is intruding (112), returns to a bed he can not fall asleep in, and takes the first opportunity available to meet Gatsby again at dawn (113). Nick listens to Gatsby's story then (114), something nobody else would do in favour of spreading scandalous, borderline slanderous rumours.

Nick claims he is not a judgemental person, but proves himself wrong as the novel progresses in regards to every person he has met but one. Despite remarking that he disapproved of Gatsby "from beginning to end" (118), he was equally endeared to him. Nick also claims to be an honest person (44), which he proves not entirely true either. Realising Nick's true feelings for Gatsby reveals the intricacy of his character and calls into question the reliability of his narration. Although his intentions are always sympathetic, Gatsby is by trade a bootlegging criminal and yet even after meeting Meyer Wolfsheim and being told about his business (54), Nick plays ignorant about Gatsby's involvement. To Nick, the idea of Jay Gatsby is related only tertiarily to the idea of "Wolfsheim's men". Nick makes this clear every time he visits Gatsby after Wolfsheim's men begin working at his house by how suspicious he always is of them, even describing one's face as “villainous" (86). Nick does not judge Gatsby as the same as these people nor the Buchanans despite not being so different in truth because he is already in love with him and truly wants to believe he is a good person at heart. Even Tom Buchanan is aware of this on some level, showing his cognisance after Gatsby's death by telling Nick that "(Gatsby) threw dust into (Nick's) eyes just like he did in Daisy's" (138).

To ignore Nick's sexuality is to intentionally misunderstand his character and The Great Gatsby as a story. On his surface, Nick Carraway is a single objective voice in a world of desires and deceit, but as much of The Great Gatsby does, his character requires the reader to look below to his own human biases if they intend to comprehend him.

[thebrookesnook]

Wind Breaker Chapter 150 Spoilers

Me when Sakura offered to stay in contact with Endo after the fight with Umemiya and Takiishi:

sakura, sakura baby. My boy, my sweet spring child. 😭

The way I would've called a restraining order on Endo skskks. AND HE CONFESSED LITERALLY A FEW MINUTES AFTER THEIR BATTLE. *Anyways, i have a love-hate relationship with this pairing (read: EndoSaku) and its all towards Endo for his bs words. #NeverForgiveNeverForget #SakuraBelongsInBofurin

Bye, EndoSaku fans do not @ me for the next 2-3 business days, I will cry tears.

Anyways, Umemiya vs Takiishi amirite? 😭 The whole rooftop, the chair was indeed not a fluke. It was a warning 😭. sksks endo tearing up over takiishi smiling is killing me

[purpleshadow-star]

It's Valentines Day but it's also Ash Wednesday so uhh... some headcanons about that second thing.

Tilda wasn't super religious, but she'd drag Aaron to church every so often when he was growing up

After Tilda, Aaron doesn't actively practice religion much, but he'll do some things like get ashes on Ash Wednesday and observe lent

Nicky and Renee go to get their ashes together every year with a silent Aaron grumpily tagging along

They go in the morning after morning work out, but before their classes start, so once afternoon practice is over, they all end up with just a smudge of black on their foreheads

After living with Aaron and Nicky and a few other Christian households over the years, Andrew has gotten into the habit of not eating meat on Fridays during lent

Abby is also Christian, but she doesn't go to Church much and gets her ashes at a separate time than the Foxes

During lent, Abby will sometimes invite the Foxes over to her house for a seafood dinner on Fridays

Abby doesn't usually give anything up for lent, but Renee, Nicky and Aaron do

The girls' last year before they graduate, Renee gives up sweets for lent, and Andrew makes sure to eat twice the amount of candy around her just to be annoying

Nicky gives up alcohol and complains at least five times a day (and almost gives in on some particularly hard nights), but he manages to make it to the end without giving in

Andrew suggests that Aaron give up Katelyn for lent during a joint session with Bee, and he is not amused

Aaron ends up giving up video games, and he complains about it just as much as Nicky complains about the alcohol, but he also makes it to the end without giving in

Andrew walks into practice on Ash Wednesday and tells Wymack in a deadpan voice that he gave up exy for lent so he can't play. Wymack knows Andrew doesn't observe lent and makes him change out with everyone else, but Neil cracks up at the incredulous look Wymack has for the second before he calls Andrew out on it and that makes the extra lap (that Andrew doesn't actually do) worth it to Andrew

Neil makes a joke about Andrew giving up ice cream even though he knows Andrew doesn't officially observe lent, and Andrew doesn't talk to him for five hours out of spite

[hello-universe-lovers]

A collab between me and @lordiedams

Shineko has "adopted" a "child" and she is showing em around.

Bonus doodle:

[juniperleafdelivery]

[moeblob]

So it occurs to me that I posted most of their lore on my OC blog (though a few posts on here have the story info) and honestly I think it's very important to note that the entire reason a guy from Florida is recruited to help defeat the demon lord isn't him as the hero. His younger brother (by about ten years younger) is the Chosen Hero and... not very good at it. So the goddess (Solei) who had selected the hero has to begrudgingly go back to earth and convince his older brother to help save her world.

(Also Reynold admits to Solei that "Sascha could never be a bad influence. He's the best impulse control I've ever had" and she really doesn't like to hear it. That's terrifying.)

[meneatyoghurt]

Tom after saying "Jewish activists": 😁🤷‍♂️😬

[charlie-artlie]

Did you know that Optimus Prime is the mascot for this year's library card sign up month (sept) through the American Library Association?

i didnt know that but thats so cute i love this 😭💖 op is such a huge nerd i know hed support this

went to look up the press release if anyone’s interested!