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kyratittyfish · 1 year

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Yellow

“I don’t know if Asari care about these things as much as we do, but…” Shepard said with a shy smile, looking down at her hands as she placed the small box in Liara’s palm, “Happy birthday.”

Liara’s eyes went wide, her eyebrow markings climbed up her forehead, and her cheeks turned a darker shade of blue. She didn’t even have time to process the uncommon sight of a flustered Commander Shepard before she was the one to be left speechless.

“What? Is this … for me? I read about the human ritual of exchanging gifts on the yearly anniversary of one’s birth, but I never thought I…” She stepped back, suddenly self-conscious about the stream of words that had started pouring out of her mouth, as if her voice had a mind of its own. “Thank you, Shepard. This is most welcome.”

“Come on, open it,” Shepard urged her. Awkwardly shuffling her feet, her hand stuffed inside the pockets of her jacket, she was the picture of nervousness. “I wanna know if I did a decent job at picking this out.”

Pretending to be excavating a delicate relic always worked wonders at steadying Liara’s fingers whenever she felt on edge. She undid the delicate ribbon and slid the top lid of the tiny package open.

As soon as her mind recognized what was inside, she gasped, covering her mouth with one hand, feeling warm tears building up at the corners of her eyes.

“I… I don’t know what to say, Shepard, this is…” words escaped her as she studied the feather-like form of the delicate pendant laying on the velvety blue inside of the jewelry box. Intricate details were carved in the silvery metal and decorated in bright yellow enamel. Small opalescent gems formed a thin line on one side of the charm, playing with light like minuscule kaleidoscopes. “This is most lovely. Thank you.”

“The other day, when we were talking about your mother… you mentioned she loved the color.” Tears were freely streaming down Liara’s cheeks as she threw her arms around Shepard’s chest, squeezing her friend tight against her body. “Happy birthday, Little Wing.”

#short fic #my writing #mass effect #commander shepard #liara t'soni #this was inspired by a prompt from a multi fandom writing server I'm in #prompt was “yellow”#hence the title #I went a bit out of my comfort zone writing Liara #but I'm pretty happy with how she turned out!

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that-was-anticlimactic · 2 months

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found a bsd wip from summer 2023 and. oh my GOD i do not remember writing this and OH MY GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME KIJUHYGHJKjHGFGYHUJI

Mori stalked towards him, teeth shining in the bright lights. His eyes flicker from him to Naomi then back to him. A slow, predatory-like smile crossed his face. “You’re just like me, aren’t you?” Jun’ichiro swallowed, stepping back the slightest bit. “Wh-what do you mean?” Mori hummed, gaze trailing up and down his body, then Naomi’s. “We’re both artists, I suppose. Specializing in girls.”

#i am so sorry for this i just needed to scream bc i forgot about that last line #like ngl i went OFF with that but holy Trash #also naomi is an illusion in this btw #hence what mori's saying lol #this is a WILD fic wow wow wow #the title goes hard tho #corey writes:)

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redwayfarers · 9 months

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Howlers and minstrels in the night

Fandom: FFXIV Ship: Nika/Ianera Characters: Nika Perseis (OC), Ianera Maliriq (OC) Words: 772 Rating: Gen Summary: It's Nika's first night in Camp Dragonhead and he feels very out of sorts. Ianera is there to take care of him. Author's note: Once more, I am very baby into this game and this is all prone to change if I see fit in the future. That being said, I like how this came out, so I'm posting it!

The wind howls. The night they seem to have chosen to arrive at Camp Dragonhead is particularly sharp and particularly cold and Nika can’t help but feel grateful at Lord Haurchefant’s offer of hearth, dinner and tea. Ianera agrees, nodding along to whatever he says, and sometimes, he wishes she’d speak up in his place. However nice Haurchefant may be, one nice Ishgardian can’t rub away all of the soreness of his nerves left by his countrymen.

Well, Ishgardians and so many other things. It all almost makes him snap, but he restrains his anger. Yet he can’t guarantee that the smiles he threw their way were anything pleasant.

One thing at the time, though. They met the guy, they were led to their lodging for the night at the very least, they fell fast asleep from exhaustion on the road. At least, until Nika’s own head decided to torment him, thus promptly cutting his rest short.

No, he doesn’t want to talk about it. Just like he doesn’t want to talk about the bodies in Vesper Bay. Just how he doesn’t want to talk about how he saw the Perseis surname in Adama Landama graveyard and he didn’t want to look at the name, for fear it's his father’s grave and that his father now saw him break like a child’s toy and that he’d laugh, even if he knows full well his father’s not buried in ass end of nowhere.

Nope, he has no fucking desire to talk about things at all.

And now he’s waiting for the sun to rise, lute in hand, while the wind howls around him like a mad wolf. He sees a guard shift at the gates. He holds the lute tighter, in lieu of squeezing it to his chest. His head and feet hurt, and he wants to cry. It will make his headache worse. He wants to cry anyway. His body feels like a prison and like something wants to claw out, but he blinks the tears away anyway.

He holds the lute tighter. His nails, long overdue for a cut, press against the wood. Wind plays a horrible tune, plucking strings at will. It’s a cacophony and he almost regrets bringing it out with him, but it’s the only thing of comfort he can think of. It’s the only thing keeping him from breaking down again.

Nika closes his eyes and wills all this shit away.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” A somber, gentle voice rings against the racket of noise, and Nika audibly breathes out. With a sharp turn, he sees Nera wrap herself in a woolen coat Lord Haurchefant provided them with, oversized on her small body.

“I.. I’m tired,” he says softly. There’s no reply for a long time; part of him thinks the wind swallowed it. It’s funny, how he was just about ready to scream at Ishgard lords only hours ago, but now his voice is drowned in the night.

“It haunts me too,” Nera says as she steps out. Her words are small and shaky, yet Nika feels them like a blow. From afar, the night swallows her, but her eyes, silver and gold, breach the picture she presents.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he bites out. It’s harsh, it’s rough, but he can’t look her in the eye otherwise.

“Go back to sleep, then,” she asks, makes a few steps forward. Blue, blue, all the blues of her hair and skin, like the waters of Lominsa, where his moms sleep.

“Let me be, Nera,” he huffs, “I’m–” He takes a deep breath in. His eyes prickle and burn. “I’m just–”

“It haunts me too,” she repeats. He feels the pressure of her forehead against his arm and the warm touch of her fingers on his hand. “Go back inside, Nika. Your fingers are cold.”

“I’m tired, but I don’t want to fall asleep,” he admits and lowers his eyes to his feet. Shame burns like poison.

“You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to,” he can hear the frown in her voice, “but just come inside.”

“It is freezing outside,” he agrees. Her fingers play with his, and he could just rest his head on hers if he leaned down far enough– “I– Alright. It’s cold and lonely outside.”

Nera simply smiles against his arm.

He does sleep that morning, against all earlier claims to not wanting to. He can blame it on his tired body, or the comfort of her embrace that he knows she needed too, but when he wakes up again, the wind doesn’t howl quite so loudly anymore.

#ffxiv #inspo birb has come to town #nika perseis #ianera maliriq #nika x ianera #ffxiv wol #wol x oc #idk the tags of this fandom yet rip #but also. i'm so happy i finally figured nera out a bit #ffxiv fic #ignore the corny title im bad at titling but this one i like lmao #for those who haven't seen my oc page yet nera is an au ra! hence all the blues mentioned here #og design was red/blue but that's valerian :')#and nika and valerian would eat each other alive i feel like

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good-beanswrites · 3 months

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F yeah do more of this 👀? What are you reminding yourself to do more of, may I peek?

Aw yeah, thank you! So, I had a ton of ideas what happens to my fire emblem faves post-canon, down to the little details, but never did much with them. I tossed them into a few lines of a fic, naming it something loose and planning on abandoning it immediately. After rereading it like a year later, I realized how much I still enjoyed the plan, and changed the title so that I'd remember it was worth working on 😅

Fire emblem has canon endings for everyone, but they're only a sentence or two and allow a lot of room for interpretation. I've decided that Lukas, Python, and Forsyth refuse to return to their respective homes. They start a new life around the school the Lukas opens (built by Python). The story opens on a more serious note than I planned, with Forsyth returning to fulfill some knightly duties, marking it as the first time in their lives that he and Python are separated so far and so long.

Some say that it’s every knight’s duty to complete their quest. Some say their goal is to defeat the evil. Some say it’s to save the innocent. Python knew better. He swung with all his might, hammering in another board to the building’s growing skeleton, grunting with the force. A knight’s duty is to come home. He had hoped this project would keep his mind off of things. He’d never built a schoolhouse before, but drawing up a plan had been straightforward enough. It was nice, being back in the Zofian countryside after years of hanging around the harshness of Rigel Castle. With the dust settling after the war, it was time for others to settle as well. Lukas had convinced the pair to move with him, back to what had formerly been Zofia. Forsyth could continue serving as a knight, offering aid to the crown in times of peril. Who knew times of peril would come only weeks after their departure?

#fe echoes #fe python #fe forsyth #thank you pal!!#this ones pretty slow going (hence the title reminding me Please work on it 😂) but its still very special to me :')#they deserve the happiest and most peaceful of endings so its been really lovely to think about #theyre staying at an elderly farmers place and helping out #lukas made a comment hed work the land to help rebuild after the war and he stays true to that while the school plans go into motion #and python just picks up odd jobs around town and entertaining all the local kids #its going to end with them all settling down 'romantically' together but i may not be so specific in the fic

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braxiatel · 2 years

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So I just read the Equinox AU and I have Thoughts ™ now. My brain is buzzing there's bees in there. I beg for crumbs.

So, (assuming that's not a spoiler) would you care to reexplain to me how Grian, lord of the underworld death personified's relationship to Scar evolved? Like first, he loved him, all that. Then there was the pact, and he felt guilty about dragging Scar down to the underworld. But how has it evolved since then? We know that he's busy, and he doesn't really have time for it anymore, but deep down what are his thoughts on him? Does he still care just as much?

Ah, thank you very much!

Sure, I'd be happy to. Put it under a readmore because it got a little bit long, haha.

(Disclaimer: while this series is inspired by Greek mythology, I am also pulling from canon and focusing on what I think makes an interesting story, so some details are not accurate to the actual mythology.)

Going to be referencing A Love Life Under Two Shadows a lot in this, and so I don't have to type that mouthful of a title so many times I'm just going to be referring to it as Four Seasons, as that is its alternate title.

As you say, they met and fell in love. It was a bit of a whirlwind romance by god standards (In my mind the real-life equivalent would be eloping with someone you met half a year ago).

I think for the first few years the whole “we have to be apart for half of the year” thing almost felt a little romantic. Longing and yearning do after all feel like an expression of love, but only until loneliness starts to set in.

But time passed and it became tiresome. They expected their love to be enough, but when you are in pain half of the time and you have to watch your loved one be in pain as well it drains you. And it’s hard to be romantic and to keep hope alive when you’re just exhausted all of the time from either missing the one you love or knowing that you’ll be missing them again soon.

In the Summer section of Four Seasons, Grian feeling this heartache, and the first cracks in their relationship have formed.

It had been the brightest of ideas to trade stolen moments for half a year together, but you cannot trade what you do not own, and now he is the one paying the true price.

[I]t is hard not to grow bitter when he always has to be the one to let go first.

Grian began to feel that he was the one carrying all of the burden of their relationship, while Scar was in the Overworld having fun and barely thinking of him. This was also partially to do with Grian missing the Overworld himself, but the feeling was mutual. They

So Grian was unhappy, but didn’t tell Scar because 1) he didn’t want to worry him 2) he was a bit angry with Scar for not realising that he is struggling.

(which is obviously not a reasonable expectation. No matter how much someone loves you, they won't be able to read your mind, especially not when they are not even in the same place as you.)

Eventually he realised that Scar was miserable too, but at this point the bitterness had taken root and the task of fixing it just seemed impossible. Essentially Grian was unhappy and held a bit of a grudge against Scar, but at the same time it was also breaking his heart to see Scar so sad.

So he started to push Scar away. He told himself it was entirely because he wanted to let Scar go so he could be happy, but what he didn’t want to admit was he was also protecting himself from the pain by taking the easy out of hiding from the problem.

Scar felt rejected and started to push Grian away as well. Grian, in turn, became more bitter because why should he be suffering like this when Scar clearly doesn’t even care about him?

And so they continued, both of them too hurt to admit that they really still did care for each other.

Another factor is the fact that Grian's domain is always expanding (which is why is referenced as being busy several times.)

Gods’ domains change over time, as the world around them changes. The best example I can give you is the God of the Forge who in our age would have modern technology added to his portfolio. But for most of them their tasks have changed very little. There is still just one Overworld that needs spring, still one moon to ferry across the sky, etc.

But because Grian is the god of every dead soul to ever have lived, and the more time passes, the more people will have lived, and the more people will have died.

The dead vastly outnumber the living, and in terms of what the gods have to manage, Grian's task is definitely the one that has grown the most.

So, he was already feeling hurt and bitter about Scar, and then you add an ever-increasing pressure to that, and it was a recipe for disaster.

He had to prioritise his work, but that left him with almost no energy left to make the effort of being a good partner. Cause it's hard to be happy and creative and playful when you're in survival mode just trying to keep up with what is demanded of you.

In some ways he stopped thinking of Scar as a lover, and started to regard him more as just another person in his kingdom to protect and serve, because he just didn't have time for anything else.

In the Spring section of Four Seasons Grian describes Scar as "a force of nature" but in the Autumn section he describes him as such:

The Underworld is a place for the dead, and not even Scar who holds life at his fingertips can change that. And like a trapped butterfly devoid of light, he flitters and falters, then withers under Grian’s touch.

There is a lot of difference between a force of nature and a dying insect. Grian had started to think of Scar as something that needs protecting, but to Scar that just felt like Grian regarded him as a chore.

And that obviously hurt Scar. Both because it implied that Grian didn't actually want to be around him, but also because he felt condescended.

So he in turn decided that if Grian didn’t want him around he wouldn’t be, and he started to avoid him even while in the Underworld.

But to Grian that just looked like Scar had finally given up on him, and even if he had told himself he wanted that so Scar would stop hurting, it still felt like betrayal. Because he still loves Scar.

He wants to see him safe, and happy too if at all possible. It hurts that he is apparently no longer a part of Scar's happiness.

In the Winter section of Four Seasons it is stated that

At night Grian sleeps alone, or his bed is warmed by trusted friends. He wonders how much longer it will be before he stops listening for Scar’s breath in the dark.

He still wants Scar, but he doesn't want to want him because loving Scar has proven to be nothing but painful for both of them. So he is counting down the days until he stops wishing Scar was there. Only it never comes because he also doesn't want to let go.

And of course in In Equinox Interlude II he panics and goes searching through the entire Underworld when Scar has vanished. And in Still We Call it Love we have this part

Grian blinks at him several times, his face softening to make him look younger than he has in centuries when Scar strokes his cheekbone. His lips are slightly parted and all Scar can think of is how badly he would like to taste them against his own.

It only lasts for a moment, the spell broken as fast as it came over the king of the dead. The mask slips back on and Scar lets go of him before he is pushed away.

For a moment he dared to let himself imagine that Scar and him could have what they once had. But he decided not to seek it out, out of fear that he will end up even more hurt than he already is.

And so the cycle continues, until we ended up where they are now, neither of them willing to turn the other away but both seeking companionship and love with other people.

TL;DR: Grian and Scar were both very unhappy, but neither communicated this properly, and it created a divide between them. This divide was widened by Grian’s task as the god of the underworld becoming more complex and stressful. However, ultimately Grian does still love Scar, he just isn’t currently willing to put both of them through the pain of hoping they can fix their relationship only for it to fall apart again.

#Thank you so much for the ask and sorry for rambling haha #I have proofread this reply once and I'm not gonna do so again so apologies for potential typos #ask #scarian #mumscarian #hermitshipping #hermitcraft #equinox au #when i started writing this I put spotify on shuffle and would you believe the second song that came on was the one the fic is named after #when i started writing this I put spotify on shuffle and the second song that came up was the one four seasons is name after #(four seasons is the title of the song the lyrics 'a love life under two shadows' is from hence that being the fic's alternative title)#I mean it's not that weird because it is one of my favourite songs #but it was very funny to me nonetheless

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maulfucker · 6 months

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Pretty funny to have this character who features as a kinda main character in two fics but has no name and only a vague description (taller than Maul, strong enough to carry Obi-Wan, actually pretty handsome)

#hm i should make an original post tag #mr sexy clawdite I'm so sorry. you are not gaining the title of oc.#fun fact my original concept didn't even involve a clawdite it was just gonna be gratuitous maul porn. he was gonna be like. a twi'lek maybe #because i defend that twi'leks should have two penises. to match. this is not based on any facts but it is a belief i hold.#and the idea was just. maul fucking some guy. hence the title for the fic. but he'd be thinking about kenobi the whole time.#hating him for cutting off his legs. wondering what he'd do if he was in maul's place. wondering what he'd do if he was in the guy's place.#and then he'd do the [forehead touch] [evil bell sound] thing and feel/see into the guy's mind. to feel him getting fucked.#and then i thought. you know what would make him worse. if the guy was a shapeshifter. shifted into kenobi.#and thus this saga was born

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carry-the-sky · 1 year

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💯 please bestie 🙏💕

okay it's been a hot second since i've written any new kastle buuut [dusts off the punisher cobwebs] I GOT YOU BB:

Where does that end, Frank?

He knew that night by the water, when she asked him. He’s always known.

Still, it doesn’t happen overnight. Part of him is scared to live without the war, scared that maybe he can’t. Down in the muck, he knows who he is. He’s not sure he’ll like what he finds when he scrubs the filth away.

It ends the same way it did when he last came back from the dead. Down at the docks, he tosses the vest into the closest industrial barrel and douses it with gasoline. Lights a match—

(—feels heat at his back. Flames roaring like thunder. His home, his past, gone up in smoke—)

He doesn’t stay to watch it burn.

#frank is being his peak edgelord self here wow #also the working title of this doc is 'lieberman matchmaking' so i think the plan was to have this be a post tps1 fic??#who knows #certainly not me #WAIT YES I REMEMBER #sarah and david and the kids were going to invite frank to dinner and UNBEKNOWNST TO HIM karen would be there too #hence the matchmaking #and i think i had planned for some shenanigans with the kids too #ANYWAYS lol #ty emily i love youuuuuu <3

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voltives · 1 year

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hi! i wrote a short sort of study (not really) for ms nadine tolliver because i’m kind of obsessed with tragic female heroines so please read it would mean the world to me <3

trigger warning: heavy implications of self/harm and ideated suicide

#Madam Secretary #Nadine Tolliver #My Fics #the dead girls name is called verity btw hence the title but the narrator is just unreliable #i just love complex narratives and dead characters and immortalisation dont mind me

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indigowallbreaker · 2 years

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Dimiashe Week Day 5: Hands. I’m very much late, but I am here nonetheless!

Summary:

As Dimitri turned to continue through the cemetery, Ashe caught his hand to stop him. “Not— Let’s try not to walk on the graves, okay?” Ashe said with a note of desperation in his voice. He had gone back to shaking and staring, gazing out at the headstones between them and the edge of the cemetery.

There was nothing out there as far as Dimitri could see— the sun still hung high in the sky and left little room for shadows, some headstones sported twine wrapped bundles of fresh flowers, and overall it looked quite peaceful for a cemetery. What did Ashe see that Dimitri could not?

Pre-Skip and pre-relationship with a dash of Ashe Ubert Can See Ghosts. One more left to finish out the week! Wish me luck!

#fire emblem three houses #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #ashe ubert #dimiashe #dimiashe week 2022 #this needed a lot of clean up hence the wait #idk when the last fic will be but i hope this week!#that title took me. so long. which might be why its so long

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theogony · 2 years

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on being a god and martyr

a/n : first time writing itafushi please be nice they are probably roc but consider. itadori is delirious in this so it's ok (also I hope you enjoy add this is for u !! @nobaracore ) <3

word count ; 1.9k

read on ao3!

It feels wrong to have him in his hands like this, he thinks, as his eyes flutter open wide, attempting to be reassuring even as he lies bleeding out next to him (in some semblance of a fucking joke). Itadori lies bleeding in the car, not next to the bodies of those who have done the most harm to their minds, and souls, but mere seats in front of a stash of cursed weapons. Itadori is bleeding on the passenger seat, and the road is still dark, and there aren't many stars in the sky, and despite the fact that he can barely see his face through the matted blood and hastily patched up wounds, he knows he's beautiful - even with blood running down his forehead, blood on his knuckles, blood on his threadbare shirt.

Itadori has always been beautiful.

///

Or, on the way back home from a mission, Megumi reflects.

You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves

you, but he loves you.

Leather doesn't stain easily.

He rubs a thumb over the carefully stitched seams, and feels the thread running in between the coarse cloth - imagines it is him pulling the cloth through the carefully dotted holes. aIt’s easier than confronting himself with the tightness of his heart, blanking his face and memory as he stares outside at the lone streetlamp.

(He remembered asking gojo once, back when he was first learning how to sew, how long it takes to thread a needle, to run it through a piece of cloth without tearing it apart, without creating a too large, too big, too loud, too noticeable hole.

He remembers a silence, before a trembling voice telling him shoko would probably know better, after all that is what she at least meant to be doing in the infirmary though good knows what she doing in there other than smoking-)

And you feel like you've done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself

a grave in the dirt, and you're tired.

The road is dark and long, with only the car's headlights providing illumination. Nonetheless, it's far too dark. Dark around the edges of his vision, dark when he tries to push through the matted hair covering the wound, dark glimmering in its absence of color in the crescent shadows that rest almost naturally (too naturally) beneath his carefully downstairs eyelashes, dark on the spot where he carefully thumbs his way over now dulled eyes, body trembling — with adrenaline or fear, he doesn't know, doesn't want to — from his toes to the tips of his fingers to the careful brush of the locks of his hair. He is trembling, and despite his efforts to hold him still even as the car jolts, he blinks, carefully stirring and shifting before smiling and breathing out his name. Megumi, he says, and he feels a hand on his arm, and his hand moves back almost subconsciously, reaching for him as he always has, though it shifts up to his nape when he sways.

You'll be alright. Just... stay awake.

With me, he wants to add, but the lie seals his mouth shut, the silence falling from his lips readily. The answer never matters after all, nor ever the reason.

You're in a car with a beautiful boy,

and you're trying not to tell him that you love him,

Itadori cannot see him - can barely hear him, the way he slumps against his chest. He wonders, almost treacherously, if he would still come back to him every time like this - so pliant, so perfect, so beautiful it hurts. Time is but a concept now, a mere suggestion instead of a fact. Has it been an hour since then? A minute? A second? It does not matter — would not. They have won, surely they have. The costs may have been one or two too many, but they have won. They always do - they know the price, no matter how steep, is always less heavy than the cost of losing.

He knows his worth - not necessarily his, but the looming scythe that hangs over the boy next to him (he doesn't believe in a religion, but with the way his heart aches whenever he smiles, he thinks what a picturesque tragedy) and so he doesn't slip up, doesn't riot, and simply accepts.

(Yet despite it all, He cannot help but dream. Dream of a world where they are free to run, a world he grabs Itadori's hand not of necessity but of an admission of fate - a world where they run until they no longer can, run until the sun sinks lower and lower until it is barely a crescent swaddled in bright hues of reds oranges and yellows, comforting in the same way that his touch feels, comforting in the way his words boom from his chest, strong and steady, comforting in the way it's always been him and no one else but him as they collapse into each other, all sharp ridges and melding bones designed to fit perfectly into one another, their warmths colliding. )

Yet the matter of the fact is this - he has existed before him and he will exist after him and this is how: by letting them take him away, by letting them blur and erase every memory that cuts him open, and the blunting of his grief is the dull blade that cuts into the fog of his life, seeping through him, forever as a reminder.

and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling,

Pain is not a foreign concept, nor is staring death itself in the eyes. He wishes he could go back in time, in one of those back to the future-esque moments from the black and white movies he dimly remembers through a haze of static (everything that isn't him is dull, he remembers distinctly thinking as the end credits rolled; when the slight weight of his head lolled over registered himself in his mind) where he goes back without meaning to and has no way of returning. Maybe he'd be a better friend, maybe he'd have looked out for him more, maybe he'd be able to do something - anything - without each of his touches filling him with cloying want; maybe Itadori wouldn't be staring at him with glassy eyes, lacking his usual warmth and instead shallowly gasping, breath erratic (so unlike the way he's used to) — so unlike the way his smile lit up as though someone had cleaved the sun.

The way his smile lights up, he corrects himself, his own heartbeat singing in tune to the ragged gasps of the boy beneath him. Itadori isn’t dead until it is of his own making.

Itadori has always been beautiful.

Itadori, he wants to plead, holding the edges of the yellow sweatshirt that’s stained beyond repair. Itadori, he wants to say, twisting around, looking him in the eye, rubbing a finger beneath it. Itadori, he wants to scream until the name means nothing and everything to him, lying in the backseat of a car as it speeds down a nameless highway.

(it feels wrong to hold him like this, but he loves him - a tragedy in the making - and he thinks it’s enough anyway).

His lover (who is everything but it-) sways, and he looks away, face pinched, eyes shut in a solemn prayer of gods he’s never truly believed in. Itadori is beautiful, but the sight of him with pinched eyebrows and wet eyes and red-bitten lips that was caused because of something else makes his heart twist in his chest, and so he lets his eyes roam, unilaterally examining the backseat. There, an old bandage, hanging limp off hollowed cheekbones, there, an embroidered lamb smiling cheerily against stained yellow threads bunched together. Unable to focus on him, he looks at the head of the lamb - almost grotesque, he thinks, the way it seems to swim in the blood. Its black eyes stare lifelessly at him, as though pleading for him to leave before he ends up like it. It’s a perfect combination of beauty and horror, a macabre of sheer coincidence so painful that he looks away, back into his eyes that shine with unshed tears.

but he reaches over and

he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist,

“Good thing you didn’t forget about this place, huh.”

One of Itadori's hands are clasped weakly in between his own, pushed messily into the brackets of his fingers, and he opens up, cordial, pliant, always for him. Silently, he looks down at the faint discolourations and pockmarks in the hand that is not his own, and he finally believes him when he had said that he always is good with his hands. He thinks quietly about his own fists, how they left bruises that he is no longer proud of. He ponders how he could leave bruises he could be proud of, how Itadori's hands could leave crescent scars on him, trailing around his nape, scars he wouldn't mind - not from him.

Stay with me, he says out loud, breathless and genuine. He says, don't leave me now, not like this, because he needs this, he needs Itadori, because Itadori is now more of a jumbled coalescence of lifelines stringing them together as Itadori-and-Megumi. I need you to, he does not say, but he knows that Itadori hears it all the same.

Itadori slips his hand out of the loose teether, and reaches out a careful hand upwards, thumbing hesitantly at his face as he smiles back at him, breath gasping as Megumi moves, cradling Itadori’s face in hands, tight and grounding, for whom? he doesn’t really know. They both need it, he supposes. The hand that is pressing the gashes of the bandage is weakening. He’s never wanted it to be like this, and yet he knows - being with him is causing him to flay himself open with want.

He finds himself begging as he continues to hold him, and inside him, he knows that as he moves closer, that there is nothing he can do now, and there will be nothing he can do later to stop him, but it will hurt anyway.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

and you feel your

heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you

don't even have a name for.

Itadori doesn’t say anything, but he sways forward, lips and noses brushing but not pressing against each other, the drying blood on his brow smearing as he leans in closer.

“You love me, don’t you?” His words come out as a whisper against his ear as he moves closer, leaning on him completely for support, holding him like a lifeline. “Will you say it?”

He clenches his jaw, pulling back to look Itadori in his eyes - even as he splits his whole being in half and sets the butterflies inside his stomach free and ablaze. Itadori doesn’t gloat, doesn’t say it like a revelation because he knows, he knows Megumi always has.

“I love you,” he finally murmurs, looking away towards the lamb head stitched on once more. He thinks of this then; as the stitches morph until it’s his own head taking its place - a glimpse of the twisted underneath; this love is terrifying, yet what terrifies him the most is that he doesn’t want him to stop loving.

A tear of scarlet drips from the lamb’s eye, and that’s the last thing he sees before Itadori presses their lips together with a tilt of his head.

I do, too, he does not say, but Megumi hears it all the same.

#the title is lame but it is LATE and it has been posted and hence.#itafushi #itadori yuji #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fic #looks better on ao3 I promise ;-;

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transboykirito · 2 years

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alright y’all please vote for what fic i should update next:

more than just a fling? - this one’s being “updated” with three chapters!! two are “oneshots” technically, that take place as bonus chapters (one is set during the main fic and one is set between the main fic and the sequel), and then obviously the first chapter of the sequel fic

friends with (baby) benefits - this will probably be a chapter of fluff!! some asuna and suguha interactions and bonding, plus some gentle kirisuna moments because they need a break poor bbs

perfectly imperfect (the name is still a working title sorry lol) - this is the asuna/yuukisuna prologue!! i’ll be writing one for eugeo as well before we get to the main plot of the fic, i just want to establish everything in the first 3 chapters lol

buried with our pasts - the diner chapter rewritten!! this is also the last chapter left to rewrite from the old version. alice and the boys being nostalgic and stuff, plus quinella being a pain in eugeo’s ass and cardinal being Babey

fame at the cost of love - the party scene!! kirisuna!! kazuto is hardcore crushing on asuna!! gorgeous.mp3!! i’m procrastinating writing this because i’ve never been to a party before!!

don’t want to miss a thing - cute aunty suguha and rika, yui being wholesome, family fluff. they’re gonna have a cute day out together

part of your world (NOBODY remembers this one lmfao) - kazuto, eugeo and alice bonding!! eugeo’s crushing!! kazuto’s crushing!! they’re talking feelings and queer stuff!!

#fics #please let me know because i'm trying to write all of them simultaneously and it's not working sdkjfsjkdhdf #they WILL all be finished just which one do i update first pls sdfhsjdf help #i love all of them but i want you guys to get the content you want yknow??#also incase yall go look at my incomplete fics for whatever reason sdfhggsdf #the tokyo ghoul au may not ever be finished unless you want to see it?? but. i doubt anyone does hence it isn't on the list sdkfjsdhf #and the hoax fic (it's lyrics from a song called hoax it's easier than writing the whole title okay??)#that one... i'm not going to update just because someone asks. i'm sorry. that fic is very much an open wound for me #i need to work on it gradually when i feel comfortable. if you happen to like that fic i'm so so sorry but i just #i need to take that one slowly or i'll make it worse for myself okay thank you sdjkfhsdf #anyways let me know pleaaaaaaassssseeeeeeee

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