The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname



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


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)


“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.


A Numbered List of Reasons (Remix)


“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.


Everyone Is Terribly Human


“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.”


The Point


“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


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


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

The Ghosts of White Day


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.”


Lies Unspoken


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


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


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



“He’s already dead, Dazai.”

“No. Please.


Written on My Skin



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.”


Pretend a Little Longer


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


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

all of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine


Dazai—looking soft and curious, all his ruthless edges tucked away somewhere under that faint wondering expression he got when staring at friends who puzzled him, when staring death in the face, when staring at his partner doing something utterly inexplicable but somehow not annoying or disgusting.

This was Dazai and Chuuya didn’t care if it was weird or they had jerked their heads away from each other just moments ago in distaste for manners, habits, and their endless stream of insults. This was Dazai and he wasn’t fighting back (like he ever did) or pulling back (like he ever did) or pulling one of his stupid blocks or evasive maneuvers. He was letting Chuuya shove him against the wall, letting him bury one gloved hand in the soft messy hair, letting him pull Dazai’s head down to his own level so their mouths were at the same height, and letting himself be kissed by someone he’d never particularly cared for.


The First Time Through


“I’m not going to talk like a fucking girl!” Chuuya practically growled at his annoying partner.

“Bet you will!” Dazai singsonged back. “If I win this game, you talk like a little rich girl and ask nicely for what we need.”

“And if I win,” Chuuya countered, “I grind your into the pavement and then you torture it out of them.”

“But Chuuya! I’d need my face for that.”

“Fine, you torture it out of them, then I grind your face into the pavement.”

The two eyed each other.

“Deal.” Dazai grinned.

Chuuya checked his game console for foul play.

A Miscalculation


Drunk Chuuya was handsy, Dazai was discovering. (more…)

Ruffled Feathers


“They’re not erogenous,” Chuuya pointed out for the umpteenth time.

Dazai didn’t pause a moment in his intent, thorough examination of every feather and curve of Chuuya’s wings. It would have been too much to expect a compliment, but the attention was enough to bring a flush to Chuuya’s cheeks anyway.

“Have you ever tried to let go and fall?” Dazai asked thoughtfully, a dreamy tone in his voice.

“What?! No!” Chuuya yanked his wing away from Dazai’s groping fingers.

“Chuuya! Don’t be like that!” Clingy Dazai followed after. “Your wings are so nice!”

Chuuya groaned but let him touch.