#scribings

[2demon2slayer]

The mental image of one of the Hashira (probably Tanjiro, that seems very in-character for him) giving an anti-bullying lecture to a handful of teenagers (who might not even be listening) is sending me

believe it or not, the anti-bullying seminar was actually one of the first things i wrote when i made the sun hashira's tsuguko au. so in honor of this ask, here's the scene i had in mind, in like . just dialogue format. in all of its dubiously canon glory

-

sanemi: does anyone know why the hell we're here

obanai: i think if we knew, you wouldn't have to ask

mitsuri: oh! what if it's a surprise? wouldn't that be fun!!

kanae: it probably has something to do with the fact that we're all training under a hashira

kagaya: wait but i'm here too

sanemi: holy shit oh my god when did you get here

kagaya: i've been here the whole time???

kyoujurou: he has, in fact, been here the whole time!

kanae: well, ubuyashiki-kun is kind of training under a hashira, even if he isn't technically a demon slayer

kagaya: yet

shinobu: wait, what about tomioka

obanai: ugh, what about tomioka

kyoujurou: she does have a point! he is kamado-san’s tsuguko! if this were a meeting for those training under the hashira, he would most certainly be a part of it!

sanemi: maybe they forgot about him lol

obanai: (snort)

mitsuri: don't be mean!!!

kaigaku: ugh, can you guys just shut up already??? they'll just tell us what this meeting is about when they get here

tengen: who do you think ‘they’ is?

kanae: one of the hashira?

shinobu: well if it's not any of our teachers, it would have to be kamado-san or tokitou-san

kagaya: it could be my father

kaigaku: what would oyakata-sama want with a bunch of snot-nosed brats like us?

tengen: at least he included himself in the count…

kiriya: hello, my children

everyone: oyakata-sama!!!

tanjirou: i'm here, too!

everyone: kamado-san!!!

kiriya: i've gathered you all here today because of some concerning rumors about our youngest members of the corps that tanjirou brought to my attention

kaigaku: (oh shit)

obanai: (shut up!)

kiriya: tanjirou?

tanjirou: so, basically, this is a seminar on bullying

tengen: oh my god

shinobu: (uzui shut up!!!)

tengen: is the reason tomioka’s not here because we were bullying him

tanjirou: so you admit to it

sanemi: oh my god???

kiriya: bullying is a serious topic that shouldn't be taken lightly

shinobu: with all due respect, oyakata-sama, kamado-san, we aren't doing much more to him than playful insults. i'm not sure why you’d think we were bullying him-

tanjirou: okay i'm cutting to the chase

tanjirou: giyuu and i had a conversation the other night that implied that at least one, but likely several of his peers were saying either to his face or behind his back that he wasn't worthy of being my tsuguko

tanjirou: and if that came from one of you, then i am breaking somebody’s legs

obanai:

obanai: oh shit

[cowandsistrum]

Epagomenal Day 2: Heru-wer

01/08/2023

Another quick and dirty service today (got home way later than I expected), but Dad got His meat pie and I got the most wonderful view of His healed eye in the moon, so. I have a feeling that’s what really mattered to Him.

I’ve been excited for this day since last week. Heru-wer is a Name very dear to me, guiding me right from the first wobbly falcon chick steps I took into Kemeticism, and likely before that, in childhood, where the book that piqued my interest in Egyptology and the Egyptian gods featured a wonderful Ra-Horakhty falcon emblazoned on its cover.

It is somewhat ironic then, that this day would end up feeling less formal than the previous for Wesir. Shrine service was even quicker than usual: no sparks, or big huge feelings like I got with Wesir yesterday, but He was there all the same, in His warm gruffness. Less of a sit-down like I was called to do with Wesir yesterday and in the future, but more of a quick ruffle on the head and a somewhat impatient “The pie is getting cold. Hurry up and eat it and we can return to formalities later,” though with more warmth in those words than I feel I can put across here.

No, I felt Heru the most today in the quiet moments. Teaching and reflecting on all I had done and all I would come to do. The moon rose in its full and beautiful silver glory today on my commute home and that’s when I felt Him the most. A quiet embrace of silvers and purples in the dusk, and the reminder to be proud of what I have done.

Today’s card was the Seven of Wands, paired with the Ten of Swords, which jumped out at me and didn’t reveal its face until after the reading. The message is very clear: have more faith in yourself and you can weather any storm.

[2demon2slayer]

ANCIENT SUN

-

the smell is what hits tanjirou first.

the entire place reeks of demons. this is a veritable nest of them, all trying to bully each other out of town. apparently, there’s a whole host of people with marechi blood in town, and the demons in surrounding areas have all flocked here, trying to get a taste. truthfully, the demon slayer corps probably shouldn’t have sent just a single mizunoto to deal with this. tanjirou prays they just didn’t know.

amidst the putrid smell of demonic bloodlust, though, is a softer scent. something almost mournful. something almost dangerous. tanjirou stands back to back with nezuko, slashing at any demons that come close. he’s exhausted though— dealing with ten or so demons doped up on marechi blood is no easy task— and just about ready to drop. suddenly, though, the underlying scent spikes and in between one blink and the next, the demons are all dead.

as their bodies turn to ash, tanjirou feels a prickle along his spine, and he spins around to see-

a man stands before nezuko, sword already swinging towards her neck. tanjirou feels as though the very blood is his veins has frozen. time seems to slow, and his eyes lock with the man’s. brilliant red eyes with cat-slitted pupils blink and the sword held in clawed hands halts before meeting nezuko’s skin.

“ah,” the man says, pulling the sword back, “hello.”

-

tanjirou unfreezes in time to pull nezuko backwards, placing himself in between his sister and the demon- slayer? the man doesn’t move to strike, though, rather sheathing his sword and taking a half step back. his face doesn’t show much, but there’s a touch of surprise to his scent. what is it that he could be surprised by, tanjirou wonders?

beyond the surprise, there’s a smell of mourning so deep it very nearly brings tanjirou to tears. it’s a smell he’s only found in a few places before. in urokodaki some days. in tomioka most days. it’s for this reason that tanjirou lowers his own blade, looking up at the demon who smells frighteningly powerful, yet without a trace of human blood on him.

“um,” tanjirou puts his sword away and bows to the stranger, “hello! thank you for your help, sir!” the surprise smell spikes for a moment and the demon dips his head back at tanjirou. his eyes have relaxed into the dull gaze that tanjirou’s seen in both nezuko and tamayo, and tanjirou is struck by a sense of familiarity.

something about this demon tugs at a place in tanjirou’s memories. he feels certain, down to his bones, that even if he hasn’t met this man, he’s at the very least seen him before.

“do-” tanjirou catches himself speaking before he even knows what he’s saying, “do i… know you?”

the surprised smell grows for another moment, before settling. then sadness sets back in, almost deeper than before, and tanjirou feels his eyes getting misty.

“no, i don’t think you do,” the demon says. and even as he does, his voice strikes another chord in tanjirou.

“ah, well… i’m tanjirou. kamado tanjirou. it’s nice to meet you.”

“kamado, huh?” the demon murmurs, his gaze unfocusing for a brief moment. “my name is yoriichi.”

[2demon2slayer]

Fuck I love giving Sanemi from the tsuguko au have a motif of running, whether it be figuratively running away from trauma or problems or literally running into the sunrise.

Does Giyuu ever meet Tamayo and Yushiro because he's Tanjiro's tsuguko or does Tanjiro keep that to himself?

("whats that tanjiro-sensei" "nothing dont worry abt it" *chachamaru comes into existence* "absolutely nothing at all giyuu woah wait look over there sabito became human" "what where??!??!?" *sneaks blood sample into pocket with a horrible lying face* "oh sorry giyuu my bad")

while the theoretical humor of tanjirou's poor attempts at secrecy are incredibly amusing to me, i did plot out that one of the first thing tanjirou does with giyuu and sabito when they come into his care is take them to see yushirou and tamayo

here's actually an excerpt from the yushirou fic i'm . slowly writing:

[2demon2slayer]

the first light of day in three centuries

-

i haven't actually written much of anything for the road trip au, and i still have no idea if/when i'm gonna actually write a proper fic for it, but i got struck with an idea, so here's an unedited bit of writing with absolutely zero context or framing!

-

-

kokushibou looks down at the boy, barely old enough to be carrying a sword and fighting in a war, and there's a strange quiet in the back of his head. the boy looks so painfully like his brother, like yoriichi, that kokushibou almost sneers at it. the earrings, the black blade that kokushibou had thrown to the side, the mark curling over his forehead. the part of him that's muzan reels back at the sight of it, an instinctual fear down to his very dna.

if there’s one thing that separates the two, though, it would have to be the fear. had yoriichi ever even felt fear? surely not. the entire time kokushibou had known him, he'd been dead-eyed— cold and unfeeling as the monster he was.

(there was a moment, once or twice, a very long time ago, when yoriichi had looked at michikatsu and smiled. a soft sort of look that made him appear frighteningly human. but michikatsu had been just a boy the last time he'd seen his brother’s smiling face. and all those memories have long since faded over the centuries.)

kokushibou stalks forward, and the boy— already on the ground— starts pushing himself backwards, staring in wide-eyed horror at the demon before him. and in that moment, kokushibou has a strange thought.

this feels familiar. it's different shades, different contexts, and yet…

three centuries ago, on a night not unlike this one, kokushibou— who had still been michikatsu at the time— had found himself surrounded by the corpses of humans and demons alike. on his back, crawling backwards in horror, unable to do anything else.

was this how i looked, kokushibou thinks, when yoriichi found me?

and with that thought, everything shifts. the world stays the same, but kokushibou suddenly sees it all differently. he hesitates, and a pressure builds in the back of his mind, in the tether on his very soul that connects him to his master- to kibutsuji- to muzan.

a sense of impatience. a sense of urgency. muzan’s orders are clear— kill the boy, find the girl.

kokushibou looks down and sees the shadow of a boy long dead, an elder brother burdened with the weight of responsibility, a demon slayer who could never quite use sun breathing as good as the pillar of sun, whose demon slayer mark came and went on a whim, whose younger sibling was always stronger, always the one people wanted over him.

very clearly and deliberately, kokushibou thinks, no.

he expects violence. he expects for muzan’s curse to crawl up his throat and destroy him from the inside out. he expects his blood to turn sour and biting and boil out of his veins.

instead, there's an odd sensation, like a string has been snapped. and then there is silence. for the first time in three centuries, kokushibou is alone in his thoughts.

he leans down and reaches a hand out to tilt the boy’s face.

“i have been a fool.”

[2demon2slayer]

some writing for my kny/bnha crossover that i may never finish. pain.

-

inko steps into the precinct and feels her breath catch in her throat. there's a boy in a strange uniform and checkered haori speaking to one of the detectives. and he's…

inko kept the photo and the earrings on a whim. her father had been a strict and traditional sort of man who had sworn that they would go to his eldest son and his eldest son only. but the midoriya’s never had another child past her and eventually, inko’s father died with no heir.

her mother had sent her the framed photo and earrings, and inko had been tempted to just throw them in the trash. spit on her father’s legacy. but she found herself drawn to the contents of the photo.

it was old— undated, but reportedly taken in the taishō era— and though it was likely originally taken in black and white, some delicate hand had gone back and colorized the entire thing. inko can't help but wonder who? some professional? one of her great grandparents? did they know what these people ought to have looked like?

the picture is ancient— perhaps three hundred years old— and it looks it. faded and frayed around the edges, stained slightly by sunlight. the earrings are in better condition, but they don't have the pristine look to them as seen in the photo.

the boy with the hanafuda earrings. her ancestor.

she'd wondered many times what he was like. who all these people surrounding him were. he had a kind face, and that was the primary reason she'd kept the photo. she didn't hang it up anywhere, rather keeping it in a box somewhere to occasionally look over and remind herself of those many strangers and their faces.

a decade or so later, when she had a son of her own, inko considered handing the picture and the earrings to izuku. to this day, she’s still considering.

whatever feelings she has on her family heirlooms matter not in the face of the boy at the precinct. the boy who must have walked right out of that picture tucked away in a box. the boy with wavy black hair that shimmers red in the harsh light. the boy with the scar over his forehead and the hanafuda hanging from his ears.

the boy who is ancient history made real.

[2demon2slayer]

it was an accident, the first time. genya found himself face to face with a demon, no blade in his hands, no big brother to protect him. and he panicked. and he used the only weapon he had. his teeth had always been a little bit sharper than normal. a little bit sturdier. cold and bitter blood painted his tongue and the demon hissed and swatted him away.

it had hurt. and then it hadn’t. and then genya had stood on inhumanly strong limbs and felt a bloodlust like nothing else, and he’d torn that demon to shreds.

and he’d been afraid when his nails turned to claws and his teeth to fangs. but after a time, it went away. and genya had thought to himself, “oh. i can use this.”

he thought it would always be like this. bite a demon, drink a bit of their blood, steal a bit of their powers, kill them, and then go back to normal. but over time, as he ate more and more, as he did it with increasing frequency, the changes started to linger. his teeth stayed pointed for longer, he grew at an unnatural pace, and worst of all, he could no longer stomach food.

he thought he was dying, at first. he’d eat and become violently sick, no matter how small or light his meals were. eventually, he stopped feeling hunger altogether. he wondered if there would eventually be a point of no return. if, one day, he’d stop being demon-like and become demonic. he felt no desire to consume human flesh and blood, but would he start to?

would he even have a full year as a demon slayer before becoming the very thing he’d sworn to destroy?