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#i'm gonna fight someone
klywrites · 2 years
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wowow the parallel between when Alia says to Adreis “I am angry, but not with you” and Mira saying to Elly “I was never angry with you” hhhhhhhhhh
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solemntitty · 2 months
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i rewatched e1 of 'to your eternity' with the thoughts of 'oh i'll make notes of when to make gifs' and nope i just cried instead
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autisticandroids · 7 months
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FAMINE: That's one deep, dark nothing you've got there, Dean.
[youtube with closed captions]
dean and his father. dean and his family. dean and how bad it is.
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(via @closetoyou1970)
#spn#vid#mind the warnings on this one for real#woe! fruit of my rewatch be upon ye.#pallas calls this my 'deangirl coming out vid' which honestly. true. but those who paid attention know i've always been a deangirl.#also. after this no more deanwinchester rilo kiley amvs I Pwomise#anyway. i'm not gonna give a full commentary here but a big reason why i chose this song is that the narrator#is essentially dismissing her own problems and instead watching the problems of someone else#and i kind of wanted to play with that theme. this is the parallels show so let's do some parallels. lots of things happen to characters#that are Like Dean somehow. either in personality or circumstance. that we know or can infer happen to him. but we don't see it bc it's#not sayable. not speakable. so like for an easy one. we see meg being tortured in caged heat. she also talks about apprenticing under#alastair just like dean. so i show her being tortured [in a way that is sexualized and demon-specific] and reacting how she does#because i invite the audience to imagine or interpret that this has also happened to dean at some point. we just don't see it#so there are many dean parallels in this video. some obvious. some subtle but textual. some products of my twisted mind. but that's the way#i am using them to make my argument.#oh also: dean voice sam's eyes going black is JUST like when he used to fight with dad and wouldn't listen to me when i told him not to.#i guess also the point is that because it's unsayable. dean can't say it. dean can't even acknowledge it. and so it bleeds through#into everything in his life#that's why it's important that the song narrator doesn't take her own problems seriously. dean doesn't either.
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cerise-on-top · 2 months
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Can I please request Ghost with a s/o who is very comforting and protective over HIM?!? Like I love seeing Cod characters protecting and being the readers shoulder to cry on, even if they know you can handle yourself, but I wanna comfort my boy ♥️♥️♥️
Hey! Of coure you can! I really enjoyed this request, thank you very much! I'm just very soft for Simon, but I think that much has become obvious by now, haha!
Ghost with a Comforting and Protective Reader
More so than anything, he’d be surprised. He’s 1,95m tall, muscular and brooding. And yet here you are putting his face in your hands, calling him the most handsome man you’ve ever met. It’s not unwelcome, just not something he ever thought he’d have in his life. He expected to be the big, scary protector of his partner for the rest of his life, but having someone want to take care of him like that? Don’t get me wrong, it feels nice, but it also feels somewhat weird to him. He should be the big scary guard dog. While he may not be good with feelings, either his or those of others, he could always lend a listening ear. And yet you kiss his scars, reassure him that you will always stay by his side, no matter what and will tuck him into bed even. At first he doesn’t trust any of this, thinking you to be too nice to him, but eventually he’ll realize that there are no ulterior motives, that you are just like that towards him. And after some time, he’ll start melting into you, growing to trust you more and more each day. Simon would become a bit softer with you, would walk through fire just so he can see you smile. But you reassure him that no such thing is necessary. He may not ever be sure when it would be appropriate for you, but he’d come to crave your touch more and more as time goes on, even going as far as trapping you in the most tender hug he can muster. Sometimes he fantasizes about laying his head in your lap with you playing with his hair a bit, but he wouldn’t admit to such out loud since he still has his pride. You being protective over him would also be weird to him. He can handle himself just fine, so why are you getting mad at the cashier for the pickle in his burger? Why are you arguing with the drunkard wanting to start a fight with him? He won’t know what to do, no one’s ever protected him from anything ever since he was a little child. It would warm his heart a bit and make him appreciate you even more. Sure, he can do just fine on his own, but he’d be lying if he said his heart wouldn’t skip a beat whenever you’re being protective over him. If he could, he’d just pick you up bridal style and carry you home, but you’re in public so he’ll only think about how much he wants to be your little spoon this entire time. He’ll let his guard down around you and show you that he, too, can be a softer guy underneath his rough exterior with in the most domestic ways out there. He’ll think about marrying you immediately once he’s aware that he’s essentially become a softer man thanks to you. But he’ll wait still until he’s sure you’re on board as well.
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gentil-minou · 1 year
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I really should be sleeping but I really think one of the reasons Adrien is so fond of the statue scene and why it led to the realization of his feelings for Mari is because in that scene she's basically doing what he does as Chat Noir to Ladybug.
As in she's speaking his love language.
And I don't mean cringe, I mean honestly saying how she feels, showing open and deep devotion for the other person, a willingness to be vulnerable and dramatic in pursue of passion and love.
It must have been so jarring for Adrien to see Mari act that way, because it really is something Chat would do. And while I do think he thought it was just her joking around, that playfulness is what Adrien adores! And remember in psycomedian how important comedy is for Adrien! And Mari, well she's like him!
That "cringe" that all the haters complain about is exactly what Adrien loves about Mari, because it's exactly how he would express his feelings! And, as we've seen in canon, it is what opens his eyes to her and to his own feelings.
Don't forget Mari has ALWAYS struggled with her feelings and never been clear about them. That's WHY the statue scene happened in the first place, because Adrien thought she hated him. And all he wanted was to know if she maybe, just maybe liked him back. At least as a friend.
What he got instead was something way more, and I really do think it's because once she did say her feelings, in that ridiculous over the top way of hers to a statue, he realized they were more similar than they'd previously though.
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LISTEN TO THE BOY.
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yourlocalcorviddad · 4 months
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Saw a post about Danny calling Dani his little Comet, this one, and then I had an idea to and mix it with a favourite Hozier song, Work Song. Feel free to add or whatever if it strikes you!
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"Ah, shh, shh little Comet, it's ok, I've got you."
The attempt at keeping his voice steady didn't really work, but he was sure he was keeping a good hold on his emotions at least, since Ellie was calming down in his hold. It didn't mean he wasn't panicking inside at the situation but he was managing. He only had to make it a few more weeks before the others could come, then everything would be safe.
He got her settled in his bed, sleeping and calm now. He had a crib for her, and Jordan too eventually, but he couldn't really stand the thought of them to far. So bed it was.
Both clone and future self had been deaged due to the damage taken, done at Frostbite's direction to heal and better stabilise both. Jordan's injuries had come in defence of both him and Ellie, and, like a weird mirror, Ellie's from defending him and the injured Jordan when he was to weakened from injuries to fight. Ellie had just been deaged from it Dan, who he decided was going to be called Jordan too give himself some separateness, was reverted to his core. In an effort to protect and give him time to heal, he has him inside himself, next to his own core. He'd been warned it meant that Dan would likely take on more of being like his child than his future self, but he just wanted him alive, not like he didn't have the risk of it anyway, at least this time it was under his control.
There was no hope of returning to his dimension, it had been clear at that point, but they had been trying to free all the ghosts they could and get all liminal people and their family rounded up to safety before the GIW got to them. Danny, as the heir prince-until he was of age for the throne at 100-was sent ahead to bridge trust with another dimension, this one in fact, to see it they could bring their people, his people, there.
Clockwork and the Ancients and Observants worked with his parents and the others from town, and other liminality touched people, to get everyone into the ghost zone, which he had leaned also got called the Infinite Realms, safely and cut off that dimension from it.
Apparently that's what most magical creatures had done to that one anyway, long ago. He'd even met the descendents of the witches that had been hunted by, and thus placed the curse on, his family back when Amity was a village.
They'd lifted the, severely weakened by then but still present, curse after apologies were made and explanations done. It was a relief, even though it is likely what had even held him tethered to life enough to become a halfa at all, but he felt more at ease now without it.
All in all, it led him to where he was now though. A new world, a new set of rules, similar but still so different, and two kids that were essentially his.
The sudden crash outside his window on the alley side had him rushing over, ready to defend as best he could, still healing from the injuries in the last fight with the GIW, in case it was a villain attacking.
Only to pause at the sight of the, now likely unconscious, blue and black clad vigilante in the dumpster below.
"Fuck... Well can't leave him, who knows who'd find him there."
It took a bit of work, and mild use of his weak but still present powers, but he got him up stairs and into his apartment onto the, comfortable if he said so himself, couch.
Once there, he checked him over for injuries, careful not to take the domino off and keeping him as clothed as possible, but tending to his wounds as best possible. Doing so, he realised the other was probably only about 20-21, close to his age at least. It made him wonder how long the other had been a hero, and made a thought to ask later.
For now he settled in to make some food -that hopefully wouldn't accidentally come alive again-and keep an eye on his daughter and the hero.
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beldaroot · 7 months
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it still makes me crazy how qifrey would’ve 100% killed that old man if he didn’t see that coco was still alive. it really is “an eye for an eye” for him huh?
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biillys · 1 year
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BILLY WEEK → DAY SIX
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starmonsterrr · 3 months
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[ * mushrooms are the ultimate gender hoarders, the kings of gender, so many genders they don't know gender, they only know to mush the room ]
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kangaracha · 29 days
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daffodil + chan
a song
the prompt: daffodil (a god bows before a mortal)
read it on ao3
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"You have no power over me."
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running through his hands like water, and suddenly the earth is not his to control. The skies do not turn with the twist of his head, lightning does not fork in the air when his eyes, dark as night and yet still lit by some unearthly light, fall upon you, his mouth wide as if to gasp for a breath he cannot take-
And yet, still, it shivers down your spine; the magic that draws you here even as you rip it apart, the prize of your conquest to rip the world into two.
"Take it back," he hisses through his teeth, the ground trembling with every syllable that slides down his tongue. You watch his mouth as it forms the words, the flash of teeth behind thin lips reminding you of the way that the swordsman you'd fought through to get here had smiled at you - the last of his seven challenges, the last of his demons, or angels, or citizens of the sprawling, damned city he claimed as his kingdom.
And here you stood, at the pinnacle of the eighth, and stared him in the eye without cringing away because now you knew the truth. Now you knew that what he whispered in the dark was a lie and what you saw with your eyes wasn't always true, and though he may be a god and a king amongst beings that you could never hope to rival, a god can only hold as much power as you give him. A god can only claim dominion over a beast that bowed to his dogma. 
You see now that you are no beast. You are no believer in any lie he utters to the darkness.
"Take it back," he says again, the note of his voice changing. He pleads, his brow furrowing and his shoulders curling in as if waiting for the final blow. "Take it back now, before it's too late."
"I can't," you tell him, and you watch him fall to his knees, and you know that it's wrong and your heart pounds in your chest and it
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like the ground does at the impact of his knees, crumbling into the pieces it was in when you first took his hand, alone on the side of the road with only one thing to call your own. And what was that thing, the little warmth you'd held to your chest in the dark and the cold? What had you traded away for the comfort of the house that crumbled around you now? Why had you destroyed him to get it back, where was it now, why did it not appear within his hands at this, the hour of his reckoning?
"Please," he spits into the cold ground, the dirt and the leaves and the curl of ivy that grows up the walls around you, old and ancient and not yet sprouted from its roots all at the same time. His hands curl in the dirt like he can reach down and pull the earth to him, like he can stop the wane of his power if he just tries to hold on a little bit tighter. "I know what you want, and I don't have it. I can't lose-"
Broken, fragile thing. Small god of limited earth, crouched at your feet like he might worship you instead. You'd thought him all-powerful once, and then you'd thought him severe and his servants and beasts and playthings petty, and then you'd thought him
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because he'd smiled at you in the garden that bloomed from his own hands when you expressed your desire for a flower to tuck in the braid of your dark hair, and his hand had been soft in yours, and when he looked out across his kingdom and the clamouring faces of the people he'd brought to live there, he'd looked at them the same way that he'd looked at you.
Beneath your foot, the ground cracks, fracturing outwards like a spiderweb. It's your heart, you realise morosely, sinking from your chest and into the depths of the earth, disappearing with whatever he'd taken from you; and it was a wretched thing and it had betrayed you a hundred times over, but you still mourn at the loss of it and all the dreams it had carried with it. It blooms in your flowers in the corners of the room, embeds itself into the land and sings along with the song of his power, a thing you can hear but cannot touch, a beast once born that now does not belong to you.
"I'm sorry," he says, his breath like mist in the cold air, and even without your heart, you can't bear to see him so cold.
Your hands reach for him without permission, your body kneeling in the dirt before you can stand your feet firm upon the earth and refuse to move. He flinches away, but your fingers are soft upon his chin and the curve of his jaw, gentle when they brush the soft dip of his neck. "I only wanted to know what it was," you tell him with a voice that cannot hold itself steady. "I thought if you loved me, you would give it back." It's the only voice you have - you are not like him, or like Felix, speaking with many tongues. You don't have any power of your own.
"It's because I love you that I can't give it back." His voice is hoarse, every word a knife that he swallows without ever once flinching. "It's because I love you that I couldn't tell you what it was."
"But didn't I deserve to know?" you question. "Doesn't my life belong to me?"
Finally, his eyes rise, looking up at you with a fire that belies the cold of his skin. "Of course it does," he gasps, and his hand reaches up, dirt-stained fingers dragging at your cheek. "That's why I gave it to you, and I never asked for anything else."
"But you wouldn't give back what you took in the first place."
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The sudden violence of his voice crumbles the walls and fractures the sky, the clouds blooming te dark colours of a bruise. The absence of his hand on your cheek stings in the cold; his face turns away, screwed up in regret and a pain he won't allow you to feel. You lurch forward before he can disappear, drawing him into your arms; stiff shoulders, spine of beaten steel, slow beat of a heart you once held in your hands. 
He'd stood so tall and unmoving in the morning light, when you'd first walked down this path, and now in the dark of the setting sun and the ending of the earth, his weight slumps into your grasp, his resolve melting into the warmth of your body. "I didn't want you to suffer again," he says to the soft cotton of your shirt and the curve of your collarbone, his breath a whisper against your skin. "I couldn't watch that, when you asked me to make sure it would never happen again."
Surprise comes in the pause of your breath and the still of your arms, the jump of a heart you're not sure you still possess. "I asked you to make me forget?" you question the world behind his back, and into your neck, he sighs.
"You couldn't forget," he murmurs. "She was dead before I found you, and when I took her from your arms - you couldn't forget. There was nothing I could do to fix what had been broken. And then you begged me to let you forget, so I remembered her for you." He pauses, his throat hitching like he's swallowing something down. A sob maybe, or the tears he will never let fall. "I can't give her back though. She's not here anymore."
You push him upright, your hands on his shoulders, his neck, his face. Brushing away the hair that falls in his eyes, wiping at the blood that drips from the cut on his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, because the answer is incomprehensible. "Why did you let me go this far?"
"Because I was scared," he admits, and his teeth clench and his spine stiffens against the urge to hide away from you again. "Because I'm a wretched, evil, stupid thing who thinks they can-"
His words die in your throat; vile, wretched things that you store away to spit out later, into the ground where they belong. He is none of that; he is soft, and hesitant, until your fingers find the sharp curve of his hip and the lines of his back, dragging him closer and his lips open like there is nothing in the world to devour but you and
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moongothic · 2 months
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So supposedly the World Government created the Shichibukai System at the begining of the Great Pirate era, right? Roger's execution caused a massive influx of pirates to go out to the seas to try and claim One Piece, so between that and the threat of the Yonkou the World Government wanted to get things "back in balance", thus they began recruiting some of the most powerful, willing pirates to "join" their side. And so we got our funny little Warlords
If Crocodile did really set out on his funny little adventure immidiately after Roger's execution then he would've been offered the position of a Shichibukai within that first year of his pirating career, so it is actually very plausible Crocodile could be one of the true original Seven Warlords the WG picked out. But like, yeah, that leaves me wondering who the remaining six might've been. Who were the original Seven Warlords the World Government chose?
'Cause we know Hancock, Jinbei, Doflamingo and Kuma joined 13-4 years ago (respectively), so at least four of the original positions have been replaced at least once, if not more. Like for all we know the Shichibukai from the begining of the series could've been the third or fourth "generation" of Warlords
But also. We don't know when Mihawk nor Moria joined the Shichibukai. They could be people who took seats from previous Warlords like the others, or, for all we know, they could be from that original "first generation" of Shichibukai like Crocodile. They're both in the same age range (Mihawk a smidge younger than Croc and Moria a smidge older) and both were also present at Roger's execution (of course so was Doflamingo and he got his position only like 10 years ago, so being at the execution doesn't mean that much) so it is fairly plausible, they do fit the bill.
If Moria and Mihawk were from that "original generation of Shichibukai" then that would leave us with just a minimum of four "missing warlords" for Oda to reveal (and I'm sure Mr Burns, whose position went to Kuma after Ace kicked their ass, is one of them). Not that I'd mind if there were more, I just don't really need more either.
Thing is though. If Crocodile, Mihawk and Moria were all from that "first generation" of Shichibukai... Okay I know this sounds stupid as hell but as a trio, I think those three in particular could be kind of comparable to Luffy-Law-Kid, right. 'Cause you got the Crocodad, the Reasonable Swordsman, and the Angy Edgelord. Right. Like they are kind of comparable in that sense, right.
I think it'd be kind of cute. If Croc-Hawk-Moria were the Luffy-Law-Kid Disaster Trio of their era. And yeah that alone kind of makes me wish they were Warlords Together, From The Begining
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waterfallofspace · 7 months
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A Game Of Chess
When D/azai starts a game with C/huuya, he wins it. But will round two turn out differently, or will the King claim his Pawn once more?
So the wonderful @onetrickponi requested something from b/sd with ~this post~ as the inspiration.
I decided to go with S/oukoku, so here's a little two-part game of chess, two different situations where this phrase may occur.
Characters: C/huuya, D/azai and A/kutagawa (briefly over the phone) Word Count, Total: 4.8k Part One, Check: 2.3k Part Two, Mate: 2.4k
(CW: Swearing, sexual themes, character with the kink. No technical smut action happens, but it's quite heavily implied!)
~~~ Check ~~~
Ask anyone in the Port Mafia, and they’re sure to agree; Chuuya is a force to be reckoned with. One that, most will add, shouldn’t be reckoned with. And yet, he’s neither the king of the Port Mafia chess army, nor the queen. 
“Instead,” Dazai continues, taking pride in the pronounced groan from the couch next to him. Seems his talents have been wasted preparing mere witty retorts. A long drawn out monologue serves to coax an entirely new type of annoyance. “You’re more of a pawn. A mighty pawn! But, a pawn nonetheless.” 
“Watch it, you may be able to stop gravity manipulation, but you aren’t immune to other forms of violence.” Chuuya growls, hat sliding forward as he springs to his feet. He corrects it with a single hand, the other glove waving in frantic, yet meaningless, patterns. 
“Oh Chuuya, you have something planned? I knew you cared! See, I’ve been planning ways to bring you down a peg,” Dazai pauses to meet Chuuya’s rolling eyes with a wink, “for years now.” 
“What a load of-” 
“And yet, here I was thinking you didn’t care enough to do the same!” He pauses again, feigning hurt with a hand draped over his forehead in a gesture that can only be described as dramatic. A word often associated with the heart-of-gold, soul-of-grey, detective. “But it turns out I was wrong, Chuuya always car-” 
“AHK’SHHaa! Christ.”  
Chuuya cracks a grin behind his fist as the outburst nearly knocks Dazai off the counter he’d placed himself on. An onlooker would assume it was the ferocity of the sternutation, perhaps the volume. It wouldn’t be an unfounded guess. Chuuya’s not exactly one for subtlety, although he’d like to believe he can control them when needed. 
They’d be wrong. 
Being used to gunshots, like he is, the volume was practically nothing. Surprise could be another assumption, though it would once again be incorrect. While Dazai didn’t see it coming, he’s never been one to jump at unforeseen circumstances. It’s simply not his nature. 
And besides- 
“AESHH’ah!” 
-despite seeing Chuuya’s nose twitch, his brows furrow, and hearing the gasp catch in his throat, Dazai’s whole body trembles once more in time with the sneeze. 
“Oh dear, Chuuya will wake the neighbours at this rate!” 
It’s a bluff, and they both know it. A well thought out maneuver, disguised as a simple taunt. Meant to control the situation, a strategic move, like a chess piece gliding across the board.  
“AKSHH’iuh!” Chuuya straightens up, glove still pressed to his nose. There’s a beat of silence, Dazai’s annoyance monologue temporarily paused. He seems at a loss for words, breath coming a little quicker than a moment ago.
Unfortunately Chuuya doesn’t get to revel in it for long, the shift in his sinuses presenting an urgent distraction. “Pass the tissues, would ya?” 
Without a word, Dazai drops from the counter. As his footsteps fade off into the kitchen, Chuuya allows himself a single heady sniffle. As expected, it’s deeply irritating, both in noise and reaction. The itch that’s been taking its time spreading through his face suddenly hones in on his nose, increasing with every shaky breath. 
“AESHHiew! AKZSHH’aa! Oh Christ… hiH– AMFSHH!” 
Using his gloves isn’t exactly what Chuuya had intended, but hell. It’s better than aiming at the floor. Much as he may enjoy Dazai’s reaction to that display, the other detectives don’t deserve such indecencies.
“EMSFHHh!” Not to mention, the improperness of the act is more Dazai’s particular brand of infuriating. “Speaking of the asshole, when is… AEMFSH’ah! mon dieu. When is that bastard gonna get ba-” 
“Talking to yourself, one of the first signs of insanity, Chuuya.” Dazai calls, a smirk dancing across his face as Chuuya jumps.
“The first sign of insanity is- hH’AKZSH’aa!” He manages to duck to the side, wheeling back around with a glare. “Is the fact I’m wasting my breath talking to you.” 
“Oh dear, was that supposed to be a comeback? It lacks a bit of the wit a good retort should possess.” Dazai mocks, a smile dripping of bitter humour crossing his cheeks. “Seems Chuuya’s tongue isn’t quite as fierce as his glare.” And with that, Dazai leans against the wall, a tissue box still in his hand. 
In the time it had taken for him to walk to the supply closet and back, his entire demeanor had shifted. As simple as changing clothes, he’d replaced the off balance vulnerability with a controlled posture of dominance.  
Still trapped behind his hand, Chuuya finds his knees starting to weaken. It was clear what direction this interaction would be taking. While it wasn’t something he’d planned, it was certainly welcome nonetheless. 
“Well are you gonna hand them over or what?” Chuuya replies, a snarl creeping along his lip as his nose threatens to retaliate against the delay. Despite being pressed against the fabric lining his hand, it seems desperate for further relief. 
“Perhaps.” 
“Then hurry up, you bastard. I… hh– I hhhave to… hhAHh–” 
Dazai lunges forward, the movement sudden enough to trigger a fight or flight response. It takes every ounce of Chuuya’s willpower not to lash out as Dazai, in one fluid motion, grabs onto his wrist and pulls it away from his face. 
“Not yet,” Dazai hums, eyes alight. It seems the games have begun; with Chuuya at a deeply itchy disadvantage. Already down his queen by the second move. 
Dazai's been careful to avoid Chuuya’s bare skin, despite his ability working quite easily through clothing. It’s a hint to the nature of the game they’re playing. Each move will be calculated, each touch laced with intention. 
“aEHh–” Chuuya manages to starve it off with a sharp exhale, his body rapidly beginning to tremble as the power seeps from his veins into Dazai’s grip.
It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, some wouldn’t even notice. It’s not like the action of removing the gift has a sensation, it’s more… the lack of sensation as the power drains away. To someone like Chuuya, who almost constantly maintains a slight flow of their gift, it’s hard to miss. 
“Not as vocal,” comes the next command, Dazai’s grip loosening enough for one finger to trail down Chuuya’s arm, reaching the bare skin between his sleeve and his glove. The touch is cold, a gasp nearly escaping Chuuya’s tightened lips. 
“It’s nhehh– not gonna be easy,” Chuuya lets his eyes shut for just a second, savouring the sweet relief that the false depiction of privacy offers. The promise that when they open again, he’ll be free to release every itch. 
Dazai breaks the spell in a single move, the relief quickly replaced with overwhelming irritation. Chuuya’s eyes fall open in time with his mouth as he finds Dazai’s chocolate gaze awaiting his arrival. Nose still pressed against his, the smirk Dazai’s wearing is felt, more than seen. 
“My my, Chuuya. Your nose is so warm!” Dazai coos, leaning back to demonstrate by running a finger against his own nose, then back over to Chuuya’s. Biting his lip is the only way Chuuya keeps from moaning. Even Dazai touching his own nose seems to tickle. 
“hiEHh– D-Dazai…” 
“And,” Dazai continues, Chuuya’s breath catching in his throat. “It’s practically quivering. Chuuya must need to sneeze something awful. I wonder what could be causing this? Hmm, let’s see…” 
Trailing off, Dazai lets his eyes scan the room. It’s for dramatic effect, he already knows. There’s no doubt he’s known since the moment Chuuya walked in. It’s unlikely he planned for it, considering the earlier reaction, but there’s no question he caught on fast. 
The distraction gives Chuuya enough time to scrunch his nose, a desperate attempt to satiate the ever deepening urge. The action has quite the opposite effect however, a moan slipping past Chuuya’s tongue before he can catch it. 
“What was that, Chuuya?” Dazai hums, the action blowing a soft wind against Chuuya’s nose. It nearly tips the scales, only a frantic clench of the jaw allows him to control the burning need. His nostrils flare greedily, aching for another touch, something to give them the ability to overpower his will. 
“I’m… I’m gohhnna sneeze-” Chuuya manages to gasp out, his lips parting in a snarl, breath starting to come faster, chest beginning to tighten with his eyes–
“Did I say you could?” 
And just like that, the reaction stalls. A tear slides down his cheek, Chuuya nearly whining as Dazai’s cold touch wipes it away, a finger brushing the bridge of his nose. It feels as if his entire face is lit up, the flush on the tips of his ears beginning to match his nose. 
“I dohh… don’t think I… I caahhh– hEDT!  I can’t…” More stutters fall out, each word only delaying the inevitable. The sneeze is coming, and despite his best efforts, Chuuya knows there’s no fighting it. Not anymore. 
“No.” 
And still, somehow, despite the overwhelming desire, the unavoidable trembling, the greedy flaring, Chuuya feels his teeth clench. That command was firm, undeniable, and direct. He is not allowed to sneeze. 
Words die on his tongue, even the idea of parting his lips leaves him breathless. Once he allows a touch of air through, there will be more than words spilling out. Determined to maintain composure, he feels the world start to slip into a light fog. 
“Don’t hold your breath,” Dazai hums, giving Chuuya’s wrist a light squeeze. With a poorly contained gasp, Chuuya begins to pant. “You didn’t even notice, did you?” 
Chuuya answers in the form of a watery glare, still too itchy to risk words. Dazai’s fingers relax, dropping Chuuya’s wrist. Without a second thought, Chuuya raises it back to his nose, moaning at the relief the harsh touch offers. 
“AESH’NGKT! Merde-” 
His other hand quickly slips to his face, only managing to half-stifle the sudden burst. The allergic tears lining his eyes begin to pour over, his nose greedy for a full release. If anything, the stifle only served to make it worse. 
“I don’t believe I gave you permission for that,” Dazai starts, fingers beginning to trace up Chuuya’s neck, wrapping around his choker. Chuuya’s teeth pierce into his lip, knees weakening once more. “Though, maybe I’ll allow it. Seems it didn’t do anything to relieve that miserable tickle. I’ll even allow one more!” 
Without a second thought, Chuuya lets Dazai pull his head closer, aiming for a bandaged shoulder as the– “ANGKT!” brings him a moment of relief. From his position against Dazai’s chest, Chuuya lets a smirk flash across his features. Elevated pulse, body trembling in time with each gasp Chuuya takes. 
“I’m being awfully generous here, don’t you think Chuuya?” Dazai purrs, eyes beginning to dance once more as he pushes Chuuya back against the wall, releasing his grasp. “I think you should thank me.” 
From behind his wrist, Chuuya freezes. If he attempts to speak, he won’t be able to hold it back. The dam already broke, the stubborn power of sheer will is fending off the waves. Dazai should know that too… which means this is an indirect invitation to… 
“hieHh–!” 
…or a test. One that letting himself go would immediately fail. Studying Dazai’s expression, Chuuya attempts to navigate his response. The choice is quickly made for him, as Dazai leans forward with a wink. Shivers race down Chuuya’s spine as he feels the breath against his ear. 
“You’ve been quite obedient. Feel free to indulge your own desires now.” 
“AESHH! AK’SHHAA!” The double breaks free with a growl that leaves Dazai trembling almost as hard as Chuuya. Another follows on its heels, then a second, third, fourth, the fit continuing as Dazai’s lip begins to match Chuuya’s. 
“ASHH’aa! Cahhn’t stahh… stop– hH’AEMFSH!” 
A hint of concern passes through Dazai’s eyes as the fit doesn’t seem to let up. “Are you–” 
“AESHHiew! A bid idtchASHH! Idtchy. ADSHH’iuh!” 
“I can see that, or shall I say hear that,” Dazai replies, making a show of covering his ears with a teasing wince. “Might be the last thing I ever get to hear!” 
“Is thad a… ahh– ADTCHh! AESHH’aa! Is thad a complimedt?” Chuuya taunts, pausing to grab a handful of the tissues he’d nearly forgotten about. With a harsh blow, a moan slips out after it. The action lets air flow through his nose once more. “AECHH!” Which of course only serves to agitate it further. 
Dazai rolls his eyes with a smirk, hand finding his way to Chuuya’s thigh. “Only Chibi would think saying someone’s loud is a compliment.” 
“Only you would mean it as one. ASHH’iuh! Fucking Christ.” 
“Switching to English?” Dazai nearly growls, voice lowering with each desperate sneeze. “Is it already that intense?” 
In lieu of a response, Chuuya guides Dazai’s hand up from his thigh, letting the cool fingers brush his warm nose. The touch is excruciating, his chest heaving as he attempts to hold back long enough to get out, “Feel fehh… for yo- hAHhh– for yoursehhhlf.” 
Dazai takes the invitation, tracing each flaring nostril with his index finger, eyes beginning to gloss over nearly as much as Chuuya’s. His breath begins to fall in sync, both of them starting to pant. “Seems so,” Dazai manages to choke out, legs beginning to tremble once more. 
“hH’ASHH! AESCSHH! yeASHH’iuh! YESHH’shaa!” 
Unable to fight it any longer, Dazai leans forward and pulls Chuuya into a greedy kiss, his tongue betraying the depth of his hunger. Chuuya lets himself be swallowed into the embrace, hands finding their way up Dazai’s back to grip his jacket. Together they push back against the wall, intertwined in a beautiful tangle of limbs and tongues. 
Chuuya pulls away first, only managing a sharp gasp before he ducks into Dazai’s shoulder for another harsh– “AETCSHH!” which Dazai blesses with a light moan, pulling Chuuya closer. 
“I’m gonna kiss you again.” 
With a laugh, Chuuya pulls back again, mischief lighting up his eyes. “Did I say you could?” 
Dazai returns the gaze, hunger dripping from his narrowed eyes. “Sadistic, Chuuya.” 
“Shut up and kiss me, bastard.”
~~~ Mate ~~~
Ask anyone in the Armed Detective Agency, and they’ll tell you that Dazai is one of their more valuable assets–
“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Chuuya calls from his position resting against the doorway. “The only one who’d call you that is yourself, you smug bastard. The rest of ‘em have enough sense to see you for what you really are.” 
Dazai sighs, letting the paperwork he’d been pretending to fill out for an hour lay abandoned on a desk. A desk that’s certainly not his. Along with a carefully forged note asking Atsushi to fill it out, on behalf of one Kunikida. 
Turning back to the interruption, Dazai gestures vaguely at the empty office. “Then why would they leave me all alone to watch the business? They know I can handle such a task!” He trails off with another performative sigh, sprawling out over his desk. “It’s tiresome, being so crucial and trusted.” 
In response, Chuuya merely huffs a growl, rolling his eyes for what feels like the fifth time in the past ten minutes. 
“Chuuya wouldn’t understand,” Dazai continues with a wink, earning the sixth eye roll. “He’s merely a pawn, while I am a king!” 
“Isn’t the king practically useless?” Chuuya asks, raising an eyebrow incredulously. “The queen does all the work after all.” 
“Ah, a pawn such as yourself would think like that, wouldn’t they?” Spinning in his chair, Dazai catches Chuuya’s eyes with that shit-eating grin that practically screams ‘I’m better than you so I’ll try to dumb this down’. It’s infuriating, and Chuuya finds himself fighting the urge to roll his eyes yet again. 
“While the king may not be on the front lines, his influence is what guides the entire kingdom. Without him, the battle would rage with no cause or order, each piece fighting for themselves. A mere pawn cannot take out a knight with pure strength, he needs a strategy. That’s where the king comes in.” 
“That’s the player, moron,” Chuuya retorts, a new confidence leaving his eyes shining. For once, the high-and-mighty attitude Dazai’s sporting might be all bluster. He mistook the king for the player, a foolish mistake. 
For a minute, just a minute, there’s silence. No witty retort, no smug explanation, just a pause. One hanging thick with deeper meanings, and… something Chuuya would almost call sadness. The look Dazai gives him holds no sense of authority. There’s no superiority in his expression, just a haunting wash of melancholy behind his whiskey soaked eyes. 
Chuuya opens his mouth, just to close it again. No words seem appropriate, not while that look remains on Dazai’s face. A look that suggests something deeper to his meaning that he desperately wished Chuuya would’ve understood. 
The ringing that sounds out knocks Chuuya from his thoughts. His fist connects with the doorframe before he can catch a breath, blood pumping through his ears. “Fucking-!” 
“Chuuya!” Dazai laughs, a cheshire smile smothering the expression that had just occupied that space. Or maybe it was never there at all… “What a foul tongue! And go easy on the offices, would ya? We don’t exactly have the unlimited budget of the Port Mafia. Kunikida will finally have that aneurysm if he finds a hole in the wall.” 
Clutching his phone as it continues to demand attention, Chuuya aims a glare at no one in particular. Not giving Dazai the satisfaction of a direct reply, he snaps open the phone and turns his back to the room. “This is Chuuya.”
The voice starts rambling on about meetings, conferences, deadlines, and something to do with ‘assignment reports missing key details involving jinko’. Digging his fingers into his temple, Chuuya considers hanging up on the kid. 
While there’s no denying his talent in battle, his mannerisms always seem to hit a nerve. A similar nerve to the one Dazai hits, or maybe closer to the sleepless nights where thoughts refuse to give up control.
A combination of everything he hates about himself and Dazai, wrapped up in one human being. Still, it’s hardly like he’s to blame for that. Not like you can hold it against the kid for learning from the role models he was given. 
“Look, Akutagawa, I’m a bit busy at the momen–” Chuuya nearly growls as a noise sounds off behind him, an all too familiar one. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he considers leaping from the window. The only thing stopping him is the prickling starting to invade his sinuses. Too late now, no point in suffering for nothing. 
Spinning on his heel, Chuuya casts the darkest glare he can muster at the ‘all too innocent’ whistling detective still holding the weapon in his bandaged hands. Hard to believe a bottle so small can cause such huge fallout, and yet Chuuya can’t deny the powerful itch beginning to spread. 
“I’m gonna hahh– have to call you back. No, I understand the meaning of urgent, do you understand the meaning of busy?” Flipping Dazai off as the snickering gets louder, Chuuya pulls the phone away from his face. “hH’ANGZT!” 
“What’s the matter, Chuuya? You seem a bit irritated?” Dazai calls, increasing his volume to ensure his voice carries through the phone. “Is it talking to Akutagawa? That always sets me in a foul mood.” 
The noise from the phone seems almost hurt, coated in a thin veil of disgust. Chuuya brings a glove to his nose, pinching it shut long enough to get out, “You talk to him then.” Thrusting the phone in Dazai’s general direction, he leans into his opposite shoulder to muffle another “AMFSHH’uh!” 
“Speak to Akutagawa? Yeah, I’ll pass.” Dazai taunts, aiming his speech at the phone, clearly putting on a performance. “That would just ruin my day, and it’s been going pretty well up till now. I spend my days actively hoping I won’t run into that guy.” 
“You-” Akutagawa starts, before the lines goes silent as Chuuya’s body jerks with another “AHGNTiew! AKNGDT’hah! Merde.” 
“Are you alright?” Akutagawa offers, the genuine nature of the question getting overpowered by joyous laughter bubbling up from Dazai. Chuuya barely has time to glare before he’s aiming for his shoulder again as another harsh sneeze nearly doubles him over.  
“Oh Chuuya here’s just fine, I think he’s just allergic to your presence! Even through the phone, you seem to leave him in… quite a state.” Dazai wipes a tear from his eye as Akutagawa lets a few faint curses slip through the phone. “Maybe you should consider hanging up, let the man have a bit of time to breathe.” 
Finally able to get a word in, Chuuya brings the phone back to his ear with a cautious fist pressed against his nose, fingers holding it shut. “I’b fide. Just repord to Bori idstead. I’b a bid… ah’GNt!” He breaks off into a cough, the tight stifle leaving his head pounding. “A bid preoccupied.”
After a few muffled objections, a comment Dazai vaguely catches about ‘why are you even there’, and a final request for backup on the next mission he’s being sent on, Akutagawa hangs up. 
Dazai offers an innocent smile as Chuuya turns back to him, a red hue beginning to flitter over his skin, fists balled at his sides. “What the hell was that, you bastard! Are you seriously trying to– AESHH! trying to get a fucking– YEASHH’iuh! fucking pounding?” 
“Why Chuuya,” Dazai coos. “What a generous offer! I’d simply adore it if you pounded me all–” 
“Shut the fuck up, you know that’s not what I meant.” Chuuya growls, pawing at his nose as another sneeze doubles him over. “Mon dieu. Did you really hhhah– have to spray that in here? If I don’t… ihihh– if I don’t leave I’m gonna be itchy for hours. ARSHH’iuh!” 
“Oh my- I really didn’t think that through, did I? How reckless of me,” Dazai hums, sliding up from his chair. Chuuya feels himself step backwards before he can process the change, involuntarily retreating from the source of the tickle. 
Sliding a hand in front of his face, Chuuya glares over the makeshift mask. “You’re still covered in the stuff. Keep your distance mackerel or I swear I’ll breAKSHH’aa!” 
“Sorry,” Dazai replies, taking another step closer. “I didn’t quite catch that. Or you’ll what?” 
“I’m serious, you bastard. I’m… hASHH! EMFFSHH! AHMFSH’aa! Fucking Christ.” Chuuya coughs out, his nose twitching dangerously with each step Dazai advances. As if just the knowledge of a closer proximity to his allergen is making the reaction worse. 
“You’re having sex with the lord?!” Dazai gaps, a playfully smug expression resting across his eyes. “I mean, I know I’m good in bed, but to call me your saviour.” 
Not bothering to dignify that with a response, Chuuya takes another step back, missing his shoulder completely when the next “yeASHH’iuh!” catches him off guard. Dazai seems to tremble a little at this display, crossing the distance between them in a single stride. 
Chuuya takes a step forward, taking note of the way Dazai allows the intrusion, sinking back to allow Chuuya space to stand. His posture is open, inviting, nothing like the commanding stance of last time. This is a new game, and he’s inviting Chuuya to take the lead. 
“Well fuck,” Chuuya growls, lowering his glove just long enough to let the sickly floral scent intrude past his defenses. He nearly whimpers as the itch increases tenfold, each breath bringing a new round of desperate hitching. “IhheHh– I’m gonna sneeze-” 
“Did I say you could?” Dazai purrs, the sound catching in his throat as Chuuya spins him around, knocking him into the wall hard enough to expel his breath. 
“I don’t remehhmber asking.” Chuuya smirks as Dazai’s eyes flash, his tongue poking through his teeth in a hiss of pleasure. Leaning closer to his shoulder, Chuuya allows his breath to catch once, twice–
“AESHH’ou!” 
The action jerks his body closer to Dazai’s, a moan slipping from the detective's lips. Barely a moment to catch his breath, Chuuya lets the second, third, and fourth slip out in rapid succession, each aimed a little closer to Dazai’s neck. 
By the fifth Dazai’s panting, shivers running through him as Chuuya’s nose rests against the bare skin. Gathering his composure long enough, he brings Chuuya’s hips towards his own. Dazai leans his head back, eyes fluttering shut in time with Chuuya’s. 
“I’m not… not done…” Chuuya stutters out, a single tear running its way down his cheek. The slow trickle brushes against the side of his nose, leaving him breathless, only enough time to inhale for the– “hEYESHH! EASHHMF! MMFFSHH’aa!” 
“You know,” Dazai whispers, voice stolen as Chuuya begins to rub his nose across the sensitive skin below his ear. “You don’t have a lot of warning for your…” 
Chuuya smirks, pulling Dazai down to his level, breath caressing Dazai’s ear. “For my what, bastard? Say it.” 
Dazai moans in response, a mixture of pleasure and submission as Chuuya lets his teeth mark Dazai’s skin for his own. Gentle enough not to leave any marks that will last too long, but not so gentle that he’s not reminded who’s winning this game. 
“Your sneezes,” Dazai manages to pant, the aforementioned action drawing his breath once more. 
“AESHH’aa! Fuck. Yeah, I guess they don't,” Chuuya replies, releasing Dazai’s shirt quick enough to slam him into the wall with a grunt. “I guess I don’t pay as much attention as some people.” 
There’s a faint whimper in response, Chuuya taking the cue to let his hand wander down Dazai’s chest, resting right above his thigh. “However, I can definitely still feel it. There’s a near constahh… constant buzz. It’s just that I’m never sure when it’s gonna turn into a full sneeASHHH’iuh! Fucking hell.” 
As his body jerks, Chuuya lets his hand slip lower, Dazai responding in kind with a moan. Pausing, Chuuya waits for the next move. It comes sooner than expected, Dazai barely able to contain himself as his hand grips Chuuya’s back, head tilting down to expose the hunger in his eyes. 
At this, Chuuya pulls back, smirking at the whimper breaking their contact coaxes from the other. “Being this close to you is making the itch so much worse,” He muses, rubbing a finger under his nose. An invitation. “I think I’m gonna sneeze again–” 
Not one to turn down the chance for a script flip, Dazai grabs his wrist, pulling it down to his waist. “I think you’ve had more than enough of those.” 
With a barely concealed smirk, Chuuya lets his head tilt back, meeting Dazai’s eyes. “And if I caASHH’iuh! Can’t stop?” 
“Well then,” Dazai taunts, letting his fingers slide up under Chuuya’s nose. “I guess I’ll just have to help you.” 
“EHNGT!” Chuuya gasps in the aftermath of the forced stifle, his breath catching once more as Dazai’s fingers do nothing but irritate his nose further. 
“I do believe I said that was enough, didn’t I?” Dazai hums, fingers rubbing back and forth over Chuuya’s rapidly twitching nose. The tortured appendage wriggles, Chuuya’s eyes fluttering shut as his whole body trembles. 
“AHDTSHH’aa! Fuck, it won’t stahh… AENGT’shiew! Won’t stop if you keep… keeASPTCHH! Keep doing that.” Chuuya growls, leaning forward to rub his nose against Dazai’s shoulder again. He’s stopped by a single movement, Dazai maneuvering himself out of the way with a flourish. Too distracted to attempt to follow, Chuuya raises a fist back to his nose as the tickle hits its peak once more. 
“A Port Mafia executive can’t even stop his own nose?” The taunt stops him in his tracks, Chuuya’s eyes snapping open to glare at Dazai as he finishes the statement. “The standards have really dropped it seems.” 
“Or maybe,” Chuuya begins in a near purr, reveling in the slight crack that spreads through Dazai’s smirk at the abrupt tone change. “I never intended to stop it at all.” 
It’s not easy to catch Dazai off guard, especially when he’s spent nearly 8 years studying your every move. Not easy, but not impossible. As Chuuya releases the grasp on his nose, pressing Dazai back against the wall, he takes pride in the light gasp that escapes the bastard. 
“ASHHH’ou! yeASHh’iuh! hehH– ASHH’iuh!” 
Mask fully shattered, Dazai can do nothing but moan as each sneeze jerks their bodies closer together. Chuuya drops all decorum as he rubs his nose against Dazai’s neck again. He lets a few groans slip from his tongue, flaring his nostrils as the skin contact leaves Dazai quivering. 
Dazai’s response is a simple phrase, barely audible as his voice catches in his throat. 
“Chuuya was never a mere pawn; a checkmate well earned.” 
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I've been complaining a lot lately about people not having enough media literacy but seeing some of ya'll's takes on this banger new season of Black Mirror has me wondering if you guys have... too much media literacy.
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cattatoir · 9 months
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I think I have unpopular Sandman takes bc I'm usually on his side
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eskawrites · 9 months
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okay who’s gonna take one for the team and write a super soft ptsd/recovery ronance fic with the title ‘if you wanted you could do no harm’
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covenofthearticulate · 11 months
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happy pride, if I see one more rainbow colored gifset of sam’s ass i’m gonna commit atrocities
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