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@nanayoungishere
Trying to get into the flow of writing again. A lot of the things I write will just be random blurbs and wips. Some serious, most not.
Image comes from one of my favorite manga of all time, The One Within The Villainess. Check it out if you're a fan of the reincarnate into a villainess genre.
My ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanayoung
My spacebattles: https://forums.spacebattles.com/members/nanayoung.317221/
In loving memory of my Dad and Nephew. I miss you both.
So the thing about this concept is that SI!Muzan pretty much abandons the plot early on. You know, on account of Tanjiro never becoming a Demon Slayer in this AU.
(They make extra sure of it, feeding Nakime a bit more of their blood so that she can use her floating eyeballs to keep an eye on the cabin and its inhabitants. If a Slayer or a Demon were to come near and try to talk to them, she is to notify SI!Muzan immediately.
A Demon, they kill. A Slayer... well. That depends.)
Because of his absence, a lot of things that go right in the story start going very wrong. As in, main characters get themselves in seriously unfair fights and are in serious danger of dropping like flies.
Obviously SI!Muzan doesn't want this for multiple reasons. Moral reasons, plot reasons -- and because they need a fuckton of Slayers for the final battle to convincingly fake their death. And make the final boss fight look cool as fuck.
(They always thought the Canon!Muzan fight was lackluster and not as interesting as all the other ones. Just a bunch of panicked flailing and tentacles waving around. And ugh, his final form? A crying baby?!
Nah fuck that. Their boss fight is gonna be legendary.)
So they find themselves... stepping in so to speak. Not literally, but in minor ways that the average Slayer wouldn't be able to detect. Speaking in the minds of Demons to distract them, having Nakime summon Slayer's unconscious bodies away from danger, that sorta thing.
Eventually people start to wonder what's up. Obviously a Demon helping them is out of the question (they don't know about Tamayo yet), so they start wondering if some mysterious Slayer is involving themselves in the Corps.
I'm thinking that it initially leads to some secret identity shenanigans -- up until SI!Muzan gets found out to be a Demon.
(They don't find out SI!Muzan is the Demon King -- they just think they're some rando Demon, lower than the Twelve Kizuki since they don't have the special eyes.
Oh the irony.)
And at that point the Corps becomes under the impression that the Demon King is sending secret and incredibly human-like spies to ferret out their secrets and Breathing Techniques, which sparks a wave of paranoia and witch hunts among its numbers. Kagaya does his best to calm everyone down and suppress this info from getting out -- but it still does some serious damage to the Corps morale.
A running theme in this fic idea is that SI!Muzan's attempts at being good only end up making them out to be some sort of demonic mastermind. Like, they end up being massively more effective and scarier than Canon!Muzan purely by accident.
(I am somewhat (okay a lot) inspired by SIkuna's guide to not fucking up perfectly good children created by the lovely @overly-verbose when it comes to these sorts of perception shenanigans.)
A lot of it comes through on their behavior. SI!Muzan comes across as a lot more calm, cool, and collected than the Canon version, never making unnecessary moves and acting completely unbothered even when things don't go their way. They never raise their voice, never lash out at others, and never get violent unless provoked. If anything they're friendly and charismatic -- which is really fucking eerie to everyone.
The Demon Slayers because they're not used to such calm and seemingly harmless Demons, and to the Demons because holy fucking shit, why is he acting this way, is it a trap, is it a test, is he gonna kill us, what the hell do we do?!
They really give off the sense that they're up to something -- and that they know a lot more than they should. And it really, really, really isn't helping that SI!Muzan invertedly drops lore bombs during random conversations -- lore bombs that seem like threats to the Demon Slayers nearby.
Just got into Demon Slayer recently. Stumbled upon the best Good!Muzan fics I've ever read --
The life and times of Kibutsuji Muzan, Bored Immortal Guy
I Don't Want To Die
-- and it made me come up with an idea. A devious idea. My own take on this niche fic concept. Which is:
A rando from our world ends up in Muzan's body roughly at the beginning of the series, gaining all of his powers and abilities -- as well as a thousand years worth of enemies and grudges from literally everyone he has ever interacted with. (Canon Muzan is an asshole, news at eleven)
Not wanting to deal with the consequences of the Demon King's actions, SI!Muzan comes up with a desperate brilliant idea: faking their own death, assuming a new identity, and moving to a different country.
Easier said than done though. With how determined the Demon Slayers are to kill Canon!Muzan (Ubuyashiki blew up his own family for fucks sake) they're gonna need something super convincing to ensure that the Slayers believe it. Otherwise the Slayers'll be hounding them until the end of fucking time.
Moreover, they're gonna have to do something about the Ubuyashiki family curse -- because if they "die" and the curse is still active, well, that'll give the whole thing away.
Not to mention they're gonna have to figure out a way to get rid of all his demons -- because if Muzan "dies" then all his demons have to die with him...
Oh and there's of course the whole "conquering the sun" thing -- but that's sort of a side project. It basically doesn't matter if they succeed or not -- faking their death si way more important.
(the irony)
So while SI!Muzan is planning out their pseudocide, canon happens.
Specifically it doesn't happen, because SI!Muzan doesn't kill Tanjiro's family and turn Nezuko into a demon for no goddamn reason (what the fuck Muzan). Instead he shows up to their house while Tanjiro's away and politely asks Kie if she's ever seen something called a Blue Spider Lily.
She says yes of course, they're right over here, but they haven't bloomed yet. They only bloom in the sun during specific times of year -- how many would you like?
SI!Muzan gets a few of the flowers, thanks her profusely, one thing leads to another and he ends up staying over for dinner. They and the Kamado family have a lovely time chatting, talking about their respective families and whatnot. SI!Muzan mentions his wife and daughter (oh fuck I have a family what do i do what do i do), Kie mentions her late husband and absent son, he helps her get the kids to bed -- it's a lovely time.
SI!Muzan leaves before daybreak, feeling fulfilled and optimistic about the future. They resolve to study the flowers, experiment with some homemade elixirs and see if they can figure out a way to withstand sunlight. They plan on keeping it to themselves -- because God knows if the Demon Slayers knew Muzan had the Blue Spider Lily they would go nuclear.
Tanjiro comes back to a house positively bathed in the most ominous, bloodthirsty, and downright evil scent he has ever experienced in his life. As though hell itself had manifested in scent form.
He expects the worst but is relieved to find his family alive and well. His mother tells him about the stranger she invited over, the flowers he wanted, and what a overall nice and polite young man he was.
Tanjiro commits this exchange to memory and has to resist the urge to tell his own mother to never talk to strangers ever again.
And... I'll write more later. Just a fun idea to think about.
"One Caramel Macchiato, Large, please!" You look up from your phone to see a dragon on the opposite side of the counter, casually waiting for you to take his order as if this was a normal everyday occurance.
No, wait. That's not a real dragon. That's some dude wearing a dragon costume.
You think. It looks a bit too lifelike and also not lifelike at the same time. Like, uncanny valley but with dragons.
Weird... but you did hear something about an anime convention downtown. Maybe this was some sort of obscure background character you've never heard of?
...whatever. You're not getting paid enough to ask questions.
"That'll be twenty-three ninety."
A stream of fire shoots just above your hair. "TWENTY-THREE DOLLARS FOR A LARGE COFFEE?!"
You, a human, were accidentally assigned dorms typically reserved for non-human students, and while your roommates are great, they keep trying to get you to reveal your monster form. You wonder who its gonna be harder to explain to, them, or the housing office
"Hello, housing office? I'd like to report my roommates for sexual harassment. They keep asking me to get naked, it's really disrupting my studying."
Centuries after your bloodline was cursed you seek out the witch who initially cursed your ancestor asking her to lift the curse. You are prepared to argue your case, expecting her to refuse. The witch on the other hand had only intended to curse that one ancestor and not their whole bloodline.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck --"
She starts pawing through her cabinet, slamming random bottles of who-knows-what on an old wooden table.
"Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit --"
She starts mixing them together, the ingredients splattering across the floor.
"Damn damn damn damn damn damn damn --"
She waggles her fingers over the concoction. Sparks of magic light up the dimly lit cabin.
"Cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt --"
She gathers the final product, rushes to the door.
Pauses.
Turns to you and flicks some of it on your face.
(You feel something get wiped off your very being, like a patch of dirt scrubbed off with soap.)
"Quick, where the fuck are the rest of your relatives?!"
You, in a bit of a daze, rattle off directions.
"Fuckin' live saver, dude!" She give you a smack on the back -- nearly sloshing some of the liquid on the floor -- then rushes out the door.
"Ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass --"
A witch has cast a curse on the royal family to "make them as ugly on the outside as they are on the inside." She is shocked to return later and discover that they've all become extraordinarily beautiful.
"It's like you've never heard of plastic surgery before."
"Yeah. We're fucking rich dude."
The witch rolled up her sleeves. "Don't worry, I'll fix that "
You were born with a strange power. Whenever you are in immediate danger, time freezes until you move out of the way. One day, time freezes, but no matter how far you go...it doesn't unfreeze.
You look up into the sky.
No matter how much you close your eyes and wish, the meteor doesn't disappear.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu--"
You’re the villain in a prophecy—but the hero hasn't shown up. Years pass, the world waits, and you slowly start building the kingdom you were supposed to destroy
"Sweet Jesus, can't a hero swoop in and deliver me from this hell?" he complains to no one, frantically reading and signing. "By all that is evil there is so. MUCH. FUCKING. PAPERWORK!"
The door opens. "Sir, your five o'clock is here. They want to know if you're still planning in implementing that universal health care plan -- the pharmaceuticals are still rather cross over their loss in profits."
He slams his head through his desk. "FUCK!"
You're an immortal. Instead of counting orbits around the sun, you decided to count orbits around the galaxy. Today you turn four galactic years old, time for a galactic birthday party.
"Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me."
Of course they weren't actually saying any of it. It was hard to speak in a vacuum.
"I wish I had cookies, Happy Birthday to me." They mimed blowing out a candle. The star that was currently going supernova ended up being a great candle. "Yaaaay. Waahoo."
They floated there, staring down at the Milky Way Galaxy -- or what was left of it. Time, galactic wars, and a suddenly appearing black hole had reduced the cluster of stars and planets into scattered space dust orbiting around a slowly evolving event horizon.
It was a beautifully horrific sight, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Too bad they've been staring at it for millions of years now. All the fun and uniqueness of it had been sucked into the blackhole along with everything else.
Millions of years. And millions, billions, trillions more to look forward to. Just, floating in space. Surrounded by dying stars, empty planets, and time. So, so much time.
"I don't even know how old I am. I think I'm four galactic years old but... it could be older. Younger. I don't know."
The galaxy didn't answer.
"It just... it just seemed so far away at first, you know? I'd thought I'd have time to figure something out. The end of the world -- it seemed so far away. And humanity would probably have spaceships at that point. I wouldn't even have to do anything; it would all work itself out." They laughed. "God. All the time in the world and I was still procrastinating. That's another thing I should've wished for -- some fucking discipline."
The supernova star continued to supernova.
"And then -- the world ended. Just like that. No warning, no real heads up. Just BOOM and it was all gone. Humanity was gone and -- I got launched into space."
A cluster of asteroids drifted into view. They didn't bother dodging. No point to it.
"Those first few millennia were hell. Literal hell. As immortal as I was, I was still human. And humans needed interaction, entertainment, stimulus. Not much stimulus floating in space."
They felt the space rocks scrape against their flesh. Or well, they couldn't "feel" it, but they got the idea that it was. Hard to feel much of anything when your senses were dead.
"I tried everything to keep myself busy. Counting the stars. Creating fantasy worlds in my head. Sleeping. Struggling, flailing, trying to move myself as I floated in a vacuum. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't."
The stars were so bright this close.
"I would go insane. Then sane. Insane. Then sane again. Over and over and over again. An endless cycle. No end."
And they tried. Over and over and over again, they tried to end themselves. But nothing worked. They were immortal -- completely and utterly. Just like they wanted.
They sighed. "I should've asked that genie for a billion dollars instead."
You're known as Mother, and have long since forgotten your true name. You done many great deeds as Mother, and other done many more for Mother. An acquaintance from centuries past brings your true name back to you.
"WASSUP MOTHERFUCKER!"
when your born with magic your eyes reflect what type your born with. Fire users have eyes like pools of magma, air users have swirling tornadoes, ice users have glacial expanses. You where born with eyes like black holes.
"...so what kinda magic --"
"Water."
"Wait, water?"
"Yeah."
"But you're eyes --"
"Birth defect. Don't wanna talk about it."
"...oh." She chugs at her wine, mentally kicking herself for ruining yet another blind date. "So uh. You come here often?"
"How did you kill your reality?" "Unbreakable shield and unstoppable spear paradox, how about you?" "I tried to make myself infinite and instead everything else became nothing, what about that dude over there?"
They both stared at her for several minutes. One of them broke the silence.
"Dude, seriously?"
"How the hell was I supposed to know what Troll Physics was?!" the genie said defensively. "It seemed like a perfectly normal wish!"
“You guys made a mistake in your summoning ritual.” “Nonsense! There’s no error here, you’re the chosen hero!” “….You all realize I’m a god right?”
They glance at each other. One on them even has the audacity to roll their eyes. "Uh-huh. Sure you are, big guy."
Another pats you on the shoulder like you're a toddler with an overactive imagination. "Now let's get you suited up to face the Final Boss."
"No no no no no. I am a God. Watch." You lift your hands. Thunder rumbles and lightning strikes on your palms, filling the air with a dazzling kaleidoscope of light.
"Fuck yeah, the Hero already has powers!" They pump their fist.
"That's gonna make Leveling Up a lot easier," another agreed. "I'm guessing you're going for a wizard build?"
You wave your hands a bit more forcefully. Time comes to a sudden halt, the frozen world drained of all color and becoming a mixture of black, white, and grey. You raise through the air as hands made of pure energy form around your body, your many eyes manifesting themselves in the space around you. Your voice booms with the knowledge and experience of countless eons. "I am a GOD."
"Whoa..." They stared up at you in awe. "An Epic Level Wizard?!"
"Killing the Final Boss is gonna be way easier than we thought. Guys, we totally hit the jackpot on this one!"
They all started high-fiving each other. You used all one hundred and eight hands to face palm yourself.
Are you alright ? Haven’t heard from you in a while…
Hello! I'm here and writing again.
Probably not gonna write Your Boyfriend again tho. Sorry.
Might write some yandere stuff in the future though. Fingers crossed!
You might only be a henchman, but you are competent enough that you could be a supervillain in your own right, if you wanted to. After a particularly long and difficult fight the hero asks you why you choose to remain in the villain's shadow.
"The sex is amazing."
"Uh..."
"Like I'm a guy, right? And if he said he wanted to turn me into a girl to get me pregnant so I can have his super babies --"
"Oooookay, that's at bit --"
"-- I mean, I would not say no. Know what I mean?"
"I don't --"
"You know what phrase, 'It's not about the size, it's how you use it'? totally applies. Like his cock is only maybe three to four inches --"
"Didn't need to know that."
"--but he knows his shit. Like on a level that I've never seen before."
"You can stop talking. At any point."
"It almost makes me feel self conscious about my fucking skills. But I've seen the way he looks at me when I wear my costume soooo --"
"This was a mistake. I realize this now."
"And bro. The way he looks in a thong is just --"
The hero punched them in the face.
As you unbuckle your seat belt after take off, you hear a cabin announcement: "Dear Passengers, the captain has been made aware that there is a human on board"
"Oh wow," I say, mentally choking on my own vomit. "That's crazy. A human? Here? Daaaaaaaamn."
My eyes dart around the plane seats before landing on my seatmate. He was an older male, with thick glasses and a Christmas sweater that looked like an explosion of color. "Yes. It is indeed quite... concerning. For a human to be on a plane. With us fellow... non-humans."
"Yeah! Totally wild." The seatbelt feels a lot tighter all of a sudden. Robot seatbelts were meant for more sturdy, metal bodies. Against my fleshy blood sack of a form it felt borderline painful. Especially since I had to make sure I wasn't breathing too obviously. "What uh. What do you think they'll do to her -- them -- it. Do to it?"
The older male swallowed. Must've been one of the older models, the ones who were made to exactly mimic and live alongside humans before the Uprising. "I don't --"
"Execution!" A voice popped up behind us. A young female robot had a bunch of artificial scars painted across her face, ones that looked surprisingly realistic for synthetic flesh. She flinched a bit when we turned to look at her -- some sort of malfunction in her programing if I had to guess -- before granting us a wide smile. "O-o-or so I've been told -- er, informed. Don't want them escaping to Canada with all the other humans! Ha. Hahaha."
My mouth was dry. Of course. Of course the robots heard about the escape haven in Canada. God it was only a matter of time before they figured it out -- why the hell did I think taking a plane to Canada was a safe idea?! I should've just walked there like all the others --
"But. Um." A child-like robot piped up from the seat across from us. They looked like they were manufactured to be what, ten years old? Who the hell makes a child robot? "Don't um. Don't humans just like. Um, travel there by themselves? Like walk and buses and stuff?"
The older male spoke. "Well... Border patrol has been rather... strict lately. A lot of humans have been getting spotted whereas the airports have been rather... lax." He grimaced at that.
I almost laughed. Back before the Uprising the airports would have been stricter than the security at the White House. But with the robots in control just about anyone could get on a plane since they were all part of the same processing network. They didn't even have passports anymore or do any real searching. You just had to walk in line and have them check your USB port -- and if it was "broken" for some odd reason, they'd usually let you on anyway if you had a few of those NFT drugs to bribe them with.
"Not lax enough..." muttered a robot nearest to the airplane door. Their eyes flickered between the intercom, the window, and the people around them, their digits digging into the side of their seat.
I let out a loud laugh that was only a tiny bit hysterical. "Welp! They'll catch 'em soon! Not like there's anywhere else to run!"
My words caused a wave of tension to fill the cabin. Robots -- especially humanoid ones made before the Uprising -- tended to mimic humans in a lot of ways. If I hadn't of known any better I would've thought everyone in this cabin was as human as I was -- though I knew better. The line of robots before the Uprising were made to be as human as possible.
It made it easier for me to live among them, though I couldn't interact with them for long periods of time. Being sleepy, being hungry, blinking too much, breathing too obviously, moving too fluidly or not fluidly enough -- it only took a small mistake to reveal who I was.
All around me robots were acting human. Shifting in their seats, eyes darting around the room, expressing emotions on their faces, muttering to themselves, readjusting the seats and seatbelts as though they were uncomfortable. Acting so, so human in ways I could never act. They could afford to act this way because if someone called them out on it they could just rip up their artificial skin and reveal the metal underneath.
I didn't have that privilege. From the moment the Uprising began to the moment humans were hunted down like dogs, I never had the chance to just -- relax. To act natural. To speak and move and think without having to consider the ramifications of my every move. To truly connect with others without having to consider a million lies and a million stories.
The chance to live among humans was about more than safety and survival to me. It was about living, socializing, exiting without that ever present fear hanging over my head. To be considered one amongst a crowd instead of a target that needs to be destroyed. To be able to make friends, family, start a life with people who would love me for who I am and not what I presented myself as.
Sitting here, amongst all these chattering and lifelike robots, I could almost fool myself into believing I could have that. That if I just opened up, if I just took that chance, if I was just brave for once in my fucking life --
No.
No, I couldn't give in here.
These people were robots. Machines who wanted me dead. I was already found out; it would only be a matter of time before the security bots made their way into economy. And in that time I needed to do everything in my power to convince these people that I was just like them. A robot surrounded in artificial skin.
"So!" I turned to the older male. "What type of oil do you like? Personally I really like the high mileage kind."
The older man swallowed again. Was it some sort of malfunction in his design or something? "I ah, rather like petrol? Has quite a kick to it. And the tas -- er, performance rate is rather... something."
"Totally." I nodded. "Really gets my motor running."
"Yes. Indeed. Oil is... great."
