yishuns

[yishuns]

my husbands are all back i'm going to blow up!!! anyway i'll be here again shortly<3

[yishuns]

❝ i can’t save you from yourself. it hurts terribly, but i can’t. ❞ man... toomin

He makes a sound in his throat between a huff and something far less breathy, upset at Tooru for stating the obvious but unable to begrudge him for it all the same.  He’s had years to make peace with how little time he’ll have once his body decides to turn on him, but for Tooru… right.  It must come as a shock — to know there’s a destined end to their movie nights, that if — WHEN — that expiration date passes — IN A YEAR, TWO, FIVE, TOMORROW — Min-Chul’s apartment will get repossessed, his streaming subscriptions (with all their favorite movies on perma-standby) will be cancelled, his refrigerator and cupboards (with all their favorite sweet and savory foods dedicatedly stocked) emptied, and there won’t be a place for Tooru to return to save his ruined once-kingdom because the thread connecting him to the surface world will be gone.  

(He tries to recall those first few minutes, days, months, and finds that he can’t, nothing past a TV-like static and miserably late mornings.  If he had to, he could dig for it like he does every childhood memory, but he knows nothing pleasant lies buried there.)

It’s almost an accusation — like Min-Chul’s the one dangling his death too close to Tooru’s face — but he understands why it hurts.  Min-Chul’s made his peace with it, as close to it as he could reach without a definitive timestamp to rely on, but he’s not the one who’ll be left alone in the wake of it all.  “You can’t.”  And it’s his responsibility — at least in part — to give Tooru a suitable place to bury that hurt —  “But I don’t even really think about it anymore.  So don’t ——— don't look at me like that.  Please.”  — and to make sure it’s not the same place he buried his.  

[yishuns]

@antimetathesis, continued; prompt —

❝ you haven’t changed, huh? ❞ TIMESKIP KAITOORU.

tooru’s never been one for patience. case in point: the pilot clears his throat, announcing their safe landing, and tooru doesn’t wait for their closing remarks to turn off airplane mode on his phone.

unwilling to watch the idly spinning circle as the network connected, he glances outside the window instead. the sky dawns clear, and he can hardly imagine a better welcome for his homecoming.

on cue, his phone starts vibrating, notifications rolling in as the floodgates are opened.

there’s the usual suspects: iwa-chan and mattsun and makki and the rest, messages wishing him a safe flight from hours ago; tooru skims them and continues scrolling until he finds — there it is, kaien’s i’ll see you soon and a location pin.

it’s a cafe by the airport that tooru’s familiar with, he realizes upon approach, which surprises him because he had expected things to change in the few years he’s been gone. kaien must’ve chosen it by virtue of tooru’s familiarity, then, and an uncontainable smile spreads across his face. it’s not wholly surprising, because kaien’s always been the type to notice the small things, and above that, to care.

tooru steps inside. they notice each other at the same time, their reactions mirrored: tooru catches kaien’s gaze scanning over him and quirks an eyebrow in response.

silence fills the space between them until they’re face to face. tooru isn’t bothered by it, taking the opportunity to look his fill — kaien isn’t the only one who’d missed out on a view when tooru left — and the tension pulls taut as the moment stretches like an eternity. tooru feels his breath catch.

eventually, he lifts his gaze to meet kaien’s eyes, lips quirking as he speaks with belated fascination, as if kaien’s presence had taken him by surprise. “so, fancy seeing you here.”

kaien’s laughter is a pleasant sound.

“you haven’t changed, huh?” kaien says, like it’s a conclusion rather than a hypothesis.

it’s not the observation tooru anticipated, but he grins contentedly anyway. it’s unexpected, but that’s only because tooru’s been away for so long, he thinks. being near kaien again makes him feel nostalgic, as if tooru could relive their youth just by looking at him.

“what, since the video call we had just last week?” he replies, tongue in cheek. from there, it’s natural to fall in step with kaien, to bump his shoulder against kaien’s side, and then just… stay there, lingering in his space.

their space now, tooru supposes.

the line of heat against tooru’s arm feels comfortably warm, and it’s all tooru could want and more. it’s enough — it’s everything he’d missed, being away from kaien, and he’d since learnt to find contentment in between the spaces of his greed.

so someday and another time, he’ll ask: will you come with me, back to argentina?

someday, he’ll mean: will you stay with me, no matter where we end up?

but for now, tooru pulls kaien into a hug, lips pressed against kaien’s neck in familiar reminiscence, and says: “i’m home.”

[yishuns]

@antimetathesis, prompt —

“what can i say to make you stay?” / TOOKAI this is pre timeskip ie. pre tooru goes off overseas to become mega super ultra famous star and kaien's joking around but hes also just a little bit not<3

the thing is, tooru knows it’s a joke — it has to be a joke, because kaien would never begrudge tooru his dream like this, but the hurt that lances through tooru at the thought of having to choose is all too real.

(he’s greedy, after all: he always wants more than he has; dreams too big and settles for nothing less; and everything that he can gather is never, ever, enough. something always slips away in his pursuit of more, no matter how tightly he clenches his fist to hold onto it all.)

and the thing is, he knows kaien wouldn’t go through with it, even if tooru could magic up the words to deliver his own ultimatum — but they also both know that he does mean it, a little bit. it’s the same small part of tooru that still hesitates about leaving japan, the quiet voice that begs to stay.

but the thing is, kaien’s loose with his affection, and tooru’s secure enough in it to know that he can find a future with kaien anywhere, even halfway across the world from him.

tooru looks genuinely apologetic, feels devastated that he has to leave, but some part of them had always known that this time would come.

“nothing. anything.” he answers honestly, forcing a smile. “so please, don’t ask.”

and so the time comes: an announcement calling for his flight to board rings across the pa system.

tooru draws kaien into a hug. it’ll be a while yet before he can indulge in intimacy like this again, so he holds his breath as if it can stop time from turning until finally, inevitably, his body reaches its limit. when he exhales, heat spreads over the skin of kaien’s neck, making tooru shiver in turn. then, softly, only for kaien to hear: “i’ll come back soon, ‘kay? pinky promise.”

[yishuns]

@lightsmartyr, prompt —

❝ i’m not a criminal. woah…that makes me sound more like a criminal, doesn’t it? ❞ aventurine /j unless

so it’s true that time mellows. aventurine feels no hostility now — or if not time, then death must have made him soft. or, if neither time nor death, then it’s the fact that his mind is no longer clouded with that same all-consuming fog of fear-despair-madness, and maybe that’s what makes all the difference.

“not really,” aventurine’s expression smooths out into a pensive calm, lips turning up at the corners. “if anything, it makes you sound like me. have you nothing better to do than to come back and haunt me? i thought we were past this… you, [the existence] that is me.”

[yishuns]

@roscvcins, call.

“i didn’t know,” nie huaisang says, eyes brimming with tears, “really, shuhe-ge, i really didn’t know!” his face is hidden behind a fan, as is typical, and yet, uncharacteristically, he hides out of meekness rather than deceit.

huaisang curls up into the sect leader’s seat — his seat, now — in an attempt to make himself as small as possible. “it’s not that big a deal, right…? it’s just paperwork…”

[yishuns]

last call before i go into lockdown for (secret) day<3

* closed.

hiii i finally have some down time this weekend so! here's a plotting slash starter call . it's 50/50 (depending on whether you have any preference and/or if we have dynamics established i don't really know i'm fully playing this by ear)

[yishuns]

@giriure, call.

“am i here to help?” the composer echoes, laughing openly at the idea, “nope, you’ve got it aa~ll wrong! i’m just here to babysit, babysit!” leo rolls full on across the room with one shove of the chair, his weight balanced precariously on its edge, only momentum keeping him in place. the distance between him and the wall closes with haste — he twists around right before the chair comes to an abrupt halt against the padded wall of the studio, barely preventing his own face from coming to that same, likely more painful, stop, and smoothly launches himself up to perch on the chair instead.

a sufficiently dramatic entrance made, he tilts his head to look, birdlike, at mana. “so, how’s the progress on the song? if it sucks, i’m not going to sing it!”

[yishuns]

with all the hints being dropped, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the stranger’s implying. kaito stills, visibly straining against the urge, borne from curiosity, to lean closer. stranger danger, and all that. knowing kuroba tōichi was a double-edged card — friend and foe both could play it. knowing kuroba toichi’s identity as kaitō kid — that tipped the scales toward danger, more than not.

“easy thing to say,” kaito comments offhandedly, feigning disinterest, “without proof? hard to believe.” he glances pointedly at the stranger’s outfit before tapping at his own face to indicate the place where their mask sits, his finger making contact with the metal of his monocle. “surely you understand.”

' right costume , different person from the one i knew , ' nightwing agrees , voice pleasant. honestly , dick's not that old , but there's something to be said that dick has apparently been alive long enough for tōichi's son ( who he held as a baby ) to take over the role of kaitō kid. ' but i was looking for you , kid. i knew your ... predecessor , professionally. for a while there , we were friends too , and i think he'd roll around in his grave if i didn't come by to help train you. '

kaitō kid's fallen into a defensive stance , but nightwing can tell it's all flight and nothing fight. which , nightwing's not going to try to change that if kaitō kid doesn't want to , but there could be something said about giving him more in-depth training. he's good , but he's not the best , and nightwing can definitely get him close.

[yishuns]

@morrias, continued.

over the years and across their increasingly frequent interactions, ferdinand has come to expect a certain amount of derision from the fraldarius heir. as far as he could tell, it wasn’t a disposition felix picked up exclusively in ferdinand’s company; rather, it seemed inherent in his nature to treat everything as below him. ferdinand understood it from a different angle, but it was understanding all the same. he supposed anyone born into nobility understood it, if only in their own way.

he laughs defeatedly at felix’s initial answer, falling further into an undignified slump against the ruined battlement. “you’re right. of course, you’re right.” ferdinand says, rubbing at his eyes as if it could scrub out the exhaustion that had settled bone-deep. the fatigue doesn’t dislodge even a little, not that ferdinand had expected it to.

there’s another long pause. they’re both exhausted. these moments of peace are rare enough, and ferdinand should let matters lie when they’ve finally snatched some of it for themselves, but—

“have you ever wondered,” he breaks, caught up in the brief illusion of tranquility and allowing his true worry to subsume his better sense, “what will be left after all this?”

the cost of survival, theirs and that of their cause, rises with each passing day. every morning, ferdinand thinks about every companion lost to their war. every night, he mourns someone new.

“…never mind.” he rises, brushes the dust off his armor. all he ends up doing is smudge dirt across steel. “not that you ever do anything you don’t want to,” ferdinand says, with considerable fondness, “but in this, especially… i will not push for your answer.” he holds out a hand to help felix stand. “shall we keep going, then? if we are to survive.”

[yishuns]

the sharpness of his eyes eases out at their answer — not an incorrect one in his books, if not the one he’d secretly hoped for... but suzaku knows better than to say that out loud when they were already this grouchy. he flashes thana a sheepish grin instead. “uh… moral high ground…?” a pause. he’s aware that his argument, as it stands, is less than convincing. still, even suzaku knows that trump cards should always be played last. “or — i’m not too bad at cooking. i’m sure pizza hut isn’t that hard to beat.”

with a wave of their hand, they dismiss his threats and accusations. neither he nor lelouch were in any position to demand taking sides, and thana was especially incensed at the notion that there were only two sides to the story. since when had they let him decide their thoughts for them? “ lelouch promised me pizza hut if i helped him. what are you offering? ”

[yishuns]

hiii i finally have some down time this weekend so! here's a plotting slash starter call . it's 50/50 (depending on whether you have any preference and/or if we have dynamics established i don't really know i'm fully playing this by ear)

* closed.

[yishuns]

Beloved. Come Here.

MARI LOVE OF MY LIFE. come HERE i miss you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[yishuns]

@paranormalite, continued.

spontaneity, when it strikes, doesn’t bear further thought. in one swift move, tooru shifts out of his jacket and places it over sakura’s shoulders, brushing her hair away to tuck the collar carefully down.

he can admit to himself that it’s a little bit for him, too. the rush he gets from seeing sakura in his jacket, the same way he felt when her focus was pinned on him whenever he sought her out at school, is an addictive feeling.

“what’s a little cold, with you next to me?” he nudges his shoulder right back against hers. if he presses closer to her, the rational explanation is that it’s to make up for lending her his jacket, isn’t it?

still, it’s the gentlemanly move to acquiesce. “deal,” tooru laughs, eyes twinkling, “although i’m starting to suspect that you’re just trying to get me to warm it up for you. you can just say it, haru-chan, that you like how hot i run~”

[yishuns]

@paranormalite, continued.

sakura reads him like an open book, and he — to say it used to be mutual would be a lie, but he used to be better at reading her than he is now. traveling gave him a new perspective in some ways, and one of it made coming home feel like stepping onto foreign land. it wasn’t that anything here had changed, but that something intrinsic in sasuke had shifted.

“as if i’m unused to insensivity,” he scoffs in response, the quip slipping out beneath his mask of resignation, his facade slipping to reveal a glimmer of his former snark. however unintended it had been, he finds he can’t regret the consequences of his loosening control over his psyche. not in front of sakura, who had seen the worst of him and stuck by him even then. even now, he thinks: she deserves better than this.

but just like so many other things his hands have wrought, it was too late to take this, or any of it, back.

“you could be done now if you left the rest to me.” sasuke points out, softening his tone to something resembling amicability. picking a fight with her is the last thing he wants to do when he’s still unsure of his footing around her.

then her words strike true, and despite himself, sasuke slips. his hands pause — really, he could not tell if his whole body had frozen, or if time itself had stopped.

“you’re… asking me to dinner?”

[yishuns]

❝ nevertheless, i can’t shake this strange tightness in my chest. ❞

[ for zhanying, from tónghuā ! is he just having some late-night anxiety over drama in the court ? or is it something more sinister, a flare-up of his illness ? whomst knows ... ~ ]

he searches his memory for the last time he’d spent the night in his own bed, and comes up with a handful of hazy moments viewed from a distance, as if the one who had the leisure to complete their nightly ablutions before putting themselves to bed was a different person altogether; as if the person who lived his life before the royal physician had announced that the emperor’s days were limited was someone else, someone who did not understand that any moment now, their best friend would be taken from them.

if zhanying were a more selfish man, he would beg. he would plead, threaten, hold tonghua’s life hostage if only to preserve it. zhanying knew intimately that the emperor was not lacking of will, and would hold on to life if there was something he deemed more important he had yet to accomplish. zhanying, against reason or honor, wanted tonghua to see that there was nothing more important — to him, at the very least — than to be able to stay by tonghua’s side: the emperor and his general, and even before that, the bright village boy and his commoner best friend.

as it was, he’d lived his life never acting on these more selfish thoughts, and even now he could not bring himself to ask tonghua to survive, not if it meant he had to suffer his illness beyond what he already had to bear, if it was only for zhanying’s sake.

perhaps, too, a part of him expected to be rejected — for tonghua had always been more noble and self-sacrificing than he — and in secret, zhanying feared its potential sting. he recognized now that it was the same part of him that held him back from confessing his feelings every day, the cowardly instinct that he could not overcome with sword or spear alone.

the time they had was slipping through his fingers with every moment, and zhanying could not bear it if he was forced to spend any of it away from his emperor’s side.

but it was too much to ask of him to call tonghua your majesty now, as if he still belonged to everyone else when zhanying wanted for tonghua to belong only to himself. so he bows his head to mitigate the disrespect, pressing his forehead to the back of tonghua’s hand in a tender caress.

“if i could,” he says with a trembling voice, “i would bear all this for you.”

@tiantangs, prompt.

[yishuns]

I am so normal about him