#when they go in that locked room and then “check each other for infection”

[guitarnacle]

Hey babe I'm watching txf s1e8 ice again yeah the one with the CGI worms and tender neck touching and the ending that is the absolute representation and epitome of Mulder's problem with the government he works for yes I'm feeling ok why do you ask

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Alone Together

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, angst, smut, fingering, penetrative, shower sex, edging, ■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

He had his work cut out for him with you, and he would start with getting you alone.

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You sat at the corner of your parents' queen size bed, helping your mother fold her clothes for her upcoming trip.

The day before, your mother was filled with excitement when she entered the kitchen, a huge grin plastered on her face. "We won a free trip to New York!"

Turns out her company had held a lottery for the workers, two two-way tickets to New York City.

"I applied on a whim." Your mother shrugged. "Who would have thought I'd actually get it." Her hopeful gaze went to your dad. "We can visit my mother!"

Your father smiled back. "That's amazing, honey. It would ne good for the two of you to see each other."

The overall happiness of the room didn't infect you, who tensed up as soon as you heard your mother announcing that your parents were going away. You swallowed nervously. "When's the flight?"

Your mother checked the tickets. "October twentieth."

Your pulse spiked. So soon. "That's in two days..." Your shoulders lowered.

"Honey, will you be alright here?" Your father reached for your hand.

No. You wanted to say. But when you saw how eager your mother was at the prospect of visiting your grandmother - who sha ahsnt seen in a year - the word froze in your mouth. "Yes, I'll be fine. You two enjoy your trip."

So here you were, helping your mother carry her suitcase down the stairs. Your father was dressed in his casual flight outfit, fanny pack-clad, as he loaded the trunk of his five year old Toyota sedan on your driveway.

Mama, don't go. You itched to say. What if it's not safe?

You admonished yourself for the childish and selfish thought.

Kissing and hugging your parents goodbye. You can do this, you told yourself. You can stay home alone. You've done it all your life. Why not now?

But when the door closed and the silence took over, bringing with it unease.

You busied yourself with chores. You washed the parkette floor, vacuumed the carpets, and prepared dinner for yourself, all while the tv was blaring in the background, providing some much needed noise. You sent your parents texts asking for updates every hour. You were glad they messaged you that they landed safely, and we're on their way to your grandmother's.

Come evening time, you turned on all of the lights downstairs to drown out the darkness coming in from the windows. It didn't help. The noise blended in with the silence to create a sense of uncertainty, even within the familiar walls of your childhood home. Your breathing grew quick and shallower. You went to your parents' room, closed the door behind yourself, and locked it before taking a seat on the soft carpet floor against it. You tried to calm yourself, steadying your breath. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay-"

The doorbell rang, making you gasp.

It was him. That man. The awful human being who tied you up, gagged you, and left you drugged and hallucinating your worst fears on the floor of your research lab, with no one able to hear your muffled screams.

Until... he showed up. Robin. Your guardian angel, who tore you from those visions. Who saved and protected you. "He'll come, he'll save me, he will. He will." You convinced yourself, oblivious the heavy footsteps making their way up the second floor.

"Y/n?" Damian’s deep voice muffled through the door you were currently leaning against, making your pulse spike with relief and something else. "Y/n, it's Damian."

The relief washed over you in a smooth wave. You let out a breath and scrambled up and opened the door. You felt extacy as seeing his tall frame so close. Concern etched on his sharp features as those all-knowing green eyes studied you under black hair. Before you could think better of it, you enveloped him into your arms. His warmth was a much welcome sensation against your cold, shivering limbs. Tears threatened to roll out the corners of your eyes as you held onto him like a lifeline.

"Hey, you're okay." His hand came up to cradle your head. It was an oddly comforting gesture from him. So were the reassuring words. You wondered if he'd ever consoled anyone else, consistently repeating, "Everything's okay." Like he was right now, with you.

His voice and touch grounded you in reality, and you managed to pull your breath down to a normal rhythm. He came. He came for you. You were lucky enough to have more than one guardian angel.

"P-please stay," you wispered, not caring how desperate you sounded.

"I'm not going anywhere." His words were a promise.

You let him lead you downstairs and pour you some water. The two of you find a seat in your small kitchen. He sat across from you on the creaky wooden chair as the tea kettle boiled. The entire time, you didn't let go of his hand, so large and safe in your smaller palm. "Would you like some dinner? I made soup."

"Sit. I'll get it." He got up to open the fridge, and you mourned the loss of his touch as you sat back against your chair.

After you and Damian ate the chicken soup you prepared, he got up to put away the plates, freezing mid-step.

"What is it?" You asked.

"Where's your dishwasher?"

"We don't have one." You explained. "Here, let me wash it."

"No, no, I got it." He brought the dishes to the sink, lowering them, then turning back to you. "I'll do it later."

You let out a soft giggle. "You don't have to."

He turned to you, deadpan expression on his face. "You don't think I can wash dishes?"

You shut your lips together, then gave him a shy nod. His tongue poked the side side of his cheek as he raised a brow at you. "Watch this,"

He turned around and got to work, demonstrating to you as he squinted an excessive amount of soap onto the punch and lathered the dishes with it. Then, he rinsed and held them in his hands, unsure of the next steps. You giggled, taking the plates off his hands and setting them down on the drying rack. "If I used thos much soap each time I washed the dishes, we'd be out of money."

You turned to see Damian huff, and a guilt tugged at your nerves. "You did well, though." You hoped the words reassured him.

"Wanna laugh?" He pursed his lips.

You nodded.

"That was my first time washing a dish."

"Yeah, I assumed." You bit your lip.

His gaze traveled to the floor, and he murmered, "Shut up." Eliciting another string of laugher from you.

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Damian stood at your doorstep, his hand reaching out for you as you talked yourself up to take it.

"I want you to come outside with me." He told you a minute ago. "Just to the end of the porch. Then we'll go back home."

You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that told you not to bother.

With the door opened, you nervously searched around the quiet dark street outside your house. The only light came from the streetlights, and the sounds were rustling of leaves. Other than that, the evening was peaceful. Calm. You swallowed nervously, your hand coming to wrap around his.

"There we go," he reassured, stepping backward onto the porch, pulling you with him. Your breath seized as you jerked your hand back, not meaning to.

You met his gaze. He didn't look disappointed or even upset. In fact, he was simply standing there, holding his hand out to you like he was your boyfriend, picking you up for prom.

"Sorry," you shed. "I didn't mean to-"

"I know. Let's try that again." He said quietly. "I'm right here."

You nodded. "You're right here."

"Exactly. Walk to me." He instructed gently. "I'm want to hold you."

Those words had you blushing as you nodded once more. "Okay, okay,"

You took a shaky step and had one food out of the house. Your breathes came fast, but you clenched your muscle, forcing yourself not to go back. "Damian," you called out to him.

"Right here, baby." He answered. "You're doing very well."

"How much more?" Your voice shook as you asked.

"Just down those two steps." He spoke calmly. "I'm so proud of you. You're almost there."

He was proud of you. The thought had your heart speeding out of happiness, not fear this time, and you dared another step down.

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You had sweated profusely and were shivering at the same time. Damian suggested a hot shower would help you calm down.

"Will you stay outside in my room? Please?" You stammered.

He kissed the top of your head and nodded.

After five difficult minutes of sitting on your bed, arms crossed, and leg bouncing in a state, he would describe anything but "calm." Damian got up and opened your shower door.

Damian made his way into the shower, the steam filling his senses as he found you, pouring soap into your hands. He discarded his shirt first. You noticed him, your eyes roaming down his bare upper half. Ridges of muscle never seemed to end, and you blushed again at the thoughts he inspired in you. You didn't say anything, so he lowered his jeans and briefs, slowly stepping into the hot stream with you. He placed a gentle hand on your hip, turning you to face the wall away from him. Pouring some soap into his hands, he began lathering your skin, starting with your back, then making his way around to your chest. Your breath hitched when his hands took your breasts, soap covered thumbs gently gliding over your hardening nipples, making you shudder.

He spent a couple minutes teasing you there. Fingers flicking, pinching, and tickling your nipples. Your back arching against him, hands coming up to press your hands against the wall. "Ah, ah,"

At last, his palm slid down from your breast to cup your core. The sensation had you rolling your head back as you released a breathy moan. "Damian, please, please,"

He breathed heavily against your ear. "What?"

"Please..." You keen searching for the correct words. "... distract me? Make me forget..."

Slowly, his fingers slid down to your core and spread your folds, baring you open, and lining himself up against you before at last, thrusting into you. You welcomed the wonderful stretch with an enthusiastic embrace - your hand coming to hold the nape of his neck behind you. "Mhnn, yes, yes,"

Seeing you like this - so pliable, so desperate - completely conflicted with his original plan coming here. He showed up with a series of excersize in mind to reintroduce you to the idea of safety - of a normal life again, free of fear and paranoia. But of course, he'd gotten carried away the moment he saw you.

Maybe... that's what you - both of you - needed at this moment. He'd been just as eager to get his hands on you as you were at the prospect of being held by him. You wanted a distraction? No problem.

Then, just as you were reaching your climax, all of a sudden, he stopped moving his hand, and his hardness stopped from driving back into you.

You whined at the hugh you were just cut off from. "Damian?" You murmered weakly. "Why'd you stop?"

"You said you wanted a distraction." His response came as if it was obvious. "I plan on making it count."

You shuddered as his breath carresed your shoulder, making your hair rise even in the steaming water. "Oh, please," you moaned. "Please, Dami -"

"Fuck," he groaned at the nickname. His dark arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace, as he moaned, low and dangerous in your ear. He began slowly pushing back into you. "Fuck, I've missed you,"

"Me too." You admitted. "Please, don't stop."

He huffed darkly against your ear. "Say you missed me again, perfect girl. Say it."

"I've missed you."

"Call me 'Dami' again." His fingers were back on your clit and his thrusts picked up again. "Tell me you need me."

"Hnnh, yes, I need you, Dami," you complied, your voices breaking into gasps matching the rhythm of his hips. "So much!"

"Say you'll never leave me again,"

"..."

"... y/n..." His tone was a warning.

"But..." Your voice caught in your throat. You were also caught between unbearable pleasure and your own inner conflict. Your voice broke when you argued, "But that's not fair."

His hand rose to wrap around your throat, though he didnt apply any pressure. "What's not fair?"

"Y- youre the one who didn't want a relationship with me." You stammered.

He pressed his thumb on a vein on your neck, just under your jaw that made your vision go white for a moment. Your head felt light, your thoughts swam and the continued stimulation from his fingers on your clit became much more sensitive as you bucked your hips against him.

"Well, now I do." He declared.

"Well... thats..." You felt your anger rise along with the heartbeat in your chest. It was a feat, balancing lust, anger, and confusion all at once, but you managed somehow. You were very proud of that accomplishment. You weren't proud of the words you used to carry your point across though. "That's dumb, Damian! You're dumb."

Yes. That'll show him, you thought. Especially when all that came from him was silence, shortly followed by a snort of laughter in your ear. His body shook against you. His fingers pausing their ministration on your clit, depriving you of yet. Another. Orgasm. The climax subsided as you clenched around him uselessly. The action had you grumbling in frustration. Here he was, laughing at you while he had you at his mercy. So... cruel!

And you... you little weakling, let him. Let him exercise power of you. Because damn it, it felt good. It's what you needed. All this time without him was wrong. God, he knew exactly how to play you.

So much for feminism. You clutched your hands into fists against the shower wall as a thought occurred. "The water bill is gonna be insane," you complained.

His laughter died down. "If you're thinking about the water bill while we're having sex -"

"Not everyone's rich!" You snapped at him over your shoulder.

Damian could barely contain himself. You were so fucking cute when you were angry. Looking up at him with those glassy eyes that tried too hard to narrow at him. Your pink lips were pouting, too. Inviting all kinds of bad intentions. He loved seeing your resolve crumble.

"Yeah," He gripped your thigh, his tone taunting. "Isn't it great?" He ground out. "You plebs work twenty-four-seven and get nothing, and I get whatever I want."

His fingers returned to your clit, now making rough little circles in excelerating speed. "Speaking of which..."

You weren't propared for the intense wave of pleasure. Your hands didn't know what to hold onto.

"I wanna see you come for me." He wispered against your ear.

"Ask nicely then!" You managed, determined not to indulge him until you got one win. Which was ironic, considering you were edged for the last thirty minutes, and you really, really could use an orgasm.

He let out a chuckle before biting your shoulder. "I wanna see you come for me. Now." The last words were spoken with fake sweetness as he began to thrust into you again. Roughly.

You tried to respond, but words didn't come to you. He'd done what you asked of him - made you forget. The only thing on your mind was his name: "Damian, Damian," which you panted over and over again.

"Gonna sleep so well tonight, baby." He cooed. "Gonna fuck you till you pass out."

You nodded eagerly, feeling that familiar warm feeling start in your core again. "Uh huh, yeah, yeah-"

The long anticipated orgasm had finally reached. You moaned and writhed through it for minutes, as Damian panted and moaned against you, letting the pleasure connect you as a whole.

You fought and lost to your exhation. Slumping against his hard body. You felt yourself be washed with gentle and careful hands, then wrapped in a towel and carried to your twin bed. You felt a silk material brushing against your skin, and guessed Damian must have found the nighty you left for yourself to wear after your shower.

As you were slipping in and out of awareness, your hand rose to hold him, weakly pulling him to you.

Damian dried himself and lay down behind you, wrapping you in his warm arms and turning you towards him. You were petite and fragile in his arms, so innocent and sweet. His brilliant, perfect girl.

As he watched your chest rise and fall with each calm breath you took in your sleep, Damian vowed three things: 1. He wouldn't let anyone else have a view of you like this. 2. He would bring you back to doing what you loved. And 3. He would never let anyone compromise your safety again.

[dancingwiththoughts]

Like Wildfire

Part 1 of ?

You guys new fan fiction <3 I'm writing the next part right now, but just realized I forgot to crosspost the first part on here lol here you go, part one

Lucifer didn’t really catch normal sicknesses. Angelic blood had its perks. He and Charlie would never get sick due to that fact.

Well, almost never. Once a year, Heaven would send down a virus to punish him for his actions before. It was highly contagious too. But luckily, it would happen at the same general time each year. Lilith would Always take Charlie away to their beach house for a few weeks until he healed, no neither of them caught it.

Sure, it was lonely, but Lucifer hadn’t wanted to risk getting either of them sick. Besides, it was never too bad. He would become feverish, and then his head, stomach, and body would hurt, but it was never unbearable. He would pretty much sleep it all off until his symptoms were gone, wait a week for good measure, and then Lillith and Charlie would come back. They had a system.

When he and Lillith split up, and she took Charlie, it made things less stressful in a way. He didn’t have to worry about infecting them anymore. It was a little harder on him, sure, but he was fine. It was the same procedure, sleep it off until he was better, just without the promise of his family returning to him.

But then he moved into the hotel, and with everything going on, he had completely forgotten about the sickness until he woke up unable to breathe through his nose. He had locked himself into the room, but it was a futile attempt. Charlie had come up not long after, wanting to know what he was doing. 

He had done his best to get her to leave, knowing how contagious it was, but she hadn’t listened, unlocking the door and checking on him.

Lucifer didn’t really blame her. She had been too young to remember the whole “Heaven sending down a virus” thing. But the damage had been done, and it spread like wildfire. 

Charlie and Vaggie were sick the next morning, and Angel and Niffty both had fevers by dinner. Husk then fell ill that night, and although he didn’t admit it, Lucifer could tell that Alastor was also sick. 

So within two days, everyone at the hotel had become ill. 

The executive decision had been made to close the hotel until everyone recovered. After all, they did not want to be the cause of a Hell wide epidemic. Everyone grabbed their stuff and made themselves comfortable in the lobby, after the silent acknowledgement that no one really wanted to be by themselves

Charlie and Vaggie took one side of the couch, Lucifer on the other side. Niffty took the spare armchair, creating herself a nest of sheets and pillows, and Husk and Angel made a blanket pile on the floor. They saved Alastor his armchair, even though he had yet to join them.

No one really had energy to do anything, so they all stared lazily at the small, old, crappy television while it played random programs. They switched back and forth a few times, eventually just letting the nature channel play. 

From what they had seen, Vox clearly had some odd taste in content.

“Hey, Al, could you get me some water?” Charlie called.

Lucifer winced at the congestion in her voice, feeling once again guilty.

“Of course, dear,” Alastor called back.

There was some audible shuffling, and the sound of the fridge opening. A few moments later, Alastor returned with six water bottles, setting them all down on the coffee table before picking one up and handing it to Charlie, patting on the head. Charlie smiled a little before coughing into her wrist, cuddling back into Vaggie.

“Anyone else need anything?” Alastor asked, glancing at the others.

“No, I think we’re good, thanks though,” Lucifer offered him a kind smile, which held a feeling he knew only Alastor would see.

Alastor’s gaze flickered for a moment, a small blush creeping up onto his cheeks before he turned on his heel and scurried out of the room. Lucifer chuckled quietly to himself, cracking open one of the water bottles on the table.

The hotelier had somehow managed to become the caretaker of the group. Seeing as how he was the only one who wasn’t sick, it made sense. Lucifer wasn’t too convinced he was healthy though. More like he was stubborn and drinking enough coffee to keep him functioning.

“Ugh, this sucks,” Angel groaned.

“Sorry,” Lucifer’s gaze fell downwards.

He felt pretty bad about getting everyone sick. After all, it was his own fault for forgetting about the curse. Could he call it a curse? It sure felt like one.

“Eh, it ain’t your fault,” Angel waved his hand dismissively,”I just need to bitch about it, don’t take it personal.”

Husk rolled his eyes,”Just keep it down so I can sleep.”

“Husk has a good point,” Vaggie yawned,”Some sleep would probably be a good idea. We have some time before lunch.”

“Okay!” Niffty exclaimed, scurrying unsteadily over to the lightswitch and darkening the room before stumbling back to her blanket pile on the chair and promptly falling asleep.

“Wait for me, Niff,” Husk grumbled, stretching out and closing his eyes.

Everyone snuggled into their blankets, getting comfortable. Lucifer watched them, not feeling particularly tired himself. He smiled, seeing Charlie curled up against Vaggie. They truly were a perfect pair, at least in Lucifer’s eyes.

He quietly got up, shuddering slightly at the shift of the congestion. He stepped over Angel and Husk and tiptoed towards the kitchen. He had heard Alastor doing something in there, although he wasn’t sure what.

Poking his head in, he was surprised to see Alastor sitting at the small table. His eyes were closed, breathing deeply through his nose. There was a slight whistle to it, almost as if he was congested. Lucifer rolled his eyes fondly, ruffling his already messy hair.

”Hey, sleepyhead, wake up.”

Alastor jolted slightly, ears perking up as he blinked, seemingly startled from his half asleep state.

“Hmm?”

His head turned to gaze at Lucifer, before he seemed to relax,”What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Bambi. Why are you sleeping at the table?”

“I wasn’t sleeping, just resting my eyes for a minute,” Alastor argued, voice crackling with pops of static.

“Well how about you ‘rest your eyes’ in the lobby with everyone else then?”

“I don’t need to.”

“Uh, yeah, you do. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the fact that you’re sick too. Do you think I’m dumb?”

Alastor seemed to tense for a moment at the mention of his ailment, before averting his gaze.

“I’m really fine…�� he mumbled.

Lucifer sighed. He knew Alastor would be difficult, but that didn’t make it any less upsetting. Although, it was clear he was tired, considering he hadn’t physically forced him away yet.

“You’re literally falling asleep as we speak. When was the last time you actually slept?”

Alastor didn’t respond, which Lucifer took as his answer.

“Alright, can you come lay down for a bit? I just want you to get some actual rest, alright?”

Rheumy red eyes flickered to gaze into his own before Alastor sighed, defeated.

“I suppose for a moment, but only if it gets you laying down too,” he lamented.

Lucifer smiled, ruffling Alastor’s hair again.

“Thank you. Now, your armchair’s open, or I could always make space for you next to me~” Lucifer teased, already guessing which one Alastor would choose.

“The chair is fine, thank you,” he leaned against Lucifer’s chest, “No need for anyone else to be made aware quite yet.”

“Alright, alright. At least you’re sleeping. Come on,” Lucifer took his hand, pulling him from the chair and guiding him towards the lobby. 

Everyone else was still fast asleep, congested snores and sniffles filling the space. Charlie and Vaggie were cuddled close, Charlie in a very… unique layout, practically draped over her angel. Niffty was completely out, curled in a ball and covered with her blanket. Husk was snoring loudly with his head thrown back, Angel leaning his head on his shoulder. Overall, everyone looked peaceful, despite not being too well.

Lucifer sat down in his spot, turning to Alastor,”Alright, I held up my end of the deal, your turn.”

Alastor rolled his eyes, but made his way to the armchair. Lucifer noticed the slight stumble in his step, but didn’t comment on it; pointing it out wouldn’t be worth risking causing Alastor to resist him further.

The Radio Demon let out a yawn as he stretched out in the chair, scrubbing at his eyes. Lucifer laughed quietly, pulling the decorative blanket from the back of the couch and draping it around Alastor’s shoulders. Alastor made a face, staring at the knitted fabric as if it insulted his overlord status.

“This pattern is atrocious; what is it with you and your tacky circus decor?” he rasped irritably. 

Lucifer rolled his eyes, “How is that ‘tacky circus decor’? It’s just a red and orange patterned blanket. What, do you hate all things with style?”

“You and I have very different ideas of ‘style’,” Alastor sniffled indignantly.

Despite his apparent dislike of the blanket, he bundled into the fabric, getting comfortable. Lucifer smirked at him, receiving a watery glare.

“You’re much less menacing when you’ve got the angelic flu,” Lucifer teased.

“Oh shush, not all of us have angelic blood to magically cure all our ailments,” he huffed in rebuttal.

“Yeah yeah, well angelic blood doesn’t make a difference with this one, it’s straight punishment from Heaven itself. You know, I don't even know how-” Lucifer raised his eyebrow, pausing when he saw how Alastor’s head tipped forwards, his eyes closed and breath evening out.

Lucifer smiled softly, moving next to Alastor and readjusting the blanket that was slowly starting to slip from his shoulders. He made sure he was comfortable, before returning to his own seat and letting out yawn. 

Sure, he himself was on the mend, but a little more rest wouldn’t hurt, he decided as his eyes slipped shut, falling into a content sleep.

[brightdarkness-2013]

Chapter 11: Welp I'm Late! Again!

Summary:Prowl escapes the tank.

Notes: This is more about mers and basic information and a heads up on the situation.

Prowl was shunning me. He did however shift over to the side of tank when Blaster came by. Then when I came by he’d turn around. This was not how I wanted things to go when I saw him again. I suppose I did get him locked up in a confined tank. At least he didn’t straight up jet to the other side and eye me warily like he did with everyone else.

The water was filled with dissolved supplements and medication to boost his immune system and help him to heal. Everything that went in was checked and double checked including food much like for the other one in the next room. However at least Prowl ate and rested. The other would pace despite his wounds and refused to eat anything we offered him. Fish was a no. Shellfish didn’t even result in any investigation. Cleaning out the decaying fish was troublesome with how aggressive he acted. He snapped at anything that entered to try and clean the tank. Lunged at the sides when anyone got too close. Ratchet was pissed that we had to drug him each time we had to clean the tank almost as much as the fact that he kept reopening his wounds. Aid was worrying over the possibility of infection and starvation.

I was sure Ratchet was getting close to the point of suggesting we tie him down and shove the fish down his throat. After a time Arcee suggested that we just don’t even offer food for a few days if he was just going to refuse it and boost his probability of infection. That was a straight up no and a lecture from here to hell and back. Then Eric, a.k.a. Mirage suggested live ‘prey’ to add some familiarity to the ocean. However that was ejected over the fact that there was no way he was going to be able to catch anything in his state even if it was a confine space. It was a good idea, but encouraging him to move was not. We were officially running out of options and force feeding was quickly climbing up the list.

Prowl was healing fine, but he wouldn’t be returning to the ocean anytime soon. Even if the other started cooperating and healed they wouldn’t be able to survive long out there. Then there was the fact that they would no doubt return to the bridge to cause trouble. It was where their nest had been and they all seemed pretty convinced that they were trying to take back the area. They did have nowhere else to go and it was hard to find a safe place to build a nest as it was and to find another when they only had one other pod member was suicide. They were stuck by the shore. The only other option was to try and merge one broken pod with another.

However that was harder than it sounded. A broken pod was wary and adding just one member was difficult as it was. Putting two different pods together was much harder. Sometimes it worked and other times, which tended it be more often, it did not and ended in a fierce fight if there wasn’t enough space. That was the reason there was one main tank that was nearly three times as large as a standard tank in the back that was commonly called the merger. Well Blurr called it the bloodbath behind Ratchets back. It usually kept them from fighting over territory in a new space. If they separated themselves from each other for longer than a two week period without any sign of curiosity of the other or others or showed too much aggression in that time it was a pretty clear indication that they weren’t willing to merge.

So far it was clear Geminus Avium or the dual winged mers that formed trines would not join a pod. They flat out refused to and only merged with others of its kind. Magis Avium or the winged would merge with practically any pod if accepted from both sides from what they had seen over the years. Very few pods that held a winged mer would rarely have more than one. Magis Parvus or the minis as they were dubbed would either be in a pod of just minis or they would seek out larger mer pods. Fractura Videte on the other hand were even smaller and they had a different relationship and were much easier. They would hatch together and stick together and find a larger mer in another pod and would obey only that mer from the pod. Latching on until ordered to assist in some way such as herding prey out of small areas and would be given a portion of the meal. There were other types like the practically mythical titans that had barely been seen in even passing and accidents. However the other types were pretty easy going and were willing to mix and match most of the time.

Nothing was going to happen, no merging, if Prowls pod mate over in the next room kept acting the way he was. Then things just got worse. He had just froze for a second, ear fins twitching, before he started whistling and howling loudly. Then Prowl had gotten active. Testing the tank and swimming up to the top and peeking out before going back under before whistling back in a more subdued manner. The constant noise from the larger one was giving everyone a headache and was just an annoyance for a time. It wouldn’t do to put them together in such a cramped area and we couldn’t just double the dosage in the tank. It would be too much for one of them, most likely Prowl, and getting them high and causing damage was not the goal. We could handle the sounds and deal with the situation until we could put them together. That is before Prowl had decided to leap up onto the feeding stand and drag himself down the steps and to the door that led to the next room where he clawed at it in frustration until someone came.

We had put them together after some debate. After treating Prowl from new scrapes from the stairs of course. Neither one would get enough from a single dose, but Ratchet had just sighed and said he’d work something out with Aid. No point in keeping them separated if Prowl was just going to escape the tank and the other was just going to ram the tank and howl. One of these days Prowl would probably figure out how to open a door and make it to the other tank on his own anyway.

Next

First

Masterpost

[milla984]

Lean on Me

Summary: Spencer is feeling under the weather and tooth-rotting fluff is the only thing I can think about

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: fluff

TW/CW: brief mention of Diana Reid’s illness, implied/referenced opioid addiction

Word Count: 1.6k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved 

The following work is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins CM Comfort Fic Challenge

You turned the tv off and stretched your neck, muffling a yawn with the back of your hand. The cadenced tapping of light raindrops on the window echoed in the living room and you could hear the distant splashing of wheels, together with the occasional sirens and honking in the streets.

Spencer had been fast asleep on the opposite corner of his couch for almost an hour, his chest rising at a regular pace. Six days without seeing each other and all he’d seemed interested in was having dinner and watching Doctor Who at a reasonable distance from you, ruling out any possibility of physical interaction.

Sometimes you got worried that you two becoming an item forced him to de-prioritize his needs in order to favor your own, when the only thing he craved after a long and stressful week at work was to be left alone, surrounded by his books; you pictured him rambling about random topics even in his dreams and waking him up was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Spencer… I think you should go to bed,” you whispered.

He rubbed his eyes and straightened himself up to check the wristwatch he wore over the left sleeve. “So soon? We’re not even halfway through the serial.”

“Sorry to break it to you but you missed everything after the first episode. You were basically snoring,” you informed him as you tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.

Spencer’s mouth turned into a perfect round shape once the realization sank in. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh no, you would never do that to Tom Baker,” you smiled.

Drowsy Dr. Reid was one of the cutest things you’d ever seen, though you caught a sudden grimace on his face. “What’s wrong?”

His temples were beaded with tiny droplets of sweat, a detail you hadn’t noticed before because of the dimmed lights; Spencer winced and wrinkled his nose, as he often did to express various degrees of discomfort. “I’m fine.”

“You’re paler than usual. Are you sure you’re not running a fever?”

“It’s nothing serious,” he answered in a rush while he jumped to his feet to avoid you touching his forehead, only to shrug a few seconds later as a silent confession he wasn’t fine at all.

“Nothing serious, uh-huh… interesting choice of words for a genius who can drop ‘sesquipedalian’ in a casual conversation.”

Spencer gave you an enthusiastic look. “Have you ever thought about the fact that ‘sesquipedalian’ is inherently sesquipedalian? It’s kinda funny,” he laughed nervously, but at the sight of your eyebrow raised in a disapproving frown he sighed.

“I’m really tired and my head hurts. It’s a physiological effect caused by the release of cytokines, a category of small proteins involved in the promotion of the inflammatory response. A textbook example of a rhinovirus infection.”

All the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place and you stood up to tug at the unbuttoned bands of his knitted cardigan. “Is that why you’ve been acting all distant tonight?”

“I should have canceled our plans,” he nodded, making his curls bounce in the process, “when I realized I was coming down with a cold I—”

His skin felt slightly hot when you locked your fingers behind his neck. “Maybe this can help you feel a little bit better.”

You pressed your body against his while you rubbed the tip of your noses together, waiting for him to wrap his arms around your waist; when you pulled him closer he welcomed your kiss with an ecstatic moan, even though he sighed soon after in a non-verbal attempt to manifest some concern.

“Not to put a damper on this moment but person-to-person contact is such a bad idea,” he pointed out in a soft tone, still holding you tight.

“What happened to ‘safer than a handshake’?” you joked while his stubble tickled your cheek, and it was his turn to raise his eyebrows in disapproval.

“It’s not if I’m sick!”

“Then I want you to go to bed. Now,” you replied.

You didn’t require advanced profiling skills to tell that expert in all-things nerdy Spencer Reid falling asleep in front of his favorite Doctor was the perfect indication he was literally exhausted, yet he shook his head again.

“When I was a kid my mom tucked me in and let me watch my favorite movie if I wasn’t feeling well,” he mumbled, “but after she started having her episodes more and more often I…” he paused and lowered his head - the weight of those memories heavy on his heart. Despite his height he always appeared tiny and vulnerable at the mere mention of his mother’s illness.

“I was always afraid something bad would happen if I slept too much.”

You squeezed him so hard the buckle of his belt hurt your belly and you nipped at his neck, your own personal fight or flight response to any situation involving his family issues; he’d grown so used to his position as a caregiver for Diana he struggled to accept the idea she wasn’t the only one who deserved to feel protected and cared for.

“How about I stay a little longer? I’ll make you a cup of tea,” you proposed, and he looked at you flashing his best doe-eyed, innocent stare.

“With honey?”

You would have served him tea with a cupcake made of moonbeams and sprinkled with starlight, if it were possible; you kissed him a second time, which prompted him to giggle before he reluctantly let go of you.

You walked into the kitchen and filled a small pot with water, then you prepared a mug on the kitchen counter dropping a rustic-looking muslin bag inside. Bless Penelope and her latest birthday present - a square tin box decorated with vintage-style flowers and filled to the brim with a blend of green tea, cocoa bean husks, spices and vanilla. 

She would have never admitted the tea was a bland attempt to reduce Spencer’s daily caffeine intake, claiming the pièce de résistance was the very Garcia-ish container, and you were glad she was the sweetest, bubbliest and smartest best friend he could have ever hoped for.

“You haven’t changed your mind about Ten, right?” Spencer’s voice echoed through the walls and you let out an outraged gasp.

“I hope that wasn’t an honest question,” you shrieked while you scooped a generous amount of honey out of the jar. “He’s the best. End of discussion.”    

The two of you had been arguing for months about each other’s preferences and all the same he was still clueless as to why you were such a fan of the tenth incarnation in particular. “I mean, it’s just… what is it about him, exactly?! He—”

“He’s clever and funny, wears glasses and Converse are his trademark?” you completed his sentence coming back into the living room and he began fiddling with the remote, a perplexed expression on his face. Running a fever was slowing down his reaction time, so you clarified. “I guess I have a type.”

Instead of coming up with a brilliant remark he pressed the play button, in a not so subtle attempt to hide the embarrassing rush of blood to his cheeks as you offered him the hot drink and sat beside him on the couch.

“Thanks,” he managed to say before he erupted into a bad coughing fit.

You stroked his back and waited for his breathing to return to normal; you refrained from suggesting over-the-counter or prescribed medications as a helpful remedy to get temporary relief, due to the percentage of alcohol and codeine contained in a good number of cold syrups.

“Sounds like you’re getting worse.”  

He carefully sipped his tea. “Common cold symptoms last for five days, on average. I’ll be okay, I don’t want you to worry,” he said and raised his wonderful hazel eyes to stare right into your soul.

“I’m not worried, I am…” you faltered, unable to hide the truth from him, “... reasonably anxious?!”

You bit your lips when Spencer caressed your knee, fighting the strong desire to grab him by his tie and guide his mouth over yours. Luckily the DVD player came to the rescue and the famous music theme distracted you, while the main menu kept appearing on screen; you took the mug from him and put it on the coffee table, and once you got hold of the remote you patted on your legs.

He accepted your invitation to use them as a pillow, since there wasn’t one available, snuggling up against you - his back resting on your chest, his hand raised to support his chin. You scrolled through the title list and even if you couldn't really see him you knew he was smiling, because he had indeed switched the previous disk with another one.

You selected the first episode and let your fingertips play with Spencer’s tousled curls, revelling for a few seconds in the thought of ripping his clothes off to commit unmentionable acts of sinful nature; by the time the Adipose mothership arrived on Earth he was out, and you resigned yourself to a restless night in the company of the Tenth Doctor.

You envied people who could fall asleep effortlessly even if they were miles away from home. As a creature of habit you found the smallest changes to be upsetting, and staying at a friend’s place or a hotel for you often translated into hours of tossing and turning.

Nevertheless (and much to your surprise) a new sense of security came from the body weight and warmth of the man you were cradling in your lap: the semi-darkness in his apartment made it resemble a painting by Wilfred Jenkins, and before you drifted into a serene slumber you realized that the overall atmosphere felt soothing and intimate.

And that you were irremediably in love with Spencer Reid.

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

»—— Gifset Masterlist link in my bio ——«

[mywifeellie]

Just Like Me Chapter 1 (Test Chapter)

Ellie Williams X Immune!Reader

18+ only: Ageless blogs wil be blocked

Another immune person was something both you and Ellie had let go of the idea of a long time ago. When you find each other though, the world starts to make sense in a completely different way then both of you would have ever expected. As you two discover what it means to know each other, someone who gets something no one else seems to, can you make it out of it all alive?

Tags: (Will be tagged by chapter), Ellie X Reader, Immune!Reader, non graphic injury descriptions, Gun, She threatens it with you a little, This is so short but I wanna test the waters

When Ellie found you unconscious in the woods she couldn’t fathom what you could possibly be doing out there alive. You seemed to have barely any supplies and no gear for the rainy weather this time of year. Your leg had a long slice down the side and your head had a large bump that had scabbed over. Your shoulder had an arrow wound with splintering still stuck in various spots. Who knew how many bumps and bruises were under your clothes where a first check couldn’t see. You were in rough shape but she couldn’t just leave you to die there.

She took you to the nearest safety checkpoint she knew, trying to be as careful as possible with your various injuries. You looked sickly, and your wounds looked nasty. Keeping you on the horse was hard, your limp body useless to staying upright, Luckily Shimmer knew the trail well so Ellie could keep good attention on you most of the way.

She did her best to patch you up with what she had. Wrapping your leg cleaning at the open area on your shoulder until someone more qualified could wrap it properly. Little wounds were cleaned and patched wherever she found them. Anytime you were moved she notes your breaths were shallow and when you had a response you seemed to be favoring your side. Broken or bruised ribs maybe? She couldn’t be sure but she could wrap it to keep it from moving too much and hope it wasn't stabbing through anything crucial.

If you had been moving with it, she really had to give you kudos for that one. She grabbed the bandages and got to work trying to wrap your lower ribs the best she could around your dead weight. 

It was then when she noticed it. The bumpy discolored flesh of the edge of a bite. She froze and her eyes flickered up at you and then back to the spot. She shakily pushed your shirt up further to examine it. No mistake that it was clearly from an infected. Had she just wasted time patching an infected in progress? 

No.She gasped as she processed what she was seeing. Your wound looked like hers. It looked old and healed over, as if you had it for longer than the time you should have been infected. Could it be? Could she have actually accidentally stumbled upon someone else who was immune?

She couldn’t get too hopeful. If you woke up slashing and biting she’d have no choice but to take your life. But if she was ready… would it be worth the wait to check? Would you even wake up if she couldn’t get you to Jackson?

You groaned, snapping her out of her thoughts as her eyes locked on your face. You didn’t wake though. But you had shown signs you weren’t dead just yet so despite the warning signs she didn’t move. Instead she slid your shirt back over your wound and finished wrapping your ribs, and then placed herself a safe distance away with her shotgun ready. If you were unsafe she would blow your head off and if you were safe.. She wasn’t sure. 

Now all she could do though was wait and see.

–

When you did wake up it wasn’t screaming and looking for the nearest hunt, it was whining in pain and trying hard to understand if you were in danger from the gun pointed at you across the room. You moved so slowly sitting up and there was no gunshot. The room was shaded with only a bit of light coming through some boarded windows, and the air was old despite its cold crisp. 

You assessed that your head had something on it and that your shoulder hurt like a bitch. Your ribs were making it hard to do more than take a few small breaths at a time. You realized your ribs were wrapped the longer you focused. Oh no, had they- Your hand flew to your side to clutch at it.

“The bite.” You felt ice cold blood run through you as the fear set in. They had seen it, and didn’t sound pleased. “How god damn old is it?” Her voice was rough, like she hadn’t been using it for a while, but strong with confidence nonetheless. Her eyes were dark with something you couldn’t identify. Her face was hard set and her gun was held by a steady hand.

“It’s old. It’s old!” You gasped out. “Please believe me. I’m not infected, Not really. It’s been years. ” Your eyes welled with stressed tears and pain as your breathing picked up against your ribs. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You didn’t want to die here alone at the hands of a stranger. Your eyes couldn’t move off the shotgun, aimed squarely for the center for your skull. “Please.”

But to your surprise the gun lowered a bit. “You’re not lyin’ to live? That bite’s really that old?” She squinted. “If you make one wrong move I’ll have to shoot you, so don’t waste my time if that’s you telling me a tale.”

You nodded your head slowly. “It is. I promise. I don’t know how- I just never turned. I swear I wouldn’t lie.”

The gun lowered into her lap and her hand moved to the sleeve of her right arm. You watched her curiously as she took a deep breath and slowly pulled up her own sleeve to show you something. The bite was just like yours. Or almost. It looked less like a bite, but the discoloration and the bumpiness was hard to mistake when you knew what yours looked like. Your jaw dropped. “That’s- I was told I was the only one.”

She nodded. “I just never found anyone else.” Her sleeve was put back down and she pushed herself to her feet, her gun left to the floor. She sighed and gave you a long stare that made you avert your eyes a bit. Then after a pause that was just slightly too long she spoke.

“You should sleep more. I need to take you to see someone who can heal you up right, and you can’t travel if I can’t keep you awake on Shimmer. I know someone who can help who won’t mind your bite.” You find yourself nodding slowly.  You found that you trusted her not to try anything funny, and after knowing that you shared something so important you doubted she’d let anything happen to you if she could help it. After all she had gone through so much effort to save your life out there. . Without a fight you shut your eyes and let your mind, reeling with new information, take you off to sleep.

[hyrules-warrior]

Imagine what Ellie and Joel’s first days, weeks even months would be like in Jackson. They would struggle so much to adjust if they even could fully after what they went through.

The only people Ellie has encountered since the last time she was in Jackson all tried to kill her and Joel. Between everything with David and his people and the fireflies that threw the flashbang at them, people are dangerous and Jackson has SO many people. She doesn’t go anywhere without Joel and panics if someone gets too close or touches her. She sticks close to Joel’s right side so she can keep an eye out since he can’t hear things approaching as well from that side. If there is something she thinks he hasn’t noticed she will lightly touch his side to direct his focus over there. If she wants to talk to him a light tug on his arm or hand has him tilting his head down so he doesn’t miss what she says. 

The only people Joel has encountered since the last time he was in Jackson have all tried to kill Ellie. Between the whole nightmare that was Silver Lake and then Marlene and her fireflies people pose a threat to her safety. Everyone is suspicious and he is even a bit ashamed at his caution around his own brother. He used to be a firefly after all and his wife Maria gives him dagger eyes every time she sees him. He is respectful but tight lipped with everyone, not open to chit chat and friendly conversation. The amount of times he has almost punched a person he thought was getting too close or too friendly would probably get him booted from Jackson if Maria knew.

They both panic if the other is out of their sight. Any time they have been separated from each other it has only lead to one of them getting hurt or almost killed. They can’t keep each other safe if they aren’t together. They go everywhere together, tucked close and their heads always on the swivel looking for danger. 

Ellie flat out refuses to go to school and Joel doesn’t make her. All she had to say was that David had been a teacher and he was 100% in agreement about her not having to go. Ellie finds the kids in Jackson to be annoying at best and totally foreign at worst anyway. She just can’t relate to them. They complain about what meal hall is serving (how could you ever complain about food when it can be so scarce?, when it can be days between meals?). They boast about the day they will get to kill infected and be on patrol, shoot a gun, hunt an animal.... all things she has done many times before and she has done even worse. She has a kill count of both infected and people and it’s not something to boast about.

They set up a defensible sleeping spot in the living room of their house. They push the furniture around to keep them hidden out of sight, drag the mattresses from their beds down there and all the blankets and pillows and make a safe nest to sleep. Every night when it’s time for bed Joel walks the outside perimeter of the house checking for anything suspicious and making sure it’s secure from the outside. Inside, Ellie double checks the window locks and back door lock, closes the curtains and pushes a kitchen chair under the back door handle. It takes both of them to push the heavy bookshelf across the front door when Joel returns from his check. It’s weeks before they stop trading watch shifts during the night. 

They have their backpacks packed and ready to go always. They often walk around Jackson wearing them, reluctant to be without gear should they need to escape. In the house they stay right by the door with their jackets. Shoes always stay on their feet even inside.

They have a hard time adjusting to, well, the concept of time. For them, days start at sunrise and end at sunset regardless of time of year. The main meal of the day is when they stop to camp for the night. Other then that it’s quick nibbles throughout the day on the trail. So needing to wake up at certain times and be at the meal hall at certain times is a struggle at first. 3 meals a day is great but it’s such a foreign concept to them at this point. 

They are also used to sharing food. After losing the camp stove and most of their camp supplies when they lost the truck, they pretty much just share food right from the can, passing it back and forth as they take bites. Or tearing off bites of meat from the same cooked rabbit, breaking pieces of jerky or other hardtack in half and sharing. It becomes second nature to eat this way, especially after Silver Lake. Ellie is suspicious of any food she hasn’t hunted herself or seen Joel eat first. So they take their shares of food from meal hall and dump it onto a single plate and eat from it, Ellie usually passing all the red meat to Joel’s side of the plate and he gives her the entire double serving of anything she starts eating (much to Ellie’s frustration sometimes, he really needs to stop always giving the bigger share of food to her). 

The only time they weirdly seem to relax in the slightest is when they go outside the walls together. It’s dangerous outside of course, but it is a danger they understand and all of their “habits” as Maria calls them (Joel calls it survival instincts) make sense out there. Ellie comes with Joel on patrols despite all the arguing about her being too young. She won’t be separated from him, especially if he is leaving the “safety” of Jackson (he won’t be safe out there if she isn’t with him!).

Separation anxiety, codependency.... these words get thrown around a lot in regards to them by people in Jackson (Maria especially likes to toss those out like it’s a bad thing Joel himself made happen). Joel knows it’s probably not the healthiest that they are like this but it works, it has kept them safe and alive so he isn’t keen to try and do different.

[frogsmulder]

When the Ice Melts

chapter 3/4, prev chapter

Mulder and Scully hook up before Mulder is locked up in storage, and she comes to believe that he was infected; 800 words; rated e; tagging @today-in-fic

Read on AO3

At half six, Mulder’s alarm wakes her from a restless sleep she didn’t know she had fallen into. She lies awake facing the ceiling, listening to the ringing of the bell absently for a while then leans over to turn it off. Peering round the door edge, Scully scouts the corridor for any signs of movement before crossing to her own door unnoticed.

The thought of him still at the front of her mind, she finds herself back at the red door, but can’t bring herself to open it–despite wanting to so desperately–for fear of what she might see. Pulling herself away again, Scully stops and looks back. An ache in her stomach and her mouth dry, she swallows, warring with herself. After a long second she goes, leaving the handle untouched, as though she were never there, the thought of seeing him never existing. He can’t possibly know she was there, but she wants him to nevertheless.

As she enters the lab room, her footsteps slow. Da Silva is asleep on a desk, her neck perfectly poised. The idea leaps like sin into her mind and she approaches slowly with caution. If she can prove it isn’t Mulder that is infected, she can free him; she wouldn’t be alone anymore. Her heart thrums in her chest, racing ahead of herself. She wouldn’t be trapped; she could free herself. With trembling fingers she reaches up to brush away the hair from her neck. A hand pulls her away abruptly. She gasps and Da Silva yelps.

“What were you doing?” The sound of Hodges voice grates more than his vice-like grip.

With clenched teeth she answers, “You know what I was doing.”

“You know, I can’t help thinking, Agent Scully, you're the only one with a gun.” There's the hint of something between a snarl and grin playing at his lips while his eyes remain cool. It's as if he knows exactly how to play her: how to rile her. “If you get infected we don’t stand a chance, do we?”

Taking out the magazines of both her guns, she holds them high and marches to the end door, where she hurls them into the freezing, falling snow. Jaw set, she walks slowly back, maintaining gaze with Hodge to make her opinions painfully sharp.

Da Silva timidly touches the back of her neck and looks up to her. “Was there something there?”

Hodge interrupts before Scully can reply, placing a comforting arm on Da Silva's shoulder; the familiarity of the gesture turns something sour in Scully’s stomach. “You're okay Nancy,” He doesn’t take his eyes off Scully as he makes his point. “We’re all okay. Now is not the time for the three of us to break down and turn on each other.”

She steps forward, her skin hot and palms clammy. “There’s four of us.”

“Mulder is not one of us anymore.”

She bubbles and boils over and snaps, “If Mulder is infected, it’s not his fault! We can’t turn our backs on him now; he needs us to help him!”

“She’s right.” Da Silva speaks with a calm tone that takes Scully by surprise. “Who knows what prolonged exposure to the parasite could do to him? It could damage him to the point of permanent psychosis.”

“But if he is infected, he doesn’t go back. I won’t risk the possibilities 

.....

“No, dammit! What did I just get through telling you? You just infected already infected blood. Now we have to start all over again!”

“I made a mistake; you don’t have to yell at me.”

The shouts come thick and fast from the lab area, abrupt and all at once. Scully looks up from the notes of her own report to catch the commotion. 

“Wasted hours of work!”

“Okay! Well maybe you should just do it by yourself, dammit…”

She walks in as they leave still firing with tension and she wonders what she would have found had she tried to check Hodge’s neck. Their hollers continue in the distance and from their tones she can tell there is an underlying mistrust between them, a lack of respect and equality that turns their arguments bitter and resentful. 

The lab is a mess of scattered samples and paper but in the middle of it all, Scully peers down the eyepiece of the microscope, adjusting the height of the slide to focus the image. Her breath catches as she watches. It couldn't be that simple could it? The larvae continue to squirm and jab at each other, acting out the violent behaviour they would in humans. 

Two worms… 

Their attacks slow. 

… in one host… 

Finally, they both lie still, killed by the other. 

… will kill each other. 

Her head shoots up, eyes wide with realisation. Mulder. She needs Mulder. 

[bengiyo]

Bed Friend Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Last time, Bed Friend surprised me with his much more there was to this than just two dudes having sex on a table (looking at you, Check Out). Uea is a mess from the abuse his mom inflicted upon him, and decided to punish himself after a drunken encounter with King. I don't think King should have had sex with Uea in those circumstances. I love Jade, and am anticipating Middleman's Love now.

Do cars not come with spare tires in Thailand??

I'm really gonna need King to stop locking himself in rooms with Uea.

The way time moves in Thai BL is so weird. The sun was up when they left work, but now it's after dark.

I don't like Uea's mom. I'll probably say this a lot, but I hate the way she talks to him and expects him to give her money.

Okay, I admit I really like these two getting tested after that encounter. I've been catching up on Gay OK Bangkok, and I'm sure the TestBKK folks will be curious about this. They're even committing to masks in a hospital.

Big fan of them going through a questionnaire separately and Uea asking follow up questions. This is really important. Thai LGBT people have some of the highest infection rates in the world.

Why are we taking the masks off??

I'm glad they're negative, but I'm fairly certain HIV wouldn't show up in a blood test for a few weeks at least from the encounter they had with each other? I suppose it would have given either a chance to make immediate choices about an exposure, even though King reminds us he used protection.

I am glad we got to see a small smile from Uea about King. Sometimes these shows don't do a good job assuring the audience that traumatized characters are actually enjoying someone pursuing them because they are acting as if they don't like the attention.

Net's eyes are so big.

I think it's good for King to speak plainly about his relationship history and his feelings on sex with Uea before leading into a proposition.

I really don't mind them being fuck buddies, but, like we saw on The Warp Effect with Kat's partners, I think both of them have feelings.

This action is not HR-approved, King.

I really like the Jade character for Yim.

I also like nepotism as a plotline in a workplace show.

I'm not surprised Uea is making mistakes at work. I suspect he's working all the overtime and not going out with folks because he has to send so much money to his mom.

I'm gonna need the fashionistas on here to talk about Uea's outfits, especially these purses.

I'm a fan of the way King is trying to establish trust with Uea.

Oh, I do like the way the entering the condo scene was shot.

Crotch touching in BL? It's more likely than you think!

I like Uea pushing King back on to the couch, redoing his buttons, and then undoing them. I got that he's asserting that they will proceed at his discretion.

James has a very nice body. That was actually pretty hot.

Drama with Pock next week, and some possessiveness from King!

[angels-gen]

-Discovering The Mesh-

A knock sounded sounded on the door, breaking my attention from a floating screen; I looked up and noticed Titanic walking up to me with her arms crossed.

"You know we're supposed to be asleep right?" She asked as I swiped away a screen as it floated up top. "I know, I'm just busy checking on everyone else is all. I'll be back to our room, I promise." I said as I looked over at another floating screen, she sighed as she leaned on my desk.

"Fine, but why do you need to check up on anyone anyway?" She said as she looked at a floating screen I had swiped away, watching another Titanic smiling through the screen. "It's not like something bad is gonna happen, you know?" I scoffed, "that's what you think; it's not always the case to be honest." She giggled as she looked over at another timeline and universe.

"What's this?" I looked over at Titanic, my face paled as I realised the universe she was looking at. "Don't touch that." She jumped, a bit taken back as she'd never seen me react this way. "Sorry… it's just… that universe… that timeline…" she knelt down, holding my hand. "Hey… I'm just curious that's all, but why the sudden reaction? You know you can tell me, we're twins." I looked into her ice blue eyes, the same colour as mine. "Olympic, please tell me…" I sighed, "I-i… I don't k-know… it's just like that… I'm not sure what even happened in that timeline…" I said, my eyes cast downwards. Usually I'd have an answer, but for this I don't know. Titanic stood up before pulling me into a tight hug, "well whatever it is, we definitely shouldn't be telling Britannic about this." I nodded as hugged back; she let go as she walked over to the door.

"I'm gonna go tell Britannic you'd be back soon. Don't stay up too late~" I chuckled as she left, before turning my attention to the floating screen Titanic was looking at. Unlike all the other screens, this one glowed red and at the bottom it read 'UNIVERSE 01'. I furrowed my brows; Universe 01? What does that mean? Usually it says the name of the universe not the number. I shook my head as walked over to the door, I don't think the Olympic in that timeline knows she's been infected; but by what exactly?

I sighed, walking out the door and locking it before I left. Whatever that thing is that's on my ship in that universe, in that timeline. Needs to be investigated. Immediately.

~

I woke up in a cold sweat, panting from a nightmare again. While Titanic's sinking has now been debunked, I'm now plagued with much newer ones. Ones that are more gruesome and terrifying. I feel powerless against these nightmares; usually Titanic helps me with them but these are too horrific for her too see.

I looked out the window, the moonlight shining through the curtains. I sighed and got up, about to walk to the door when I suddenly collapsed, my energy drained almost to the max. I looked over at Titanic to see her staring at me from her bed; I looked away as I tried to get up again. But failed miserably, my eyes getting a little heavier with each passing second. I felt myself be picked up off the floor before being violently shaken by my sister.

'Are you insane!?' My head rang with Titanic's voice in it. I glared at her sleepily 'why are you still up?' 'I heard you wake up from a nightmare.' I winced at the thought of the nightmare. 'I'm fine…' I thought looking away; Titanic grabbed my face and made me look her dead in the eyes 'no. You're not.' Her ice blue eyes more piercing than usual; I sighed as she let my face go. I looked over at Britannic, who's passed out, deep in slumber before sighing and motioning Titanic to follow me.

"Why are we going back to the room? Also what have you been dreaming about? Why aren't you telling me anything right now—" "shhh." I covered Titanic's mouth as I heard footsteps pass by; I let out a sigh of relief as I let go of my sister. "Why are you so on edge? You own that room and only you and I can access it, why are you acting like it's illegal to go there?" I grabbed Titanic's hand as we quickly went in the room, the blue glow and slight hum of the many screens floating above filled the sparsely decorated room.

I sat at my desk, going through each and every single universe and timeline to make sure everything was alright. Before turning my attention to the glowing red screen floating a little off the side, away from all the blue.

I looked through the timeline of the universe; nothing seems to be adding up. Titanic watched as the timeline played out, growing more and more confused with every passing memory being played out.

"W-why's this d…different…?" Titanic asked, her voice giving away how scared she was. "I don't know… but something's not right with this universe." She nodded in agreement, leaning against my chair as we watched Britannic exploding. She winced, watching our sister take mere seconds to go under. "T-this is way too different… normally all the timelines are the same as the original, but this… I'm alive and you're alive. But Britannic… oh, our sister…" I nodded as sighed in disbelief. "I need to investigate this further." A chuckle escaped Titanic, a sound so sickly sweet and melodious "so what? You're gonna go to that timeline alone or something?" I bit my lip, I thought of it; but in doing so it means that I'm leaving my sisters behind. Not to mention my own girlfriend would be worried as fuck. "In a universe like this it'd be best for just one person to go—" "you're insane if you think I'm letting you leave us behind!" I kept quiet, I know she knows I've been thinking about it. "Look, it's just that it looks too dangerous for all of us to go there." "And you think I don't know that? I've been following you throughout your whole life. Your whole career. Watching you, wishing we'd see eachother again. And we did, we finally did! But now you're just gonna throw all that away just because of some timeline that's fucked up!?" Tears streamed down Titanic's face as she sniffled, as much as I hate to admit. My sister was right. We'd been waiting for too long to see eachother; but this timeline is off. It feels dangerous.

"This timeline feels like it has a parasite, and I want to investigate what it does…" I said as I wiped my sister's tears away. "Like Host and Parasite?" I nodded "almost, but this feels different… it feels dangerous…" Titanic shivered, feeling a little bit frightened by what that could mean. "You mean this parasite is different from Parasite…?" I nodded, as we both stared at the screen, watching a flesh eating blob consume someone.

"Only thing we can do is just watch for now…"

-

Well this took a while—

[bonniehooper]

COMMUNITY REWATCH, 2x06: "Epidemiology"

-HALLOWEEN EPISODE!!!!

-Why is George Takai doing the voiceover for this episode?

-Well, this Halloween party definitely looks better than season one's.

-I forgot Dean Pelton was dressed Gaga. He looks great.

-Britta as a dinosaur is so cute. I love that they gave Gillian the cutest costumes last season and this season.

-Annie as Little Red Riding Hood is also really cute.

-Okay, Shirley is clearly dressed like Glinda from The Wizard of Oz, but I get the Miss Piggy joke since she is talking like her.

-Rich from Pottery class? I genuinely don't remember him coming back into the show.

-Is Abed and Troy's costume supposed to be Alien related?

-How did the taco meat turn Pierce into a zombie?!?!

-Love the Halloween intro.

-How do you guys not realize that everyone is turning into Zombies?

-I can't believe Troy just put some toilet paper around his neck and wrist and decided he was a "sexy Dracula".

-Rich, Annie, now is not the time to be flirting.

-Dean Pelton please stop being attracted to the disembodied voice on the phone.

-I love how even in zombie mode, Leonard leaves Shirley alone when she threatens him.

-Annie: "There's some kind of infection at the party making people act weird and bite each other. We need to coordinate an evacuation without causing unnecessary panic." *cut to leonard biting someone* Troy: "Holy crap, Leonard's a zombie." Well, there went that idea.

-*dean pelton locks the doors to the library so no one can leave* Jeff: (pulling on the door) "um? UM?"

-*jeff punches a lady dressed as a bee* Troy: "You punched a lady bee!"

-Troy: "Shouldn't we be barricading the room?" Abed: "I don't know. These guys don't seem so-" *looks out the window to see a bunch of hungry zombies* "I will help you."

-*shows rich checking to see if he was bit and he was* God damn it, Rich!!

-Britta was bit, too? And neither of them told because they thought they were special?!?!?!

-God damn it, Chang! Why would you throw the skate?! Now they have Annie, and you let them into the only place that might have been safe to hide from the zombies!

-Side note, the soundtrack for this episode is quite good.

-How did Shirley and Chang correctly guessing what the other's costume was turn into a make out session?

-*three cat jump scares* Jeff: "What is up with that cat?!" Troy: "Is someone throwing it?" Abed: "Let's keep moving." Jeff: "Let's not keep moving because there is an insane cat down here." Troy: "But what about the zombies?" Jeff: "Back burner, Troy. This cat has to be dealt with."

-*jeff getting attacked by zombies, but sees rich in his suit jacket* Jeff: "That's my jacket! My jacket, you're stretching it! You're stretching it!!" Even while being eaten Jeff cares about his fashion.

-Abed: "Go." Troy: "I'm not going without you." Abed: "Troy, make me proud. Be the first black man to make it to the end."

-Not Troy and Abed with the Leia and Han reference!

-I can't believe Troy just punched the Dean.

-Dean Pelton: "Are you crazy? How are you going to survive those zombies?" Troy: "I'm going to be a nerd." Dean Pelton: "Better have a Plan B!"

-Why did Troy spank Pierce?

-Troy: "Okay, okay. I've been bit, y'all. Damn. Congrats. You did what zombies do." The annoyance from Troy is so funny.

-Zombie Jeff standing there messing with his phone, while Troy crawls to the thermostat and calls Jeff "cool" is so good.

-I love the fact that Troy and Abed still do their handshake as zombies.

-Zombie Annie studying is so ridiculous.

-I can't believe that Jeff comes out of his zombie state and immediately starts actually texting.

-Were they about to kill Dean Pelton?

-So, they erased their memories?

-Still wondering why George Takai is doing the voiceover.

-Chang leaving a voicemail so that someone would know he slept with Shirley is so funny.

-Troy: "Why did he call me?" Valid question Troy.

[prettyflyshyguy]

It's wip wednesday. I'm going back to my #1 favourite punching bag cause when life gives you rotten lemons, inflict pain on fictional characters. Please enjoy what I wrote over the last few days. (open for a surprise)

“Oh thank god.” Sam said in relief as he opened the door, Samuel almost pushing past to enter quickly, wasting no time setting down the duffel bag on the coffee table and unzipping it as Sam locked the door after him.

“Can’t keep an eye on your brother for five minutes now?” Samuel said disapprovingly, like he was scolding a child. He unsheathed a machete and inspected the silver blade, checking the edge before handing it to Sam before selecting one for himself. 

“I tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t listen, look you know what he’s like–”

“Yeah, I know, but he’s not himself, Sam.” he raised his voice and the blade in his hand “And we can’t take any chances with this, you know how time critical it is after initial infection.”

Sam lowered his eyes and looked at the weapon in his hands. 

“He may be family, but do not let that blind you from the gravity of this situation.” Samuel continued, “He’s a monster now, and he’s hungry. We have to find him before it’s too late.”

“I told you he’d kill me.”

The pair snapped into focus at the sound of Dean’s disembodied voice, both raising their weapons up defensively and stepping back, peering into the dark of the kitchen. They instinctively moved to back each other up, both covering the potential exits, Samuel shifting with his back to the room door, Sam inching closer to the bathroom. 

“Did you feed?” Samuel spoke out, eyes darting around the gloom, looking for his mark.

Emerging from behind the small separator wall, Dean slowly stepped into the open kitchen space, his back to the pair. They eyed him with caution, trying to get a read on him. People changed when they turned. Dean was no exception. 

“I went to say goodbye to Lisa.” his voice was soft, and though his back was still turned, his lowered head emphasised the weight of the guilt in his tone “... Which for the record, was a lousy idea.”

“Dean answer the question.” Samuel snapped.

“You can relax, I didn’t drink anyone.” his lip curled as he spat the words out, eyes flickering as the light from the street filtered through the drawn blinds and reflected and bounced back. Sam shivered involuntarily as the sight reminded him of a hunt in years past, when a shapeshifter took on his brother’s form. Samuel breathed out in relief and his body relaxed slightly, but his grip on the machete was unwavering. “Thank god.”

Dean’s eyes lowered to the ground, the changing angle breaking the reflected light, making them seem human again. “... But I came close.” He paused after the admission, staring at the floor. Nodding slightly as if to confirm something to himself, he removed his rugged coat and laid it on the bench behind him. Stepping forward, he looked back up at the pair and straightened himself. Sam and Samuel exchanged a glance before turning back to Dean. His eyes once more reflecting the light as he spoke with indignation in his voice. “Alright. Do it.”

Sam held steady, looking at Samuel for guidance. Samuel ignored the pleading stare and continued to focus on Dean, watching him stand ever so still, tense and stoic. A trained working dog, aware of its mistake, awaiting judgment to be delivered. He took a few confident steps towards Dean, machete held gently by his side as a precaution. Dean stiffened and his face grew colder at the approach, his eyes unblinking and focused. Samuel stopped a few feet away.

“Dean I didn’t haul ass this whole way just to kill you.” he gestured with his free hand behind him,  “Sam could’ve done that.”

Sam blinked and turned his head away at being mentioned. Dean didn’t break eye contact with Samuel as he clarified, “I’m here to turn you back.”

“What?” his eyes narrowed a fraction and his eyebrows twitched in confusion.

“Dean I tried to tell you…” Sam softly called out from further back.

Samuel’s expression softened as he watched Dean stand there, slumping slightly as his mind almost appeared to short circuit in the moment. If he intended to hurt anyone, he would have made a move by now. Dean swallowed and his eyes darted back and forth as he shifted on the spot. He snapped back in the moment after half a second to look up at Samuel. A pleading look in his eyes and his mouth slightly ajar, the words failing to form in the back of his throat. Despite how much a part of Samuel’s mind screamed at him to pull his arm back and plunge the blade into the vampire’s neck, he had to at least try and save him. Dean broke the stare and shuffled sideways, looking back at Sam. He had put his weapon down on the table, standing back looking relieved. 

“You didn’t think to bring this up, I dunno, when I started hunting again?” Dean took a step forward as he addressed his brother, “How ‘bout before I go and get infected?”

“Look there was a lot going on, I just-” Sam pleaded.

“And you,” Samuel cut him short, staring Dean down as he pointed a finger at Dean’s chest stopping him cold, “didn’t stop to think about anything before you ran off to see your girlfriend.”

Dean reeled back at the comment. Samuel turned his back and returned to the table. “You put innocent lives at risk Dean, and your own for that matter, if you’d stopped to listen to your brother you might’ve realised how high the stakes are.” he looked back over at Dean, who remained in the kitchen looking ashamed. He looked over at Sam who looked exhausted. “Not to mention every hunter in the state is on high alert – word travels fast boys, you know this. Blood bank vans being hit across multiple towns remember?” 

The brothers remained silent as Samuel drive his point home. “You both could have done better. And you’re both goddamn lucky. Don’t forget that this time.” he gestured at the table, “Now get over it, and sit down.”

He placed his weapon back in its sheathe, and took a seat. Moving the duffel bag to one side, placing his sword on his lap just in case. Sam and Dean skulked over, looking like dejected children after their scolding. Sam sat down next to him, while Dean positioned himself slightly further away from the two, on the opposite side, a comfortable arms length distance. Samuel noted how remarkable Dean’s self control must have been to have held on this far. The man was the most stubborn bastard he’d ever met, and he quietly thanked the fact. He’d killed too many good men and women close to his heart before. It never got any easier. 

[amypihcs]

Hello! Doctors and detectives, hello! Last part of the story and i beg you to appreciate the irony of me reading and commenting the story on the same day i had my hygien exam... it has a lot of things that made me think to the stuff i studied for that. Shall we begin?

awww! He calls us 'friends'! To the actual story now! They go to the house with Godfrey and third person in and third person shows them in

MAAAAN The lads are SOOOO down bad for each other. Well, guy has something of dermatological 10 to 1. Godfrey tells his story and OUCH

To the SHOULDER? OUCH! Holmes must be thinking to his Watson sooo much. Watson is so getting kissed as soon as Holmes gets up from the desk. The PARALLELS!

Well, guy runs and gets into a Leper Hospital for a mistake and sleeps in one of the patients' beds. OUCH. So i get they suspect leprosy. It's only reasonable. People with leprosy were kept in special hospital sections so the fear is of course that he will get isolated (STOP THINKING TO THAT STUFF AMY, DO AS HOLMES WOULD!)

Holmes is right. He showed that his confidence could be trusted (lol, Holmes you're writing it into a STORY.) and proposes a second opinion which is GOOD. If y'all can, guys, when you get a diagnosis ask for a second opinion. Without, usually, letting the other doctor know of the first diagnosis (Blind checks are the best ones)

Ah now comes the doctor Holmes called

Not Stamford but still a friend and apparently an authority. That's very good. Now let's get out of their hair, they need privacy

We know, Holmes. Watson makes you feel special and important and you don't like to explain your reasonings. But don't worry, nobody will ever think you're only an ordinary man!

Holmes explains the case and just toward the end, oh here you are doctor!

NOT LEPROSY! NOT CONTAGIOUS! JUST GIVES THE BOYS A ROOM WITH A LOCK AND A BED. It's another infection, nothing too serious! (Watson must be nodding as he reads this, maybe he knows it too!)

End of the story!

We like your style very much, Mr Holmes, and would LOVE to read your other works! Now i guess you have things to do. Watson: I am things -flirty grin to Holmes-

[alphateamcaptain]

@valour-bound | continued

AS IT STANDS , INFECTION WAS SEEPING THROUGH THE WOOD OF YOUR NOT SO ORDINARY HOUSE . More than just the english ivy had grown up around here , the wrath of this DECAYED DISEASE , was choking out the property . Paint peelings , well water and the soil saturated with that same Earthy STENCH the people monsters had on their breath , rotting from the inside . What once was shelter to take from salivating , melting dogs became a locked away nightmare tenfold . What in all actuality was a visceral game of clue shoved in a shell of a dollhouse that was sick .

In times of stress and a still forming trauma , the actions and reactions of each team member can and will be classified differently . For REDFIELD , he found counting his ammo he had left to be enough for him . While in the case of WESKER , when crossing paths with his subordinates and speaking with them much like he would in the halls of the station , was enough for him . A rather alien concept that did not make the clearest of rationality but still existed in this world , much like finding a key in a dog collar , or a colossal snake .

❝ Well , you did not shoot me . So we can both be relieved on that front . ❞

In one of Wesker's many pockets , he pulls out a folded piece of typing paper . Stepping by Chris to reset the writer and place his file inside . With only one other save from hours ago . His fingers ghost over the keys before punching out his current status .

❝ Maybe . There is another house here on this land , did you know that ? I made a map best I could , but I ran into a lot of locked rooms . ❞

The fate was sealed once the type writer had CLICKED into the next line . Careful to remove it and place in back in his pocket , with gloved hands hovering over his holster , grazing his handgun . Anticipation , EERIE and dreadfully slow anticipation before fingers pinch into the pocket right under . Easing out the old paper map with a turn of his heels .

Standing here now , outstretched map of a house with potentially new or fewer horrors waiting past the pen painted question marks . The hopeful outlook that WESKER took out the threats he ran across in that building could be enough motivation to go check out the beginning of his DEAD ENDS .

❝ Would you go there and see if your luck is any better ? We are looking for any more clues , or an accommodating room to hold out in until someone else can find us . ❞

[agustdwrites]

He ran as fast as he could. An infected was hot on his tail and snarling as it chased him. Most would think he was in trouble, until he slid under the gate of a building, blocking the infected from getting to him. An infected would never give up its prey as long as it was in sight, so he was trapped.

As the infected beat on the gate, he smirked. A bullet shot straight through its brain, body crumbling to the ground in seconds. He lifted and climbed under the gate, brushing himself off. “That was cutting it close, Yoongi. We should have sent Jungkook.” Namjoon spoke as he holstered his gun on his waist.

“It didn’t get me though, did it? We can’t always rely on Jungkook to play bait just because he’s the fastest. We need him everywhere.” Yoongi spoke as he walked next to Namjoon. “Just be more careful next time. Run sooner than later.” He sighed. Yoongi nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I’ve made it this far haven’t I?” Namjoon stopped and glared at him. Yoongi stopped and held up his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. Next time I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

As they walked back into the shop, the joined the others in filling up their bags. “How’d it go? Is the building safe?” Asked Jin. Namjoon nodded. “We’ll have to reinforced certain areas, but the gate is strong. We’ll be safe there.”

For months they had been searching for shelter. Originally they were staying in an abandoned restaurant, but it was breached by the infected. Over the past months they said stayed in various places temporarily, teaching themselves how to be better at protecting their shelter. This wasn’t an area they new well. They were from Korea and this was Canada. They were desperate to find shelter fast before the harsh winter began.

They managed to find themselves in the city of Ottawa, or what was left of Ottawa anyway. A lot of places had already been looted and most buildings were not good for protection. Thankfully, they found the perfect place. It was a building inside of an old shopping center that seemed to have been abandoned prior to the pandemic. It was big enough for them all, warm, and it had a strong gate to block anyone or anything from entering.

The building appeared to have been some sort of public clinic. Of course, it had been looted completely so there were no provisions left, but they would be safe.

When they arrived back at the clinic, they made sure to lock up the gate securely, and began assigning areas. There was enough rooms for them to each have their own, but with everything going on and bringing so much uncertainty, they grouped up instead.

“Hey guys, check it out!” Taehyung, called from inside one of the rooms. “These drawers are locked shut.” He said as they all gathered in the room. Jungkook reached into his bag and pulled out a crowbar. “Stand back.” He said as he hooked the first drawer and split the wood. He pulled out the drawer and looked inside. “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Taehyung asked as he tried to look over Jungkook’s shoulder. “Medical supplies.” He turned to them with a smile. “There’s bandages, gauze, and tape in this one.” Smiles grew in all their faces as they looked through the drawer. Medical supplies was impossible to find these days and they had been running extremely low. “Open the rest, let’s see what we’ve got.”

Once all the drawers were open they gathers the supplies. “I can’t believe this. How did nobody take these?” Jimin asked as he and Taehyung split everything up into 7 equal packs for each of them to carry. “We’ve got gauze, tape, bandages, syringes, alcohol, everything except prescription medication.” Hoseok handed out the packs, making sure everyone had them put away safely, especially when carrying syringes.

“Alright, we’ve got medical supplies, food, water, and shelter. Everyone get some rest and tomorrow we look for materials to reinforce everything.” Namjoon spoke. Even with the apocalypse, the boys voted Namjoon leader. His intelligence was very important for their survival. They wouldn’t have made it this far without him, that’s what they would say anyway. In Namjoon’s eyes each member was valuable, and each had their strengths and weaknesses.

As darkness took over the skies, they split into their groups and headed to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a really tough day for everyone.

[demonslayedher]

The sitcom AU has been renewed for Season 3! I've been brought back as the head writer, though I thought the lead actor Kyojuro got me fired because he hates this AU so much.

As a recap, Senjuro got turned into a demon at the start of Season 2, which was what brought the Kamado siblings into this story. There's a lot more characters in this cast to bring in, though.

We join a regular evening at the Rengoku estate...

Ruka is sipping tea as Akaza and Tanjiro are circling the table, they are yelling at each other as Tanjiro is swiping his sword. Senjuro is a fully self-aware demon and sleeping at Ruka's side. The only one who knows Senjuro is self-aware is Akaza, for Senjuro is so constantly hungry that he doesn't trust himself to take off the muzzle around any human company. He spends most of his days reading in a dark room (with eyes that glow like yellow flames, I just decided) or sleeping, as Nezuko taught him that trick. Akaza doesn't like Nezuko infecting Senjuro with her weird cooties, but he mostly ignores her because she is a woman. Nezuko is in her box. Kyojuro is trying to meditate out on the engawa and ignore the fruitless struggle his Tsuguko is locked in, but Shinjuro cannot stand it and comes into the room to save his late mother's favorite vase before Tanjiro shatters it. "Quit tearing up my house!" he yells, more fruitlessly than Tanjiro's pursuit of Akaza. 

"I'll stop when he's dead!" they both yell in unison. After sharing a look, they point at each other and add, "Or when you kick him out."

"He's the annoying one around here, right, Dad?"

"Mr. Rengoku! You were a Pillar too, surely you can do something!"

"Those earrings? This weak-ass scar on his head? Gross."

"He eats people!"

(Laugh track.)

"Boys, please get along," chimes Ruka, but only because she has to. Now that she's said her peace she keeps drinking tea. 

"Which one of us is it going to be? Who gets to stay?" Akaza and Tanjiro lean closer to Shinjuro. 

Shinjuro, hating how powerless he is in this situation, glances away. "I already have one demon son..."

"It's me!" Akaza throws his hands in the air while Tanjiro cries, "Mr. Rengoku-u-u!" 

"You two didn't even let me finish!!"

There's a ding-dong at the door. A Taisho Rumor states the Rengoku estate was the first house in Japan, by a long shot, to have a doorbell. Ruka starts to get up, but Kyojuro insists she not trouble herself and he goes to answer. Perhaps it's a Kakushi, or the bentou vendor, or--

"Rengoku. Fancy finding you at home."

--a Pillar! The Snake Pillar! Iguro Obanai, and his companion, Kaburamaru!

"AH!GURO!!"

"It's 'Iguro' but hello all the same. I'm not bothering your family by visiting at this hour, am I?"

"Oh, Kyojuro, is that one of your Pillar friends?" comes a voice from inside the house. "Is he strong?"

"Kanroji was concerned because she hasn't gotten a letter from Senjuro for a while. This is a wellness check."

"Actually!! It's very bad timing!! We were about to have katsu for dinner and the fried food smell will bother you! You should leave!!"

"Nah, inviting him in for dinner sounds great, Kyojuro! I'm starved!"

(There would have been a dumb illustration here as the title card, but I was only hired as the head writer this season, not the artist. There wasn't a lot of budget for this season.)

Another laugh track, and then the peppy early 90's sitcom opening credits roll on the start of Season Three.

We cut to Iguro with Kanroji, he looks as peeved as usual. "I don’t believe it," he says. "Something's going on with Rengoku's brother and he doesn't want anyone to know."

Kanroji immediately worries that Senjuro is terribly sick, but she doesn't want to show up unannounced and be a bother while they may be busy with him, so she waits for a chance to see Kyojuro and give him a big basket of treats. He is thrilled to receive them, but his excitement comes to a skidding halt when she meekly says, "They're for Senjuro-kun."

"He can't eat them," Kyojuro bluntly responds. It's the truth, after all.

"He can't? Oh dear, is he sick after all?"

"Yes," he replies. It's kind of the truth. If Tanjiro has been pursuing a 'cure' for his sister this whole time, then that implies an illness.

"Oh, dear! Did he catch it from your mother?"

"No."

"Can I visit him?"

"No."

"Then it's contagious?"

"Yes." This isn't technically wrong.

"What is it?"

"Contagious."

"I, uh, gathered that, but what illness--"

"Did you hear I have a Tsuguko now, Kanroji? It's Kamado-shonen! He doesn't pick things up quite as fast as you, so I must attend to his training! Farewell!"

"Rengoku--" she begins as he picks up speed as fast as though chasing a demon down train tracks, "--san..."

She does not actually pick up anything as fast as Kyojuro is afraid she does, but she picks up enough to shuffle around and mull over in her mind. Poor Senjuro is sick, and must have been for a while given how long ago his letters stopped. She turns to the person she knows who would know illness and medicine best.

"Hmm," says Kocho, who has just heard Kanroji’s account. "Contagious, but not from his mother. It could be any number of illnesses going around. His mother may have a depressed immune system, I do wish they'd keep them separate."

"No, no, as far as I'm aware, it's her lungs. It's his father who is depressed." (A somewhat slow, hesitant laugh track.)

"That can be just as contagious," smiles Kocho. (Another hesitant laugh track.) "Rengoku-san has been much more irritable than usual. For as capable as he is in fighting demons, the stress of caring for people with illness might be getting to him."

"I see! No wonder. He really has been grouchy lately. That makes me reappreciate your angelic temperament all over again, Shinobu-chan!"

"Not everyone can be as strong as me, I suppose," she smiles. "I'm kind of impressive."

"Truly the most powerful among Pillars!"

"Rengoku-san is good at taking demon's heads off, though, so I would prefer he takes more precautions to preserve his own health and fortitude. I'll pay a house call to assess the situation."

"Oh, please do! We have to all take care of our one and only Rengoku-san!"

"There's still a few other Rengoku-sans, but yes! We do all prefer a bright and cheerful Rengoku-san!"

"Cheerful Rengoku-san is the best Rengoku-san!"

"There's no replacing this Rengoku-san!"

Kyojuro, for all has his having been talked about, sneezed every time his name was mentioned and he caught a cold. This would make it difficult to provide Tsuguko training, so he told Tanjiro to go join Uzui on a mission. Uzui would later find Tanjiro bursting onto the scene and insisting on joining a mission with Uzui before the Butterfly Mansion girls can even raise a stink about Uzui kidnapping anybody, so before we know it, Uzui, Tanjiro, Nezuko, Aoi, and Naho are off to the pleasure quarters. Tanjiro had been in such a hurry to follow his master’s instructions than he did not notice this was strange until the mission started.

Kyojuro, meanwhile, is lying in his futon. Shinjuro, worried about her depressed immune system, has forbidden Ruka from tending to him, and Shinjuro's bedside manner is poor. Senjuro, still starving at all hours, does not trust himself around his strong brother while said brother is vulnerable. That leaves one very skilled nurse.

"You know, Kyojuro, there's a very quick--"

"No."

"You wouldn't get sick if you--"

"No."

"I could have the doctor--"

"No."

"You don’t want the doctor to see you? Well, your choice, I guess. Say, Kyojuro. Aren't we going to talk about it? We went all-out until Ruka stopped us. We tried to kill each other."

"I know."

"You don't have any regrets?"

"None."

"Me neither. It was awesome," Akaza beamed. "I want to do again. Forever."

"It will be my pleasure to finally slay you once and for all."

"Once and for all is only for humans, Kyojuro. We'll have all the time in the world once you're--"

"No."

"Then we won't have to wait for you to kick this illness. I'm so bored! But knowing you and how strong you are, you'll kick this in time for the fireworks--" he begins saying, but pauses. Abruptly.

"Akaza?" Kyojuro asks.

"Rengoku-san, hello?"

Kyojuro goes pale. "Kocho!"

"Who?"

"A Pillar!" he replies, but regrets it a second later. Akaza will want to eat a Pillar, and Kocho won't be strong enough to defend herself. He must save her, no matter his condition and how he has thus far failed to defeat this Upper Moon. He stuffs the blanket over Akaza as the door to the garden suddenly opens and sunlight floods into the room. There stands the diminutive Pillar.

"Hello, Rengoku-san. I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in. I didn't want to disturb sick patients with that obnoxious doorbell--oh. Am I interrupting you?" she says with a glance to the disheveled state of his bed and flushed look on his face.

"It's nothing like that! I have caught a cold."

"Oh. Then you must be pushing yourself too hard after all. That's why I'm here."

"Pardon?"

"To tend to your family so you don’t have to! It's alright, not every Pillar is strong enough to handle so much. Please leave Senjuro-kun's care in my capable hands. I'm a bit of an impressive person, you know."

"Kocho," he lowers his voice, feeling unable to tell any direct lies. "Senjuro is no longer... a patient someone like you can treat."

The color drains from Kocho's face as her plastic expression subtly twists with horror. Kyojuro grimaces and nods, confirming how terrible Senjuro's circumstances are. 

"I'm so sorry," she says, then quickly backs up and clacks the doors shut behind her. 

Akaza pushes the covers off and gasps for breath. "I thought I was gonna be sick!" he exclaims.

"You? Sick?" asks Kyojuro.

"Pillars are that weak!? What has become of your Corp!? You're wasted here, Kyojuro. 'Pillar' means nothing anymore, please, please become a demon!!"

"No," he says, trying to kick Akaza in the face, but Akaza rolls out of the way, onto his belly and with his chin propped up on his hands.

"But nevermind that weak Pillar, Kyojuro. Thank you for saving my life."

"!!" Kyojuro inwardly gasps. Could Kocho's poison have been the key to defeating Akaza? Did he let the chance slip by?

Akaza flushes with joy as he smiles. "You protected me from the sunlight. You really do want to fight with me forever! I knew it! You do love it!"

Kyojuro flies out of bed to kick the screen doors off to flood the room with light again. Akaza has already slipped away, but now that Kyojuro's room is so bright, at least this means he can have some peace and quiet.

Until the following day, when the doorbell rings.

Kyojuro is already mostly recovered, so he answers the door. After all, it might be the bento vendor. 

No, it's Himejima.

"Rengoku," he says and rubs the prayer beads together, "I have come to offer prayers for your brother."

Prayers! Kyojuro has not thought of this. Perhaps banishing the evil demon blood is a way to rescue his (thus far) innocent brother? "Himejima!! Thank you for coming! How did you know!"

The monk's eyes rained with tears. "You still push yourself to be so chipper. What strength. Namu Amida Butsu."

"This way!"

As he turns back toward the house, he spies a figure underneath the residence, in the shadows of the walkway. Akaza is staring back with the widest, most taunted eyes Kyojuro has ever seen on him, and more drool pouring down his chin than he has ever seen come out of a demon.

Himejima is too strong, and therefore is in danger.

Kyojuro leads Himejima around the outdoor walkway, for even with Akaza following them underneath, they are untouchable in the sunlight.

"What remarkable tension," remarks Himejima. "Truly, your home is steeped with Pillar history. I can still feel all the battles you and your ancestors have been through."

"You are incredible, Himejima."

"As though the spirits of all the demons you have defeated reside here, hungry for their chance to strike."

"Truly incredible," he says, looking down between the slats of wood.

"Kyo-o-o-juro-o-o-o," whines a voice. "Kyojuro, please. Kyojuro, throw me his leg."

"You come out and get it yourself."

"A toe. Just a toe. Please."

Kyojuro opens all the outside doors to the living room to flood it with light from the low afternoon sun. "I hope you'll understand I can't bring Senjuro to you right now. Will your prayers reach him from here?"

"In faith, they will," replies Himejima.

"Good! His room is over--"

Himejima turns in the opposite direction from where Kyojuro is pointing. Instinctively knowing where the family Buddhist altar is, and he lights some incense and then rubs his prayer beads. "Namu Amida Butsu."

Perhaps that makes more sense, Kyojuro deducts, to face Buddha when addressing Buddha, as opposed to facing the object of prayer. He waits as Himejima begins chanting a longer sutra, but then he gets a terrible feeling.

Immediately after, something rumbles under the tatami where Himejima's generous shadow is cast. Kyojuro was on the exhale of his Total Concentration Breath, and therefore watches helplessly as—BOOM! CRASH! Tumble-tumble-tumble-tumble!

It was so loud that even Kyojuro winced—for shame! For his weakness and inability to rid the world of this demon, Himejima was now—

--taking his hand out of the tatami which had been bashed clean in half, with prayer breads scattered all over the living room. “Sorry. Reflex,” Himejima said.

“Are you unharmed?”

His tears overflowed. “I have a splinter. I have to go. This is painful. I hate splinters,” he said, then added as he rushed toward the exit of the estate, “I’m afraid there are problems plaguing the Rengoku household that are out of my expertise. I suggest you call Amane-sama to do an exorcism.”

Akaza, startled, remained in hiding under the deepest, darkest corner of the house. Shinjuro likewise had been hiding, and he opened the hallway door to the living room. “Is he gone?” he asked Kyojuro.

“Himejima? Yes. Thank Buddha.”

“Thank Buddha is right! I couldn’t have one of my old colleagues see me in this state.”

“Father, he’s blind.” (Laugh track.)

“At least Akaza is cowering now. And with your Tsuguko away on a mission, that means we can finally have some peace and quiet around here—” he says, then slips on one of the scattered prayer beads. Everything pauses right before Shinjuro comes crashing down on his late mother’s favorite vase, and then the credits roll with the same happy tune as the opening theme.

The lead actor, Kyojuro, could only be contracted to do a few episodes per season, and the budget also needed to be stretched across many cameos. Due to being unable to afford to have Amane make an appearance, the narrator narrates that she was busy looking for more descendants of Edo period swordsmen out in the forest.

However, Kagaya would like to visit in her stead.

“With all respect exceedingly due,” says Shinazugawa, “there is concern about contagious disease in the Rengoku estate.”

“Not to worry, that’s not how this is transmitted,” Kagaya smiles and points to his ailing face.

“I would not be so forward to suggest as such. It is rather out of concern for your own condition, Oyakata-sama, that I request you resist.”

“Resist? I have a wife of my own, Sanemi. I wouldn’t be forward, especially with this condition. You do know how it’s spread, right?”

“My most pertinent apologies for insinuating. If I were humbly allowed to express my concerns in other words—”

“Shinazugawa thinks you shouldn’t go to the Rengoku estate because they have people with contagious illnesses there, and there is a risk you’ll get sick from them,” helped Tomioka.

“Oh! Well, why didn’t you just say so, Sanemi?” laughs Kagaya. “Giyuu, maybe you and Sanemi should talk more; you seem to understand him well.”

Neither Pillar responded a moment, for Tomioka was too elated and Shinazugawa was fighting his impending aneurysm with Breath technique. It fell to Kagaya to keep the conversation going, as well as to conclude it.

“By the way. Under no circumstances are any other Pillars allowed to visit the Rengoku estate either.”

Both swordsmen took to their feet, ready to spring into action. “Is the poltergeist at the Rengoku estate that bad?”

“If it’s got a neck, I’ll cut it!”

“I hear from Amane that these things work themselves out better if you befriend them. That’s what I’m hoping will happen.”

“…Befriend them, you say,” says Tomioka, contemplatively.

“Yes. I hear they’re chatty.”

“Chatty,” Shinazugawa’s eye twitches. “If it’s keeping his ailing mother up all night being chatty, then that sounds like a good reason to just go give it a neck if it doesn’t already have one. Then you’ve got something to cut.”

“Sanemi,” Kagaya smiles, with some annoyance. “I forbid any Pillars to attack it.” For, as the narrator added, there was not enough animation budget this season that kind of fight, and barely enough inspiration to keep the script rolling.

“’Tch,” Shinazugawa would have answered if it was anyone else, but to Kagaya he answered, “gyoi,” which is Japanese for “tch, fine,” but in a very formal, polite way.

Tomioka would have said the same, but Tomioka was not a Pillar, for the Water Pillar position was vacant.

--

The boy who should had been the Water Pillar, Tanjiro, was back at the Butterfly Mansion in a coma. There was a lot of commotion about his exploits, for he had gotten partial credit in defeating an Upper Moon.

“Rengoku-san…” he moans in his sleep, “I’ll help you defeat… an Upper Moon…”

“I don’t need his help either!” Uzui snaps back.

Uzui is in a foul mood for not receiving any credit for defeating Upper Moon Six, whom he and his wives had tracked for months. As it turned out, when Uzui kidnapped Naho, her pockets were full of a very powerful wisteria-based cleaning product (used for cleaning up after messy victims of demon poisonings), and because “Sumiko” had a passionate interest in household chores, Naho gave it to “Sumiko” to use.

“Sumiko” used that wisteria cleaning product to clean out a room that had no windows, so in addition to not letting in any sunlight, it also had no ventilation, and the oiran who lived in there suffocated and died, along with her demon older brother who lived inside her flesh. “Sumiko,” with such a strong sense of smell, did not escape unscathed, and later passed out on the staircase.

The creator of that sanitizing wisteria product, Kocho Shinobu, was awarded most of the credit for the Corp’s first confirmed Upper Moon kill.

“We can’t all be strong enough to defeat a demon we haven’t even seen,” she smiles sweetly when accepting the accolades. “I’m sort of impressive, that’s all.”

Thus, Uzui learns his lesson about kidnapping. (No laugh track, for whoever was in charge of the laugh track controls was unsure if they were supposed to happen here.)

Tokito, meanwhile, probably has cut scenes saying random things like asking about the shapes of clouds and roof tiles and rolls of sushi. Ruka is still sipping tea because this season does not have much for her to do.

Senjuro, meanwhile, is terribly hungry, and therefore can only take off his muzzle to converse with Akaza. However, Akaza has a meeting to go attend, so poor Senjuro is lonesome and fighting the desire to eat… the desire to eat someone strong…

“Hey, sport,” stumbles in Shinjuro, who is back on the bottle after beating himself up about breaking his late mother’s favorite vase and being an insult to his family legacy. He beat up a few old books while he was at it. “Whatdya say we go stack up some cinderblocks out there to see how-hic-strong ya’ are?”

With one whiff of his father in that state, Senjuro’s appetite has disappeared.

Still, he enjoys spending time with this father as they train and test out his strength, and when Shinjuro starts ranting about how none of the rest of them will amount to anything without them all turning into demons, it’s an easy matter for Senjuro to knock him out and put him to bed.

--

As Kyojuro goes off to visit his comatose Tsuguko and hopes that these lackluster jokes will mean the end of this terrible sitcom, that means he is not around when Tomioka pays a visit to the Rengoku estate one day.

“Wow!” a disembodied voice says to him, “You seem really strong. Glad to see the Corp has lots of people like you.”

“No,” Tomioka replies. “I’m not really a member of the Demon Slayer Corp. I don’t deserve it.”

“Hahaha! I’ve never heard a Pillar try that one!”

“I’m not a Pillar.”

“…”

“…”

“I’m sorry. You weren’t even aware that you’re a Pillar, were you? That was rude of me to be the one to tell you.”

At this, Tomioka is struck by how straightforward this chatty poltergeist is.

“I’m Akaza. What’s your name?” the disembodied voice under the house asks.

Tomioka takes a seat on the ground of the Rengoku estate garden. “I’m Tomioka Giyuu.”

“What’s your Breath, Giyuu?”

“Water Breath.”

“The Water Pillar, then! You know, the last time I met a Water Pillar was about fifty years ago. He was pretty strong, we had a good time together…”

Meanwhile, inside the house, Ruka sips her tea and eavesdrops, for lack of anything else to do. The boys seem to have a very good time, with Akaza telling Tomioka stories of plenty of unconfident Pillars who just needed to get in touch with their own strength before they were the best Akaza knew they could be, which leads to Akaza coaxing a story out of Giyuu about the boy who once brought that out in him so long ago. Akaza remarks it’s too bad that boy wasn’t a demon, or he’d still be around to play now.

Akaza asks Tomioka to stay the night to play, but Tomioka has to go out and get to work. Akaza is disappointed, but happily gets Tomioka to promise to come over for dinner sometime.

Ruka raises her voice and says, “Akaza, no having friends over for dinner.”

“Awww,” comes a moan from under the house. It comes through very clearly into the living room because the floor is still broken from Himejima’s visit.

--

Kyojuro sees a bottle of sake one day and contemplates his father, and the shame his father feels for his inadequacies. With all these run-ins with his colleagues lately, Kyojuro is feeling the same way, and that bottle is looking tempting.

No! This is not like him!

Torment him though this demon still does, as long as he does not give up, he has not been defeated! This task has still been too much even with the help of a Tsuguko like Tanjiro, but maybe if he had the help of someone else with Pillar caliber!

“Father!” he bursts into the room one day, causing Shinjuro to wince in the bright light reflecting off his eldest son’s smile. “All these visits from the other Pillars lately has made it finally dawn on me! We should put our strength as two Flame Pillars together to defeat this wretched foe!”

“…You have a hangover, too?”

Kyojuro’s face knits darkly, for he is defensive. “I do not.”

“That’s only because you’re still young,” he mumbles and turns on his side. Kyojuro pauses to contemplate the state of his father, and reflect on how in the previous scene he came close to losing his own confidence and falling down the same path.

“Father,” he chooses his words carefully, “If we can manage to defeat an Upper Moon together, I hope that will help you find your confidence again.”

At this, Shinjuro turns back over and contemplates Kyojuro with glazed over eyes. The silence indicates that this is a serious part of the sitcom where the characters get real with one another. “Wait right here,” Shinjuro finally says, and then he leaves the room. When he returns, he is guiding Senjuro by the shoulders, and he sits Senjuro down at the table with them. Senjuro has no words because of the muzzle, but by the look in his demon eyes, he is very concerned where this potential upcoming heart-to-heart may be going.

Shinjuro sighs a Breath, and then he takes his sons’ hands. He puts them hand in hand together over the table, giving them both a squeeze. “I’ve done my best to raise you both to be stronger than I ever could. To master the Flame Breathing sword techniques our ancestors have handed down, and do honor to the title of ‘Pillar.’ And Kyojuro? These are the results.”

He lets go of their hands. Senjuro and Kyojuro share a look at each other, then look to their father, who nods.

“Hnngh!!” grunts Kyojuro, who begins an arm-wrestling contest. Senjuro struggles a bit at first, especially since he was not a very strong demon to begin with, and he has not eaten any humans. “Hnnnnnghhh!” Kyojuro continues grunting, not making any progress.

“Hmgh!” a little sound escapes Senjuro.

“Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggghhhhhhhh!”

“Hmgh!”

“HNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGHHHH!”

“Hm…” Little tears form in the corners of Senjuro’s eyes as he looks back at his brother.

Kyojuro goes on struggling and struggling, Ruka calls them for dinner and Shinjuro yells back that they are busy. Laugh track.

Kyojuro continues to struggle. He takes a break to gasp for new air and regain his focus, and then he looks like he’s doing even worse. Laugh track.

It’s gone on so long that it’s awkward now. But because it keeps going, it gets funny again. The laugh track gets going, and as Senjuro gives Shinjuro a pleading look to make this stop, the laugh track goes into its extra long version. Ruka reminds them the food is going to get cold. The laugh track isn’t long enough for this and things have gone silent. Ruka adds a little more pleadingly that it’s Kyojuro’s favorite sweet potato miso soup.

…and Senjuro’s favorite, too……..

“Hnnnnghhhh….nnnghhh…..” Kyojuro’s strength is giving out, and Senjuro finally puts a kind end to the struggle, gently setting the back of Kyojuro’s fist against the table. A sweaty mess, he is utterly defeated, and panting and red in the face as he looks back up to see their faces. Senjuro is pained with sympathy, but Kyojuro doesn’t get a chance to see Shinjuro’s face before he embraces his boy for a hug.

“Do you know why we even have this strength in the first place? It’s so the universe can laugh at us. No matter how hard we work, or how much we push ourselves, we’ll never amount to anything. You’re like me, Kyojuro. Your confidence is bound to give out like your strength someday, because we’re only frail humans.” Rather than a laugh track, there is the sound of a studio audience saying, ‘aw.’

This is Ruka’s queue, so she pokes her head around the doorway to do her usual disapproving glare shtick, but she is just in time to see Kyojuro push Shinjuro backwards so hard that he partway falls into the hole in the floor. “You’re wrong, Father. We were born strong to protect the weak! Being able to age and go frail, to find our limits and work to overcome them until the time comes that they overtake us, that is what it means to be human! I don’t regret that Senjuro is stronger than me for as long as he never harms the weak—but I will continue doing my best to see to it that he can someday age and be weak again. Even in my weakness, I will never lose my confidence!”

Ruka hides back behind the wall to hide what a proud smile she has. She has not had anything to do this season because this is not her show—it is Kyojuro’s, and he’s doing such a good job.

But it is also Akaza’s show, and soon a voice calls out from under the floor. “I’ll never let you lose confidence, Kyojuro! You should see what I did for the Water Pillar. And weakness is a real easy fix that I can help with, too—”

“SET YOUR HEART ABLAZE,” Kyojuro shouts and stabs his sword directly into the tatami mats. His speed is so startling that Senjuro winces and hides his neck. There is a slight ‘ping’ sound, and when Kyojuro draws the sword back out, he sees that it has been neatly broken by a simple punch from Akaza. He sighs with resignation.

--

Because Tanjiro is still recovering from the damage the wisteria cleaning product did to his nose, he is still in no condition for training, so Kyojuro sends his Tsuguko on an errand to go pick up his new sword for him. After all, Tanjiro has a way with the irascible swordsmiths out there, and Kyojuro is busy keeping himself in tip-top shape to go straight back to his missions once he has a new sword.

Akaza offers to help him train. Kyojuro hates to admit that the idea is tempting, a sign that he truly must be careful not to follow his father’s very relatable path. Kyojuro refuses Akaza's offer, on principle.

Still, it plants the idea in Kyojuro's head that training with someone more challenging than Tanjiro would be nice. Training with his father would be helpful if only his father was not a drunkard again.

But that leaves Senjuro! We get a heartwarming scene of Kyojuro and Senjuro training in hand-to-hand combat together, with Kyojuro providing encouragement and helpful tips the whole time. Senjuro may have the raw strength now, but he still needs direction in gaining the mindset of a fighter. With Kyojuro’s tips being so insightful, Senjuro's demon eyes light up with hope that he might have a future as a demon slayer after all.

Because Senjuro’s eyes literally light up, Kyojuro has to take a break to shut to his eyes and blink a lot after holding eye contact too long. Laugh track.

Tanjiro, meanwhile, is having his own issues. After a brush with death at the hands of a 10-year-old, Tanjiro has an even more difficult mission trying to retrieve the new Flame Breathing sword from the huffy swordsmith who doesn’t want to give it up if it’s just going to get to so cleanly snapped like the last one. That swordsmith is Haganezuka.

Tanjiro was doing his best with the new skills he picked up from fighting a mechanical doll while holding his own in a fighting against a rampaging Haganezuka. However, Haganezuka happened to be carrying that new Nichirin blade while going after him. Kitchen knives would have killed Tanjiro just as well, but this blade had extra reach. With nothing else with which to defend himself, Tanjiro had to fight Nichirin against Nichirin, all the while fighting more desperately with his words to convince Haganezuka to stop. Nezuko, who happened to be napping when Tanjiro was truly on the brink of death in his recent training, awakens and cannot stand by as her brother is being attacked. The mask confuses her, so she mistakes Haganezuka for a demon and blast her fire at him.

It’s a real mess, but as it turns out, Tokito has been there the whole time and he’s been stuck in a mess of his own with not one, but two Upper Moons attacking the village. The blaze of hot pink fire passes through, and Tokito is stunned as the blades Tanjiro and Haganezuka are waving are both hot red and passing through demon flesh like butter. Tokito didn’t even know he knew what butter was. Oh, that was right, Mitsuri gave him a pancake with it once. And then, like melted butter in a pan, the heat suddenly goes way too hot and the grease flies everywhere, as violently as Tokito’s memories returning to him.

Despite how overwhelmed he is with the sudden return of his memories, he is a genius, and therefore escapes unscathed from either of the hot red Nichirin blades getting haphazardly waved around. The same cannot be said for the two—or, five? Three? Two??—demons that Tokito was busy fighting.

Tokito does get due credit in their defeat, seeing as he had been busy with them both at once on his own for a while, but the credit for killing Upper Moons Four and Five also gets shared with Haganezuka, Nezuko, and Tanjiro. Tokito is not upset about this, for he’s very grateful to Tanjiro for the hand he played in getting his memories recovered.

The recent defeat of two more Upper Moons is huge news throughout the Corp. As the Pillars are meeting and talking about how this happened, Tokito flashes a grin to Kyojuro, for it is no secret that Tanjiro is his Tsuguko. “Tanjiro sure has been busy! Maybe defeating Upper Moons has actually always been super easy all along.”

Kyojuro does not smile at that comment. Tokito is a little frightened by how quickly Kyojuro’s face has darkened.

Ah, but Kyojuro must not lose his confidence. It is a good thing his Tsuguko has had such success in eliminating demons, especially Upper Moons. There must be a big jump in strength between the lower Upper three and the upper Upper three, though, so Kyojuro decides to have Tanjiro over for training so as to keep him from getting overconfident.

However, when Kyojuro has Tanjiro over one day, something is… different.

This is not the warm, smiling boy he took under his wing. Defeating Upper Moons must have changed him, for he gives off a grave seriousness.

“Kamado-shonen… is something the matter?”

“Please don’t play dumb with me, Rengoku-san. That only confirms what I have to do. I had hoped that you of all people would be brave enough not to hide it. But here you are…”

“I don’t believe I follow.”

Kyojuro especially does not follow as Tanjiro draws his sword and points it at Kyojuro. It is a black sword; that is not the one Tanjiro was supposed to deliver, and this is not at all a polite way to hand a sword to another person. He still needs to be strictly educated.

“Draw your sword, Rengoku-san.”

“I don’t have it. You were supposed to get it.”

Tanjiro huffs and returns his sword to its sheath to be fair. “I don’t have it. It’s a really, really long story. I’m sure you’ve got one of your own.”

Kyojuro still does not follow. “I don’t believe I follow.”

“You’ll only make it worse by lying about it!” he raises his voice. Something is clearly paining him, but…

“I really, really don’t believe I follow.” (Laugh track.)

“Rengoku-san! I’m here to take your head!”

Kyojuro does not move. Not even a fiber of his muscles goes on defense. “Kamado-shonen, Akaza hasn’t convinced me to be a demon.”

“This isn’t about him. It’s about Senjuro-san.”

Now the flames of Kyojuro’s heart waver. “…what?”

“I heard from Shinobu-san that he’s dead.”

“!!”

Kocho! But when would she have poisoned him? She did defeat an Upper Moon, after all, so he never should have underestimated her craftiness. “Senjuro!” he yells, turning toward the house and jumping inside.

Tanjiro came prepared for a fight, though. He grabs the end of the Flame Pillar mantle and slows Kyojuro, but it slips off and onto the ground as Kyojuro moves with concern for his one and only little brother. Tanjiro hops up after him, and with another leap, he goes for a headbutt.

Now forced to defend himself, Kyojuro turns out of the way, but he’s caught in Tanjiro’s grip and they both go down against the tatami. Tanjiro’s forehead leaves another hole. As he goes back up for a second strike, Tanjiro’s face is filled with tears of rage. “If Senjuro-san is dead, that can only mean that you killed him. And you would only have killed him if he killed a human and ate that person’s flesh!!”

“What—”

“You’re responsible for him, Rengoku-san. Like I am, and Tomioka-san, and Urokodaki-san all are for Nezuko. If she were ever to so much as lay a scratch on a human, we’re all prepared to slit open our own bellies to atone.”

“Just a scratch is a bit much for—”

“Don’t run from this, bakaaaa!” he screams and shakes Kyojuro with a thud against the floor. “I came here ready to act as your second—to cut the head off the master I love and respect. But you’re running from your responsibility! Aaaaah!”

It makes Kyojuro’s heart well with pride to see his sobbing, blathering Tsuguko feel so passionate about what is right. He smiles, and wants to praise him and encourage him. The issue is that he needs to smack him around first for having no idea how wrong he is. With one swipe of his arm, Kyojuro breaks Tanjiro’s grip on his uniform and flips him off. Onto the tatami, that is. Kyojuro then dashes to the other side of the room to grab the Nichirin blade that has long been left untouched—Shinjuro’s. He points the tip at Tanjiro, and though it takes him a second, Tanjiro leaps back into action and readies his own sword. He’s still sniffling as he faces his master, ready for the worst fight of his life.

“I would never let Senjuro hurt anyone—”

“Lies!”

“Silence! I won’t have you speaking ill of my family, either. Senjuro has not and would never hurt a human. I now understand how insulted you were to hear me be so dismissive of your sister at first, and I apologize. But you know Senjuro, and your lack of faith in him—and in me—disappoints me.”

“Yay!” comes a muffled voice from below, “You tell that weak sucker what an annoying—”

“YOU STAY OUT OF THIS,” both Kyojuro and Tanjiro yell down to the floor. Laugh track.

“But, know this, Kamado-shonen. Should I ever need to atone with my life, I would be proud to have you as my second to cut off my head. That includes,” he continues, smiling a fiery smile, “should I ever give in to the worst of temptations.”

Knowing the gravity of such a surprising statement, Tanjiro is taken aback, but only for a moment. He gathers his resolve and tightens his grip. “I’m sorry, Rengoku-san. That day is today. This is all the mercy I can spare for a liar. Water Breath, Fifth Form—”

The door from the next room over slides open a crack, so as not to let in any of the ambient sunlight. There is one very, very, concerned eye staring back at them, and because it is glowing yellow, it catches Tanjiro’s attention. He does not notice that there are still prayer beads spilled all over the room; he steps on one, trips in such a way that several bones in his foot get crushed, and he falls straight down on his face with a scream.

“Kamado-shounen! Are you alright!”

“Mnhm?” Senjuro tries to ask the same.

“Ah,” says Ruka, who came from the door at the opposite side to see what all the commotion was about, “That’s what I should have done all this time. Sorry, it never occurred to me to clean those up.”

Shinjuro enters from the hallway side of the room, and he sighs with resignation at the state of the living room. The table is still barely holding together from Kyojuro and Akaza’s rough-and-tumble in Season One. “We should just make this whole room into a demon, maybe that’ll keep it in better shape.”

A muffled voice from the floor says, “I know someone who can help with that!”

The laughed track sounds, and the credits roll on Season Three.

My contract as the head writer is still being negotiated. Kyojuro is trying to get out of his acting contract. At this point, no promises on Season Four. It might take another couple years again. Good thing our child actor Senjuro isn’t getting any older.

So the current Ufotable Cafe theme is the "Rengoku Family," featuring limited edition goods and cafe items themed around five characters. Wait, five? Yes, Kyojuro, Ruka, Senjuro, Shinjuro... and Akaza.

First of all, rude.

Second, that's hilarious.

I am so tickled by the idea of an AU in which it's not just Akaza bugging Kyojuro and pressing him to become a demon, but Akaza inserting himself into the Rengoku family and bugging everyone, like he's the annoying kid next door character on a sitcom who is always over at the family's house for whatever reason and everybody just has to put up with him because they can't get him to go home.