#inle lore

[inlemoons]

exile

from lore: inuyasha oneshots inspired by the track titles and vibes of Folklore. multi-ship ch. 4: exile pairing: inuyasha/kikyo rating: M i guess? summary: They’ve played this game often, one perched tight above and one pulled taut below, neither moving, nor making a sound.

It is a cold night in the forest; tree leaves rustle in the wind. An arrow slides from its quiver into pale fingers, within seconds it is nocked and ready to fly. Kikyo’s eyes scan up the bark, across the tangle of tree limbs, until they land on her target. Inuyasha crouches on a branch just above shoulder-level and she meets his gaze with cool composure. His eyes flicker, duller than in daylight, and she thinks she'd rather stare straight into the summer sun than admit she’s memorized the gold of them.

They’ve played this game often, one perched tight above and one pulled taut below, neither moving, nor making a sound. In some other life, she’d shoot him and the night would sing with his screams, or he’d reveal his undying love as his claws skimmed her skin and the silence between them filled up with her moans. Instead, they only meet in this clearing far away from home, pushing the bounds of what is acceptable, his gaze always breaking first to spare her human arms.

They’d screamed at each other once. Her arrow nicked his ear and he’d called her a bitch. He came back two nights later, though, ear healed but flicking more than it did before, his gaze harsh as lightning. Kikyo dutifully took aim once more, and it was then she knew herself to be the village skeleton, aching little by little until she crumbled to the earth.

Kikyo lowers her weapon first. Inuyasha startles—she has never moved before him.

She turns and waits, and it takes him a second to jump down and join her at her side. They press deeper into the forest, away from shrines and huts and jewels, walking in silence for the sake of it, and this, too, is a type of confession.

[inlemoons]

october writings

a/n: I actually got a decent amount of fics pushed out this month, yay! but also, I kind of didn't too much love on said fics so if y'all would be up to give me a few likes and reblogs, that would be really appreciated. I really like how these turned out and I like how the current WIPs are looking, too.

hair's breadth from death -- Sheik/Link, OoT dead on your feet, hidden injury -- Izayoi/Touga, Inuyasha lore ch. 1 the 1, sesshomaru/kagura lore ch. 2, cardigan, sesshomaru/rin lore ch. 3, last great american dynasty, inukimi/touga, inukimi/touga/izayoi kinda

Read everything on A03.

Read everything on ff.net.

[inlemoons]

cardigan

inuyasha oneshots inspired by the song titles and vibes of folklore ch. 2: cardigan pairing : sesshomaru/rin universe: post-inuyasha ch1 : the 1 read on Ao3

Jaken tells Rin that ten years is nothing-- Sesshōmaru has lived five hundred of her lifetimes and would live another thousand, her time blinking away like a dirty eye awash with tears. And Rin has seen soldiers broken apart on lush green fields, and she’s known unlucky women dying on bloodstained birthbeds, or villagers tripping and falling and splitting their heads in the paddies, or those she loves torn up like old rags.

Rin knows she is a tiny thing.

Still, she raises her lantern up to gaze at the daiyoukai standing beneath the hut’s doorframe. She is tall enough to meet his eyes without tilting her head all the way back.

Lord Sesshōmaru looks the same-- as silver as water and tuned with twice the grace.

“You're back,” Rin announces. “I always knew. ”

~

a/n: I promise to simultaneously delight and disappoint your expectations with this series

[inlemoons]

the 1

inuyasha oneshots inspired by the track titles and vibes of Folklore. multi-ship ch. 1: the 1 pairing: sesshōmaru/kagura universe: modern au read on Ao3

There’s too many pillows in a bed this empty -- it’s Sesshōmaru’s first thought as he rolls silently out of the sheets, brain still foggy. But there’s already a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, thank goddesses for auto-timers, and no more thoughts like that plague his mind.

An elevator ride down, a half-block walk, and he’s in the bus depot terminal, stale air and brittle leaves gusting about as commuters file onto the first morning bus. Then there’s the clack of beads and a woman wearing long green earrings and academic regalia pushes past him to grab a seat.

Winter graduation.

 Sesshōmaru almost starts, but regains the composure he never actually lost even as he can’t quite pry his eyes away. Urban-dwelling inu must learn to ignore the overstimulation of the city, lest they drive themselves insane. Because some other poor sap of a yōkai might go home and dig out the box of photos tucked behind sports jackets and traditional robes, might run a claw through the tassels that once adorned their own cap and the hat of another. Some might even pull up the screen on their phone and punch in the series of numbers long erased but never, ever forgotten.

It is good that buses arrive every seven minutes. This whole place smells like rubber and leaving.