Hey So I Was Gonna Write Something For You Guys This Evening, But My Parents Were On Their Usual Homophobic

🌼🌿botanical asks🌻🌙

jasmine; what mythical creature do you wish actually existed?

lavender; soundcloud or vinyls?

primrose; what book does everyone right now need to read?

lunar mist; do you like wearing other people’s shirts/jackets?

bird of paradise; what was the best thing that happened to you this month?

gardenia; what’s a promise you’ve recently made to yourself?

lion’s fairytale; would you rather be the sky, the ocean or the forests?

whirling butterflies; would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

marmalade skies; do you plan your outfits?

apricot drift; how do you feel right now?

everlasting daisy; what’s the last dream you remember having?

queen’s cup; what are you craving right now?

lavender dream; turn ons/offs?

water lilly; when was the last time you cried? why?

lily of the valley; did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize?

winterberry; do you bite or lick your ice cream?

honey perfume; favorite movie ever?

desert rose; do you like yourself?

snapdragon; have you ever met or seen in person a celebrity?

night owl; how many countries have you visited?

heliotrope; have you ever been in a castle?

creams and sky; what’s the craziest/bravest thing you’ve done?

lantana; what’s on your mind right now?

pumpkin patch; what’s your zodiac sign?

tulip; name 5 facts about yourself.

daphne; do you believe in karma?

queen of the meadow; ever been in love?

wisteria; whom do you admire and why?

angel’s face; what was your favorite bedtime story as a child?

remember me; did you make someone laugh today?

iris; do you believe in ghosts?

lilac; if you could go back in time which time period would you visit?

caramel kisses; would you want to live forever? why/why not?

primula; what makes you sad?

rain lily; was today typical? why/why not?

queen anne’s lace; who do you trust the most?

lady’s slipper; what did you have for breakfast today?

forget me not; do you have any regrets looking back in your life?

lunaria; what’s your favorite fictional universe?

violet; favorite tv show?

sunflower; share a favorite quote.

snowdrop; what does your ideal day look like?

tiger lily; do you have any hobbies?

peony; share a small random book passage that means something to you.

tea rose; what’s something you always wanted to do but were too scared?

honeysuckle; do you usually date people your age or older/younger?

sweet pea; who means the world to you? why?

love in the mist; best books you’ve ever read?

foxglove; who is your favorite cartoon character?

magnolia; coffee or tea?

crown imperial; would you rather be extremely rich or extremely loved?

snowflake; are you a dog or a cat person?

bell flower; what is your biggest addiction?

cosmos; do you ever think about the galaxy?

moonflower; what’s your favorite color?

freesia; do you have a good relationship with your parents and siblings? why/why not?

sundrop; are you a morning or a night person?

poppy; have you ever dealt with a mental illness?

clover; how would your friends describe you?

dandelion; do you consider yourself and extrovert or an introvert?

lilly; what’s something you love watching/reading but you are too embarrassed to admit you do?

anemone; describe yourself in 3 words.

lotus; best memory as a child?

angelonia; what is your eye and hair color?

dahlia; do you like crystals?

buttercup; if you could change one thing in the world, what would it be?

baby’s breath; what’s your hogwarts house?

calendula; biggest pet peeve?

blanker flower; would you rather go to a cocktail party with your best friends or stay home and read a book/watch a movie with your pet?

blazing star; share a secret.

carnation; would you rather live longer or happier?

petunia; who’s story is your biggest inspiration in life? why?

bluebell; do you wear glasses?

nymphea; forest or river?

orchid; do you like exercise?

pansy; do you like poetry?

morning glory; any special talent that you have?

Heads up, new works on AO3 will take a while to show up, they’ve gotten hit with a bunch of spam.

Ohohoh!!! I love your writing so much I look up to you a lot 💜 can you write some klance?? I'm super into a god/goddess au right now and I'm not even sure if I can do it justice.

I’ve got inspiration but idk what to write aaaaaaaaa hELP

I’m back!! And also SBT updated!

Hello! I am back! Sort of. Well, I updated State of Broken Things so I guess that means I’m back?? 

You can find chapter three here 

Tell me what you think!

I missed you guys

---

happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me

happy birthday happy birthdayyyyyy

haaaaappy birthday to me 💜

---

How about something like Sevika finding out that Vi has chronic pain (in my head it's canon) and taking care of her?

Vi was stubborn. It was something Sevika had picked up on very early in their relationship. She saw things through to the very end, regardless of how it could affect her, and found pride in reaching the end. However it turned out. This extended to pushing through pain, physical or emotional, which often led to worse outcomes. 

Vi suffered from migraines. Sevika suspected they stemmed from trauma; either a physical blow from childhood, or just trauma in general. Vi had suffered through so much in her short life, and Sevika had seen the damage trauma could do on a body when it was unchecked. Luckily, Vi hadn’t picked up shimmer to cope; unluckily, she hadn’t picked up pain remedies to help. 

The migraines started days before they fully hit. It started with lethargy. Vi was quieter than usual, more restless. She often dug her fingers into her lower back, eyebrow twitching and lips thinning with discomfort when she thought nobody was looking. Maybe she mentioned her back was bothering her, maybe she took a longer and hotter shower than usual. Most times she said and did nothing, opting to press fingertips against her spine as hard as she could when she had a moment alone. 

The next stage came in quick succession. It rose to her shoulders, sitting heavy against her scapula and pinching harshly at the back of her neck. She could blame it on sleeping wrong, maybe tweaking something. She moved slower, winced a little if Sevika put too much pressure on her shoulder or held her too tightly. 

The day before a migraine, Vi was moody and irritable. Her entire neck was tense, any stress going right to where her muscles seized. She was quicker to snapping, unable to be touched for long periods of time, and often quite emotional. Vi spent most of the day snapping and immediately apologizing, overwhelmed by simple tasks or the accumulation of circumstances, one after another. If something went wrong, it was immediately a hundred times worse than any usual day. 

When the migraine finally migrated to her head, pulsing angrily and making her vision blurry, Vi was rendered incapable of doing anything. She spent the first hour of her day trying to get through things, until her body finally gave into the heaviness her head was carrying and she surrendered to the misery. After an hour of muscling through and making things worse, Vi ended up in bed. Naked and face down and covered in a soft blanket. The curtains drawn, the lights out, feet poking out from under the blanket so she didn’t overheat. 

The first time Sevika had walked in on this, she’d received nothing but an incoherent mumble in explanation, and had run to Caitlyn of all people for some help, after Jinx had no idea what it could be. 

“Oh, it’s a migraine.” Caitlyn had explained, her voice crackling over the phone line. 

Sevika hunches over the phone, tugging on the cord, the receiver pressed to her ear. “Migraine?” She repeats. She wasn’t very familiar; Silco suffered from them, on occasion, but he usually could do one of his eye treatments and be fine after. 

“Mhm. Just let her do her thing, she knows how to handle it.”

Sevika was not a person who could sit idly by and let things happen. Sevika was a doer. She got shit done, and handled, and sitting back to let something of this magnitude happen to the woman she loved would not fly. So she puts a cool compress on the back of Vi’s neck, presses a kiss to the wrist of the one hand poking from under the blanket, and goes to write down all the unusual things Vi had done in the days leading up to this moment. 

She takes notes about the day after, too; the way Vi seemed so drained, the exhaustion that tugged at her bones and kept her a few paces behind in her normal routine. Sevika writes everything down and settles in to wait for the next episode she knew would come. 

The next time Vi suffers a migraine attack, Sevika is suddenly… hovering. Vi finds it odd, and tries to wave her off, but Sevika is weirdly insistent on being close. So when Vi digs her fingers into her back, Sevika notices, and instead presses her own warm palm to her lower back. 

It helps. Vi sinks into it, eyelashes flickering, and Sevika watches the little crease in her brow fade slowly. She keeps her hand there for as long as Vi will allow, and moves on once Vi pulls away. That evening, she insists on snuggling before bed, and lulls Vi to sleep by rubbing gentle circles against the tension building in her back. 

When it moves up her spine and Vi gets irritable, Sevika is there. Sevika doesn’t touch as often, not after she tries once and nearly gets her head bitten off (from pain, she realizes later, when she reflects on what had triggered it). She does urge Vi to take some painkillers before bed, much to Vi’s reproach and dismay, and once again settles her partner with an open palm massage across the expanse of her back. When Vi is properly sleepy, she presses her fingers to the hollow of Vi’s nape, rubbing gently at the indent where her spine connected to her skull. She gets a sleepy little grunt of relief for that. 

The day the migraine properly sets in, Sevika calls and informs the Council she would be absent, and she stays home. 

Vi is confused about this, but she’s also… very much not herself. She can hardly pull herself out of bed. It takes her twice as long to even pull the covers off. It’s not until she tries to get up and make herself breakfast that Sevika intervenes. 

“Let me,” Sevika says, easing her back into bed. It’s… heartbreaking, not to feel her usually headstrong and stubborn partner struggle against her hold. Instead, Vi sinks back into the bed. She’s frowning, but exhaustion and weary pain clouds her usually bright gaze, and Sevika is glad she isn’t fighting. 

“Vika,” Vi tries to argue, but it’s weak. Sevika tugs the covers over her again. 

“No, shh. Let me take care of you. I’ll go run a bath, and you can chill there while I make breakfast. Okay?”

Vi nods once, then flinches as pain strikes her through the skull, closing her eyes and settling in. 

Sevika nods too, then hurries away to their shared bathroom. She closes the door most of the way to muffle the noise, turning the tap on and running it hot. She crouches, pulling out a bag of things she’d researched and learned were good for migraines. Epsom salts, peppermint bubble bath to ease any nausea. She grabs an ice pack from the freezer and wraps it in a damp cloth for the back of Vi’s neck. 

Her towel goes in the dry for a cycle, and once the bath is ready and quiet, Sevika goes to collect Vi. She’s nearly asleep again, face pressed deep in her pillow. Sevika pauses, hesitating on even bothering her, before recovery and damage control returns to the forefront of her mind and she scoops Vi up. 

Vi is nearly a ragdoll in her arms, head dropping against Sevika’s chest and limbs heavy with the weight of pain. Sevika adjusts her carefully, pressing her lips to the top of her head as she carries Vi to the bathroom. 

Undressing her is painfully slow. Sevika didn’t want to move her and cause another jolt of pain, but she didn’t want to unnecessarily draw it out, either. Vi shifts to help every so often, and Sevika promises herself she’d find a way to do this easier before another migraine like this could hit. It’s a few painful minutes, but finally she’s able to set Vi in the bath and press the cold compress to her neck. 

“I’m gonna make some food, okay?” Sevika murmurs, pressing the gentlest of kisses to her temple. “Call if you need me.”

“Mhm,” Vi hums softly, eyes closed. 

Sevika lights a couple candles and flicks out the lights for Vi on the way out, leaving her in a dimly lit bathroom for the time being. 

She rushes through making a simple breakfast of eggs, toast, and fruit (she would worry about a better meal later, after Vi was peacefully resting and she could get the things needed to make a meal helpful for migraines). Sevika sets everything on the bedside table and gathers the towel from the dryer before going to collect Vi. 

Vi was breathing softly, eyes closed and head tipped forward. She wasn’t sleeping, though - her fingers were tracing idle circles in the water. Grey eyes flutter open when Sevika gently nudges the door open. 

“Hey,” Sevika whispers, smiling faintly. “Hungry?”

“Mm,” Vi hums noncommittally, and Sevika takes that as answer enough. She steps over and drains the tub, wrapping her partner in a fluffy, warm towel and carrying her to bed again. 

It’s a process to get her to eat even a few bites, and Sevika settles on good enough when half of the plate is gone. She convinces Vi to swallow a few pain relievers and helps her settle into bed. Naked, warm, and safely tucked in. Sevika’s getting ready to pull the blinds closed and leave her in peace, when fingertips snag her sleep shorts and Vi blinks up at her from under her blankets.

“Stay?” Vi asks, her voice rough.

Sevika softens, nodding. “Let me get everything put away, okay?”

Vi nods, settling in and letting her go. 

Light speed wouldn’t be fast enough to get Sevika into bed with Vi. She dumps everything in the kitchen, then books it back to the bedroom. She skids to a stop before tiptoeing into the bedroom. She makes sure Vi is safely tucked in before she climbs in to lay over top of the blankets, cocooning Vi in. She gets a soft, content sigh in return. 

Sevika gently tucks Vi against the side of her body, smoothing down damp hair and moving to rub her back carefully. Vi buries her face deep in the pillow again and settles, her breathing evening out. 

“Thanks,” she breathes after Sevika is sure she’d fallen asleep.

Something in Sevika melts. “Course, baby. Rest.” She murmurs. 

Maybe tomorrow would bring some exhaustion, and maybe her tactics weren’t perfect, but Sevika was determined to get better at migraine care. Just so Vi would be able to rest easy, knowing she’d be taken care of in a state as vulnerable as this.

For now, that was enough to let Sevika relax alongside her partner.

***

This is absolutely not me projecting my own chronic pain onto Vi, lol. What. Anyway.

---

Hey guys. I was informed today by my mom that she’s been thinking about kicking me out on my eighteenth birthday. My birthday is in just about three months, and while I do have a job, it pays hardly anything with the amount of hours I’m given. Each paycheck is just over $100 USD, and my parents are forcing me to pay them back for textbooks and making me pay for gas to get to school.

I don’t have a car, and I can’t drive yet, so I’m pretty much stuck in my house with no means of transportation and no way to get out. On top of this, I’m a college student and I have been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and major depression. I take medication for this, and they just informed me that I’m going to have to start paying for my medication and my weekly therapy appointments. 

I really hate asking for money. So to reconcile for this, I promise that anyone who pays about $10 USD on either my Ko-fi or PayPal, I’ll write a drabble of whatever that person wants, from about 1k to 2k words. 

Please don’t feel obligated to give, but it would mean the world to me if you guys could help. Even a little bit helps. 

My goal is to move to Canada to be with my girlfriend - the deadline was two years, but now it looks like it might be sooner than that - and moving from California all the way to Ontario is going to be a feat in itself. 

Even if you can’t give, a signal boost would be amazing. Thank you so much for all your love and support.

Pay-pal: https://paypal.me/renywrites

Ko-fi: http://ko-fi.com/renywrites

Thank you!

---

Hello all! For all of you who have asked me to post some starters, or for those of you who aren’t sure what you want me to write, here’s a great list to start with! 

Send me an AU, pairing, and any additional idea you might want to add. 

T’s Masterlist of AU Ideas

Need some inspiration for your next fanfic? Here are a list of ideas I’ve compiled to help you get started! There are also a few sub-AUs I included just because :)

BY ERA…

50s AU

80s AU

Ancient Egypt AU

Cold War AU

Medieval AU

Dark/Middle Ages

Renaissance

Regency AU

Revolutionary War AU

Roaring 20s AU

Stone Age AU

Tudor AU

Victorian AU

World War I AU

World War II AU

BY GENRE…

Apocalypse AU

Dystopian AU

Fairy Tale AU

12 Dancing Princesses

Aladdin / Arabian Nights

Beauty & the Beast

Cinderella

Hansel & Gretel

Jack & the Beanstalk

Peter Pan

Rapunzel

Rumplestiltskin

Sleeping Beauty

Snow Queen

Snow White

The Frog Prince

The Little Mermaid

The Prince/Princess & the Pauper

The Princess & the Pea

Thumbelina

High Fantasy AU

Horror AU

Mafia AU

Military AU

Musical AU

Mystery AU

Noir AU

Pirate AU

Sci-Fi AU

Shakespeare AU

Superhero AU

Supernatural/Paranormal AU

Time Travel AU

Urban Fantasy AU

Utopian AU

Wild West AU

BY COUPLE…

Airplane Passengers AU

Aristocrat/Commoner AU

Arranged Marriage AU

Artist/Muse AU

Author/Publisher AU

Body Swap AU

Childhood Sweethearts AU

Chosen One & Sidekick AU

Complete Opposites AU

Doctor/Patient AU

Hades & Persephone AU

Handcuffed Together AU

Lab Partners AU

Neighbors AU

Pen Pals AU

Personality Switch AU

Rockstar/Groupie AU

Roommates AU

Royalty/Servant AU

Soldier/Nurse AU

Soulmates AU

Teacher/Student AU

Tourist/Native AU

BY MOVIE / BOOK / SHOW / GAME / PLAY / BALLET…

Battle Royale AU

Breakfast Club AU

Chronicles of Narnia AU

Dirty Dancing AU

Giselle AU

Hogwarts AU

Inception AU

Jumanji AU

Les Miserables AU

La La Land AU

Middle Earth AU

Nutcracker AU

Pacific Rim AU

Phantom of the Opera AU

Star Trek AU

Star Wars AU

Swan Lake AU

Swiss Family Robinson AU

Terminator AU

Wonderland AU

BY CHARACTER TYPE…

Android AU

Archaeologist AU

Assassin AU

Astronaut AU

Celebrity AU

Cosplayer AU

Criminal AU

Dancer AU

Demon Slayer AU

Detective AU

Disabled AU

Double Agent AU

Explorer AU

Fallen Angel AU

Fighter Pilot AU

Guardian Angel AU

Hacker AU

Musician AU

Nerd/Geek AU

Olympic Athlete AU

Photographer AU

Private Eye AU

Punk AU

Race Car Driver AU

Revolutionary AU

Royalty AU

Street Performer AU

Tsundere AU

Tutor AU

Viking AU

Yandere AU

BY MYTHOLOGY / LEGENDS / FABLES…

Atlantis AU

Egyptian Gods AU

El Dorado AU

Fountain of Youth AU

Greek Gods AU

King Arthur AU

Norse Gods AU

Robin Hood AU

BY SUPERNATURAL / PARANORMAL ENTITY…

Angel AU

Banshee AU

Demigod AU

Demon AU

Genie AU

Ghost AU

Mermaid AU

Siren AU

Werewolf AU

Vampire AU

Zombie AU

BY HOLIDAY…

Christmas AU

Fourth of July AU

Halloween AU

Hanukkah AU

New Years AU

Spring Break AU

Thanksgiving AU

MISCELLANEOUS…

Backpacking Across Europe AU

Battle of the Bands AU

Bookshop AU

Carnival AU

Circus AU

Coffeeshop AU

College AU

“We got paired up for a group project but none of us know what we’re doing”

Conspiracy AU

Dragons AU

Heist AU

High School AU

Summer School

Immortal AU

Kidnapped AU

Prison AU

Reincarnation AU

Road Trip AU

Seven Deadly Sins AU

Summer Camp AU

Time Travel AU

FOR HUMOR…

“Marry me because my green card expired” AU

“Why does by neighbor have to be an aspiring opera singer?” AU

“I’m a server and you’re a frequent customer and you flirt with me but YOU NEVER TIP ME, WHAT THE HELL MAN?” AU

“I never break the law but I was asked to be part of a massive heist and damn, I really need to pay off my student debt…” AU

“I lied and said I could speak a different language to impress my crush but now he wants me to tutor him so I need to become fluent in Mandarin in 3 days HELP” AU

“We are fictional characters that know we are fictional characters and so we decided to have a little fun and mess with the author by not following any of the tropes they’re writing” AU

[Updated 8/21/17]

---

worthy

Hello! I am back from the dead, this time with a new fandom. Whoops. Take it away, Fruits Basket 2019!

Heads up, this contains references to suicide, self harm, and pregnancy. Akito uses they/them pronouns because I am a they/them and I say so. 

***

Akito sits in the darkness of their room, the screens closed. The shadows darkened, stretching across the room as the sun set. They watched it, as the shadows overtook the pale skin or their feet, traveled up their thin body, chased their fingers. It lingered on their neck, then swallowed up their face. Akito closes their eyes.

The shadows were all they had, now. Everyone was gone. Well, everyone but Shigure. But sometimes, they thought the shadows and silence were better than his pity. 

After the zodiac curse had been broken, Akito had become a shell of a human. Who were they, without the god they had always been? What were they, now that the part that had made them up had been severed? Akito avoided mirrors now, avoided those dark and haunted eyes that they hardly recognized. 

They drifted, most days. The staff probably thought of them as a ghost - a haunted thing, not quite here, not quite human. 

What did you do when holiness was stripped from you? What did you do when your life became as inconsequential as anyone else’s?

Akito’s eyes open, straying to the corner of the room when someone - Shigure, most likely - raps their knuckles against the frame of the door. 

“What?” They snap, and they can hear a bit of the old Akito. Bile rises in their throat. 

The door slides open, and there’s the rustle of a kimono before it slides shut again. A hand slides through their hair.

“It isn’t good for you to sit in the dark like this, you know,” Shigure murmurs. 

Akito allows themself to linger in the simple touch. Their long eyelashes flicker, and they tip their head a bit to look up at him. Shigure’s dark eyes were shadowed with worry. They flick their tongue over their bottom lip, gathering their strength.

“My head hurts.” They murmur, letting their hand tangle in the soft fabric of his kimono.

His gaze softens, his hand coming down to hold theirs, sitting down on the floor beside them. “Do you want me to call Hatori?” 

“No,” they whisper. This wasn’t the kind of hurt Hatori could fix. How could they ask him to, anyway? They had been so awful to him. To everyone. It was a wonder anyone had stayed at all. Besides, how did you fix a heart so fractured? Everyone had taken a piece of them when they had left. 

Shigure casts a measuring gaze of their small form, swallowed by swathes of fabric. They wanted to spit something nasty at him, drive him back. Don’t look at me, they wanted to beg. Don’t tell me what you see. 

The worst part was, Shigure had always been the one to stay. He’d been the one to comfort, to calm, to council. He was a rock, stable and stubborn. Harsh words hadn’t done much to him. 

“Alright,” He concedes at last, settling in beside them. His hand held theirs, like they were something precious. Something worthy of holding close. Akito swallows a lump in their throat and stares at the blank wall in front of them.

How did one find purpose after it was stripped away from them?

They throw up their dinner that night.

***

“You’ve got a high fever,” Hatori tells them in that flat voice of his. His back was to them, writing something in the chart they knew contained pages on pages of ailments they’d contracted over the years. “I’ll send you back with some fever reducers. You’d do well to rest. No strenuous activity for a few days, at least.”

Akito wants to laugh at that. When had they ever done anything that required more physical energy than a tantrum? 

Hatori turns back to them, fixing them with his stern gaze. It was funny, they think distantly, you could hardly tell he was half blind, with the looks he gave his patients. 

“Shigure tells me you haven’t been eating well lately.” His voice snaps them out of their head.

A familiar flash of rage wells up, but they’re too tired to do anything other than hold their hospital gown a bit tighter in their small fists. Their small mouth twists down at the edges, and they have to look away from Hatori. 

“You know you have to eat, Akito,” Hatori says, in that voice he used when they were a child and refused to take their cough medicine or sit still for a checkup. “That’s probably what’s caused your fever.”

“I’m not hungry,” they hear themself say, in a voice that does not belong to Akito. None of them belongs to Akito. 

Hatori gives them a brief, disapproving frown. It rips through them, right to the core. Severs them in half, shatters their torn heart and makes their insides bleed. Didn’t they see? Why couldn’t they see?

“Well, starve yourself if you want. But I highly recommend against it.” He says, in a short, impatient tone he never would’ve used before. 

He turns again, opening a cabinet to pull out a bottle, to give them more pills to choke down. Something desperate claws its way from their gut, scraping against their mouth, leaving gouges in their throat. 

“Hatori,” they say, this side of desperate. 

You have to know I didn’t mean it. You have to know that wasn’t me. Please, please know. Please forgive me. Please be gentle with me. 

Hatori turns to look at them, and they can see the annoyance in the crease of his brow, in the harsh line of his mouth. They can feel the hatred simmering beneath his skin, can feel the way he wishes they were dead. 

Or maybe that was just them. 

Their desperation dies in the face of it, withers to nothing. The small burst of mania vanishes, and they hold his gaze, struck dumb and mute.

“Yes?” He prods in that gentle way of his.

Akito tips their head forward, their temples pounding. “I’m sorry.” They say, their voice a whisper. 

The silence that follows threatens to drown them. They feel it rising from the floor like a flood, menacing and desperate and horrible. Akito looks up, and their breath catches in their chest. 

Hatori looked… shocked. Hatori looked like he had when they’d dug their thumbs into his eye, like he had when Kana had screamed, like he had when they’d laughed in his face and shook his blood from their fingers.

His blue eyes were wide. His mouth was slightly open. Akito bleeds, their insides cleaved apart. 

Just as soon as it appeared, Hatori shakes the shock away. He shakes the look away, into that mask of passivity he always wore. “Well,” he says, turning to their chart. “Let me go get the pills for you.” He closes the thick binder, hurrying from the room like Akito was a fire that threatened to burn him to ashes. 

The door slides shut behind him. Alone in the office, Akito puts their head in their hands and weeps. 

***

“I want to go away.”

Shigure’s hand pauses where it was tracing their pale hip. They were naked, sweat lingering in the swampy heat of a midsummer night. He props himself up on his elbow, head resting in his hand, looking down over them. 

“Away?” He repeats, his hand tracing the slight of their body. Akito lets it ground them, nodding. 

After another minute of silence, Shigure hums. “Where would we go?”

We. Akito’s insides twist at the word. They didn’t deserve we. They didn’t even deserve me. They deserved it. Monster, tormentor, demon. All the things Kyo had been wrongfully labelled and more. 

“I don’t know,” they say callously, pushing their hair from their face. “Away. Not here.”

This earns them a small curve of an amused smile. “Well,” Shigure sighs. “I have been meaning to take a vacation. Think about where you’d like to go, yeah? I’ll make arrangements. Hatori will have my head if I steal you away without a proper exam.”

Akito can’t help but indulge the wave of selfishness that makes them turn, makes them wrap their thin arms around him and hold on tight. They let themself feel relief when he pulls them closer with an arm around their waist and buries his nose in their sweat-damp hair. 

You don’t deserve this, they remind themself. You are on borrowed time. You have never earned this.

“Are you alright?” Shigure asks in that delicate way of his. Akito knows that delicateness is born from fear, from the need to step on eggshells. 

“Fine,” they answer.

***

“America, huh? That’s exciting.” Mayuko leans forward over the table. 

It was a wonder that Hatori and Mayuko had come to dinner in the first place. Shigure had been the one to ask, though, and Akito didn’t miss the way Mayu watched her words around them. 

“Yes, well, Akito was very insistent.” Shigure says with his devil-may-care attitude, reaching for his drink. Mayu looks over at them, gives them a thin smile. 

“I think it was a terrible choice,” Hatori says, not for the first time. 

He’d tried to argue them out of it, at first, but had broken after Akito had gotten up to leave, taking it as them going to lash out. They’d stopped at the door, realizing why he’d flinched, and left with a slam of the door. Just to feel the walls shake. Just to feel anything other than the dark pit that yawned in their stomach. 

Akito holds their chopsticks a bit tighter, shooting Hatori an annoyed look. They see him pause, see Mayu tense. They feel Shigure’s gaze on their head. 

“You know Akito,” Shigure interjects, before Akito has any idea of what to do next. “Stubborn to the very end.”

The tension in the room relaxes, and Shigure goes back to teasing the newlyweds, leaving Akito to pick at their rice in silence. They hardly say a word that night, but Shigure fills their silence enough for the two of them. 

When they bid Hatori and Mayu a goodnight, Akito watches them and wonders what it’s like to be in love with something other than self destruction.

***

San Francisco reminds Akito of Tokyo in all the worst ways. There are too many people, too much noise, too much smog. The cars are loud, the people are loud, and they hardly understand a lick of English. This had been a terrible idea. Hatori was right, as he usually was. 

Shigure seems to be having the time of his life, however, and Akito tries their best to join him in his excitement. After they spend a day sleeping off their jetlag, he drags them around the beachside city. They visit Nihonmachi first, and Akito finds peace in the familiarity of it. 

Here, the people had no idea who Akito was. Here, Akito was just a foreign visitor, someone who could be anyone. It felt freeing, and for the first time since they could remember, Akito relaxed. 

They were the first to speak when they ordered food. They bickered with Shigure, who seemed shocked that they were even speaking in the first place. They traded stories with the shop owners and their children, reveling in the wide eyed innocence of youth and the nostalgia of days long passed.

They felt sad when it was finally time to go, time to retire for the night. But Shigure was as familiar with their body as they were, and he could see as they pushed through the tiredness into dangerous territory. He had to practically carry them from the district, back to their hotel.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He asks in the shower that evening, holding them up as their body submitted to the weakness it had always known.

They close their eyes as he drags a warm, soapy cloth down their spine, and they let themself smile. “Yes,” they say, and they mean it.

***

On their final day, Shigure drags them to an old Catholic church, citing he wanted to do some research for a book he’s writing. 

The structure is odd to Akito, very western. The religion was even more foreign, hardly making sense to them. But the building had a haunting, empty quality about it that they could sympathize with. 

Shigure leads them into the large building, into a huge room with stained glass windows depicting men and women and children. Akito was sure they meant something, but to them, it was just pretty imagery. 

They’re left by the altar as Shigure goes to track someone down, likely to interrogate for his book. They watch him go, left to take in their surroundings and hope that nobody tried to speak to them. Akito looks up at the wall above the altar, and wonders if this religion had any truth to it, too. 

They had been a god, once. They had been revered, feared, respected, obeyed. They had been worshipped, too. But being a god had been such a horribly lonely existence. Everything had been so dark, so crushing, so significant. The slightest act of defiance had sent them into a rage, and in their attempts to draw everyone closer, they had only succeeded in driving them away. 

Akito lowers their dark gaze to the altar, and wonders if sacrifice had ever been necessary in this religion. They wonder if it would matter if they had sacrificed themself, bled out on a stone cold slab for their own glory. 

They wonder if it would matter now, if they could bleed to death, if they could atone with their blood. Would that fix anything? Would anyone notice? Would anyone care? They were already bleeding. Most days, it threatened to choke them. 

Akito wondered if Shigure would miss them. If Hatori would. They had left such a stain on their lives, shaded everything dark for so long - what would happen if they just disappeared? If god was no longer God, what did they do? Who were they? What purpose did they have?

“There you are.”

Akito jumps, gives a sharp breath, and looks up into a worried Shigure’s face. 

He chuckles. “Easy, it’s just me. Lost in thought? Has this place managed to convert you? Now, there’s a thought. God being led to God.”

They know he means it as a joke, but they can’t help the vitriol in their tone. “I am not god anymore,” they hiss, and the emptiness where their soul had split in two aches.

Akito watches the amusement fade from his face, watches as Shigure sees them. Here, in this western holy place, where they are nothing but an insignificant piece in the universe. Akito watches those grey eyes widen, watches his mouth thin, watches the understanding settle and the pieces click.

They want to cry in relief and scream in horror.

***

“Akito,” his voice is so gentle. They don’t deserve gentle. “Akito, look at me.”

Shigure had closed the door to their hotel room and looked at them, and the tears had not stopped since. They hated how he looked at them, with gentle understanding, with pain, with sorrow. They hated it - so why did they want it?

His fingers tilt their chin up, his other hand coming up to wipe their tears. “What’s wrong?” He asks, and they break. 

“I am not god,” Akito says, reaching up to clutch his wrists, their fingernails digging half moons into his skin. “I am not god, so - so what does that make me? Who am I? Why - Why didn’t I die, why was I left?” 

They sob, their head tilting into his palm, dark eyes closing tight against the pity that was surely in his eyes. Their small body shakes, and they want nothing more than to curl in on themself and hide away for good. 

“You weren’t left. I’m here. Hatori is here.” Shigure says when their tears pause long enough for them to suck in a breath. 

Akito tears away from him, clutching at their elbows, shaking their head. “You shouldn’t be,” they gasp, “you should be far away, you should have left me behind. I’m - I’m a monster, I’ll always be a monster, nothing will change that.

“I don’t know who I am, Shigure!” They wail, dropping to their knees, their frail body conceding against the whirlwind of pain and suffering they’d been stuffing down. 

Not moments later, he’s kneeling in front of them, hands hovering over their shaking body. Akito can feel his unsurity, can feel his hesitation. Why revive a dead beast, why fix a broken altar? Why not leave it to rot, leave it to fester, leave it for the maggots and the flies and the plants. 

Shigure takes them in his arms when they have no tears left, when they are left shuddering and shaking and broken. He pulls Akito against him, holds them close, and whispers in their ear, “You are Akito.”

“I wish I were anyone else.” They whisper, face pressed to the fabric of his dress shirt. 

“No,” he hushes, pulling them back to look at them, his grey eyes serious. “No. The world would be so different without you, Akito.”

Maybe it would be better, they don’t say. 

“What do you need?” Shigure asks, and Akito lets themself be selfish.

“Worship me,” they breathe, letting desperation take over.

Shigure’s gaze darkens a bit, and Akito prays it’s with desire. He picks them up, pulls them into a kiss, and they hold onto him like he would somehow save them against the tidal wave of self hatred and misery.

Before they can take it back, he lays them down and worships at the altar of a long dead god.

***

“I told you that going to America was a bad idea,” Hatori snaps, his stress palpable, despite it having been weeks since their trip. They had been bedridden for days, unable to stomach anything or stay awake enough to even try. Akito knew all of their ailments were mostly mental, mostly emotional. They were starting to wonder if Hatori really knew the depth. If they really knew, either.

“Sit still,” Hatori mutters, setting up a phlebotomy kit. Akito didn’t think blood work would help anything, but didn’t have the energy to argue it. They don’t even flinch at the needle, and Hatori fixes them with something close to a worried expression. 

“I’ll get this processed and be back within the next couple hours with the results.” Hatori says, taping a cotton ball to the crook of their pale elbow, pulling away with the small vial. When they don’t respond, he sighs and walks out of the room. 

Akito can hear hushed conversation from the outside of the room. Likely Hatori speaking with Shigure. Their fingers tighten on the blankets, their eyes drift to the door open to the outside. 

The door slides open, announcing Shigure’s presence, and they roll over to look at him. He smoothes over his troubled expression with a smile, going to sit with them, rest their head in his lap. 

Akito buries their face in his thigh, relaxes as he tangles his fingers in their dark hair, pretends to be alright for his sake. They were doing a lot of that lately; pretending to be alright, just so that worried expression of his faded away. 

They stay like that, drowsing in and out of sleep, Shigure’s hand in their hair. It remains for the hours it takes for Hatori to get back. 

When he does, it’s with the door slamming open, jostling them awake, and Shigure’s sharp, “Hatori!”

Hatori freezes in the doorway, staring at Akito, then straightens and walks over, handing Shigure a piece of paper. 

Akito watches him scan it, reading the results as he usually did. Although before he can scoff and hand it to Akito with a tease about scaring them to Hatori, Shigure tenses. His eyes go wide. 

“What,” Akito says, their voice cracking from non-use. 

When they don’t get an answer, when the tension rises in the room, they push themself up and snap, “What, Shigure?”

Shigure jumps, glancing down at them, then gives them a thin lipped smile and hands them the piece of paper. “Read for yourself.”

They take the paper, sitting up. Their dark eyes scan it, reading over the results. Normal, normal… Everything looked normal. Just as they’re about to look up and give Shigure and Hatori a piece of their mind, their gaze freezes on the very last result. They read it again. And again. 

Their gaze lifts, flicking from Shigure to Hatori. Then they start to laugh. It’s an ugly, manic thing. Hysteria creeps up their throat, breaking through the fog that had claimed them. 

Shigure lets out a chuckle, seeming relieved by this. Hatori even seems to relax.

Akito reads over the words again, their fingers gripping the pages, sweat crinkling the edges where it rested in their palms. They hiccup suddenly, a sob choking them. A tear leaks down their cheek, blotting the ink on the paper. They take a breath, trying to compose themself.

And then Akito begins to scream.

***

“A psychotic break.” The psychiatrist says, sitting back and clicking his pen, writing something down. Adding more to Akito’s already full chart. “I’d say major depression and possible PTSD. Normally I would prescribe something, but with the pregnancy, I would say just keep an eye on it. The scratches are cosmetic, more Hatori’s area of expertise.”

The psychiatrist gets up, casting a glance at Akito. More pity. Akito felt sick of it, sick of people looking at them like they were on the verge of breaking when they had already broken.

“Someone needs to be with Akito at all times,” the doctor continues, tucking his pen in his pocket. “No leaving her alone. Especially not this early in the pregnancy. We don’t want anything to happen to the baby.”

“Of course, doctor,” Shigure says, leaving his watchful place at Akito’s side and going to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Anything for the family head.” The man says, exchanging one last handshake with Hatori, who had been lurking in the corner, before taking his leave. 

The room is silent, and Akito can feel the scratch marks on their cheeks itch. One or two would surely scar, they had made sure of it. After Hatori had broken the news, they’d screamed their voice raw and had tried so hard to claw out of their skin, out of a body that was not their own. 

It had taken Shigure holding them down and some sort of sedation shot from Hatori before they finally relaxed, blood pooling on the floor beneath their face, breathing erratically. Shigure had yelled at Hatori then, demanding why he’d broken the news like that, accusing him of not knowing how close to the edge Akito was. 

Akito had never heard Shigure yell before, let alone argue with Hatori in a way that wasn’t teasing, and it was only their sluggish panic attack that brought the two from each other’s throats. They had cried pathetically as Hatori had stitched their face while Shigure called around the Sohma family in search of someone who could deal with this better than they could.

Now, they felt numb in a way that was almost a relief. The pain from their face kept them grounded, and sometimes they moved too fast to feel the stitching throb in time with their heartbeat. It reminded Akito that they still had one. 

“Akito,” Hatori starts, sounding all sorts of worn out and frustrated. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Shigure? We could have prevented - this.” 

The two men look at them, and they look back. “Why should I?” They settle on. 

Shigure’s grey eyes flare with anger, and Hatori looks like he’s swallowed something sour. 

“You’re carrying our child,” Shigure starts, his temper flaring, before Hatori cuts him off. 

“Explain yourself.” The doctor’s blue gaze pins them in place.

Akito sits in silence for a while, chewing on their words, trying to find the right ones. There were no right ones, though, and so they sat in silence.

***

Akito spends their days by a mirror, after the third month. Their body is so small, and the curve of their belly comes quicker than they imagined. Pregnancy wasn’t all bad, they had decided. It made them more tired, sure, but at least now they could justify their exhaustion with the fact that they were growing an entire human within themself. 

Hatori made weekly visits, setting a strict schedule and diet. They had been made to keep a journal by their psychiatrist, as much as they hated it. But it had helped some. They were able to write out the darkness that threatened to eat them alive, purge it all before they went and sat naked by the mirror, watching their child grow within them. 

Shigure was their shadow now, more so than before. Akito could hardly do anything without him there. He had taken to sitting in the corner and reading or writing while they went about their day. He was there in the night, to calm them from the night terrors they had, always ending with a small child and their hands covered in blood, fingers curled into cruel claws. 

But it was getting to him. They could see it, even if he didn’t mean them to. 

“You should go visit Ayame.” Akito suggests one evening during dinner, prompting a coughing fit as Shigure chokes. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He rasps, after they patiently wait for him to finish, their gaze steady on him. 

“You should go. Visit someone. Get out of here.” 

“Trying to get rid of me, are you?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. 

Akito hums, sipping their tea before sitting back a bit, one hand resting on the swell of their belly. His gaze follows. 

“No,” they say at last. “But you need it. I’ll call and make the arrangements myself, if I have to.”

“Akito,” Shigure sighs. “Who will stay with you?”

They smile faintly, tipping their head back, closing their eyes. “I doubt they’d want me to come. Either of them. We have the servants, and Hatori is here weekly. I’ll be fine.” 

Shigure hums, his gaze uncertain.

***

Akito realizes very suddenly one night that they would do anything for their child. 

It was one of the rare occasions when Shigure had left them alone, and they had taken refuge in the mirror once again. They were sitting against the wall, mirror in front of them, a hand cupping the side of their belly. It had become a nightly ritual to sit and watch themself in the mirror, familiarize them with a body that now did not belong only to them.

The journal was starting to help. Shigure had started taking them on walks, after Hatori made a comment concerning their pallor, which Akito thought might also be helping. The dark cloud that was their thoughts had not gone away, but something was drowning it out for now.

It was dizzying when they realized all at once that it was because of their child. 

What was creation to a god, if not everything? What was closeness to a god, if not the definition of their existence? Akito was not a god anymore, but they were creating, they were close, and their child was safe where they could reach. 

When they felt the cloying fear of abandonment, they set a hand on their belly and realized they were not alone. When they spun out, got lost in the spiral of who am I what am I how can I go on, they could look in the mirror and think, I am a creator. 

The first time the baby kicks, it shatters Akito in a way that makes them want to pick up the pieces and put them back together, but better this time. They sit up, stare at their wide eyed reflection in the mirror, then scramble to their feet. They’ve hardly got a robe on when they run into Shigure in the hallway. 

“Whoa!” He grabs them by the elbows, his gaze searching, scanning for something wrong. “Where are you going?”

But Akito only gives him a grin that’s as blinding as the sun and takes one of his hands, pressing it to their belly with a soft, “Feel.”

They stand there for agonizing seconds, heads bowed, focused, before a tiny foot kicks into the palm of Shigure’s hand. 

Akito laughs, and for the first time, their joy is not twisted by some sick sense of destruction.

***

Tohru ends up stepping in, because of course she does.

It’s more of a surprise to see Kyo behind her, his angry gaze fixed menacingly on Akito from where his partner can’t see. The promise of protection over Tohru is comforting to Akito, in a way. Unnecessary, but comforting all the same. 

“Oh wow, you’re so big already!” Tohru gasps when Shigure steps aside to let them in. Akito tips their head to the side, then looks down at themself. It was nearing six months at this point, and they did not waddle, whatever Shigure might say.

It had taken a long time, but Akito had finally convinced Shigure to go out on a break, to do something for himself that wasn’t a trip to the store or a meeting with his editor. He, Ayame, and Hatori were going away for a weekend. There were mentions of Yuki, but Akito did their best not to pry. 

It was hard, unlearning manipulation. But they were determined to do it - if not for themself, then for their child.

“Come in, come in,” Shigure fusses, ushering the two in the door. “Tohru, I’ve got a list of instructions and phone numbers and anything you might need on the fridge. I’m only a phone call away.”

Akito gives him a look. “I won’t go into labor.”

Shigure winks. “Oh no, that’s for if you miss me too terribly. I’ll have no choice but to come home at once! You may lie to yourself, Aki, but Tohru could never. Isn’t that right?”

Shigure turns to a flustered and confused Tohru, who gives a faint. “Ah… no?”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Shigure pats Kyo on the back as he passes, then takes Akito’s hand and leads them to the front door with him. 

They watch as he slides on his shoes, trying to ignore that old voice that wanted to beg him to stay, accuse him of playing favorites and leaving. He seems to hear their inner turmoil, and looks up, giving them a soft smile.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He murmurs, taking their face into his hands and tipping it forward to kiss their forehead. “Try not to torment those two, please.”

Akito holds onto his wrists, their long eyelashes flickering. “Alright,” they murmur. He smiles against their skin, pressing a kiss to their lips before pulling away. 

“See you Monday,” He calls over his shoulder, stepping out the door and leaving Akito on the step.

Akito stares at the door, fighting the urge to run after him. They’re startled out of it by Tohru, though, who gently takes their hand. 

“Come on,” she says kindly, pulling them away from the door. “Are you hungry?”

“Huh?” Akito tears their gaze from the door. “Oh. No.”

“Well, I’ll start on dinner anyway.” Tohru nods, leading them to the sitting room off the kitchen. “Here, you sit and rest. Shigure said you get tired around this time, anyway.”

Akito gives an annoyed sigh, and notices how Kyo tenses, ready for a fight. “He would say that. Bastard.”

Somehow, Kyo and them are left in the same room together, alone. A thousand memories wash over Akito, and they choke on some of the darkness that liked to linger around everything Before. Their hands itched for their journal.

“So,” Kyo starts, always unable to sit in silence. “How’d you get that?” He taps the side of his cheek.

Akito brings a hand up to touch the angry scar on their cheek, then snorts. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

Kyo bristles, then seems to remember something and takes a measured, deep breath. “I couldn’t care less, actually.” 

“Then why’d you ask,” they sit back, rolling their eyes. 

“You know, you’re still a real asshole, despite what Shigure says.” Kyo snarls, and Akito blinks. 

A small part of them wanted to jeer and taunt, to threaten and win. Their hand twitches, finding the ample curve of their belly, feeling the small life beneath their skin. They take a steadying breath. 

“Shigure likes to see the best in everyone, I think.” Akito says. They can tell they’ve thrown Kyo off - he looks stricken, not too sure on how he should react now that Akito hadn’t risen to the bait. 

“Didn’t know you had a best.” He mutters sullenly, sitting back and eyeing them suspiciously. 

Surprising even themself - Akito laughs. “Neither did I,” they admit. “But he seems to think so.”

Kyo sits back, staring at them long and hard. Before, Akito would’ve gotten pissed, would’ve lashed out at anyone who tried to make them into anything they weren’t comfortable with. But these days, they were desperate for a definition that wasn’t cruel monster worthless pathetic that their brain supplied them when they tried to do it themself. They’d done so much damage to the Cat, the only thing they could do now was draw his own conclusions. Whether or not they had changed, they recognized that they did not have the right to beg for a forgiveness that they didn’t deserve. 

The redhead frowns after a moment. “You’re different, somehow.” He states, always to the point. “It’s… weird.”

“Weird,” Akito hums, thinking about this for a moment. “I think I can live with that.” They decide, nodding. It was worlds better than anything else they had come up with. 

Kyo shakes his head in disbelief. “Damn, you used to be so good at eviscerating me the second I got in here. What the hell? Is this some kind of game?” His voice raises, and Akito stares steadily at him.

“Is this funny to you?” He accuses, getting to his feet. “Do you think you can just change overnight, and we’re supposed to just accept that?”

“No, I don’t think that.” Akito cuts in when he pauses to take a breath. They watch the fight turn to disbelief again, watches Kyo stare at them in open confusion. They wait until they know he’s listening, and then they take a breath.

“Look,” they start, and pause, closing their eyes a moment. “I don’t expect you to accept anything. I hurt you,” they hear his teeth click shut, watch his fists clench. “And what I did was unacceptable. If you want an apology from me, I - I’ll give it to you. But that’s… I have so much to atone for.” 

They look at him, really look at him, and sigh. “I owe you an apology. But you don’t owe me your forgiveness.”

Kyo and Akito stare at each other for a long time, long enough that it takes Tohru opening the door to the kitchen and seeing them to break it. 

“Uh… guys? Is everything okay?”

Kyo snaps his gaze away to Tohru, some of the tension melting from him. “Yeah,” he says, flicking his gaze back to Akito. “We were just talking.”

Akito notices how his tone softens for her, how his gaze melts a bit, and they wonder to themself if Shigure looks at them like that.

***

The moment Tohru and Kyo are gone, Akito pulls Shigure to what had become their room, stopping once the door is closed and stepping into his space. They let out a breath, relaxing when his hands cup their face, their own resting on his chest. 

“Did you miss me?” He asks, his tone teasing.

“Yes,” Akito says, without hesitation. He doesn’t even blink - this is not new, this dance they’re doing. It’s an old thing, one they’ve played for years and years. “Shigure?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” They say, and then, “Will you marry me?”

If I am not worthy of this, they think, then you are, little one.

***

The day Shiki Sohma graces the Sohma household with her presence is a long and arduous one. Akito is in labour for two days, and the household breathes a collective sigh of relief once the cry of a baby being introduced to the world rings out. 

Akito is not ashamed when they cry as Hatori lowers her onto their chest. They kiss her tiny head, hold her tiny body, and realize. 

This is who they were. Akito Sohma, creator of Shiki Sohma, and partner to Shigure Sohma. They were the head of the Sohma household, once the bearer of a dark curse, and a survivor of being split in half. 

Shiki cries for the world, and Akito cries for her and the future they would fight to give her. Their daughter would not bear the suffering her parents had. They would give their daughter the world, and maybe one day, she would give it back.

---

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