The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Crimson

Jan
25

Chuuya is crimson, the color of blood and destruction. Dazai runs his hand through his sleeping partner’s red hair, when he can’t protest (likely with a fist) nor think it means something it doesn’t.

It doesn’t mean friendship, but it is partnership. They share the blood, but not the wine.

Dazai is fascinated by the conundrum of Chuuya’s humanity versus his inhumanity, his equal passion for life and bloody violence. It’s a reason to keep living, to keep looking. Chuuya straddles the line between life and death more closely than even Dazai.

It’s almost odd that he never realizes it.

Like a Loaded Gun

Sep
26

The gun is in his mouth, and there’s something about the glint in Chuuya’s eye that makes Dazai react by smiling around the barrel (more…)

Let’s Knot (And Say We Did)

Sep
23

“Of course, I went to Chuuya!” Dazai beamed—right before he was slammed off the barstool by a furious small redhead with his hand pressed hard enough over Dazai’s mouth, he tasted blood.

(more…)

What Might Have Been

Sep
22

He might have been someone important, might have been loved by a mother, a father, embraced by family before he became the human body wrapped around the power of catastrophe and destruction. ____ didn’t feel anything about that, or about the seal between self and the world, or about the seal between that vessel and the world, where people moved in the distant light beyond this blue grey glass.

(more…)

A Numbered List of Reasons (Remix)

Sep
01

“The thing is, Chuuya himself couldn’t spell out a numbered list of his reasons for leaving. He didn’t weigh up the good and the bad and make a logical choice. He saw an opportunity, received an offer from Fukuzawa, and he took it because it felt right.” — Find I’m Between Love And Anguish by geckoholic


Dazai thinks he knows why Chuuya joined the Port Mafia, and because he thinks he knows that, he also thinks he understands why Chuuya left it for the Armed Detective Agency.

(more…)

A Work of Art

Jun
21

He’s a work of art, Dazai—most beautiful when he’s bruised, bloody, with the faint curve of his scheming smile to match the glint in his eyes.

Chuuya buries his hand in Dazai’s hair to pull him closer, grinning fiercely. His blood is pounding. Every nerve ending feels alive and on edge. There aren’t many feelings that can compare.

This is what a job should feel like. Like despite the superfluous chains on Dazai’s arms, despite the clear power difference, each wears equal strength and provocation on their tongues, in their faces, in their bodies.

“After all, I’m your old partner.”

Everyone Is Terribly Human

Jun
01

“You’re really fucked up, aren’t you?” a low, rough, altogether too familiar voice sounded in Dazai’s ear.

He raised his head muzzily and looked around for a too short redhead with anger management issues. “Chibi.”

(more…)

Welcome to the Mafia

May
02

“Mori’s asked me to look after you.” The woman folded her hands into her sleeves as she looked Chuuya over, assessing. “I’m Ozaki Kouyou,” she introduced herself.

Chuuya remembered Mori’s comments that someone was responsible for teaching and caring for new Port Mafia recruits, and it was only a relief he clearly didn’t consider that devil Dazai his recruiter. He stood up a little straighter for Kouyou. “Thank you, Ane-san.”

She paused, a hint of surprise on her face, but waved it aside for the moment and handed him a small box. “For you.”

He opened it curiously, then slowly slipped off the band marking him a member of the Sheep. He reached up and fastened the choker around his neck.

Kouyou smiled. “It suits you.”

The Point

Apr
12

“What is the point of living?” Dazai demanded with a sigh.

“How should I know?” Chuuya demanded right back.

They were both fifteen years old and neither of them had a very good grasp on being human. Chuuya though, Chuuya was intent on figuring it out by doing everything that made him feel alive. Dazai seemed to flirt so strenuously with death in an effort to figure out what being not alive felt like, the better to see a contrast he could make sense of.

Dazai studied Chuuya out of one eye.

Chuuya shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. We just live.”

Feel It

Feb
04

They didn’t have to say anything to each other to know how important they were. They just had to feel it.

Chuuya sighed, barely able to make his body move and not overeager to try, regardless of Dazai making a point of telling him not to.

“The fog isn’t gone. I don’t feel like fighting Corruption.”

It was a thought that struck him then. This fog could give Chuuya back his own body and remove Arahabaki from it. His ability wasn’t natural to him the way others’ were.

But Dazai was warm, Chuuya was here, safe, and that’s what mattered.

The Usual Suspect

Jan
20

Dazai always looked like he’d just done something wrong. (more…)

The Ghosts of White Day

Jan
10

The ghost of white days past said to Chuuya, “Chuuya is all work and no play. You need to get some good, sweet loving, find a nice felinoid girl and settle down.”

(more…)

Lies Unspoken

Jan
08

Dazai was already lying on the futon by the time Chuuya got in. He was too stiff, his lanky form stretched out with his back to the door, face to the wall, almost radiating with tension.

Chuuya sighed. “Did you even get patched up?”

Dazai didn’t answer.

It had been a hard enough fight and Dazai had never been good at self-care.

Chuuya hung up his jacket and his hat and changed into one of Dazai’s overlong shirts. He glanced over Dazai’s body for any major injuries. Finding none, he curled his body around his partner’s until finally Dazai relaxed.

Don’t Talk About It

Nov
19

Some things they don’t talk about.

They talk about battle plans and mission parameters. They talk about each other’s bad taste in clothes and vehicles and extracurricular activities, like trying to get oneself killed. They talk about video games and bets and how the other ought to get themselves killed.

They don’t talk about moments like this, washing each other’s wounds, unwrapping and rewrapping bandages because they don’t trust anyone else to do it, lying down on the same bed until morning because they’re partners. It’s as good an excuse as any.

Chuuya never asks why Dazai holds so tight.

Learning Curve

Jul
12

Anyone who was going to be Chuuya’s partner was going to be competent at knives.

Dazai winced and blew on his newly bleeding fingers. Chuuya held out his hand. Dazai stepped forward to hand back the knife.

“You meant to do that,” he accused in an undertone.

“You asked for the knife,” Chuuya answered incredulously.

“Yes, hand it to me, not throw it!”

Dazai glared at Chuuya. Chuuya glared at Dazai. They were teenagers, but when they were together, they might as well have been little kids.

Chuuya suddenly grinned, sharply. “I’ll teach you.”

“I am competent.”

“You are bleeding.”

Do Not Die

Jul
06

Begging.

“He’s already dead, Dazai.”

“No. Please.

(more…)

Written on My Skin

Jun
24

 

Dazai squirmed a little under the cool strokes of Chuuya’s brush over his back, only to get a hand firmly planted between his shoulder blades.

“Hold still,” Chuuya warned in a low voice. “You’ll make me smear the ink.”

(more…)

Petting the Tiger

May
25

Atsushi was ninety percent certain there was some ulterior motive in Dazai assigning him to stake out the office of a certain official to record his comings and goings with Akutagawa of all people. Not that Dazai was the kind of person to explain his motives, nor was it Akutagawa’s to explain what interest the Mafia had in this information that Fukuzawa could possibly go along with.

(more…)

Pretend a Little Longer

May
06

Chuuya woke up in his own apartment, blinking eyes open to familiar aching pain of aftermath. There were other familiar things: annoying singing in an all too familiar voice, the sound of shoes on his floor.

“No shoes,” he said before he stopped to think. “Shitty Mackerel,” he added, teeth gritting around the words. He peeled himself out of the covers to sit up gingerly.

“Chuuya! You’re awake,” Dazai singsonged, coming in close.

For a moment, a breath, they were teenagers again, before Chuuya remembered this was all wrong and he had no partner. “Dazai.” He didn’t kick him out.

Drenched Kitten

Apr
12

Usually it was Chuuya fishing Dazai out of whatever body of water he’d thrown himself into, (more…)