Roadto_nowhere
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“You will save someone another day.” Chavez shook his head at his student’s vain protest. “But today, today you will let me find peace.”
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In short, what would that conversation have looked like between Damian and his art teacher if he got to him before he died?
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They share their food in silence for another minute longer, because Mori simply can’t come up with a rebuttal, and Dazai knows this.
“What good does caring do anyways?”
Each bite of meat reveals how stringy and overcooked it actually is, it bothers him to not have the choice of choking just yet. With a sigh, Dazai gingerly rubs the side of his face usually covered in bandages, protecting his glass eye. “You only lose more things that way. If you care.”Apparently he’s said something amusing, because right as he takes a bite of the softer eggs, Mori giggles. “Well, you’re partially correct.”
—Or like, a little thing about Mori and Dazai and Chuuya is here too idk guys I’m tired
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‘Ma?’
She can say it now, but it is not right. It sits sullen on her tongue and tastes similar to soot. She does not have that, she does not have a ‘Ma’, she has only the remnants of one. Within her eyes and nose and skin, that word lives, upturning her veins like soil and rust. Peeling away layers as if it is trying to tear itself out.Cass wishes for it, still, even if it is futile. She wishes for it even when the branches bang outside and she is too terrified to wish for anything at all.
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Or, a small fic about Cass and what the word ‘Ma’ or ‘mother’ means to her. -
The Salt of Your Skin, My Lips by Roadto_nowhere
Fandoms: 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game)
02 Dec 2025
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Colors of sepia and taupe trail where the man’s red coat disappeared, blending into the brick of the theater. It reminds him of desert sands and English shores, drowned by indigo blue.
His fingers twitch at his sides, begging for a brush— begging for what it’s been deprived of for so long. Edgar grips his pant legs instead, overwhelmed with such sudden creativity.
And fuck, he hates it. He truly does. He hates that his body betrays his soul, his pride. But for the very first time since his mentor has tried to help him, he feels inspired.…
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Orpheus was, for lack of better terms, not the same as Bane remembered him. What was once a sweet, well-mannered boy, turned into a foul, angry man. There were things they never spoke of, and that was one of the many.
He detached his large, fur mask. The imagery of a deer wasn’t lost on him, it was cruel, in a way. It was very cruel, and it made his heart curl.—
Or in short, I write a one-shot about their tentative relationship and how Bane feels regarding the game and what Orpheus asks him to do.
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In the quiet countryside far from war and duty, Naib and Ganji spend long nights haunted by memories of their mothers. One night of shared silence leads to an idea: if they can’t return home, perhaps they can bring home to each other. Through stories, spices, and the gentle act of cooking, the two slowly stitch together the warmth they’ve both been missing.
Bookmarked by Roadto_nowhere
10 Feb 2026