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helloescapist · 3 months ago

Note

Hiii! I'm so glad you're back again! So excited to read all the requests and inquiries you've been getting from others! I know my request here will take some time to get to (and I'm fine with that 🤗), but I'm just dropping it here anyways so I don't forget:

Daki's girlfriend from "Sincerely" visits her for a date/sleepover and meets Gyutaro for the first time. How would their interaction be?

(Also side note, I've read Sincerely at least 20 times, it's so well-written and I smile like an idiot every time I get to the confession part at the end of part 2)

-🐼

I'm back. 🥳 but goodness gracious is it taking me a while to actually be *back*. I am so grateful that you're still here, and so patient with me! Hearing that you still continue to enjoy Sincerely, brings my heart so much joy. 🥺 I just do not deserve you. Thank you for reading my work, and sending in an adorable request <3

Sincerely, Sleep-Over | Daki Headcanons

Word count: 2073

Setting: modern!Daki x fem!reader

Content Warning(s): girlxgirl, yuri, opposites attract, modern!AU, ecchi/suggestive

Summary: headcanons on how a sleepover would affect the Shabanna siblings

The moment the ding went off on his phone, Gyutaro’s heart was in the pit of his stomach. He could feel the worries like anxious little butterflies that threatened to crawl up his esophagus. Etched into the anxieties with the delicate message with far too many expressive emojis depicting her excitement, and statement.

We both know that Daki never *asked* for you to spend the night. Rather, it’s a half-hazard message, devoid of details, and dripping with emojis. Something that blatantly demands that he allows you entrance into the home. You’re spending the night; the text is essentially a last-minute courtesy to ensure you feel as comfortable as you can under her roof.

Let’s be clear, it’s not the lack of permission, or missing respect within her message that Gyutaro conflicted. Rather, it’s the fact that this is the first time his little sister has ever requested a friend to spend the night.

He’s not stupid--- there are variety of reasons why friendship has never welcomed Daki in their life. She’s short-tempered, irritable, competitive, and well… an acquired taste. He can still recall the time classmates had passed their ran down apartment in her elementary years. She bit back the large tears that whelped into the corner of her eyes and swallowed the shame of the disposal that carried into the streets. Unabashed by the apartment homes that stacked upon one another like a matchbox destined for kindle. The scent of sex in the air, puffs of smoke between painted lips that beckoned a day’s work. Laundering hung from clothing pins tainted by the night’s affairs and the stains of cheap beer.

Daki’s pride was foreign amongst these streets, and yet her fury remained unmatched. Self-respect clawed from the depths of impoverish upbringing as righteous as the closed fists that wretched at the other little girl’s hair, unaware of the screams that erupted from the gaggle of young onlookers. Torn school clothes, the slash of her cheek. It was a scene that Gyutaro could barely process at a young age. He’d rushed out in a dash of filth, dirtied from running street errands amongst the narrow streets. His skin rash ached as he struggled to unfurl his sister’s fist from the other little girl’s hair.

But at least he had attempted. It was more than he could say for his mother, who hadn’t even noticed the marred touches of flesh upon her daughter’s face when she had crept home five days later.

No, it was ultimately the anxiety that for once, Daki was willing to expose her home to another. A level of vulnerability that he had never considered a possibility for his little sister. True, their current living circumstances were a far call than what they had been that fateful day in the alley, but he is not stupid. He knows that the income he pulls from working various odd jobs in the late hours after school is… manageable. If he stretches his money and skips a few meals.

Gyutaro will do his best to tidy the home and run a few extra errands in order to put extra food on the table for the night. Skipped school, and lunch in favor of securing a few extra funds, and how his uneven smile breaks at the convenience store counter at the cutesy little ice cream bars he has procured alongside a few measle sides for dinner and breakfast. Humble by all means, but an extravagance within their household. He’s nervous that Daki will be embarrassed by his cooking skills. The home has been scrubbed from the top to the bottom, doing his best to recall the setting of wholesome family television shows he had watched enviously in his youth.

He welcomes you, uneasily with a diverted gaze. A slight blush on his features, doing his best to keep his mouth shut embarrassed by his lack of childhood dental care. An apron wrapped around his hips like the mothers in forgotten TV programs adorned for their child returning from school. Daki is horrified.

Gyutaro can feel her horror washed upon his features, as he tries to downplay it. Her eyes are following him throughout the narrow living space. As stiff as a corpse in his movements. He doesn’t know if he’s doing any of this right, but he’s doing his best to fake it. Tuck his temper and force his social skills to the max as he offers you snacks, and to tuck you away at the kotatsu.

Daki is even more unamused. A scathing scowl that has caught her features to see the back-and-forth awkward bending between the two of you.

Confused at the attempted brushed back ponytail. A gathered mop of stressed tangles caught between stylings. Oh, Gods above, did he… did he use her shampoo? He had attempted to tidy himself up. What is this idiot doing.

Gyutaro’s drudged up manners practiced from television shows in an attempt to appear normal, and your returned anxiety a mirror image of her brother as you dip your head back with each expression of gratitude.

It’s only a matter of time before one of you slams your head into the table.

God it’s stiff, and she’s uncomfortable.

More so, the amount of rage that begins to develop into the pit of her stomach. Jealousy that bites at her sides. As though he can sense her fingers dance across your shoulder blades, he emerges from the kitchen once more. A bleak ghost of cockblock that haunts her movements. Seduction tipped back and forth between attempts that dance across your thigh beneath the blanket, and flickered into vengeful remarks that Gyutaro does not acknowledge as excuses himself from your presence once more.

She’s ready to burst. It is by no means, the night she had planned.

Daki had pictured a scene of continuous flirting. Brazen remarks upon your skin, her fingers traced upon small freckles, daring to count them as you changed from your days clothes. She’d invite you to the neighborhood sento.

Delight at the opportunity to see as lip of flesh between soap bubbles. She’s dying for the chance to wash your back.

Daki has fantasized of night slips, snuggled between the folds of her futon. Your scent intermingled between her pillows, and she danced back and forth if your undies were more scandalized slips of lace, or little bows only to realize that you were very likely a teddy bear motif on your underwear kind of girl. She will do everything she can during this sleepover to see your panties. Daki will go to… concerningly lengths at the chance.

She’s plotting.

Shamelessly prepared to throw the tea across your packed pajamas. Let’s be honest, your prepared set are nothing compared to what she has *bought* you. The first fashionable slip that does not belong to her. Chomping at the bit for the right moment, and becoming only more irritable by her brother’s concerning interference—seriously, when did he develop an interest outside of his bedroom?

WHY IS HE STILL HERE???

Daki can count on one hand how many times Gyutaro has interacted with one of her would be entanglement, and yet, here he remained. A silent, pale figure mute to the vibe of the room.

At one point, she hits the realization that the home is cleaned, and there is a sweet scent of discount candles that hang in the air that matches the unusual image of an apron across his features, and his hair clumsily assembled into a ponytail that ignites a flare of jealousy in her movements.

Snagged at the way his polite awkward manners continue to fill the air, never getting a damn clue that she’s trying to slip into an unexplored section of your relationship. Hungered for your touch.

Or rather, what if, he’s completely aware. Never before has she entered into a competition for attention with her older sibling, and yet… she cannot help but feel the nagging compulsion that he had dared to tempt her wrath.

She’s so damn jealous she’s convinced herself that Gyutaro may also be interested in you.

Her possessive nature is at a high, and she refuses to budge her hold across your waste, forced your form into her lap and her chin upon the shoulder. Unwilling to deter despite your fussing as the warm breath tickles your neck.

Gyutaro’s lack of reaction to her blatant claim of ownership is only adding to her irritability.

For all of his sister’s odd displays of possession, Gyutaro is clueless, guided only by his curiosity. A rare phenomenon for the social recluse. The last time he felt an interest in another person was drawn from his brief interactions with the younger Kamado.

There is little said between either you or Gyutaro. Daki only making subtle jabs that is missed by either of you, or rather, quietly horrified to dare to engage further. Yet, he manages a shy smile, warmed by her scathing remarks.

She’s comfortable.

Around you.

His exhausted eyes cannot help but trace the marks upon the ragged futon that covers the kotatsu as her banter mars back and forth, pouting as though she were a small child once more, desperate to hang onto a beloved toy blind to the way his smile meets in a small pucker. His finger tips as warm as the swelling in his heart to hear her blatant insults.

Let’s be clear, Daki has named dropped a few times, in her giggly joy. The ding of a text message on her clearly outdated phone, and the utter confusion Gyutaro had suffered upon it’s ancient revival. Gone are all the sugar daddy delights. Dazzled with a cute shy and anxious cat sticker that she dotingly traces. She swears it has the same expression as when she attempts a squeeze in public. Her stories are ironically less explicit, but the details are far more vivid than they have ever been. Expressive, and hung upon every note.

I mean, the signs are there, and in hindsight, Gyutaro had everything flash before his eyes the minute his head hit the pillow. The returned gifts that she had placed time and effort into receiving. Her outfits had become less revealing, although still expressive as her personality. Rather, it seemed like she was putting more effort into her appearance aside from the slips of skin she normally relied on to snag affections. Her perfume had shifted. Less bold and demanding, but rather a flirty light floral note that required intimacy to pick up the undertones. Her nails had become shorter, still immaculate our girl loves to visit the nail salon and tended to regularly, but the jewels had taken a small dive, and the length as far more reasonable.

The realization as obvious as the giggles that picked between the divided rooms and carried as fast as the exasperated sigh between her lips as his hand slamming down the privacy wall. Red face, and flustered, outwardly horrified to find his sister crawled upon you. Brazen at her pursuits despite your obvious shame.

He has raised a predator!

The scolding has filtered between the paper-thin walls, enough for neighbors to bang on the wall, which insighted a full argumentative dispute between both siblings, and remaining tenants. Gyutaro’s disappointment at his sister’s inability to respect the obvious NO you had ushered, Daki’s relentless nagging that her brother would obviously not have a clue at how sexual relationships work out--- the sputtering of his little sister dipping so low in her accusations. Spat for spat, insult for insult, and threats spewed at neighbors to mind their business buzzed and overwhelming in the already cramped room with you able to do little more than burrow your blushed features into your hands.

Gyutaro is for lack of better words.

A cockblock.

He’s torn between being a protective big brother, part of him wants to blame you for Daki’s decent into perversion. I mean, she’s never actually pursued matters of the heart or lust before, rather she was content to tip toe around it, pillage her rewards with honeyed words, and dipped cleavage. Not once had she ever ACTED upon it.

Yet, despite how Gyutaro wants to protect his sweet, innocent sister, it is after all his duty. He’s raised her from her diapering years, packed her bentos, and ensured proper hygiene, but he’s not stupid. He is very aware that there is little to move Daki from what she has set her sights upon.

How she loves to explore, and savor new experiences. Bold enough to do so with her poor brother right next door. Gyutaro will never forgive himself for raising a predator. For all he is willing to defend Daki when she is entirely in the wrong, he is just as likely to crucify her faults, and damn her punishments.

He blames himself. He should have done a better job.

There is no way on this earth that Gyutaro is allowing her to share your bed. Regardless of her nefarious intentions, and god the way the realization hits him, the thoughts of the extent his sister was willing to take this her pursuits has him blushed from the tip of his ears down the nap of his neck.

He is forcing her into his bed. Borrowed scathing remarks, threats, an elbow of protest, and down right fending off a tantrum, and his façade has begun to slip with her shamelessness. It’s an outright cat and dog fight as he stuffs his sister into his futon, layed upon his weight to ensure she cannot escape like a black widow drawn to your bed. The stuttering blabbing of his words, fumbled and awkward as he avoids your gaze. He doubts he will ever be able to look you in the eye after realizing how his sister had practically assaulted you. Slams the wall covering with your confusion hung in the air as the siblings to continue to squabble into the late hours of the night.

Horribly exhausted in the morning. Bruised cheeks, whelps across each features. Eyebags that burrow deeper into their features than prior. Gyutaro’s yawning into his hand, unbothered by his physical state. He’s accustomed to hearing insults of his appearance, but the nagging of Daki’s heartbroken anguish when she sees how her face has faired the altered in the late hour battle is wearing. She swears that she’s practically mutilated at this point.

Yet, for all of her swearing from the toilet, and how her nails practically dig into the hollows of her cheeks, morning the loss of her flawless skin.

There’s a warm sense of quiet at the breakfast table. The mangled reclaimed discard of lawn décor fashioned into a dining set, warmed by your morning glow. Content, and smiled at each of his sister’s biting remarks, and dramatic proclamations. Soft giggles delighted to have the opportunity to experience waking up in the morning to your lover under the same roof.

Practically tickled pink as you wiggle your toes together between plush socks, hiding your warm smile into the mug curled between your hands. As Gyutaro leans across the back of his seat, exhausted and worn from defending your chastity, he cannot help but notice the way his back eases into the furniture. Peaceful by the silence that passes between you.

Familiar and comfortable as the one you both love most… rampages in the background, and for a moment, he thinks, he wishes every morning could be like this.

#demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #kny daki x fem!reader #daki x reader #demon slayer daki x reader

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helloescapist · 3 months ago

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Hi! I really love your writing style and I thought about requesting for a while.

I just read the request guide and I'd like to request a prompt, with Shinobu Kocho from Kny, where she did hurt, or did or said smth wrong to the reader (gn) and how she goes on to make up.

Take all the time that you need, thank you<3

Oh goodness, I do not want to think about how long this has been in the ask box. I am so sorry for how long it has taken me to respond. I hope you're still here and you see this!

Full disclosure, I have not been able to proof read this. I am currently home sick with fever, and just wanted to spend a little time catching up on here. Forgive me. 💜

Composure| Shinobu Kocho

Word Count: 1297

Setting: Shinobu Kocho x gn!reader, short

Content Warnings: undertones of gaslighting, cheating

Summary: when jealousy seizes the Insect Pillar's tongue, she must face the fact that her roundabout ways of apologizing, are not enough.

A/N: if you are enjoying the concept of a fight with Shinobu Kocho, you may enjoy these Quarreling and Gifting Headcannons.

Fingers laced across her forehead, trailed from her brow to the pinches of her eyes. Lashes that folded over an exhausted gaze that flittered amongst the miscellaneous trinkets amongst her desk. Medical texts askew, papers stuck out at odd angles depicting varying states of upcoming matter. Kocho trimmed nails caught in the corner of her eyes the memories causing her brow to furrow. Her nose quivered at the bit of her teeth touching her lip. Nagging bile that ate away at her stomach as the depths of night touch aster glowered at the nick-knacks that cluttered her sacred workplace.

Medical text that had been poured on from her formative years, test samples dripped in depths of wisteria displaced from their devoted placement. Askew from the norm, chemicals and scapples pushed to the edges of her desk, foregone in place of small little spiders. Collected in the depths of the night, procured from under brushes. Leaves that decorated their home bundled into their captivity. The marks of dirt imbedded beneath her fingernails, the stray scratch of a branch scathed across her cheek, haphazardly buried beneath a bandage. Its care was neglected, marred by her frustrations as the lady Kocho’s eyes followed their delicate long legs, delicate specks of yellow across their limbs and embodied in their thorax engulfing their partner’s delicate pattern. Tender as lovers dissatisfied by the Insect Hashira’s captivity, and uninterested in the nourishments she provided. The silver beneath the moonlight that filtered from windows danced amongst the delicate dew of their webs. As luminescent and fragile as the tears that had caught upon the edges of your eyelashes.

The same lashes that dejectedly observed the very arachnids that had greeted your doorway in the early morning. The joy of a sunrise discovery, how you had poured your heart over the depictions of superstitions and omens that tipped the corners of your mouth into a wideset grin, no longer evident at the way you had followed their delicate encounter. How your eyes had strayed to the hinoki floorboards. The delight blanched from your features as your socks touched upon the Japanese cypress in small tip toed motions down the medic ward. The ghost of past joys haunted the curves of your cheekbone. Such had become the nature of encounters in recent days. The same pressed hallowed gaze that met the tray left upon her doorstep time after time. Uninterested in the offerings left in your care. Unreactive to the intricate curve of the Hashira’s personal kettle, worn through the years. The fray of the wrappings upon the handle having worn from meticulous use. The second cup nestled into the other affectionately dismissed at the gentle close of your door. Rejected the yuzu tea she had cowered from another region. The faint scent of oranges touched upon the air, and poisoning her mood further such as the day she had suffered through the bumbling of ideocracy pressed between the idle chatter of the confections salesmen. How his jovial curve of his lips had ignited her ire, his knowing whispered of young love and the spats that followed. All too foreboding of the untouched monaka treat upon your window seal. The dusk of the night before having touched upon it, the crack of the wafer cookies stale after hours exposure. The sweet scent of anko paste having attracted its ray of pests. The faint hue of wisteria faded beneath sun exposure. How you had once delighted in the blossom shaped, cooed praises of her thoughtfulness no longer uttered in sweet words.

The touch of her fingers that traced the blossom wafers, shattered beneath the smallest amount of pressure beneath her fingertip. Cracked, and shattered confection as were the memories of how you had delicately held it so many years ago. The same lingering scent of yuzu. The smell of citron doing nothing to soothe her nerves as the peels lingered alongside the remnants of other failed attempts of affection across Shinobu’s desk. The bubbling of water that echoed across the room, bubbled and rolled within the small pot. The touch of scales glistening within the moon shine, gleamed in hues of earthen brown. Pulled from the depths of a riverbed, the frays of her uniform soaked. The scent of moss and ichor stained upon the whites of her clothing, given way to the mild earth hues that touched upon her features. The scathing of her fingertips ached, left her feeling like the remnants of filth and ached at the scathing of river rock. Stones that had dug into the flesh of her hands as she dug within the depths in the late hour. Practically bathed in the waste of wildlife. Unwilling to admit how desperately she clung to fanciful attempts at an apology. Dodged encounters, horrified to meet your gaze, trinkets of remorse fallen upon neglect. Her pride writhing at the whispering memory of his name pressed between your lips.

It had started small. Minor encounters upon your trips to the grocer. Light humor, and traded amusements of local rumors. How you delighted in discussing the fishmonger’s recent failed love encounters… How Lady Kocho loathed the banter, and how desperately she wished she could stomach the mundane discussion. Perhaps it would have made a difference. The bumbling of day-to-day life is enough to numb her brain, the tales of your shopping difficult for her to maintain her composure and interest. The slip of his name had begun to creep into conversation; a once distant acquaintance met over the passing of leeks and seasonal produce had grown more prominent. As was the consistent influx of vegetable-based dishes within the Butterfly Estate. Yet, Kocho had bit back the disdain. Swallowed the disgust that etched her features as you giggled at a recent encounter—how you could possibly delight in his foolishness was beyond her. From the moronic way the grocer pronounced kabocha betraying every ounce of his upbringing to the numerous times the fool had worn his kimono inside out. The giggle at the tip of your tongue as you disposed of another snippet of the simpleton’s antics, the sting of familiarity as your betrayed her security. Tsuyoshi, uttered without restraint. Foreign to the Insect Pillar she felt the shake of her features stripped of her pride. How she had tried to ignore it, but the echoes of his name ate away at her insides. Tore into her consciousness and began to haunt her in the late hours of the night. How fair the familiarity of his first name had corroded her had slipped from her grasp. The composure of her well-manicured behaviors deformed and exposed at her over willingness to accompany you to the most recent grocery trip. Gnawed at her insides as the foliage gathered within her arms. Attempted to convince herself that she was content to act as your catering mule, burdened with shopping and the pungent scent of soil and leeks. Aching at the weight of your bounty, encouraged your willfulness to spoil the recent attendance of the Butterfly Estate. Foiled by the pull of your attention. The high pitch gasp once more that fell into giggles. The part of your lips, a smile not intended for herself. Bathed in the sunlight, and rush of the market. The delicate touch of your fingers that swept through his hair friendliness that bled into intimacy irked the pit of her stomach. Flamed the horror that spread across the medic’s features. How tenderly your fingers had filtered through Tsuyoshi’s hair, procuring a leaf that had stuck out at odd ends of his muddy hair. The blush that spread across his features, and the pat of his hand to the back of his neck. Humbled laughter of a fool who eagerly bowed appreciation, overtly formal. She half expected him to lose his balance as though a kappa spirit that had over exerted itself in its manners, only rewarded with the delight of your giggles.

Shinobu could not dismiss the rage that ate away at her in the moment. The slip of her composure torn away from her, exposed the underbelly of her depravity. Her wrathful jealousy is as sharp as the grasp she caught upon your wrist. Practically retching the leaf from your hand. The fury touched upon her features, cold and as lethal as the poisons she wields against an unknowing dunce. How her tongue had lashed out in a barrage of hostility. Shamed utterances of only the foulest depictions of her rage. Only furthered by the confusion that flitted on his features, and the shame that spread across your own as she tugged you away. The chill that met her features, curled down her spine as her well crafted mask slipped from her grasp as the pull of your hand, folded into the other as you avoided her scathing gaze. Swallowed the accusations she had hissed in the heat of the moment, detached. Out of reach. As though a shadow that reaches for the sunlight, unable to meet its touch as you urged Shinobu to return to the Butterfly Estate under the pretense of needing to finish the shopping. The turn of your shoulder, not providing her with a parting glimpse before you slipped into the bustle of the market. Out of her reach, devoid of her touch.

Shinobu’s finger traced the scalpel at her side, danced along the smooth edge dipped in small nicks within the discard of the scales. Ached at the touch within her heart, the small lesions of her miscellaneous adventures over the past few days misaligned as they often were. The shame of her public outburst, naked and exposed the depths of her shameful nature etched into her features. The slow stew of snakeskin bubbled and bathed the natural fatty acids, skimmed into omega 3 as a sign elicited the draw of her parted lips. It would fail—unlike a certain someone Tsuyoshi, ah no, that bitter jealousy is why she was in this mess in the first place. Though that pathetic excuse for a fishmonger had not helped in the slightest. No, no she would do with that whoremonger’s libido later. Opioid should heal that wandering --- ah no, while fantasizing about tarnishing the appetite of the rumor mill was enjoyable, and certainly easily enough to cure… Shinobu could feel her shoulders rest, her thoughts landing upon how affectionately you had said his name. How her scorn had met you unfairly, and how you had turned from her.

Danced apologies amongst yuzu tea, boiled snakeskin, and favored confections, guilt gnawed at the pit of her stomach. The recounting of the moments as though a broken record that snagged at his name, over and over. The ache of realization drawing her fists into her eyes as the tears caught upon her eyelashes. No matter the depths of her devotion, her eagerness to right her wrongs in the most awry routes, in the pit of her stomach. In the morn of her heart as her fingers tended to the boiling stew of ailments, she steeled herself to the reality. The vile of her pride diminished and sincerity left on her haori. Her shoulders working tirelessly once more, foiled over the hot pot as she filtered back and forth. Her resolve strengthened with first morning light. She would apologize, proclaim all of her wrongdoings. Shame away the roundabout ways she had attempted to ease your wrath and beg for forgiveness. The grip of her tongs beginning to dig into the soft flesh of her hand as her gaze sharpened.

I’ll apologize to the idiot--- Tsuyoshi.

I really do believe that Shinobu is capable of a quality, and sincere apology, but I also believe that it can take her time to arrive at the realization that it is needed.

I fully believe that initially, she will attempt small gestures of affections as a means to appease the mood between her and her partner. Such as leaving small snacks not cooked by herself, she's not upset about the situation. She's not trying to poison you.

That being said, I see her doing as much as she can to be considerate of you, especially when things are tense. Yes, she has a vicious tongue and can become jealous of you giving your attention to those she deems... well, stupid.

As such, Shinobu would be the sort to hear your small sneeze inthe morning air, and disappear in search of yuzu fruits to boost your immune system.

There is no greater devotion than attempting to make things right in the most round about ways-- she's attempting to soothe her guilt or her misunderstanding of the situation. Why are you so mad? She doesn't always quite understand, but she takes your feelings seriously. Even if it takes her a while to process what bump in the relationship has occurred.

Feelings are essentially a matrix zone in some ways to Shinobu... She gets it, but doesn't.. get it?

So yes, she will dedicate herself to procuring a water snake when she hears that your joints are aching due to the cold weather, hunting down spiders to greet you in what ever ridiculous superstitions you contain, just like she will shoo spiders away from your doorway in the night.

Yet, while she's out and about doing everything to make it right rather than facing her doings in the situation, she's slowly realizing... no, she did this.

Lives in repeat. The Insect Hashira will repeat everything, roll it in her mind to the brink of madness. She will overanalyze every giggle, plant misgivings where there are none. Stress her body and her mind to breaking points in an attempt to find the answer. Where she went wrong, what she could have done better.

Sadly, Kocho can stay in this space for a while, she wants to be sure, and she wants to be her best, but despite how her pride loathes to admit it--- it does not come naturally to her in these matters, but she's learning. She wants to learn.

When she has emerged from her pit of despair looking like that Sunny in Philadelphia meme, and possibly reeking of cigarettes, she's at peace, and knows without a doubt that she is at fault. Subconsciously she's known it, her actions reek of her remorse, but now that she's stewed in it, she's ready to make things right.

no matter the cost.

even apologizing to the lesser species

That being said, do not expect a flowery apology. There will be remorse, there will be sincerity, but there will not be an over embellishment.

It will be as blunt and as lethal as the hashira herself. She will take full blame for all the pain she has done, and will not run from the repercussions, but it do not hold out for a grandiose gesture--- for Shinobu swallowing her pride and admitting fault is the bouquet of roses.

#kimetsu no yaiba x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #insect hashira #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader

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helloescapist · 5 months ago

Text

To Convey Wisteria Petals | Gyomei Himejima

Word Count: 1761

Setting: Gyomei x gn!reader (reader is a kakushi)

Content Warning(s): mentions of gore/violence, angst

Summary: continuation of part one, you can find here.

The snap of branches beneath your feet met the wail of your bones. Agonizing strain against seating muscles as you struggled to your feet. The scrape of dirt against your sandals as you pressed forward, the bend of your back deformed and fractured amongst the wreckage of the forest. The tumbled path, forged from the force of giants in a war of strength and blood had carved itself into the mountain side. Rolled down the side, dripped from cliffs left the mourn of life in its wake. Devoid of noise, of warmth, a journey amongst severed branches that snagged at your uniform. Bit at your cheeks and scathed your bones as you struggled exhaustion, and the weight clutched to your pelvis nestled into your stomach. Delicately wrapped in your arms, the sacred will of the warrior lose in its resolve. The weight of entrusted burden is a mere mockery of any training you had received in the kakushi faction. The edge of iron unyielding beneath your fingertips, and the shallow rattle of the chains with each fumbling foot you dared. Brace your form into the mountains as you curled within yourself. The passing of hours deaf to the pains of your bones, the surge of adrenaline that echoed within your ears. Tugged at your corneas, blacked the edges of your eyelashes. The ache of bones that bit back the burden, shuffled forward, and ignorant of the gashes that the mountainside had claimed in your stumbles a victim to the plundering night.

Only faintly aware of the tears that formed in your eyes as you threatened to chock on your sob. The faint touch of ebony feathers above, distinct attempts at caws to warn you of the foreboding terrain as you trudged forward unyielding and reckless in your pursuit. Each step drawing more and more unstable as the soil shifted beneath your feet. Pebbles tumbled forward, echoed the shadows of the night and revealed the trauma the battle had inflicted. Despair born into your bones with each passing step damned to eternity. If only you were stronger—if you were faster such idle curses void of purpose. Your heart entombed beneath vial and stomach acid. The tranche scent of iron birthing a sense of nausea and deepened dread as the small Kasugai crow dipped once more, its pitiful cries fallen to the peppering of beak toggled upon the curls of your hair. Desperate to pull you forward, begging your resolve as its wings fluttered fervently as its voice shattered the night air. Drawing the small bite of your sob, the path marred in blood. His blood. The sickening realization plummeting your senses, as your forced our body forward.

The momentum of the chain and axe guiding your forward. Hurtled your body over bolders, slammed into shattered bark and reminants of trees. Exposed your skin to the night air as your blood threatened to mix with the scene, unable to make out any further evidence of interlopers. A sickening crunch of your arm as your scream shook the leaves and ruffled feathers. The distinct flicker of prayer beads shattered amongst the soil, the remainders of string that bonce bound them together snagged against a shattered trunk. The weight of its owner having snapped the mighty tree from its footing in his descent down the mountain side, and his will to drag his opponent to their death. The familiar glint of red that caught your eye and elicits your tears. The sickening realization harrowing your bones, robbing you of your senses as you desperately clung to the ball and chain like a smile child clung to its mother’s apron. The sob broke through clenched teeth before you could claim it as your own, nabbed at the desperate reach of your fingers. Snagged upon the drastic weight of a weapon meant for one of your statures, weak to the lure of the small beads before you. Warm in hue and a decoration of devotion, and much like the gods themselves just out of your reach as your prayers fell on deaf ears. They had left him. Sacrificed him to the night, allowed the demon to claim an emerging mizunoto. One that smelled of hidden comforts, the touch of citrus and the security of musk. The scent of safety, as tender as the way his large hand had met your head on that fateful night amongst the wisteria trees. The distant memory of Mount Fujikasane bathed in the break of sunrise when you had survived the Final Selection thanks to the kindness of a fellow candidate. The touch of a smile hidden under large eyes, as you tended to the blood upon his clothing. Mournful your rescue had tarnished his linens, but unable to deny the gratitude that spilled between your lips. The gradual release of your delicate words no longer able to mask the tremors of your small hands as the events of the days prior had nestled into your heart. The tears that caught upon your eyelashes as the sunlight met his soft smile, knowing and tender. Gentle as the hand that met your hair as though he were soothing a small child rather than a peer as the wisteria petals caught in his hair. The rumble of his warm voice comforting and deep as a hug that met your soul through your bones, “Describe them to me.”

Foreboding caws that practically harmonized with your agony as your fingernails gnawed the earth beneath your crumbled form. The break of skin, the bent of fingernails as your jaw snapped into place. Your fingertips desperately racking amongst the ground, if only you were faster. If only, you were stronger. If only you had described the wisteria to him. The distant memory of your tears tugged at the sleeve of your kimono as you allowed shame to rob you of your voice, and yet… his kindness had not faltered. A pressed smile, sympathetic and tender as you did your best to tuck away your silent humiliation met the gentle press of a flower petal between your two fingers. A treasure you had coveted, folded and mended, pressed into the breast of your pocket. Age had met it long ago, and yet, you had not been able to part with it. Unable to forsake the distant memory of such a gentle smile.

The snag of talons met the pitch of your shoulder, the cloth tugged and sharp. Far rougher than the crow had intended as its heart ached in the dead of night. Its press as gentle as its caregiver, his small caws having grown silent as it nestled into your hair. Grief touched upon its glossy feathers, no longer immaculately maintained. Disheveled as the state of its companion, its final hope for aide shattered to the mud and branches of dismay. “Z-Zekka,” the shatter of your voice met the clatter of your teeth as you fought back a sniffle. “P-please, please take me to him. I-I n-need to d-describe it-it to h-him.”

Sunlight broke amongst the trees bathed in the hues of colors that split the sky. Welcome dawn, and the call of bird’s tender and delicate in their chirps. The soft bristle of leaves that swept through the forest illuminated the snap of branches. Of decay and bloodshed taunted scent of iron that hinted at a distant floral note. Of earth and mud, the musk of sweat and the sight of relief that washed over your body. Cleanse your spirit and caught upon the ache of your rib cage. Hammered into the heart of your breast as the tears threatened to spill once more, traced familiar baths caked in soil that littered your eyelashes. The tremble of goosebumps pinched at your flesh touched and aching with every moment exposed to the morning chill from the lacerations that split across the seams of your uniform. The quiver of your lip that met the affectionate craw of the kakugiri crow, launched from your shoulder. Abandoned your presence in favor of comforts. Calloused large hands that peppered care that danced from the crown of his silken midnight feathers to the nape of his neck as it touched its cheek into the delicate touch. Hummed security reflected in the shake of your shoulders.

The gentle morning dew erased evidence of the horrors of the night. Soothed the wake of death and muddled screams, greeted life amongst the branches. The distant song of peasant’s coo to their mates. Gentle and tender as the daylight that kissed his high cheeks. The litter of lesions amongst his features. Caressed sun-kissed skin revealed a past life of humble upbringing. The small rumble of acknowledgement, his tone low and deep and harmonious as his flute. Aged scars faded amongst the wounds of his torn uniform; shredded seams snapped to the morning sun. Yet, peace claimed his features. The ease of the slump of his shoulders, the warmth of his breath in the morning chill. Small puffs are as delicate as watagashi. Other worldly and soft as the gaze that captivated you. Knowing of your presence, the small break of his smile as though he were comforting a frightened child. The gesture a phantom of memories elicited within the warmth of your breast as the tears fell from your cheeks, and the burden of his weapon crumbled your smaller frame. Shattered your resolve, as your limbs flickered emotions you had never dared to expose to the light of day. The façade of indifference crumbled as the fingers that met his uniform, soothed to the hands that met the crown of your head as though calming a startled kakiguiri crow. Obscure mumblings that succumbed wails ached into your bones.

“I-it’s warm. S-soft, like a child’s giggle. I-it’s the greet of spring, as though a breeze that beckons the blossoms to dance. I-it’s s-safe, safe. As secure as the presence of a komainu, and as playful as a fox’s tale. It is a slight as the warmth of sunlight upon your skin, and the joy of s-someone running their fingers through your hair.” You sobbed, “T-the flowers, they, y-you. The are beautiful, a beauty that follows you of your days. The l-lavender is soft and light as infatuation."

"Soothing as the memory of your first l-love."

#gyomei himejima x reader #gyomei x reader #kny x reader #the stone hashira #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

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helloescapist · 5 months ago

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Hey, I'm the person who asked if you quit. I just wanted to apologize for stressing you out, it was really rude of me. I mainly just said that cuz your writing's really good, and I missed reading it (you're a huge inspiration to me). It was wrong of me to pressure you like that, though. You have a life outside of writing, after all, and nobody expects you to just pump out content.

Take all the time you need for work and personal stuff. We'll wait for however long it takes. You're not disappointing anyone 💜

Oh sweetie,

I am so sorry 💜anon. I promise I did not think of your initial response as rude-- i was horribly heavy that day, and felt as though my heart would crush beneath its own weight. Please do not feel that it was you in any way.

I hope you are doing well! Thank you and everyone for their patience with me.

#🍡tsuyospeaks

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helloescapist · 7 months ago

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i love looking through my archive. like "oh, would you look at that? All these posts, particularly catered to me!" I am but a raven resting upon her nest of reblogged treasures.

#Frickinadorable #i love you for that

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helloescapist · 7 months ago

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HOURS WASTED.

I wrote a beautiful, bone chilling horror-- a 10page story of a kakushi facing death, and recalling all of their soft moments with a certain Wind Hashira.

and.

it's.

gone.

Poof! 😭final copy is MIA, and the vague remainder of an idea is left in its wake. I'm obviously going to rewrite it, but guuuuuys my dramatic return fic deleted itself!!!

#itsmonday #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #sanemi x reader #seekingrevival

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helloescapist · 8 months ago

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Did you quit?

The short answer, is no. I have not quit.

The long answer is that life is messy. I Have so many works in progress, drabbles, headcannons, and inputs on my computer patiently awaiting their drop day, but every time I set to it... I'm pulled away.

By home, by kids, by tests, by students. What they endure.

I'm honestly struggling to balance my schedule, and for those of you have hung in there with me with so much patience and kindness, I dont deserve you. I am eternally grateful that you still visit, and I hope that soon there will be a reward for your efforts and empathy

xoxo, Tsuyo

#🍡tsuyospeaks #I'm sorry if ive disappointed you #See you soon

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helloescapist · 10 months ago

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HAIII again! God i cant tellj you how much your reply meant to me, and how much i re-read it already! It just puts a smile in my face in this rather down weekend, i hope youre okay btw! Stayin up and strong! Im sorry this reply came out a bit late, since I was overthinking abojt this, i did my best rereading trying to form my interpretation, and i havent really vbeen drawinh kn a while, so im sorry cus im not that great either^_^ bjt this is all igot.Your works inspired me so much, the symbolism, the beautiful writing and dedication. In my heart and to everyone else we know ur awesome!

(NOTE: I ddint think a lot sending my original love message, and realized that I cannot attacht any sort of media while asking anonymously, aswell as it gets removed when I switch to it. So ill have to recurr to showing myself since i just cant leave u without even a crumb.THE THINGS I DO FOR LOVE..)

TAKE CARE OF URSELF!!^_^

LOVE - within reach anon (not so anon anjmore apparentl.y)

oh my gosh! I just... 😭 no i'm fine. I just need a moment----I loved this so much!!! I'm so honored and grateful. It was so wonderful, and thoughtful! Little Tanjiro!!! You captured how the dynamic beautifully--- but Kocho's face when she realized raised by Uzui---- 🤣 has to be the best part!

👉👈

I would like permission to print this, and display it on my desk.

#🍡tsuyospeaks

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helloescapist · 10 months ago

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HAIIII or well. "Wsg" haha!

Its been a while (im genuinly not sure how long but atleast im less awkward w my typing now haha!) since i opened tumblr cus damn stuff has been busy but here I am, well........idk if you remember me but i'm the "Within Reach" anon!

Ive been reading ur account once again to get back in tbe mindset since i saw well.ur answer on my old liked posts (kny new season back ón brainrot for me ) and icant tell you how i SQUEALED seeing people were intrifued by my request idea, mostly tbat youenjoyed it! Id say IM grateful to you for hearif me out, your writting is always so beautifully thougtful and tear bringing that it has me sitting on the floor staring at the screen for a while cus WOW! theres always so much detail and thoughts and this last posts little hc part abt this had me JUMPING GIGGLING KICKING FEET! The amount of love in that juzt makes me so joyous...

Anyways, I didn want to request anyhting, i just wantedto pass by and say hello, and appreciate your efforts and writing, im so sure youll be capable ofsoing great things since youre just a perfect example of what being awesome is! Take care!

Love - within reach anon

I cannot tell you how much this meant to me-- to say it meant the world just isn't enough. You have me giggling, and squee. It truly brought my heart so much joy to see this in my inbox. Your ask was so much fun to work on, and I'm so happy to see everyone else appreciating your concept.

When it comes to art, you are always, I mean ALWAYS welcome! 🥹 The fact that you would ever want to is just..... my heart... but only if you're up to it. I hope you never feel pressured or coerced to create. It's much more important to me that you are taking care of yourself! 💜If you find yourself with time, or want to, I would LOVE to see what you come up with.

Take care, and do your best!

#🍡tsuyospeaks #withinreach

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helloescapist · 10 months ago

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the new trailer has me clutching my old dragon age WIPs

Along with the huge amount of other, more important things going on with this meeting, Solas also experiences the whiplash of seeing one of his old friends noticeably older, gray-haired, and closer to dying, while he has remained exactly the same.

#dragon age

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helloescapist · 11 months ago

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Okay but like Bell,, yours is perfect.

how does pinterest see you?

search up fashion, pantone, mood, food, and then save the first picture that comes up.

ty @mrs-lockley for the tag 🫶🏽 (i am so behind on other tag games but i couldn't resist)

tagging @lunar-ghoulie @flowerpotmage @cositsamarvelfan @virtie333 if you'd like

#Bell always finds the cutest things #Make a note to make hello kitty tanghulu

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helloescapist · 11 months ago

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Okay. Can I just say... Your latest creation made me sad with the angst and yet left me with such a wide grin with how fluffly it is in the end! I'm sorry if I also found the bullet points in the end more - mainly because they do deserve the happy ending 😭. Thank you for writing my ask fave author of mine. Please take care of yourself! 💌

Oh dear sweet friend,

It is always my pleasure to write for you. I hope you are taking care of yourself, and I am so happy to hear this one hit you with all of the feels! <3

#🍡tsuyospeaks

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helloescapist · 11 months ago

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Hi! I have a question with your 'within reach' fic. If you we're going to write a sequel to it anytime soon... Will the sibling remember who they are? And I assume they got amnesia or the demon attack was so traumatic, they just sort of forgot. So does that mean if they will ever remember, they will also recall the traumatizing experience. I think Shinobu will not like that and will probably will just keep a close eye on them but not tell hem they're related. But if they do remember, how will it affect Shinobu? Will she still go with her infinity castle plan? Sorry for many questions. I'm just intrigued with the premise.

Hi anon!

The Within Reach was such a wonderful ask, wasn't it? So grateful to the original Requester! When I write, I typically write a profile so to speak, but I also like to leave as many details to interpretation as I can. I love readers being able to just escape from reality, if only for a little bit, and even carry it with them as they go through the mundane aspects of life-- like continuing the story line while they do the dishes or something. To hear I left you with so many questions makes my heart so happy, and that you want to hear more. 🥰

Within Reach, Fleeting| Shinobu Kocho

Word Count: 4337

Setting: Shinobu Kocho x gn!reader (sibling fic!/reader is a lost Kocho Sibling/Sound Hashira’s tsuguko).

Content Warning(s): spoilers pertaining to the Infinity Castle Arc and Shinobu’s background. Mentions of blood/gore, loss, death, hurt, eventual comfort.

Summary: death follows battle, shattered amongst the inner sanctum of the Infinity Castle. Corpses discarded to the death, the faint scent of lotus flowers that give way to the chill of the air, the fleeting scent of wisteria out of reach. Slipped through your fingers as your conscious begins to fade. The weight of forgotten memories brought to life, anchored to your soul, dragging you beneath the depths, and threatening to drown you in the past.

A/N: the reader of this series utilizes the breath of Hogaku (folksong). The concept is continued in the sequel, and it felt fitting to utilize the well known children's song Chouchou for this pieces. For more information on this children's song, and it's translation, visit here. Read Within Reach.

Iron seared your nostrils, rattled your bones and racked upon the curve of your spine. Suffocated your throat, choked upon sobs that threatened to spill from your soul. Marred flesh. Scoured its rage, flayed the mid-section of your neck, rattled the throat bones and threatened their structure. The knot of your free hand pressed into the fine lines, the flesh of your knuckles whitening as the sweat creased your brows. Each breath strangled and mangled sickening clots that formed in the middle section of your throat. Gagged and strained, the rattle of your shoulder bones as they met your ribs, the tremble of your blade numbly clutched between creased fingers stiff as the grave that threatened to claim you. The quiver of your knees beneath a tattered uniform. Liesons littered across the black motif, the reminiscence of the slayer motif. Shards of ice snagged upon the unraveled fabric. Luminescent in the unfamiliar light flickered in hues of crimson and mulled wine purples of bruising flesh. Shallow breathing rumbled in your torso, eliciting a sickening crunch of bones that danced amongst the inner sancta. The delicate floral scent that met the splatter of your blood across the Japanese cypress; its once proud symbolism tarnished as the blood that stained its grain. Crumbled beneath the weight of your knee as it folded despite the will that clung to your features. The tremble of your dagger clattered amongst the floor as your nails began to cling to your neck. The sickening scent of floral carried upon the blades of ice that poisoned the air, littered the ponds and marred the petals of lotus. Discarded bones that hummed of century horrors, disciples discarded and mangled. Mere corpses left for display and satisfaction. Lavish pillows delighted of a monster danced upon false deliverance. Blood that claimed the waters and disbursed amongst the disruption of the stillness of the haunting chill that crept upon the pillars. Snuck across the desolation, trembled over ice and blood. Maneuvered across intricate pillars and mocked upon the stained holiness of a depraved deity shattered to the winds. Taunted the hire being that savored disparity and offered synthetic deliverance. Pillaged forgotten corpses in favor of tracing along the outline of your petite figure threatened to collapse. The husk of winter that quivered along your spine, settled at your shoulders, and curled its deafening fingers along the contours of your neck. The ghost of its touch landing upon the lining of your jaw. The scourge of your throat, mangled and spattering blood between clenched teeth as your eyes fought to trace upon the shattered porcelain skin, trembled at the blood that danced upon the butterfly pin. The edge of the tsuguko’s hair mangled and dripped upon sweat, and the clip of blood-stained irises that drowned amongst the wave of purple robbed of innocence, of home, and abandoned amongst the pillage of Doma’s domain. Chouchou chouchou. The ache of your heart as her hand reached for your own, your body unwilling. Despondent, and refusing your whims. The shake of her eyes, the tears that traced along the scratches across her cheeks, the strain of her lips that threatened remorse choked upon blood as your paled form met the cypress and plunged into darkness.

Drowned amongst the depths of a void that called upon your features. Robbed of light, numb as the night. Echoed of shadows, of robbed childhood memories. The touch of your mother’s face once bright and delighted as the smile that met the smallest of achievements of your child, overlapped amongst the blood rattled upon her bones. Her plum eyes, horrified and clutched to your form, a haunting memory forced from your conscious summoned by the sickening crunch of the Insect Pillar’s spine beneath the clutch of the Second Moon’s desires. The rattle of his smile savoring the ache of your features as your subconscious had clutched upon your consciousness. Recollections of warmth, a home decorated in laughter and touched upon the love of parents. Fiercely protected by a mother and father until their bitter end. The smug delight of Doma’s purr warmed by the familiar physical resemblances between Lady Kocho, and yourself. The horror that marked upon her face, the fear reflected in her plum eyes as the caught upon your own, the form of her sorrow touched upon her lips, “Run.” Na no ha ni tomare. The laughter of matcha tea in the early mornings, and the sputter of recent rumors amongst the grocer, your father’s chuckles delighted by the antics of your mother’s return from her shopping. The small hum of a smile that touched upon your eldest sister’s lips warm and affectionate as Shinobu’s plum eyes met the height of her brow, having been drained from assisting the matriarch upon her daily trip to the grocer. Mumbled of idle chatter, insistent disruption, and greeted all those she could, as annoyed at the small hands that met the ends of her kimono. Your fingers tugging excitedly upon the frays of her inner linings to her dismay as you chortled on and on, shaking the meticulously placed strands from her bun over the insistence if she had snagged you a dumpling from the food stall. How quickly she snapped in those days, agitated and worn out, and threatened to swing upon you. The tears that formed upon your face as the youngest, seeking refuge from your elder sister, and how easily she would offer consoling, and the gentlest of scoldings. The puff of Shinobu’s cheeks indignant to your prodding, and the ruffle of Kanae’s long graceful fingers through the depths of your brow, coiled through raven hair that met fuchsia strands. Lighthearted recollections, of childhood laughter, and familiar songs burned upon the overlap of your mother’s plum eyes void of life, the shatter of blood that met the highs of her cheeks. The clamor of her skin beneath your small pudgy fingers that touched upon the met of Shinobu’s features claimed as your mother. The depths of wisteria that stained your flesh, left your eyes heavy and burdened with tears.

Your heart called upon the souls of the lost, alone, and lost in this hopeless land. Free of physical anguish, the flecks of iron that left your features as the chill a distant memory of life. Of battles and daggers, practically nonexistent amongst the folds of the depths, the tremble of your lips as your small hands met your large eyes. Caught upon tears, the loss of blood now replaced by choking amongst your sorrows. Ravaged by the loss, the break of your voice returned in the dark free of the vengeful would, a slash that threatened to wretch your trachea forms your being, falling just short of your larynx. Possessed upon the target of your throat, far too quick to have caught on to the methods of your breathing technique dissipated to the void. Na no ha ni aitara. Realized in the clutch of your gritted teeth and the tears that rolled from your cheeks, the dry rasp of a sob, “A-ane.”

“Aren’t you a little old for this?” The fond exasperation painted upon her tone, tucked a hidden smile as her plum eyes traced your form, the pucker of her cheek. Her gaze jerked away feigning disinterest as your eyes widened at the sight of her. Warm, and welcoming despite the gloom that echoed amongst the environments.

The joy that threatened to touch upon your heart as delicate fingers met soothingly at your scalp. Tender in their regard, working distant familiar etchings through your hair with the faintest of a giggle that echoed upon your heart. The faint touch of sunshine that touched your soul, tender and encouragingly as the words met your ears with harmonious reminiscent. “How you’ve grown,” affectionate captivated in her eyes and threaded through her words. Sakura ni tomare. Large lavender eyes that creased through thick eyelashes, the faint scent of cherry blossoms weaved through luscious long hair, breathtaking in her gentle embrace. Kanae’s love untouched by the grave, warm and tender as the day you had lost her. Unbothered by the indignant snort offered by Shinobu as her tugging lips betrayed her ploy annoyance. “You’ve done so well.”

“Looks like a sniveling brat to me,” Shinobu teased. Her voice, snuggly and familiar. Unlike that fateful day in which you had witnessed the shatter of the Insect Pillar’s mask. The tuck of disinterest and forced softness absolved in the small giggle of her throat as she gently elbowed you. Her antics so distant and yet close as though you had stepped through time.

To a humble home with noisy neighbors, warm bedding, and the scent of tilled garden soil. The years between nonexistent in the closeness of siblings now, and yet despite the security of the moment, it all felt fleeting. Slipped between your fingers as Kanae wiped the tears from your eyes. Whispered kindnesses, and praises, and underlining goodbyes despite your protests. The ache of your breast as she parted her fingers from your touch, your elder sister’s smile soothing regardless of the distance or the pain its presence elicited in your bones. “Death has not come for you today, little one. There is someone who needs you.” Sakura no hana no hana kara Hanae. The steps of her zorii echoed upon the stillness of the darkness, each step threatening to suffocate you before she paused, beckoning Shinobu to her side with the faintest of pride evident.

“Right,” a mumbled fallen into silence. Your tears soothed into place though threatened to rekindle; the plat of a hand slapped into your skull. Harder than intended, the fold of nails that racked your scalp. Attempted pacifying fallen short and awkward. Her gaze caught over her shoulder, affectionate and trembled as a genuine smile touched upon her lips. Lit of her face, and revealed her years, the youth that had been robbed form her and the life she was to live. The weight of responsibilities left in her care, abandoned ached into her features and yet, she felt light. The smile caught upon her lips, curled and warm. Knowing, and secure, accepting death that awaited. Eighteen, and lost to the night and yet, hope that kindled in the heat of her gaze. “Take care of them for me…” The shake of her hand pressed from your brow, caught upon your cheek and smiled, landing upon your shoulder. A stern glimpse before a small laugh danced upon her features. Her hands danced upon a fragment of metal between your fingers. Your eyes dropped, traced upon the butterfly clip clasped between your fingers. Echoed your heart and rang through your bones as her hand pushed you backwards. Forced your form through the dark back into the light, “see you soon.”

Tomareyo asobe.

Light filtered through the window blinds, sheer sheets echoed through the wind and caught upon the breeze that crept through the cracks in the window. Greeted the morning sky the warmth of blue, envied visons of gentle yellows that welcomed the faintest shades of forget-me-nots that touched upon the clouds that pillowed through the morning sky. The rattling of charms amongst the breeze drowned out by the agitated shaking of buzzing, the small frame of a kappa alarm vibrated through the nightstand. Ached against the wood grain breaking the silence of slumber and eliciting the ruffle of bedding. The fold of white sheets touched and rustled as your hand emerged from the sheets tapped into the alarm. Fallen half hazard, lazily and without precision. The slumber is still marked upon your features and unable to make sense of your surroundings. The crack of the bedroom door, rumbled, the doorknob shook in a tight grip at the snarl that met your ears, “Get up!” Hallowed and annoyed. The knot of her temple began to throb, visible by the neatly folded hair that had been meticulously styled into her favorite butterfly clip. Your older sister’s plum eyes tracing your unresponsive form, unbothered to hide her frustration at your lack of dress, “We’re LATE.”

“Get ooout,” your yawned. The touch of your bed head sticking up odd ends, unable to manage a better comeback as her fist clutched your doorknob, and her teeth gritted with annoyance at the plushie that flung through the air. Split the otherwise pause of the morning, intended to shoo her nagging from your doorstep. Drawn upon the opposite. Her school uniform tucked and maneuvered indignantly over your bedding. The realization of her rage encroaching having sobered you from your sleep, the flip of your form off the bedding in a scurry to be free of the tangle of sheets as you slipped across the wood floor narrowly dodging her swings. The fling of her skirt, careless as she pursued you through the hallway. The pound of your socks against the home’s wood floors. Tracked throughout the home, landing through the stairs as you stumbled to safety, desperately slipping through to the kitchen as your sister dodged attempted interventions, thrown decor in your panic and leaped over the furniture. Her annoyance coming to a head to discover your successful emersion into the kitchen. Tucked into the skirts of your elder sister’s school uniform. Her long black hair temporarily folded over her back, the apron secures at her hips and the met of your hands upon her waste as you peeked over at your opponent. The touch of a knowing grin, and tongue peeked through lips daring her to take another step.

The warmth of the moment, and the greeting of fried eggs that touched upon the giggles that greeted your elder sister’s laughter. The touch of a spatula caught between her long, graceful fingers as the other dotingly caught in the ends of your disheveled bedhead. Her lavender eyes delighted in the warmth of a nosy breakfast with squabbling siblings in a life full of peace, knowing all too well the threatening flick of Shinobu’s wrist. Intending you as her target, familiar to the light, and devoid of the nightmares of the past. Bathed in the laughter of siblings, and squabbles of petty natures, hers to claim, and hers to delight in as the touch of your arm around her waste leaned into your touch.

Asobeyo tomare.

Within Reach, Fleeting Headcanons

I intended for the reader of Within Reach to have been 3 or 4 years of age when the tragic experience happened as the memories for this area tend to be fuzzy, yet still obtainable for some. I went for a sort of Rapunzel like the Disney version where she realizes she is the lost princess, to reflect on the reader. Their breathing style utilizing folksong from their native region, a butterfly motif on the hilt of their dagger and even their final form, Fifth Form: Chouchou.

The memories were there, painted in small touches upon your person. The natural way your eyes followed the Insect Pillar during training. The way you could not help the way you found her in the crowd, and the way you felt an undeniable ache within your breast. Practically suffocated by an unfamiliar draw.

Little butterfly motifs that decorated the hilt of your blade, your violet eyes snagged upon the emblem as your fingers traced it. It had been selected on a whim; you had told yourself. Convinced yourself that your natural attraction to the design was coincidence.

Yet, when she had tended to your scraps following your sparing match with Muichiro, her eyes had not left your features. Practically etching every line into memory, why you could not place, nor could you comprehend the way a smile had met her lips when she had found the scar on your cheek. As though it was familiar and… safe?

You were familiar with the overall appeal of the Insect Pillar; Shinobu was nothing if not cordial amongst the ranks. Though whispers that her smile would tug with a combatant patient, a past of aggression frequented the Butterfly Mansion, but though there had been so much affection with the way that others presented her.

And yet, there was a knot in your stomach when you met face to face with her smile. As though tugged the edges on your cheeks, forced and strained. Miserable façade of kindness, of softness that portrayed the motions rather than sincerity a smile should present. You did have the basis for this opinion that had formed, but still it had formed.

As uncomfortable as a knot in your stomach as she conducted her performance. Snagged at the brow of her delicate features. As though she was conducting some inner battle that you could not comprehend, and that moment had haunted you.

As the nightmares in the night. The ache of fear, deep into your being. The depths of night struggled to combat a figment of the mind, a demon you had not met in this life combatted and determined to rob you of your security. The scream of a woman, the life faded from her features. The shatter of her voice, the crackle that left her bones and shook you from your slumber. Bathed in sweat, and nails that roamed your scalp. Always grappling with a figment of a past you had not understood.

A past that haunted you and followed you amongst the waking hours. The faint ghost of the Insect Pillar’s influence not far from reach. Always within grasp, kakushi under her care pushed to care for your wounds immediately. Mizunoto determined to follow where you lead—in fear of the oddly kind threat the medic had uttered in the shadows. Her positioning attempted to combat any potential hazards to your life.

Initially, Uzui attempted to ignore her intrusion. The unhanded tactics entertaining for the retired shinobi. Adorable really, he had found the entire ploy mere child’s play. In part, Shinobu had been aware how delicately she had dared to cross into another Hashira’s business, and for the most part, she often found herself unable to combat the intrusive impulse. Daring to stray into his borders without reason or thought--- burned herself through the late hours, her crow not having reported your return to the Sound Pilla compelled her to wandering to the region you had trailed off onto in a recent mission.

Intercepted by the Sound Pillar himself, his knowing smile cocked to his head. Oh, he had noticed long before that something had been off with the poison-wielder. Time from time, he would intentionally probe her if only to chase a minor high of lethal dosage, but it was not until it became increasingly a threat to your progress. An overtly protective sister far too willing to deny the corps code, and interject herself into your missions. From a protective stance, he had allowed it, entertained how adorable it had been that she had attempted to stray under his radar. Creative, she had conducted a number of unique approaches to dodging his presence, but experience had triumphed over novice.

Shinobu had done her best to quip a smile upon being discovered; she wasn’t a fool. The Insect pillar had accepted that it was only a matter of time before she had forced Uzui’s hand. His silence having been little more than a temporary allowance to meddle born of entertainment for the shinobi, but upon the approach of drawing the demonic forces out, she had tread too far.

Doubted the retiree Hashira’s devotion to the corps, and questioned his intentions with his own tsuguko, threatened the code that had bound the both of them to service. He had known, for how long Kocho could not determine, but the weight had been carried in his words alone. Just as her voice had met his beneath the moonlight. The weight of her plum eyes was fierce, and yet, at peace with her decisions. Underlined secrets in her speech that the Sound Pillar could not ignore. The resignation of the older man’s decisions, and the quiet of her voice.

“I leave them in your care.”

The weight was more than he could bear, and yet, Uzui did not push. Nor did he dare. The painful smile that met her departure. Mournful of a past he did not wish to revisit, her resolve leading to far heavier implications.

Kocho had become aware that the Sound Pillar had intended for you to undertake his duties, his title, and his claim. More so, when you had offered your participation into the Infinity Castle, Uzui had praised your willingness, and felt assured that you would survive which was what had sent her into guard.

Her intrusion into your missions had become less noted, a silent agreement that the Sound Pillar would send word should you find yourself in a dangerous situation. Their communication was more amicable, if not built on the quite understanding that Uzui would not disclose, and Kocho would not press.

Neither coming forth with the information, Uzui was content to allow Kocho to manage her private affairs as she saw fit and shield you from the past. Ushered the burden, and dutifully confined herself to burying the secret in the vials of congested wisteria poison. An oath to protect her younger sibling was carried to the grave if only to give you a normal life.

Kocho greeting death had not been the easiest for her—she was terrified upon realizing that you had entered Doma’s domain. The sight of Kanao, and you left to the Second Moon’s wrath was nothing that she had anticipated and filled her with dread. She prayed from the parrels between life and death that you could hold out as she had instructed her tsuguko.

And upon seeing you in the inbetween—hear heart ached at the joy that hearing you whisper for her brought her.

You remembered her.

You had lived.

Kanae as the older sister often takes the biggest route and role in caring for you and Shinobu. Her tendencies to care for you remain steadfast. She has taken an active role in both of your lives, and I believe carried her past life into her present. I think she’s in touch with herself enough that she would always remember.

With Shinobu coming in at a dependent terms--- likely something that threatened your safety such as a school bully in your youth would awaken her past life. Her protective streak over you will only increase.

As will her teasing. I mean, it’s an older sister’s duty, and she will not hesitate to continue.

But following the retrieval of her past memories, her tongue and actions will be that much more lethal to those who dare tread into your safety and threaten her peace.

She has been known to make school bully cries, and chase them through the neighborhood and slam them into the ground, attempting to wail on them until Kanae intervenes.

As an older sister in the modern era, Shinobu picks up little treats from time to time, but she will never admit that they are from her. She’d rather you think your parents picked it up, or that Kanae happened upon the trinket.

She is for the most part, quite. It’s not that she is not involved in your life, or indifferent to your interests. It’s that she enjoys her own anatomy, and her space. More so, she is known to become agitated if you interfere with her day to day. She expects respect, and the space between the two of you. She feels that there is an unspoken amount of trust between the two of you, but at the same time, she has little tolerance for disruptive behavior to her schedule. If you share a room, learn to clean after yourself because you can expect a number of spats that potentially turn physical between the two of you. As siblings often do.

Most of her responses are fairly direct and to the point, as they always are.

Things like expressing you’ll take the last pudding will be met with a simple, “Mmhmm.”

Inner jokes will become common place, especially when dealing with noisy neighbors, or extended family. Giggles over these shared inside jokes will be a regular part of your interactions, and a rare moment of peace between the two of you. Because truthfully, you are siblings, and especially when you are younger you will experience back and forth more, but as you grow older there will be such a strong foundation of love and respect between the two of you, no one would ever guess you used to butt heads regularly.

As for Kanae, she is dutiful. With busy parents, she takes an active role in caring for the two of you. She’s happy to act as a peace keeper, and provide breaks as necessary. That’s not to say from time to time she’s not drained--- she definitely is, but thankfully Shinobu is capable of detecting when these moments are taking place and will take you to the park, for ice cream, or small little bonding excursions to give your elder sister time to herself.

She has the enact ability to determine the exact moment that things have taken a turn, and can often act as an intervention as necessary--- really, she’s going to have to learn to allow the two of you to have your spats. It’s necessary for all of you. She has to learn that she does not have to be “mom” and allow you two to learn to navigate your interactions.

She’s so committed though, and she has such an open affection for the both of you that she often packs your lunches. Pleased to give as much to your bentos as she can. Cute little octopus sausages, flower cut grapes, she is committed to spending the time to make sure that it is enjoyable and nutritious, and yet, somehow ohagi has still snuck its way into your lunchbox. Shinobu. She goes out of her way to track your school calendar, and makes the extra care to show up to every event even the smallest of plays.

Shinobu thinks you make the dumbest duck in a play she has ever seen. Not that she saw it.

Kanae happily waits by the school gate, eager to pick you up in your mother’s place. Your grin as you greet her only brightened by the sight of Shinobu tucked behind her. The small touch of a blush on the tip of her ear as you vibrate with joy, your hand finding the both of theirs as you stroll home.

#demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #insect hashira #insect pillar #🍡tsuyospeaks

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