#Destroy All Humans. They Can’t Be Regenerated.

[wo-mary]

Letter from the Abyss

«Oh, Louis.

How many years have passed since you killed me? How many years have passed since the poison coursed through my veins while you gazed at me with loving yet distant eyes, unaware of what you were doing? How many years since you embraced me from behind while I sat with my throat slit, drowning in my own blood? How many years since your heart shattered from killing the one you loved?

I was slowly and agonizingly dying an impossible vampire death. Every cell of my body, every fragment of my soul, was pierced by unbearable pain. And all I could feel was how I sank into your strong arms, descending into the inescapable darkness. At least, I was grateful that it was you who did it, and not someone else.

Did you at least believe that I loved you, mon cher?

You didn’t think I was perfect, but you felt that I was a lot. But I couldn't help my love, and from the lack of yours, I made sure we both drowned in my bottomless, soul-crushing love together.

You didn’t think I was sane and saw me as a bloodthirsty, unbalanced killer. But that was my language of love — hysteria, tears, abuse, demands, and keeping you in an iron grip. Every time you tried to get close to someone else, I nearly turned myself inside out. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to destroy everything around me. So I destroyed everything around you.

You didn’t think we were meant for each other, but I saw in our impossible love the most sincere and genuine thing. Yes, it was built on your suffering, on your immense black void, which gradually consumed me too.

You didn’t believe I was faithful to you, and only saw my betrayals. But they weren’t infidelities; they were weak, miserable attempts to get your attention, to stir strong feelings in you, to make you love me as much as I loved you.

I tried to be gentle and tender. But you didn’t respond, and every time, I chose my demons to show my love for you, Louis.

I tried to speak openly, but you didn’t listen, so I committed all sorts of foolish acts just to reach your heart.

Oh God, how I loved you, Louis de Pointe du Lac. I loved you so much, mon cher, that I became cruel. To you. To myself. To the world. I was a raw, exposed nerve, capable only of erupting with emotions and suffering. And when you were killing me, I thought — yes, God, yes, I’ll stop feeling this. He will end my life, and there will be no more love. He will end my life, and there will be no more suffering. He will end my life, slit my throat, poison me, burn me in the furnace… the same one where I burned the useless human bodies that meant nothing to me…

But you didn’t finish your mission. I remained in pain. In suffering. With a soul shattered into pieces. Fully united with my own black hole, the one I so desperately tried to escape by making you my lover, by making you fall in love with me, by loving you all my life.

I was left alone with an impossible, imperfect love for you. Left without you. Oh, Louis, you can’t imagine how immense this pain was. It cannot be measured by instruments, by years, by the depth of a soul. It cannot be compared to anything. But it can be felt. And, you know, maybe if you had known back then that I hadn’t completely died, you would have thought that I was preparing to kill you too, to give you that same unbearable pain, and you’d be right. But while I was dying and regenerating at the same time, I faced unbearable despair and gave up. I stopped fighting. Stopped struggling with you. Stopped making plans against you. I just broke apart and let that despair swallow me to the very depths.

Oh, Louis. How many years have passed? And only now are you reading this letter. And if you’re looking for a reason why I did this, then read the letter again. Then again and again. And understand that I’m still slowly dying. I’m still alone with this impossible love for you, mon cher.

And maybe, with a small part of my soul, I still wish you would finish killing me. Because I can’t do this anymore.

Forever yours, relentless and unbearable, Lestat de Lioncourt»

[raccoonskoodilypoopdungeon]

IT WAS YURI THE WHOLE TIME

[quietwingsinthesky]

the last unicorn post from earlier has me thinking about the master. that yana is still in there, you know? is still someone he was, if even for a brief flash across the life of a time lord. there’s no way to unlive that life. there are ways to twist it later, sure, to make utopia into hell on earth. but the life was lived. in much the same way that the doctor can remember, can feel, the love he held onto as john smith even as that life is ripped out of his hands. the doctor choose denial and then grief and then to shutter it all away. and so john smith died, and so professor yana died, and the doctor and the master live on. the doctor has done this before, and he lives in orbit around humanity, trying to keep the best parts of them and hold them deep enough to take root (which he can pretend he gets to choose, as a time lord. as a human, it all floods in and can’t be dug back out.) but what about the master, right?

to borrow a turn of phrase: i think there are two time lords left in the universe, and they both learned how to regret.

[fellwar-finch]

If wotc didn’t want us playing mass land destruction why’d they make it look so cool in the manga?

[gummybearstastelikesadness]

DPxDC AU

Ghosts can regenerate from almost anything, but they usually regenerate to the appearance they had when they first died.

Anytime Danny’s seriously injured his ghost side try’s to heal him back to his “death state”, except Danny’s not a full ghost so it doesn’t work all the way. Danny loses a limb and can’t reattach it he ends up 6 months younger, he gets completely crunched and becomes around a year younger. And Danny can never age past 25 because his human cells don’t decay like they’re supposed due to the Ghost healing.

Danny works with the Justice League for a few years and looks around his mid twenty’s the entire time. They face an enemy that’s giving the even JL’s hardest hitters a difficult time, Phantom takes bad hit after bad hit almost completely destroying his form multiple times. They win in the end and Phantom can finally focus his energy on properly healing instead of fighting.

Expect when he fully heals he’s not in his twenty’s anymore, he’s 14 again.

Now he has to explain to his coworkers he isn’t secretly a child (Captain Marvel made an awkward noise at that), that he is still able fight, and no he doesn’t need to stay with anyone.

[jaeyunverse]

the death hoax

pairing: na jaemin x fem!reader

genres: superhero/supervillain au

wc: 1060

warnings: profanity, mentions of death, jaemin and y/n are morally grey characters (??) but i’m not sure if that’s how they can be described

summary: na jaemin was supposed to be dead, except he’s standing at your door with a favour he wants to ask of you.

note: this was originally written for enhypen but i thought of switching things up!

masterlist

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“I’ll die after I cash in that favour you owe me.”

Rolling your eyes, you opened your door wider and allowed Na Jaemin to come inside. Noticing the large suitcase rolling behind him, you raised an eyebrow.

“Is that why you’re here?”

He didn’t answer immediately, instead taking his sweet time to survey your apartment. Appearing satisfied, he turned to face you and said, “Kind of. You don’t seem surprised to see I’m alive. Why?”

“Because I know you wouldn’t die at anyone else’s hands,” you answered and plopped down on your couch. “I know you want me to kill you someday.”

He blankly stared at you for a moment. Then, a mischievous smile broke out on his lips. “True.”

“Besides,” you said, surfing through Netflix to find a good movie to watch. “Your cover story was horrible. No way did Torch manage to burn you alive. He can’t even wash his ass properly.”

“Maybe my fake death would have been more believable if you hadn’t faked yours first,” Jaemin pointed out and took a seat beside you. Removing his shades, he continued, “You’re the only superhero capable of beating me. Our battle would have gone down in history as one of the greatest.”

Averting your gaze from the television, you glanced at your nemesis to find he was already looking at you. “Electricity manipulation versus elemental control,” you mused. “I can’t lie, I’ve seen better in movies.”

“Well, there’s my immortality and your self-regeneration to consider too. I can’t die, and you can’t be killed. That would have made one hell of a fighting sequence.”

You paused, thinking about it for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right. We could have made BuzzFeed’s Top 10 of the Century.”

“Top 3.”

“Now you’re just pushing it.”

Jaemin gave you a pointed look to which you shrugged. Sighing, he said, “I won’t beat around the bush. I’m here to ask you for sanctuary.”

“You wanna live with me?” you deadpanned.

“Till I can find a new planet to move on to, yeah.”

He must have seen the uncertainty on your face because he clarified, “I don’t want to stay on Earth anymore. My home is gone and there’s little one can do to make the next several thousand years of their life more interesting. Exploring the universe to search for ways to strip myself of my immortality seems to be a productive way of spending my time.”

“You got bored of terrorizing Earth so you copied me and faked your death. Then you came to my house so you’d have a place to stay while you planned the remainder of your life and hunted for ways to die. Did I get it all right?”

“I can’t possibly plan my entire life; it’s too long. All I want to do right now is decide what my next destination should be. Hopefully, it’ll lead me to the weapon I seek. And if you’re still alive by the time it comes into my possession, I’ll return and you can deliver the death blow.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m flattered, but you know what I mean.”

“Come on, Y/N, say yes,” Jaemin urged. “You owe me a favour.”

You eyed him skeptically and weighed your options.

Lee Jaemin, better known by the public as Thunder, was a supervillain. You, Phoenix, on the other hand, were a superhero. He was an immortal from a planet that had long been destroyed by extraterrestrial forces which were now extinct, while you were just a human (okay, part-human) from Earth.

Under normal circumstances, the two of you would have been arch nemeses. He was the bad guy who had to be defeated, and you were the representation of all that was good.

Except, you didn’t want to be good. Being gifted with powers wasn’t something you had asked for. Much to your displeasure, you’d been given the responsibility to protect the human race against all sorts of evil from the moment you showed signs of elemental control and rapid self-regeneration.

Over the course of your work, you’d realised not everyone was worth saving. Faking your death to escape your duties may have been completely selfish, but you didn’t give a flying fuck. You’d done enough.

Besides, the other superheroes could take over for you—Torch, apparently, already had.

Lee Jaemin had proved to be an unlikely ally. During the times he wasn’t causing havoc, he was a fun person to be around. He seemed to share a lot of your notions and views—something you’d found rather shocking at first.

No one except you knew the truth about him. As far as the world was concerned, he was just an ill-fated super from Earth who had lost his way.

“Before I say anything,” you began, “why did you fake your death? You could have just disappeared.”

“Closure,” Jaemin replied. “The residents of your planet needed to know I was gone for good. I didn’t want them to wonder when I would come back—to fear the kind of horrors I was planning in my absence.”

You snorted. “Weird to see you being considerate after causing so much pain and suffering.”

“No.” Jaemin’s eyes darkened. “I never wanted to hurt innocents. They were just casualties. Sacrifices for the greater good.”

This was definitely not part of the many notions you shared. “Maybe that’s what the people who invaded your planet thought,” you bit back. “Maybe they thought your kind was just an obstacle standing in the way of their greater good. Maybe that’s why they had no qualms exterminating everyone you cared for.”

Jaemin’s jaw clenched, electricity beginning to cackle at the tips of his fingers. “Do you or do you not accept my request, Y/N?”

You stared him down. “On one condition: you take me with you when you leave. I’m done here.”

“I’m not forming the fucking suicide squad. Besides, you’re only human.” If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “You won’t make it.”

Letting a small smirk tug the corner of your lip upwards, you answered, “Did you forget what you said, Jaemin? I can’t be killed. You’ve witnessed the things I’m capable of. If there’s anyone who can make it, it’s me.”

Jaemin tilted his head to the side. Scrutinized you. Thought about the pros and cons of bringing you along.

“Deal.”

[gingerdunbroch]

a list of vague descriptions of doctor x rose fics i’ve read and can’t remember the names of

one where Rose gives Tentoo the cold shoulder post Journey’s End to try and spare him but he gets curious, and finds out Rose and the rest of Torchwood are being forced to work for the daleks—the story’s climax involves daleks asking either Rose or Tentoo to pick a planet to destroy, they put in “coordinates” that initiate a self-destruct sequence, but i’m pretty sure they both survive, if rather injured

one where Rose predicts her own future via drawings; pretty sure it was canon compliant thru Journey’s End and i think it was on teaspoon (whofic)

a WIP that was like 6 chapters long on fanfiction.net where Rose had just taken over her father’s company after he died and she’s so stressed that Donna (her secretary? i think?) recommends she go to this wellness center to see AU!Ten (i think his name is Smith?). oh and Martha works at the center too. but yeah John is like an energy healer or smthn like that?

i think this one was called like Rose on the Vine or smthn and it was on ao3 and had a sequel, but it was an all human AU where Rose was a stripper and keeping it a secret from her friends

a Ten/Rose reunion fic where Rose mentions having run into Eight in Paris while Dimension Hopping and spending the night with him

a Nine/Rose fic where nine has to go to a planet that isn’t human-safe so he makes rose a sonic pen-type thing that can um, simulate different…parts for…fun times

a Ten/Rose reunion!fic where Ten makes it back to Pete’s World, and disguises himself to suss out if Rose is happy/would want to come back. i think it was on teaspoon

a Tentoo/Rose fic where Tentoo has nightmares and Rose gives him this special stone that helps, and eventually he finds out that he’s the one who gave it to Rose in the first place (i think the implication was she was going to kill herself pre-dimension cannon), meaning he has to complete a circular paradox. i remember Tentoo wouldn’t let past Rose touch him bc then she’d know he was human. i think it was on teaspoon. it’s possible this could have been 2 separately posted connected fics and i’m just smushing them into one

a fic where the Doctor and Rose have a daughter before he regenerates into Ten and then he has to get his daughter used to his new face, I think it mostly took place as a telepathic conversation between them? also i think it was on teaspoon

a fic where Ten keeps licking Rose and can taste her emotions, no idea where i read it tho

a fic (2 parts, on i think both teaspoon and ao3) where right after Bad Wolf Bay pt 2 Rose and Tentoo get teleported to an elf-like world where “queen” Rose has to settle a debate about ginger between three farmers and Tentoo is given a red velvet suit and then gets drunk from consuming too much ginger

a 2 chapter fic (on tsp?) where Ten and Rose observe their future selves getting it on in like a meadow on an alien planet and then Ten gets squirrely about fulfilling the circular paradox, saying “time is in flux”. there’s a scene where they’re talking to each other on either side of Rose’s bathroom door. chapter 2 is them going back to complete the paradox

i’ll add more to this post as i randomly remember more fics i neglected to bookmark anywhere

fingers crossed someone sees this post and remembers the name of at least one of these fics!

[helloeezkitty]

‪doctor who episodes i avoid at all costs when sad:‬

‪doomsday ‬(pain after pain after pain. rose tyler -)

‪human nature/family of blood‬ (SOUL DESTROYING. JOHN SMITH😭😭😭😭)

‪the sound of drums/last of the time lords (jesus christ)

the fires of pompeii‬ (not as bad as the others but still it’s cry time)

‪the doctors daughter‬ (fun vibes (apart from the hath death☹️) until the end. listen i just can’t watch the tenth doctor/david tennant cry it kills me)

‪turn left‬ (WOOF)

‪stolen earth/journeys end‬ (I CANNOT this makes me WEEP)

‪the waters of mars‬ (this is just permanent sobbing from beginning to end like why is it SO painful)

‪the end of time part 1 and 2 (so many painful moments. not to mention the 20 minute regeneration sequence that is designed specifically to make me cry)

‪vincent and the doctor‬ (that scene when he’s in the gallery and hears that everyone loves him?? kills me)

‪the angels take manhattan‬ (raggedy man- goodbye. tearing up just thinking about it)

reply with yours!

[raichett]

Ethically Sourced

CEO Scar Goodtimes gets kidnapped by an eco-terrorist (Grian, who else?) seeking to land a blow against Big Nether. But there may be more at work here than first meets the eye...

Content warnings: kidnapping but done light-heartedly, excessive amounts of lava, allusions to capitalism and its effects upon the environment, vexes as demon equivalents >:)

This can also be found on AO3.

–

ETHICALLY SOURCED

The room is large, a huge hall made of dark blocks. Nicely textured, actually: blackstone and basalt and deepslate, some others mixed in there that Scar can’t identify from this distance. The floor is entirely lava, of course, and Scar is standing in a cage suspended above it, held up by huge chains. It’s all very… fantasy-villain-esque. The builder in Scar is impressed.

In front of him his kidnapper stands, a dramatically thin tower rising from the sea of lava below providing him a platform. It’s even got dripstone detailing on it. Now that’s dedication to an aesthetic.

Scar takes off his burgundy jacket and ties it around his waist. It’s hot in here, his human flesh disliking the heat and making it feel like it wants to melt right off of him.

“You know,” Scar says, conversationally, “for a guy who just spent the last few minutes ranting about how the proliferation of lava is causing immense negative effects on the Nether’s eco-system, you sure do seem to be using a lot of lava in this, ah, villain's lair execution room.”

“This lava,” his kidnapper snaps back, “is ethically sourced!”

Scar blinks. “From where?” he asks. He glances down again at the lava below; the amount of it is truly impressive, especially for an Overworld build.

“From a lava farm,” his kidnapper grits out. “You know, dripstone and cauldrons? It’s part of a preservation programme for striders – the lava from the farms is sold to players to stop them from taking from strider habitats. The excess is used to help replenish the dearth and restore the habitats from where they’ve been left barren and empty.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Scar says, honestly. It's good news, though.

His kidnapper scoffs. “I wonder why,” he says, sarcastically. “It’s not at all like there’s a silencing campaign around because ethical farms aren’t in the interests of Big Nether companies. You know,” the man spears Scar with a sharp look, “like the one you work for? As a CEO?”

“Ah, yes,” Scar says, lightly, “that.”

Well, at least he has a motive to assign his kidnapper: eco-terrorism. How delightful! Scar likes his job – or, more accurately, he likes the money his job gives him – but…

Scar grins at his kidnapper, exposing his sharp teeth. He runs his tongue along them, drawing attention, and he watches as his kidnapper’s wings fluff up in an instinctual defensive display. Parrots aren’t exactly a predator in the food chain, not like how vexes are.

His kidnapper’s eyes narrow, his face pulling into a frown. He leans forward, sharp eyes inspecting, but isn’t stupid enough to actually get closer. “… A deal?” he asks, slowly, changing gears.

Scar nods. “Standard, you know,” he says, brimming suddenly with pride. “Ten years of high, high profits – and then their souls are mine. The whole board, that is.” His face splits far too much for most Overworld natives to be comfortable with, not that Scar cares.

“Huh,” his kidnapper says. He tilts his head, shuffles his wings, and then laughs. “Wait – all of them? How far into the deal are you?”

“Seven years,” Scar tells him. “And yeah, all of them. That’s far too good to pass up, I’m sure you understand.”

The man raises his hand to his mouth to muffle his giggles, sudden camaraderie springing forth between them. “So I take it their souls are bound for the sands, then?”

Scar nods. “All the pain they’ve caused? When trapped in the sands their souls will regenerate all of what they’ve destroyed and more. Big Nether isn’t going to be around in a couple of decades, I can promise you that, good sir. But…” Scar smiles, more gentle this time. “All of the effort players like you are putting in is appreciated, too.”

“Thanks,” his kidnapper answers, grimacing and looking frustrated, “we try. I – we really do try. I’m sorry that it isn’t always enough.”

Scar shrugs. “Trying and failing is better than not trying at all,” he assures. “Now, er… could I please get out of this cage? I have paperwork to do, emails to answer, coffee to drink, souls to darken in preparation for reaping, all that good stuff.” Curled inside a human skin like this, he can’t phase through the bars without compromising the homunculus – and he’d really rather avoid having to make a new one. Those things are fiddly.

His kidnapper nods. “One sec,” he says, spreading his wings and swooping off to an opening in one of the walls, landing in the room there and pulling a lever. The lava sea is covered with the sound of clunking pistons. Another lever lowers the cage holding Scar to the newly-created ground.

His kidnapper comes back, keys in hand, and unlocks the cage. “Sorry for the misunderstanding,” he says.

Scar beams. “No harm, no foul,” he replies, stepping out of the cage. “Though I have just one question – two, actually. Two questions.”

“… Go on,” his kidnapper says.

“What’s your name?” Scar asks. He crosses his heart with his index finger, nail scratching lightly at his silk shirt. “I’ll keep silent as a grave about it, promise on my demonic heart.”

His kidnapper hesitates a moment. “Grian,” he answers, finally, and Scar’s tastes the vibrancy of the name on his tongue, sunbeams and gunpowder, sweet and tangy.

“Grian,” Scar repeats, just for that taste again. “And, dearest eco-terrorist extraordinaire Grian… what is your number?”

Grian looks startled. “My number?” he asks.

“Oh, you know, for important reasons,” Scar assures. “Conspiracies, cahoots, coffee dates.” He pulls out his phone and waggles it in the air, hoping that Grian will ignore the cracks in the screen and write them off as Scar being supernaturally strong or something, rather than Scar just being supernaturally clumsy with a tendency to drop his phone down staircases. “What do you say?”

Grian stares at him a moment, assessing, before he answers. “I’m always down for cahoots,” he says, a teasing smile starting to form, “but the coffee date had better be amazing if you want a second.”

“It will be,” Scar says, jubilant. Oh, he can’t wait to see this player again! His soul is so bright and ferocious, his name so delectable – Grian, Scar knows, will be such a fantastic companion. Vexes dream of linking themselves to a soul like Grian’s – and that may be getting a bit ahead of himself, but Scar sees clearly the destination he desires. The only question now is the path that will get him there. “Don’t you worry, Grian, it will be.”

[olympeline]

Ah fuggit, FrUK hanahaki AU:

Nations do not get the infamous flower sickness. It’s one of the perks of resembling humans without actually being one. They can experience ordinary deaths (e.g. falling in battle, the plague, drowning, etc.) but they regenerate and reappear again soon after. Hanahaki is a sickness of the heart and soul, though it affects the body, and a nation’s soul is normally too strong for the affliction to - ahem - take root. They’ve watched it carry off many unfortunate humans, but never a nation.

Almost never

Not many of them are old enough to remember Atlantis. The ones that are - China, and a few others - never talk about him. Nations can die permanently under the right circumstances, but only after the “concept” of them fades from the world. The map part, the culture and borders, have to go before the national personification. Like Grandpa Rome fading away only after the Roman Empire ceased to exist. But Atlantis was different. Atlantis died, and it was his death which caused the cataclysm that wiped his land from the face of the earth, rather than the other way around. The island, the people, even the memory of him, almost faded completely from humanity’s shared consciousness. It was a terrifying event for any nation around to recall it. They’re not meant to die that way and take all their people with them in the process. It’s the kind of thing nations have nightmares about

None of them knew what caused Atlantis’s fall. Thousands of years later, they finally get the answer when history nearly repeats with another island nation: merry(?) old England

See, even pre-flowers, our English gentleman is already sick: lovesick, that is 😘 For a certain frog, no less! How could this have happened?! If Arthur ever needed proof God hated him personally. Why did it have to be Francis? Why his eternally aggravating neighbour and not someone sensible like Portugal or Netherlands? It’s his most shameful, awful secret that he’s kept for hundreds of years. If anyone ever found out, if Francis ever found out…Arthur would just walk into the sea and never come out, most likely. Being in love with the damn frog. Just kill him. Of all things this is the worst possible thing!

Arthur keeps his feelings buried deeper than hell and vows no one will ever learn of this insanity he’s been cursed with. Besides, there’s no way Francis would ever love him back, anyway. If he were human he’d already have been coughing petals years ago, lucky for him, he isn’t. But his luck runs out when an ancient spellbook happens to fall into his hands. Arthur loves collecting them and this one looks particularly old and intersting. Written in some weird dialect of Ancient Greek and takes hella long to translate. But when he does, Arthur is in awe when he sees the book might have exactly what he needs. On the very last page, written in a shaky hand, an experimental spell to remove unwanted emotions

It’s like an answer to his prayers! Of course Arthur has to try it out right away.

What’s the worst that could happen?

The spell blowing up in his face, destroying his cellar, and hurling him across the room like a ragdoll would be a start. Not only that, but it didn’t work in the slightest! Arthur still can’t get that damn frog out of his mind. Nothing’s changed! Spell’s obviously a dud. Arthur, battered and frazzled, puts it away and tries not to be too disappointed (and fails). Little does he know, the spell was more dangerous than he could have dreamed. It didn’t quash his love for Francis, but it did crack the veneer of his immortality. Not much, Arthur is still a nation, but just enough to let a little bit more mortality/humanity seep into his soul. Enough to plant a seed that otherwise would have stayed dormant

Arthur is oblivious to all this. A nation’s work is never done and soon he’s back to normal, trying to get the spell out of his mind. The next time there’s a world meeting, Arthur goes as usual. Francis is there and ready to tease and flirt with him, as usual. Arthur feels his heart flutter and compensates by turning scarlet and snarling at Francis, as usual. Must the bastard torture him like this? It’s downright cruel! Fury to smother the pain is Arthur’s shield and armor. Has been for centuries and he’s not going to stop now. Halfway through his tirade is cut off by a tickle in his throat, which blooms into harsh, dry coughs. Francis even has the nerve to offer Arthur his handkerchief (lace and doused in French perfume) then say he can keep it. Arsehole. Arthur loves him so much. The meeting goes ahead and it’s a good thing Arthur kept the handkerchief because the tickle returns a few times. It doesn’t clear up over the next few days, either. Arthur first worries his bosses are up to some mischief that’s hurting his people, but no: everything seems normal. Must just be a human illness, then. Nations get them from time to time, so no need to worry. He’s the proud nation of England - he’s survived wars, pestilence, famine, and raising Alfred - he can tough this out.

Except the tickle evolves into a full blown cough over the next few weeks, and that cough only gets worse. Soon he’s bent over, gasping for breath, throat feeling like fire. He swallows medicine like water and hides it from the other nations. The ones that know and love him best aren’t fooled. Especially Francis, Matthew, and even Alfred sees through his charade. Dodging their mother henning gets exhausting fast. It’s only a frog in his throat (🥁) for God’s sake! There’s no need to worry. He insists he’s fine and life goes on as normal

One day, Arthur is taking tea with Matthew when the lad happens to bring up Francis. Suddenly, Arthur can’t breathe. It’s the worst fit yet and Mattie has to run around the table and hit him on the back with what feels like a fear-induced touch of his brother’s super strength. Arthur coughs, wheezes, chokes, and, to his horror, feels something come away. He spits it into Francis’s handkerchief and hides it from Matthew, who’s still fussing and trying to help his father up so he can go inside and lie down. Arthur won’t allow that (lie down and rest in someone else’s bed? Even if it’s his son’s? The horror!) but he does let Matthew make him hot maple tea with honey to soothe his throat. Arthur drinks it, compliments Mattie on his brewing abilities, then leaves as soon as it’s polite to do so. He rushes home and brings the handkerchief out of his pocket to examine the contents. Holding the little, crumpled thing under the light, there’s no mistaking it:

An iris petal.

Like uncountable mortals before him, Arthur feels that first stab of raw terror. Though in his case, it’s quickly smothered by blustering anger and denial. Nations don’t get hanahaki! It’s a human disease. Nations are immune! Besides, even if they weren’t, he’s not in love with that damn frog. Not really! It’s just some silly infatuation that has lasted centuries but will surely end any day now! Surely! (David Attenborough: And here we see the tsundere in its natural habitat: Egyptian river).

Arthur decides firmly it’s a fluke. They were outside and he just breathed in the petal somehow. He doesn’t have hanahaki. It’s impossible.

He throws the petal into the fire and watches it turn to ash. Unfortunately, he soon finds out that it was only the first of many. When the next coughing fit comes, it brings another iris petal. The fit after that brings two. Arthur’s head is spinning even as he tries to follow his own advice and Keep Calm and Carry On. He can’t admit how scared he is. Hanahaki is always fatal unless the feelings are returned, nothing else stops the wicked flowers growing more and more until the sufferer eventually drowns in their own blood, lungs shredded. Arthur has “died” mortal deaths and been resurrected many times, just like all long lived nations. But this feels different. Somehow, he’s grimly sure that this time, if he dies, he won’t come back. He is a nation: the soul of England, and this is a sickness of the heart. This time, he’s dying for real, and there’s no new nation around to take his place like the Italy brothers did for Grandpa Rome

National personifications are only supposed to fade away after their nation does. If Arthur dies first with no replacement, what happens to Britain? To his land? To his people?

He doesn’t know. He does. He doesn’t want to find out. Remember Atlantis.

Keeping the terror clamped down tightly, Arthur goes on the hunt for an explanation. He’s no fool, he hasn’t missed the this all started after he tried the spell from that mysterious book. Arthur finds it again and begins looking for answers. A suspicion is growing within him alongside the flowers. Arthur prays he’s wrong. He takes the book to the professors at Oxbridge, shows it to the curators at the Ancient Greek wing of the British Museum. He sees the dizzying excitement bloom in these learned men and women and feels his heart sink. Does he have any idea what he’s brought them, they ask? What a rare find! What a treasure! An artefact from Atlantis!

Arthur thanks them and takes his book back, promising to lend it to them for study when he’s finished. He takes the book home and sits, staring at it, as the sun goes down. Atlantis. Even now, what happened is still something they never speak of. Even Alfred knows better than to bring him up, especially around elders like China. Atlantis died long before Arthur’s time, but his shadow hangs over him now. He feels the scratch and tickle in his throat, the sharp pain in his chest. Another fit brings up three petals and a spot of blood into Francis’s handkerchief.

Have they solved the mystery of Atlantis at last?

(I have to work now. I’ll finish this later (◕ω◕✿) and lol ain’t that flower emoticon just so appropriate?)

[dailyanarchistposts]

Communism or extinction

Therefore, the current and inexorable dilemma for humanity is: communism or extinction, revolution or death. But the revolution doesn’t only take place at exceptional moments in history. The revolution itself is an eruptive and decisive exception in the history of the class struggle and the capitalist social normality. But it’s not a fate or destiny but a possibility. It’s not inevitable but rather it’s contingent: it can as much as can’t happen. It depends on what the proletariat does or doesn’t do in respect. Because capitalism will not die by itself or peacefully.

The revolution is not an occurrence which happens overnight, instilling paradise on Earth either, but rather it’s a historical process, concrete, contradictory and even chaotic, that contains flows and ebbs, advances and retreats, ruptures and leaps, times of stagancy and new leaps. It’s a process of social transformation of a radical and total character which has always been, and above all at these heights of history, necessary and urgent, because it’s the only way that proletarianized humanity — which is the majority of humanity — can cease to self-alienate and self-destruct as humans, and at the same time to cease to destroy non-human nature.

Yes: communization is the only revolutionary exit from the crisis of capitalism or, which is the same thing, the only radical solution for the civilizatorian crisis, because it’s the only way to guarantee the reproduction of Life, or as Flores Magón would say, for its “regeneration” or reinvention.

It’s necessary to produce, then, that exception or historical eruption that is the revolution, no more and no less than for vital necessity. It must be gestated and born. Communism is the fetus and the revolution is the birth of the new world. But, as it has already been said, this depends on what the proletariat does or doesn’t do in order to transform the current social conditions and their own life, their own collective being and the ecosystem.

In the case that our class doesn’t fight for the total revolution until the end, the counterrevolution will continue to reign and the capitalist or dystopian catastrophe in course (systematic economic crisis, cutting-edge technology/”artificial intelligence,” massive unemployment and poverty, devastation of nature/ecological crisis, pandemics, wars, suicides, etc.) will finally end up making us as a species extinct. Perhaps there are only a few generations left before that. And the countdown increasingly accelerates.

Therefore, the current worldwide capitalist crisis and the current worldwide wave of proletarian revolts constitute possibly the last historical chance to finally start the irrevocable process of the global communist revolution, of the abolition or the overcoming of the society of classes and fetishes… or to perish.

Exaggerated? Apocalyptic? We’re already living in the capitalist apocalypse that is the the current crisis of civilization! The dystopian future is now! Our historical cycle of crisis and struggles will possibly be the cycle of 2019–2049…

Communism or extinction!

The self-abolition of the proletariat is the end of the capitalist world!

Proletarians of the world: Let’s self-organize in order to cease to be proletarians!

A proletarian fed-up with being one Quito, Ecuador February-April, 2020

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Miraculous Ladybug: Demon slayer AU: (more info)

-Kagami’s Dragon breathing was rumored to be the closest to Sun breathing (until sun breathing was actually discovered) since it incorporated 3 different breathing styles into one

-Of the demon slayers Kagami is the most gifted in terms of skill, but in terms of raw potential, Marinette is said to be the most skilled

-Adrien can’t use breathing styles regardless of being in human form or demon form. But if he could, his style would be a mix of thunder breathing and flame breathing he’d call Burst breathing.

-Zoe ends up dying during a fight with Azamuku and Hachisaki (who in terms of power were like upper rank 7 and 8 if Muzan ever wanted to add them). She confessed to being in love with Marinette and knowing that her heart belonged to another wanted to tell her before she died. Zoe ended up critically wounding her sister with her strongest attack Insect breathing: Dance of the bee sting, True flutter. But with her variant being called Final bee sting. Injecting Hachisaki with 60 times the lethal dose of poison

-Juleka ends up becoming a demon known as Kuraisha. Who is able to travel between mirrors. She ends up fighting her brother Luka. Luka can’t bring himself to kill his sister and ends up letting himself get killed, apologizing. This reawakens her memories and she leaves no longer eating people. She eventually becomes human again after Muzan’s death. She was going to take her own life, but was saved by a demon slayer known as the joy breather.

-Marc is a sword smiths apprentice and Nathanael is a demon slayer who created Art breathing. (A variant of stone breathing of all things)

-A lot of the demon slayers die in this AU in the fight with Hachisaki and Azamuko (Chloe and Lila in demon form) Kagami, Kim, Ivan, Zoe and Alix.

-Nathanael lost an arm and a leg, Marinette lost an eye.

-Azamuko was killed by Marinette and Kagami with a combined attack that resulted in Kagami dying as she takes the brunt of the damage. Adrien killed Hachisaki by taking advantage of the weakened Hachisaki (who was greatly poisoned.) and using his demon art to destroy her resulting in her inability to regenerate. Adrien/chat noir named the attack “Dark Sun” as it was meant to kill demons.

[bookwormscififan]

I Would Destroy Our World, Chapter 5

You're Not Broken, They Damaged You

Read on AO3!

Previous chapter

A/N: A flashback and a plan.

Warnings: Discussion of removing teeth and some light smut.

--

Jackie snarled as a scientist approached him, baring his sharp incisors as his nose wrinkled.

“Too many of our workers have been bitten,” The sharply dressed man told the scientist, waving dismissively at Jackie. “We need you to remove his fangs so he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“Sir, that’s-that’s inhumane!”

“It’s good that thing’s not human, then,” Was the curt response before the scientist was left alone with Jackie, still baring his teeth defensively.

“Clearly taken from a raccoon’s dental makeup,” the scientist murmured to himself, kneeling beside Jackie’s cage and looking at his teeth. “Incisors are shorter than the relative length for a raccoon, but longer than a human’s. Fascinating.”

“You do need to remove them, doctor,” A soldier reminded from behind the scientist, just out of Jackie’s view. “You can study them once they’re out of his mouth.”

“You’re just trying to survive, aren’t you?” The scientist asked, taking his keys from his pocket and standing to unlock the door. “Survival instinct stronger because of the raccoon side. I’m so sorry about what I have—”

Jackie pushed against the door, hard, knocking the scientist to the ground before bolting, growling as the soldier caught him in an iron grip. Thrashing and snarling, Jackie managed to snap at the soldier’s shoulder before something pinched his neck, and he fell limp as darkness took him.

--

When he woke, his mouth felt as though it weighed a million pounds, gums on fire and cheeks swollen. Cautiously, Jackie pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, letting out a sharp yip at the emptiness and pain where his fangs used to be.

Tears welling in his eyes, Jackie curled into the corner of his cell, soft whimpers leaving his throat. Looking at his shaking hands, he held them to his cheeks, feeling the swelling and bruising that wouldn’t go down nicely, and he sniffled as the realisation hit him:

They’d taken his teeth. His only weapon against them, and they’d ripped them out like tearing off a bandage. He was completely vulnerable, at their mercy.

----

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Jackie concluded, hugging his knees to his chest as Phantom sat beside him. “It’s just… still weird, feeling the emptiness where they used to be.” He startled when Phantom laid a gentle hand on his knee, then relaxed into the touch with a heavy sigh.

“I wish I had been there,” Phantom said quietly, looking straight ahead but eyes distant. “I would have destroyed them. They’d have been mounds of ruined pottery by the time I was done with them.”

“If you had been there, they would have killed you,” Jackie whispered, taking Phantom’s hand and fidgeting with his fingers. “It would have been a twisted reality if you were there. But I would have liked to see you illusion a room full of scientists.”

“I’d have made them see the most horrific nightmares,” Phantom chuckled, leaning against Jackie with a small smile. “They’d be running home, screaming for their mothers. I’d move the world to keep you safe.”

Jackie’s soothing purrs were only interrupted when Phantom interlaced their fingers, turning so he could press his lips to Jackie’s and nip at his bottom lip. As Jackie gasped, Phantom slipped his tongue in and deepened the kiss, pressing against the holes where his fangs used to sit, making Jackie shiver.

“Please,” Jackie breathed, not sure what he was asking for but squeezing Phantom’s hand all the same. His eyelids fluttered as Phantom pressed his tongue to the gaps again, warmth flowing into the emptiness this time. His free hand clutched at Phantom’s shoulder as the human gently ran healing magic through the kiss, smoothing out the scarring but unable to regenerate teeth.

“This is the best I can do,” Phantom whispered against Jackie’s lips, pressing their foreheads together. “I wish I could take it all away, remove all your pain, but I can’t—I can’t do it. I can only do—”

“This is more than enough,” Jackie interrupted, holding Phantom’s face in both his hands. “Thank you.” Pressing a quick kiss to Phantom’s lips, he curled into his side, tail coming around to cover their feet as he purred softly.

Phantom brushed fingers through Jackie’s hair, relaxing against the headboard and listening to the hybrid falling asleep beside him. He blinked away hot tears as his heart leapt, grief mixing with joy at having Jackie sleeping by his side once more, but the story about his time in the facility was enough to make Phantom’s blood boil.

“They’re going to die,” he vowed quietly, forming a plan in his mind.

----

Mare opened bleary eyes to Mad’s face inches from his own, purrs loud in his ears as he ground his hips against his own. Hands snapping to Mad’s waist, Mare smiled sleepily before lifting his head enough to press a soft kiss to Mad’s lips.

“Morning,” he whispered, holding Mad’s hips still. “Are we in a mood?”

“You’re warm,” Mad mumbled, purring as he nuzzled into Mare’s neck. “Warm is nice.” He squirmed a little as Mare gently squeezed his waist, purrs stuttering for a moment before he ran his gloved hands under Mare’s shirt, feeling the warm skin. 

“Are you only on top of me for my warmth?” Mare teased, moving one hand down to palm at Mad’s crotch, smiling at the whine that earned him. “Or do you need some help to handle a little problem?”

“D-Don’t talk about hands when your hand’s right… where it is,” Mad whined, nibbling at Mare’s neck as he rocked his hips against Mare’s hand. “And w-what about you? Would this be enough?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mare hummed quietly, brushing his nose along Mad’s ear before giving it a gentle nip, smiling when that got Mad to buck his hips. “I’ll be fine just giving you that good feeling, no need to work myself up.”

“A-Are you sure?” Mad stammered, hissing when Mare dipped his hand into his boxers. “I-I could suck on you again… I liked that.” He dropped his head back down to run his fangs over Mare’s collarbones, leaving faint red lines in his wake.

“God, Mad, you can’t just say things like that,” Mare grunted, stroking Mad as he hooked a leg around Mad’s ankle, flipping their positions. “You’ll make me explode.”

“I-I don’ want that,” Mad replied, eyes rolling as he came, Mare’s hand working him gently before moving away. “Want you to stay forever. Can’t make you explode, or you won’t be able to stay.”

“That’s right,” Cleaning his hand, Mare slid his glasses on before flopping down beside Mad, holding his hand in a loose grip. “Besides, just being able to touch you is enough for me. I’ve got to think about getting us into a bath,” he muttered to himself as he looked down at the mess on his lower stomach. Mad only purred in response, rolling onto his side to nuzzle into the crook of Mare’s neck, more than happy to fall asleep again.

“I hope you’re finished fucking the fox in there,” Phantom’s voice interrupted the afterglow Mare was basking in, accompanied by his determined hammering on the door. “Get some pants on and meet me in the living room. I need to talk to you about something. Mad can come along, too.”

“Well, there goes the afterglow,” Mare muttered as he stared at the ceiling, waving his hand to send Phantom a sign he’d heard him. “Come on, love, let’s have a shower.” Kissing Mad on the forehead to stop his sleepy whines, he carried him to the connected bathroom to clean them off.

----

“I want to burn that facility to the ground,” Phantom stated as soon as Mare and Mad entered the living room, sitting beside a sleepy Jackie who leaned against his shoulder with half-lidded eyes. “I want there to be nothing but ash and rubble when I’m done.”

“Not that I’m against the idea,” Mare started, ensuring Mad was comfortable in his seat before wandering into the kitchen and making two mugs of coffee, “But why are you suddenly so determined to completely annihilate that facility?”

“New information has come to my attention,” Phantom replied, gently laying a hand on Jackie’s thigh. “And I’d like that facility gone before they manage to take Jackie away again.” His anger faded slightly when Jackie laid a hand over his, nuzzling into his neck with soothing chitters.

“What sort of new information?” Mare asked, handing Mad a cup of coffee before sitting on the ground at his feet, leaning back to rest his head on Mad’s tail curled around his legs. “I’m all for some arson, I just need to know why.”

“It’s Jackie’s teeth,” Mad whispered, soft as he took a sip of his drink, eyes wide when he noticed Mare and Jackie staring at him in shock. “What?”

“How do you know about Jackie’s teeth?” Phantom demanded, gripping Jackie’s thigh protectively.

“I… smell it,” Mad began, curling in on himself as he flushed with embarrassment, ears drooping. “He had an infection that didn’t heal properly, and he never smiles with an open mouth. Someone in my… adopted pack had missing teeth; he never smiled.”

“They took my fangs,” Jackie mumbled, wide awake now. “Phan wants to kill them for it.”

“Understandable,” Mare began, tilting his head when Jackie gave him a quizzical look. “If someone took Mad’s teeth away, I’d be wanting to kill them, too. They took away your natural weapon.”

“Then it’s settled,” Phantom announced, gathering Jackie into his arms. “We’re burning down the facility.”

-------------------------

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @rattyboyisemo @dungeon-dragons-dragons

[alphashley14]

One of Us

A Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated/Mystery Skulls Crossover

<Prev Next>

Chapter 17

Get in the Car

“Oh!” Ricky exclaimed, hardly able to suppress his surprise. “Your daughter? She uh…” Ricky looked down at the thing in the hole and tried to patch up his reaction. What’s the polite thing to say here?! “-She looks just like you.” 

That is not the polite thing to say here, you idiot!  

But Mystery just laughed as he gently re-buried the head. “Don’t fret, I can see why one may be confused. Shiomori wasn’t my child in the sense that most people would think. But I took another living thing, created her of my blood, and raised her as my own. What is a daughter if not that?” He explained, patting the soil firm again. 

“Sorry for not being all whimsical and shit, but I’m going to need a better explanation than that,” Ricky said.

Again, Mystery laughed that fox-like laugh of his. “I should think so! Where to begin? Shiomori wasn’t a particular kind of Yokai per say. She was actually the product of an experiment of mine. I was trying to create an extremely dangerous yokai (at least to humans) called a Jubokko. But instead the result resembled a hodge-podge between a Jubokko, a Furutsubaki no rei, and a Kiyo. And I know you don’t know what those are so long story short, Jubokko and Furutsubaki are tree yokai and a Kiyo is the female equivalent of an Oni, which is a creature akin to goblins in western lore. Following along?” 

“Not about the yokai stuff.” 

“I can refer you to texts later. That information isn’t entirely important. Anyway - skipping to the end, Shiomori and I parted ways when I joined Mushi, and there was a lack of communication that led to… a lot of anger. I imagine Shio believed I had forsaken her. I ran from her for years, until she caught up with us. I tried to appease her, to stop the fight. But Vivi didn’t know about Shiomori, and she was attacking us. So she killed her.” 

“That’s awful,” Ricky said, at a loss. “I’m sorry.” 

“It does make me extremely sad, but I am not and cannot be angry with Vivi over it,” Mystery said, ears drooped. “She gave Shiomori the chance to live and leave, but she just kept coming. Vivi was protecting me and the fight came to be through my own doing. Really, the fault is all mine. So why should I forsake one daughter for the death of another?” 

“You consider Vivi your daughter?” 

“By all intents and purposes, they are my friends. But I can’t help but consider all of the Mystery Skulls, Vivi especially, to be my children in a way. I watch over them, protect them, had a hand in raising them, and their futures are ever on my mind.” 

“So… if Shiomori is dead, then what’s with all…?” Ricky gestured to the planted tree and all of the adornments around it. “Is this her grave?”

“Not exactly. Death is not always as final to a Yokai as one may think,” Mystery replied. “Shiomori has easily regenerated from losing limbs, being cut in half, and even being beheaded. Vivi knocked out Shiomori’s weak point - her heart. But it wasn’t destroyed. So after the fact, we found where it landed and put it back inside her body. The energy’s weak, but it’s still there. She didn’t regenerate immediately, but she could still come back. I don’t believe she’s entirely gone. Rather, she’s in a sort of hibernation. The issue is that it could be decades before she’s strong enough to wake up again. So all of this is the least I can do to make up for what I did to her. I can’t change the past, but I can make better choices going forward. So until she wakes up, it’s my duty as her creator to keep her safe and to speed the process of her healing and awakening along as much as I can.” 

Ricky made a face, and what he said next sort of just slipped out. “With what? Miracle-Gro?” WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?

But, completely serious, Mystery replied, “And my blood, yes.”

Ricky blinked at him. “Oh. Of course. I should have known.”

And again, Mystery just laughed. 

They departed from the conservatory side by side - Mystery wanted to tell the whole story to everyone so he didn’t need to repeat himself. They found the others back in the lounge, where Vivi had made everyone tea and Scooby was finishing off a tray of rice crackers. 

How that dog was fitting any more food into his body after that huge dinner was beyond Ricky. But then again, he’d read somewhere once that dogs didn’t have that part of their brains that told them when they were full, so maybe Scooby just ate whatever food he came across no matter how much he’d eaten. Then again, Ricky reeeally wasn’t one to judge in his position given that just the sight of the food was making his (or rather Shaggy’s) mouth water. Maybe he was missing that part of his brain too.

No but seriously, the kid had to have some kind of condition.

“Hey guys,” Vivi said, bringing the group’s attention to their arrival. 

“So… everything good?” Fred asked. 

Ricky looked over at Mystery, and they spared each other a smile. “Yeah, we’re good,” Ricky said. 

“Where is Lewis? Has he already departed?” Mystery asked. 

“Yeah, he said goodbye. You just missed him actually,” Daphne said. 

“Hold on. I’m missing something. Where did Lewis go?” Ricky asked. 

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

As much as Lewis had been able to calm down over the course of the past few hours, his anxiety was flaring with a vengeance and he could feel his energy destabilizing once again as he drove the Mystery Skulls van through the backroads, bound for Destroido.

Had you asked Lewis when he was alive whether or not ghosts drove cars to get places, he would have laughed and said no. They have like, magical powers. Why would they drive? Now that he was a ghost however… long-distance teleportation takes a lot out of a ghoul, okay?! 

But such thoughts weren’t exactly on his mind at the moment. Rather, he couldn’t stop thinking about what might be waiting for him at his destination. 

Arthur got caught. 

They hurt him. 

What if Ricky and Shaggy lied? 

Mind you, it wasn’t that Lewis doubted Arthur’s abilities nor that he mistrusted Ricky or Shaggy. It was just that Artie was so… So… 

Selfless. 

Small.

Fragile. 

Strong.

Important. 

Sweet. 

Smart. 

Loyal.

Caring. 

Thoughtful. 

Cute. 

Lewis’ flames flickered at that last thought and he quickly shoved it out of his mind. Arthur? Cute? I mean sure his eyebrows are shaped like hearts and that front and center patch of brown hair sticks up like the antennae of a doodlebug. Okay, so Arthur was pretty cute. But not like that kind of cute. 

… Right?

Lewis turned on the radio to reorient his thoughts, and the CD that he’d put in earlier today picked up where it left off.

“Baby youuu got me wrong… Let me siiing you my songs… Let me shooow you where I been… Let me teeeell you everything! Let me take you with meee~! Mmm-mmmh! Let me take you with me~! Let me take you with meeee~! I’ll take you some place far. If you get in the car… (Right now.)”

Fuck, it would be nice to be able to just toss Arthur in the car and go. But he couldn’t exactly do that. And what Lewis wanted right now didn’t matter anyway. 

“Ooh, -Drivin’ down the highway with my baby!  Ooh, windows down, music up, it makes me crazy! Ooh, driving faster than we ever been before! Has it. Ever felt this good? Ooh, driving down the highway with my baby! Ooh, windows down, music up, it makes me crazy! Ooh, driving faster than we ever been before! Has it. Ever felt this good?”

Whatever was waiting for him ahead, Lewis was going to be whatever Arthur damn well needed him to be. Whether that be a sword, a shield, an ally, a spy, or a friend. 

“Baby, you got me so misunderstood. We're driving down the highway like I told you we would, Taking you places that I can't explain my actions, If you think I don't know, I gave you no satisfaction. I keep tellin' you-”

-And not just because Arthur was his best friend. Or because they’d known each other for as long as they could remember. Or because Arthur was there for Vivi and the Peppers when Lewis couldn’t be. 

“Ooh, -Drivin’ down the highway with my baby! Ooh, windows down, music up, it makes me crazy! Ooh, driving faster than we ever been before. Has it. Ever felt this good?”

No. This was more than favors between friends. This was repentance.

“Ooh, -Drivin’ down the highway with my baby! Ooh, windows down, music up, it makes me crazy! Ooh, driving faster than we ever been before! Has it. Ever felt this good?"

Saving his life is the least you can do, you piece of shit. Because after he looked after your girlfriend and your family while dealing with losing a limb and going days without sleeping looking for you, what did you do?

You tried to kill him.

And you almost succeeded.

An image flashed through Lewis’ mind, of the shock and horror that had been in Arthur’s eyes the moment his best friend dropped him to what would have been his death. 

Lewis shook that image away. Lewis may have been a ghost, but for three years he had been haunted by the what-ifs of what could have followed that moment. 

He never wanted to see that look on Arthur’s face again. 

Lewis would not let that happen. 

“Baby youuu got me wrong. Let me siiing you my songs. Let me shooow you where I been. Let me teeell you everything!”

Lewis’ thoughts wandered to Mystery, and the story he was telling back home by now. God, he just hoped that conversation went well.

“Let me take you with meee! Mmm-mmmh! Let me take you with meeeee~! Let me take you with meeeeee-e~! I'll take you some place far. If you get in the car-”

Lewis turned the radio off.

Before long, the trees along the road turned black and decayed as the van entered Destroido’s polluted grounds. Lewis drove off-road and parked the car in the poisoned forest, parking as far away from the facility as possible while staying reasonably close. He used a bit of magic to cover the vehicle with mutated or decaying shrubbery and placed a glamour over it to make it unnoticeable, then drifted in the form of a pink mist through the anomalous forest until he reached the same hilltop he and the others had stood and argued upon only hours before. 

Destroido Corp. was a truly dismal, ghastly place. Mystery didn’t like it, that was for certain. Being a Mori, every moment he spent in these woods rubbed his fur the wrong way. And using any of his related powers here felt like chugging battery acid with how polluted and mutated everything was. Though Lewis knew he hadn’t said anything about it because he didn’t want Ricky to feel bad.

It was hard to connect the Ricky Lewis had met today to the Mr. E who had put ruin such as this out into the world. Not that Lewis should really be surprised. He knew Ricky had done a lot of things he regretted. But he was trying to do better. So maybe after Arthur took everything back and they didn’t have a curse, a crazy parrot, or an evil eldritch deity to deal with, Ricky could do something about… this. 

But, that would be Ricky’s choice to make and his mess to deal with. For now, Lewis’ place was at his friend’s side. 

Come to think of it… Lewis didn’t know what adult-Ricky looked like. He’d seen pictures of the original Mystery Inc. as kids, he knew Ricky wore a striped shirt and a purple jacket with a red ‘E’ seal on it, and somebody had mentioned that Ricky had long hair. So he had that to go on. 

Let’s see. If I was Arthur pretending to be Mr. E… where would I be? 

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

“That’s right! Arthur wanted to talk to Lewis!” A whole new stab of guilt hit Ricky at the mention of Arthur. Ghosts, ice magic, and yokai had kept his mind so occupied that the guy living his Hell who was in the process of saving his life had somehow managed to evade his thoughts. “So that’s what Arthur meant by that,” Ricky said, pushing through. “But he couldn’t tell us at the time because- ahhh, I see. Wow. It’s going to be really easy for Lewis to get into Destroido. I most certainly never thought to ghost-proof the place. Nor would I know how. And I doubt Professor Pericles would either. So, Vivi? Any idea what Arthur may need him for?” 

“Well obviously, Lewis is a lot more powerful and more intelligent than the Dead Beats - no offense, guys.” 

The dozen or so Dead Beats who were hanging out around the room made noises and gestures of mock-indignation, pretending to be offended. Except for one, who stuck his tongue out and nodded in agreement. But his buddy next to him smacked him upside the head and he quickly joined in with the others’ protest. Ricky snorted. 

“There are any number of reasons Arthur may need Lewis for something,” Vivi said thoughtfully. “It probably has something to do with his escape plan, but I can’t be sure. If there’s anything Arthur needs done that would take a bit more finesse than the Dead Beats’ capabilities, then he’d need Lewis. Whatever it is, Lew will tell us when he gets back or in the morning, depending on whether or not we’re asleep when he returns. I mean it is past eleven.”  

“I just hope he’s okay,” Ricky sighed. 

“Hey, don’t worry,” Vivi said with a forced smile. “Arthur’s a really capable guy. If he says he can do it, then he can do it!” 

“But?” 

“But what?” 

“That did not sound very firm, Vivi. So where’s the but?” 

Vivi sighed. “Arthur… makes bad choices when it comes to his own health and safety. He is really capable but… his self-preservation isn’t exactly great and he cares about other people too much more than his own life. I believe in him. Really, I do.” Then she cringed. “Buuuuut this is the guy who once speedballed two Red Bulls and his pain meds and then didn’t sleep for five days so-”

“Heeey! I believe I owed you guys one more story!” Mystery quickly and loudly butted in before Vivi could completely dash everyone’s faith in Arthur. 

But Ricky didn’t let him. “Wait no- no. I’m sorry. He did WHAT?”

“What the hell was he thinking?!” Velma cried.

“Let’s just say he makes poor life choices and leave it at that,” Vivi said, realizing her slip-up. 

But then something possessed Mystery to make it worse. “Vivi, he saw cracks in reality on the third day. We found him in the attic trying to speak to his past lives. I’d say ‘poor life choices’ is an understatement.”

“Oh my God I’m gonna die…” Ricky uttered with sheer horror. 

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

I’m going to kill him… 

Deep within the labyrinth that was Destroido, Judy was silently seething. She snatched up another piece of equipment and furiously went about the process of taking it apart and putting it back together again. Checking their trapping gear was a regular activity she shared with Brad. A peaceful, habitual chore that they could do together, perfectly in sync. 

Usually. 

“Judy! You used the wrong screws in the Spangleheimmer 3,000! Do you have any idea how disastrously this could have made a trap fail?” 

“At least I didn’t forget to check the tension on the iron cables, Brad!” 

“I already apologized for that, Judy.” Brad snapped. “Or is there still wine in your ears keeping you from hearing me!” 

“Enough, you dummkopf!” Professor Pericles snapped, fluttering between them. 

“You sure are one to talk, Professor Pericles. That little button of yours was supposed to solve our Ricky problem once and for all!” Judy sneered.

“Und it has,” Professor Pericles insisted. “No matter how defiant he pretends to be, at the end of the day he is powerless.” 

“Is he?” Brad and Judy both asked at once. 

“Last I saw him, he didn’t exactly seem powerless, as you said he’d be!” Judy grumbled. 

“If I wasn’t so angry, I’d be impressed,” Brad said. “I didn’t even know Ricky had that in him, much less in his position.” 

Neither did I, Pericles realized with a jolt of anger - he really didn’t like not knowing things. 

“Makes me wonder what else Ricky might ‘have in him’” Judy mused. “I guess it’s true what they say, Brad: You can only push someone so far.”

I pushed my sweet Ricky too far, an old voice whimpered annoyingly and pathetically in the back of his mind. 

No, No. Professor Pericles had worked too long and too hard to allow such weakness to stand in his way! Ricky was simply… scraping out his last traces of defiance. He was broken. BROKEN. And with Cassidy dead and the kinder firmly against him, outside these walls he had nothing. What choice did he have but to stay with Pericles, where he belonged, and to do as he was told? 

“For now,” the Parrot said, “We shall give Ricky the space he so desires. But we are at too important a stage of my genius plan to allow such insubordination to thwart a single step. Perhaps I have allowed Ricky too long a length of chain. He will need to be controlled much more closely.” 

“What do you have in mind?” Judy asked gleefully. 

“Let us just say that by the end of it, Ricky shall regret ever showing such disdain for my generosity,” Professor Pericles sneered. “When I am done with him he shall-” 

But Professor Pericles stopped short. 

Because that’s when the cold pierced through his feathers like a thousand needles. Involuntarily, his feathers puffed up in an attempt to conserve heat and his breath- what? 

Professor Pericles exhaled experimentally and felt a different sort of shiver run through him as a puff of visible, condensed air left his beak. 

Brad and Judy were shivering too, looking around in confusion and fear. Each of them wordlessly grabbed a weapon and stood, back to back, the hairs on the backs of their necks raised. With a few beats of his wings, Pericles flew up to land on Judy’s shoulder. 

Something in the air had changed. As if someone was here- something- What was that? In a reflection, Brad could have sworn he’d seen a face glaring at him. But it darted out of sight. Was it a hallucination? Or something more?  

That’s when whatever it had been dissipated, the tension in the air disappearing and the cold fleeing the room just as quickly as it had come.

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

Was zum Teufel?

Maybe Ricky… needed to go on the backburner for now. 

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

“Jeepers… that’s awful, Mystery.” Daphne said once Mystery was done telling the kids about Shiomori. 

“You killed her, Vivi?” Velma said, looking at Vivi in a new light.

“Three years ago was… a big night. For all of us.” Vivi said, putting the tea set back on the tray. Daphne got up to help her with it. 

“Oh,” Ricky said, the timing dawning on him. “So… it happened around the same time Arthur lost his arm. And Lewis…” Ricky trailed off as Vivi wordlessly took the last couple of cups from Daphne and skedaddled out of the room. 

“Please tell me I didn’t say something wrong,” Ricky groaned. 

“You didn’t,” Mystery sighed from where he was lying in front of the fireplace. “Three years ago is a difficult time for any of us to talk about. And we struggle with what we can and can’t tell you without giving away more than we should for Arthur’s sake.” 

“Like we get that though,” Shaggy said. “It was like, major for him. I wouldn’t want other people sharing stuff like that about me either.” 

“Seriously. Don’t push yourselves to tell us any more than you’re comfortable with at a time. We may not know what happened three years ago, but I think we know enough that it’s even worse than what we’ve been through,” Fred said. 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Mystery said, slightly raising his teeth in anger. But this time no one flinched, because it was on their behalf. “Trauma is trauma and it isn’t a game of top trumps to see who’s ‘had it worse’. How it happened does not change the fact that everyone here has known pain. In one way or another, we have been lied to, used, and our worlds have fallen apart - permanently in some cases.” 

There was a pregnant silence as his words sank in. 

Fred remembered all too well the nagging anxiety that had stabbed at him when he’d pieced together his Mayor-Dad’s lies, and what he’d done to the Original Mystery Inc… then the agony that had pierced him when he’d learned who his real parents were. Then how close he’d come to losing Daphne forever… Perhaps it was the fresh wound from his father’s betrayal that made him almost numb to it when his “real blood” chose the treasure over him.

Daphne remembered all too well the way her heart had crumbled when Fred broke off their engagement and left Crystal Cove. The words “Mystery Incorporated is dead” rang through her ears for days afterward, and she cried so much that she nearly ran out of tears to shed. And of course her parents had been little help. In fact Daddy had seen fit to rub it in that he’d never approved of Fred. Then Baylor Hotner had- … Daphne knew he was an idiot. A monster and a criminal. But Daphne really had liked him. And that he’d just been using her from the start… hurt.

Shaggy remembered all too well what it felt like to be ripped away from Scooby and the others. Time and time again forces outside his control seemed to try and take his dog away from him. Velma. The robot dog and Jason’s Mom. Supervillians, and then his own parents- …Military School had been… rough. Separated from the gang and from Crystal Cove. Scoob sent away to live on some farm. And knowing that his own parents, who were supposed to love him more than anything, had sent him away in an attempt to “fix him” had made it all the worse. 

Scooby remembered all too well what it had felt like to lose Shaggy and the others over and over again. Being locked away like some animal in the Animal Asylum. Being sent away to some farm while the others were falling apart and Pericles was alive and could hurt them without Scooby there to look after his kids! Then Nova- Scooby had gotten the gang back… He didn’t know if he was ever going to get Nova back.

Velma remembered all too well how crushed she’d been when the gang blamed her for the breakup. A tumultuous game of tug-of-war had gone through her head for months afterward. Should I have told them about Angel sooner? Was it my fault? Why didn’t I fight harder? Why was it so easy for them to turn their backs on me? What else could I have said? When Crybaby Clown showed up, forming an alliance with Mr. E and Marcie had served as a welcome distraction. Marcie… telling her she had to leave the gang had been the hardest thing Velma had ever had to do. She felt this… ache in her chest that she’d never felt before and she was still figuring it out. As for Mr. E: of course Velma now knew why, but he had purposefully kept them at a distance back then. No matter how much Velma tried to make it clear that she and Marcie were his teammates, not his employees, he continuously treated them like the latter. And you know what? She didn’t ‘know’ Mr. E very long (at least in person), but she’d been disappointed by the ‘real thing’ in comparison to the Mr. E who had sent her friends clues and playfully teased them over the phone. Since Mr. E- Ricky had apologized and Velma now knew about the eldritch god that had been playing with his head and parts of what he’d been going through at the time, she felt… a sense of closure in understanding why he’d acted that way. But that didn’t erase the sting she’d felt at the time. 

Ricky remembered-

Without saying a word, five heads slowly turned to him at once. And by the way he trembled, clutching the edge of the couch with white knuckles, staring ahead with eyes that were seeing horrors both long-past and not-so-long-past… they all knew at once what he remembered all too well. 

Velma tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder, and flinched when he jumped. But the haze of momentary panic cleared when he looked at her, and she gave him a comforting squeeze. Ricky gulped, taking a deep breath, and appreciatively placed his hand over hers with a smile. 

Next to Velma, Scooby laid his head on Shaggy’s lap and the boy started stroking his dog’s head. On the other couch, Daphne scooted closer to Fred to lean on him, and he for once got the hint to wrap his arm around her and pull her closer. 

“Fortunately for us, humans are extremely social creatures,” Mystery said, repeating his earlier words. “And unfortunately for our enemies, nothing has the power to bring people together like shared pain. To think that pain makes you stronger… humans really are incredible,” Mystery said reverently, but then his brows furrowed and his ears drooped. “I only wish that I had realized that sooner.” 

“What do you mean?” Velma asked. 

“You were right to distrust a nogistune,” Mystery said with shame. “Up until now, you have gotten to know only one side of me. Others are… darker. But they are a mere shadow in comparison to the monster I once was.” 

“Until you met Mushi,” said Fred.

Mystery nodded. “Let me tell you everything - lay my sins bare. So that when I tell you that I am being honest and my intentions are sincere, you will believe it. I only ask… that you judge me for how I have grown, and who I am now. Not for who I was.” 

The six mystery solvers looked at each other, then with a nod they all agreed. 

And the kitsune began his tale.

Aaand that's a wrap on chapter 17! The people have spoken overwhelmingly in favor of Lewvithur, and tbh I can't exactly blame you. They're so cuuute. This chapter is, to me, kinda underwhelming. But it reeeally nicely sets up chapter 18. I sort of think of it as the prelude leading into chapter 18. Which ya'all are gonna love, btw. Still, I liked writing it. And I did have some fun. I was intending for this chapter to be at least mostly light-hearted (hence all the jokes), and I couldn't resist the opportunity to make a reference to my favorite Mystery Skulls fancomic, "Mother-like friends." IDK what about that comic makes me laugh so hard, but apparently it's my exact breed of humor. Shout-out to its creator, huppupbup. And thanks to the talented voice actors who gave it a voice. I also liked checking in on Pericles, Brad, and Judy. Like, let's not forget that they exist. And cracks are beginning to form. Also Lewis giving them a lil scare was so satisfying to write. Eat it, birdbrains. 😈 I really don't know where that mountain of angst came from at the very end of this chapter, but I'm happy to have it. With how much Ricky and Mystery Skulls angst is in this fic, I think it's important that I not forget or skim over the fact that the gang has been through some shit, too. The wait for chapter 18 shouldn't be very long. It's like, totally done (and it is a doozy!) I just need to make a couple of edits. Though I might make ya'all wait just to give me some time to work on chapter 19, which I haven't even started. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I can't wait to share the next one with you!

Chapters 1-16 of One of Us are presently posted on Archive of Our Own.

Chapter 17 should be posted on Ao3 within the next 24 hours.

[thequietmanno1]

TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 103, Replies Part 1

1) “So we got McBee McDown, you know what that means, time for some McBullshit! I know, this was supposed to be a return to the main series, but honestly, considering how close we are to ending Vigilantes I’m feeling really tempted to just keep pushing forward until it is finally destroyed.”- Such tenacity, not unlike a certain faceless antagonist, who also wants this fight go all the way to the bitter end.

2) “Shame that Phelps and the rest of the people have no idea, Soga probably knows since Knuckles must’ve told him what McBee could do. Or maybe not, considering how much of an ass Knuckles usually is.”- Turns out Phelps at least took precautions against Nomura’s movement capability with electro-shock handcuffs. Pity that Nomura can side-step that by just morphing his form out of the constraints of a human body into a bio-organic slime. No nerves to paralyse in that state.

3) “I hope you mean like, they give you an electric shock to stun you, and that this is not an implication that this is a quirk-suppressor handcuff, we’re over that dream already O'Clock Tulpa”- Ironically for a Quirk-user whose power mostly manifests as electric discharges around his body, electricity is also Nomura’s fatal weakness. Can’t move fast if you can’t move at all. 4) “But Midnight, if you’re gone, who will watch the watchman?

Also, I was wondering for a while, is your quirk even gonna work on him? Does McBee even has like lungs or something?”- Well, he used to, but likely not in his slime form, unless the bomber cells still carry oxygen to his brain, which is also how Midnight’s quirk can affect him still. 5) “What is it koichi? Do your crawlers ears heard something dangerous approaching? Like a small army of exploding nomus?”- Probably wondering how Pop’s doing, given how close they are to the hospital room and all the commotion- not to mention to flying bullets everywhere – still not over that Phelps A-OK’s a civilian using random fire on a hospital. 6) “Oh okay right, cutting off his hands is an option, he can regrow them later anyway, we know that. Don’t know why he simply didn’t blew them up, I think it’d be faster.”- He’s only got so many explosions in his body mass before it becomes inconvenient for his movement, detonating that much mass he can’t reclaim, so he needs to pick and choose when most effectively to blow up. 7) “McBee I warned you, you shouldn’t be laying down while liquefying your mortal coil, it’s too easy to end up choking on your own bits of flesh”- Not a problem is he doesn’t have lungs or a throat anymore. Only thing Nomura needs is a working brain to operate his freakshow of a body 8) “A what now Phelps?

I mean, sure, he needs oxygen to keep his quirk going or he’s gonna fry his own brain, but what the fuck is a deep breathing technique? You mean like, he breathed in a lot of oxygen? My if only someone gave him a quirk to deal with that.”- It’s a technique divers use when preparing to go underwater for an extended period of time, unsure when they’ll surface again. Basically, by exhaling rapidly just before your head goes under, you free up excess oxygen-deprived air molecules in your lungs and can suck a whole bunch of oxygen-rich molecules into your lungs instead with a final inhalation, allowing you to last underwater for longer. 9) “Now what in the fuck’s name- I don’t know why AfO gave you that quirk, but it is extremely convenient he did so. Wonder if this is a side effect of the regeneration quirk, or if it is the regeneration quirk in action, turning you into a mush so you can rebuild yourself”- More like the unstable bomber cells, being so malleable, basically allow him to shapeshift his features and form however much he wishes. At this point, the only part of him we can safely say is still human is his head, and even that might not last forever if he does something like letting the cells cannibalise his remaining parts for more power. 10) “Oh good thing that this… fucking bullshit… also regenerates your clothes, it would suck for you to have to be defeated with your McBee exposed like that”- Or like Nomura wasn’t wearing any clothes from the start except that long coat. In retrospect, it’s hard to tell how much of his casual attire and hero costume were clothing and how much was his actual body.

(Vigilantes ch 102)

11) “Unfortunately those ones can’t be taken down by aiming at the head. Trust me, we tried in the main series.”-Nomura however, can, and from what we see here, it’s just about the only weakness his body has left.

12) “Alright Thanos, keep acting like a prick like that and you’ll see what your fate is gonna be. Little spoiler, it’s gonna be exactly like that of Thanos.”- Koichi was listening, and immediately followed his advice.

13) “Yeah fine, go and try to use your infinity gauntlet on Phelps, a being protected by the immutable flow of fate, see how that’s gonna work out for you.”- Nomura mocked Phelps for being too slow, but ironically that in turn made him too slow to actually detonate him with Koichi’s faster reflexes in the area.

14) “OH HO HO LOOK AT THAT

I GUESS YOU FORGOT YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY SPEEDSTER HERE McBEE

TIME TO GET McOWNED”- Koichi’s so much faster and more decisive than Nomura, he even has time to set his shots to “stun” rather than the lethal attack- which I think is even faster than these softball shots to boot.

15) “REST ASSURED, KOICHI’S HERE TO ANNOY YOU UNTIL YOU FALL DEAD. THERE’S NO ESCAPING THE CRAWLER”- Koichi’s hidden tactic is revealed: Piss off Nomura until he self-combusts in anger! @thelreads

[six-eyed-samurai]

FULL SERIES HERE

Ehhh~ is that some OCs I see? Unfortunately I couldn't find any demons to replace the Ubuyashiki children, so I had to go borrow some of my OCs. Hopefully we'll see them again in later chapters.

Dear Tanjiro,

I’m keeping a diary now, for you. When I arrived at Kyogai-san’s house and took you out, you grew to full size but didn’t wake up. It’s been a week, actually, and you’re still sleeping. I’m very worried about you, but Kyogai-san thinks it may just be how you’re recovering your strength since you didn’t eat any humans and apparently demons can’t eat normal food.

Kyogai has taught me quite a few things. The Demon Slayer Corps, for one, consists of a few hundred members, and though it is not recognized by the government, it has fought demons for a long time and continues to battle demons today. He also told me more about demons. Nobody really knows where they came from but they must eat humans in order to survive and have special abilities, such as being able to regenerate when they're physically injured. Others can even change form or use special powers. The only way they can be destroyed is through sunlight or by decapitation with a specialized blade he called “Nichirin”.

Kyogai himself is one of the 'cultivators', people who train swordsmen. If anyone desires to join the ranks of the Demon Slayers, they must first survive an exam known as Final Selection, held at Mount Fujikasane. I found out later on he used to be a slayer himself, a very high ranking one, until he retired to this mountain to write books and play drums. He never told me why but I think it has something to do with those scars on his face. Kyogai also told me he used to train below Michikatsu, the one who saved us, but that’s all I know about them.

Speaking about Kyogai, while his training is harsh he’s a very nice person. He doesn’t speak much, mostly spending his time playing the drums or writing away when he’s not training me. I asked him about his writing before and it turns out he was the one who wrote the book Mother used to read to us every evening. He was very happy when he found out but he tried to hide it.

Every day I’m sent up the mountain to be trained. My only task is to descend and go back to the house by dawn, but the mountain is full of traps that I can only detect by being very aware of my surroundings. The air up there is very thin, but it doesn’t bother me much since we’ve lived on a mountain back then too.

One day I was given a katana to go down the mountain with. It got in the way a lot, but it wasn’t until I made it down with it that Kyogai started training me on how to use swords. I failed a lot - Kyogai can even disarm me with nothing in his hands! - but seeing you always asleep makes me afraid you’ll die, so I’ll do my best to train hard and master it.

***

“There is nothing else I can teach you.”

Nezuko sighed and leaned against that blasted boulder, wiping sweat from her forehead and dropping her katana, exhausted beyond belief.

Six months of training until Kyogai decided she was ready for the final test to see if she was worthy of entering the Final Selection. Her final task? To slice the massive rock in half, which she had been trying to do for nearly half a year.

It was proving beyond impossible.

Doubt cut through her thoughts like her katana to the rock, but unlike her pitiful progress they were really beginning to cut her down; her resolve was wavering and whispers of ‘you’re no good’, ‘what if you couldn’t do this?’, ‘will Onii-chan die like that?’ scraped at her confidence until some days Nezuko was just left staring at the sky, blinking back tears of frustration on the ground.

“I can do it, I can do it.” Nezuko huffed and raised her sword. “I’LL KEEP TRYING!”

“Your determination is something to be admired, but it won’t get you where you want to go.”

Nezuko was pretty sure she was hallucinating that high, shy female voice (was it really that long since she last took a break? Surely not?). The delusion must be doubling when she looked up to see a woman perched atop the rock and staring down at her.

“Uh-huh?’ Nezuko staggered to her feet, jaw slacking. “How - who?”

The woman gracefully leapt off, landing in front of Nezuko with a kindly smile. Up close she was quite short, dressed in a scarlet kimono as red as her eyes with a fur-lined collar as the wind whipped her white hair around. “Mukago, dear!”

“Wha - where did you come from? Why are you here?” Nezuko took a quick step back, remaining polite even in her confusion…not an easy feat. “What are you doing here?”

Thud.

Nezuko spat out dirt from her mouth, scrambling from her knocked down position on the ground to spring to her feet and brandish her katana, glancing around warily but her assailant was nowhere in sight. Who on earth had knocked her down so fast? She had barely heard them, seen them, smelt them. Mukago? No, if she let her eyes roll up the stranger hadn’t moved an inch except for her expression, which shifted to one of concern and disapproval.

“Too slow.” Ah. A new voice, a male one this time….right behind her. “You’ll never evade a demon at this rate; no wonder you can’t cut the rock.”

She flared up at once, spinning wildly around to swing her katana and have it swiftly blocked by a middle-aged man with a jagged beard, a typical karate gi hanging off his stocky frame. He bore no weapon, but the way his golden eyes gleamed in judgement and his outstretched hand was enough for Nezuko to be convinced he was the one who had so quickly knocked her down by surprise.

He tutted. “Even with my bare hands I can stop you.”

“Go easy on her, Rokuro - I have never known anyone to be able to knock you down on their first day either,” Mukago called out from behind. Nezuko twisted her head a little to see she had retreated some way off - as if she was expecting them to fight and was giving them room.

Rokuro (was that his name?) scoffed. “How else will she ever learn Breathing Techniques?”

“She won’t learn anything if you just beat her up.” What was up with all of them appearing on top of the rock? This time an anxious looking young man leaned down to watch, chewing a strand of his orange-tipped brown hair. Against his awfully pale skin two painted green stripes stood out in stark contrast. “Besides, you use martial arts. She’s using a sword.”

“What’s the difference?” Rokuro grumbled, lowering his stance. “Are you going to have her defenseless if a demon knocks away her sword? Small wonder why the Corps’ numbers decrease day by day, Kamanue.”

Kamanue opened his mouth to answer but a voice behind Mukago intervened. “Now, now, Rokuro, play nice! It’s a small wonder too why nobody wanted to endure your harsh training back in the good old days!”

“Wakuraba,” Mukago said primly to the wild looking man lazily leaning against the trees. His face, scarred with healed wounds in the shape of an X, broke into a sly grin and his eyebrows shot up almost as high as his widow’s peak.

Deep breaths, Nezuko, deep breaths. She backed up, blinking hard. This had to be some exhaustion induced dream. She was dreaming. Yes, she was dreaming. This was too much for one day. Too much to compute. Her head swam with confusion. “Are - are all of you kodama or something? Where did you come from? Why - why are - why are you here?”

Mukago’s laughter rang in the wind. “To help you train, obviously.”

***

So that was how I wound up with a group of ghosts teaching me. I really thought they were real live people until I realized there wasn’t any other explanation for how they could simply disappear in a flash when the day was done. Maybe it could’ve been me dreaming, but I couldn’t be imagining the sparring.

They never tell me where they come from. Rokuro and Wakuraba outright ignore my questions; Kamanue shrugs it off with an awkward smile. All Mukago will tell me is ‘repaying a debt’, whatever that means.

Rokuro specializes in martial arts, insisting I learn how to take down a demon even without a katana. Wakuraba forces me to go one on one with every day until I practically pass out from exhaustion, so I’ll have to thank him for my improved stamina. Kamanue takes on a similar approach to Kyogai, namely making me run up and down the mountain while dodging his attacks.

Mukago taught me something she calls Total Concentration Breathing. I don’t understand it a hundred per cent, but she says it accelerates blood flow and heartbeat, increases temperature and expands lungs to full capacity. It’s supposed to make the user as strong as a demon. I finally learnt a variation called Water Breathing after so long, however Mukago says someday perhaps I will adapt it to suit my style more.

Every day I trained hard and swung my katana against at least one of them and every day I lost for six months, until the day Rokuro brought a katana, while the other three retreated, and said: “You have the look of a real slayer now.”

It was over in an instant. I won, with a strike to his face that would’ve been lethal if it had actually hit. It was a strange moment - I felt nothing but elation and triumph, but when I turned upon hearing Mukago calling out my name they all vanished.

I hadn’t strike Rokuro; I had sliced the boulder in half.

“Win against them, Nezuko” were Mukago’s last words to me, so today I bide goodbye to Kyogai and you to depart for Final selection. I hope you wake up by the time I return.

Your loving sister,

Nezuko.

***

Mount Fujikasane was too pretty with its showers of wisteria and cooling breeze to house such an ugly demon.

He put the other demons Nezuko had slain so far on the mountain to shame with his monstrously large, veiny, hulking body of olive green skin, blood red fingernails, and beady yellow eyes. Worse was his dozen arms, all wrapped and wrapped around him until he was nothing but some gaping hungry creature of limbs.

She couldn’t see the slayers that the demon had previously been chasing; hopefully they had gotten away. The cold wind brushed past freezingly on her neck, ruffling the newly cut ends of her hair, courtesy of Kyogai. Nezuko tightened her hold on her katana as the blade glimmered in the dim light. The mountain was beautiful, yes, but at this time of night it was as creepy as the demons lurking around.

Don’t be afraid, Nezuko repeated to herself. You’ve slayed a bunch like him.

“What’s this? I seem to recognize this smell!” The demon leered. “Tell me, puny human, right now, what Meiji Emperor sits upon the throne?”

Nezuko froze in surprise but her brain answered on reflex. “The Imperial family is Taisho now!”

Silence.

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH, I’VE BEEN HERE SO LONG THAT DYNASTIES HAVE RISEN AND FALLEN! AGAIN AND AGAIN! ALL WHILE I’VE BEEN TRAPPED HERE! UNFORGIVABLE! UNFORGIVABLE! DAMN KYOGAI! DAMN KYOGAI! DAMN HIM! DAMN KYOGAI!”

“You know Kyo-”

“OH, I KNOW HIM! KYOGAI WAS THE ONE WHO CAPTURED ME! I WILL NEVER FORGET! IT’S BEEN SO MANY TORTUROUS YEARS! BACK THEN WHEN HE WAS STILL A HASHIRA, IN THE EDO PERIOD…THE KEIO ERA!”

“Impossible.” Nezuko shook her head, wary but confused. “He told me the only demons here have not been alive for long - they have only eaten one or two humans at most!”

The demon cackled. “Oh, very true, very true. I have not eaten that many humans in my time, I admit, but I have consumed at least ten of you lot, including those puny slayer friends of his!”

“What?” Ten of who? Perhaps Nezuko should have beheaded the demon now when he was busy doing his evil villain monologue, but something wasn’t clicking.

“Hmmm…let me see…you would be the eleventh!” The demon howled with hungry laughter.

Nezuko snapped. “Eleventh what?!”

[”Kyogai-san, if you’re a cultivator, why am I the only student right now?”

“…I don’t really fancy taking in students any more, Nezuko-chan. Perhaps you’ll find out why someday.” Something in Kyogai’s face was so faraway and sad Nezuko dropped the subject.]

“Eleventh student of Kyogai’s that I have eaten! I have made it my mission to eat every single one of his students and no one else, in revenge for locking me away here just because I ate his comrades!”

“Comrades?” Nezuko connected the dots rapidly and yet…how can this demon have killed them? They trained her!

“Of course; I recognize all of you by your smell of that forsaken mountain he lives on!”

[It was supposed to be a happy day - Kyogai hadn’t expected his friends and fellow slayers Rokuro, Wakuraba, Kamanue and Mukago to throw him a party for his retirement but they had.

“How can we celebrate the day you became a Hashira but not today?” Wakuraba had grumbled. “Shut up and get drunk already.”

It was supposed to be a happy day - not the day Kyogai would have to watch as a demon appear out of nowhere while they were defenseless and kill every one of them.]

Nezuko wasn’t sure what exactly happened next.

She supposed she attacked the demon, enraged by its taunts and teasing stories of his past killings (so he was the killer of those ghosts who had trained her?), judging by the soreness and pain she was feeling as she slammed into a tree, hearing the demon cackle behind her. She supposed she had gotten up a few times before, but it was too tiring to do so now.

Too much hurt. Just…ow, ow, ow….

“Wake up, nee-san!”

Shigeru?

She staggered to her feet and tightened her grip on her sword. Alright, alright, think, Nezuko, think. If you can’t cut off his hands since they keep regrowing…hang on, what was that smell?

On instinct she jumped and somehow - dodged the hands?

[”Rokuro.” Kamanue fidgeted uneasily. “Will she be able to slay that particular demon? With all due respect none of us could.”

“True enough - its vendetta against Kyogai has never been quashed.”

Rokuro scoffed. “That doesn’t sound like you to say that, Wakuraba. Of course she will. She must.”

“But-”

“Kamado was the only one to cut the rock. If anyone can cut its head off it’s her.”

“You know best, Mukago.”]

Sure enough Nezuko began to gain the upper hand, or at least balance out the odds of the fight, using the peculiar scent to dodge the attacks, weaving in out of the wildly snatching limbs. With her signature, swift strong kick she deflects its surely-lethal blow from its giant arm, silently making a note to thank Rokuro should she see him again to thank him for forcing her to learn a more effective method of kicking and Kamanue for running with her up and down the mountain.

Then Nezuko saw it. Or rather, sensed it.

Opening thread.

“Water Breathing, First Form: Water Surface Slash!”

***

“Welcome back!”

“Congratulations - We are glad you are safe.”

As at the start, there were five young girls sporting spotlessly white nurse uniforms and different colored sashes awaiting them. Three stood behind while the frontmost two would usually do the talking. Who they were, Nezuko had no idea, but based off what Kyogai had told her they didn’t seem a lot like Kakushi.

“It is truly an amazing feat for the five of you to pass the Final Selection.”

Five only? Nezuko zoned out a little to glance around in surprise. Surely there had been about twenty of them at the start? Just five now…how dangerous was Final Selection exactly? Two girls, including herself, and three boys, all looking none too good.

“Where is everybody else?” The boy to her left voiced out her thoughts. He tugged anxiously at the strands of his strangely spidery styled black hair. Nezuko briefly wondered whether one of the demons on the mountain was responsible for the peculiar spotty scars on his face, as red as blood on his extremely pale skin. “There were a lot of us.”

“What does it matter? They were too weak to survive, clearly, and don’t deserve the title of slayer!” Another spat with his lip curled back in a displeased scowl as dark as his spiky hair. His black and white kimono was loosely opened to reveal peculiar scarring that resembled stripes like the ones on his face. “I worked hard for my katana, I would like to have it now!”

The other girl sniffed haughtily, tossing her long white ponytail. “I think we’ve all waited long enough for our katana!”

“Your katana will come later - first we will provide your Corps uniform.”

“We will take your measurements and then engrave your rank. There are ten in total.”

“Mizunoto, Mizunoe, Kanoto, Kanoe, Tsuchinoto, Tsuchinoe, Hinoto, Hinoe, Kinoto, and Kinoe.”

“Right now all of you are at the bottom: Mizunoto.”

“We know all that already, do I look stupid to you?!” The stocky boy who had spoken earlier stormed up to the girls. “Where’s my katana?!”

The girls took a step back but spoke calmly placatingly as always. “Today you will choose the ore for your sword - it takes about two weeks to make a katana.”

“For now we will assign you a Kasugai crow.”

The flapping of bird wings caused everyone to jerk their heads up. A murder of crows began to swoop down, circling above them. Nezuko felt a little alarmed at the sharpness of their beaks and claws and beady little eyes - never mind, they were just birds, they were just birds.

Just a bird who immediately plummeted down and perched itself on her shoulder, eyeing her as if her ear was its next meal…right? Nezuko hesitantly reached out a hand to pet its shiny, ink-black feathers.

“Eh? Why is mine a sparrow?!” The white-haired girl complained, glaring crossly at the tiny bird on her palm. Brown versus blue met each other in an intense staring match.

“We - we can - ow! - swap if you - ow! - want!” Nezuko rushed over to help the poor slayer up to his feet while his crow dive-bombed and attacked a little too enthusiastically. His eyes turned as round as the spots on his face as he profusely thanked her just as enthusiastically. “Thank you so much! You’re so nice and caring! Would you like to be my sister?”

“Heh, it’s no problem, your crow is just too excited, I think!…um, what?”

“KAW! KAW!”

“Kasugai crows are used for communication mostly-”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE CROWS!”

“STOP!”

“IMOTO-SAN!”

“GET OFF HER!”

It honestly escalated so quickly Nezuko wasn’t even sure what had happened until she rushed over to help, watching in stunned horror as the rude slayer from earlier yanked harshly at one of the girl’s, now fallen on the ground, hair. His yelling, together with the screaming of her four sisters trying their best to pull him off, made quite the racket.

“I WANT THE KATANA! THE CORPS’ COLOR CHANGING KATANA - IT WAS WHAT I WAS PROMISED AND WHAT I WANT NOW!”

“Let go of her first!”

“HEY! PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE!” The white-haired girl marched up to the slayer before Nezuko could even react, a glaring sneer on her pretty face. She viciously wrenched away his hand from the girl’s hair, letting her sisters drag her away from the fray, getting right into his face. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, HUH? BULLYING THEIR YOUNGER SISTER JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE BIGGER? THERE’S NOTHING I HATE MORE THAN PEOPLE WHO THINK THEY CAN SIMPLY TREAT OTHERS HOWEVER THEY WANT JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE MORE HELPLESS!”

“ARE YOU THREATENING ME, PRISSY? THEY’RE HOLDING OUT ON OUR KATANA, AND I’LL HAVE IT NO MATTER WHO I GOTTA BEAT UP!”

“Ugly bastards like you need to be taught a lesson!” She flared back and a collective gasp went around as there was a resounding slap. “You’re so hideous it actually affronts me!”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT ME?” At this point his face was as red as the slapped spot. “YOU LITTLE - I’LL BEAT YOU TO A PULP, YOU WORTHLESS VIXEN!”

“I dare you! My big brother’s the Poison Hashira! He’ll have your head on a plate before you even raise your hand!”

Okay, this was getting out of hand. Nezuko tried to step between them. “Both of you, calm down please, it’s just one big misunderstanding-”

“HAH! HE’S SUCH A SKELETON, A HALF-WIT, JACKASS HASHIRA, WHAT COULD HE POSSIBLY DO? BOOHOO, GO CRY TO HIM THEN!”

“Hey, don’t say that-”

“DON’T YOU EVER SAY THAT ABOUT HIM!”

“Stop.”

A new voice? The three of them whipped their heads around to the approaching figure, the owner of such a quiet but commanding presence and voice.

Despite his childishly short stature there was something oddly threatening about him, right from his piercing red eyes in narrowed frown against his dark skin to his wild black hair to his confident, assertive stance. He was already wearing the Corps uniform, peculiarly, with a haori of wavy patterns and a gold breastplate.

“Kaigaku-kun, while I am also impatient for our katana, you would do well not to injure any of Kibutsuji’s personal servants. Daki, however important your brother may be in the Corps, even he cannot defend you in punishment for fighting with a fellow slayer.” His frown deepened. “I’d have thought, as we all share the same cause, we shouldn’t be fighting amongst ourselves. If anyone interrupts you-” he nodded to the wide-eyed sisters “-again, I will break their arms.”

Nezuko had no doubt he meant it. Daki and Kaigaku scoffed but stepped away. The boy beside her slinked away uncomfortably.

“Please come and choose the ore for making your katana now.”

Well, well, what an interesting bunch of people she would be slaying demons together with.

I skipped a lot of fight scenes and I'm sorry but it was getting too dragged out. I had a lot of fun writing slayer interactions though and I hope you enjoy them if I wrote them accurately enough!