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[cresctsukiko]

im not letting go

[cresctsukiko]

very weak for dazai not wearing his coat

[cresctsukiko]

'Cause they're dying, gotta make it romantic and dramatic

Why can't gay people in bsd say normal things like "I love you" or "I have romantic feelings for you."

[cresctsukiko]

TAYLOR SWIFT – 1989 (TAYLOR'S VERSION)

OUT OCT 27

[cresctsukiko]

[cresctsukiko]

[cresctsukiko]

"Much time had already pass, would you still look at me the same?"

—

In the sweltering heat of summer, a season traditionally associated with reconciliation and making amends, such sentiments held little relevance within the place of the mafia. If anything, it signaled a time for daring raids and heightened activity.

No respite had been granted to anyone in the past month, with each day demanding relentless effort. The influx of illicit goods seemed ceaseless, an all-too-familiar occurrence that had numbed the senses of those involved—until a particular executive succumbed to the temptations of alcohol during a hectic week.

"Chuuya, I'm thoroughly disappointed to see you in such a state at a time when our workload is overwhelming," the fatigued red-haired woman named Kouyou remarked. Exhausted, she added, "If this behavior persists, I will bring the matter to the attention of our boss. I did not raise you to mourn in this manner." Kouyou took a deep breath and massaged her temples in an attempt to maintain composure.

"Huh? Whatddya mean?!" Chuuya, visibly intoxicated with half-closed eyelids and a flushed face, asked. He rubbed his eyes to focus on Kouyou before speaking again.

"I'm fine. It's just three bottles. What's the problem?" he slurred, sniffing as his eyes welled up. Kouyou sighed once more, abandoning her facade of calmness and revealing her irritation.

"The issue isn't the three bottles, Chuuya. I know you can handle that much. But your yearning for him will drive you to consume more alcohol," she stated, her patience wearing thin. Her agitated expression was now fully exposed to the intoxicated ginger.

Chuuya stared at her in confusion before his eyes widened. "Huh?! What are you talking about? I don't miss him—ugh!" He abruptly jumped from his seat, glaring at her. "You react so violently when no name was even mentioned. How amusing," Kouyou snickered.

"I DO NOT miss that mackerel!" Chuuya retorted angrily. Although he wanted to deny her words, his flushed face betrayed the effects of alcohol. "You're fooling no one, Chuuya. Don't be ashamed of it. It's alright; I can always keep your secrets," Kouyou taunted him, a mix of teasing and genuine concern evident in her expression. Chuuya knew he could trust her, considering she had practically raised him.

"Tch, what's the point? We don't even talk anymore or have any form of contact," he huffed, attempting to salvage his pride. Yet, it was futile, for how could that ever work?

Kouyou sighed once again. "Chuuya, dear, that's exactly why you're falling apart. I can't fathom how you've managed to survive without being by his side for so long." Kouyou slowly approached him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "You were inseparable from him, always together because he was the one person you trusted, despite him being the most dangerous man around. It's amusing how you continue to deny it," she murmured, her hands gently massaging his shoulders in an attempt to provide comfort.

"Hah! Looks like I was the only one holding on to him. He left the mafia without telling me and then blew up my car!" Despite the sarcastic smile on his face, deep down he was already emotionally wounded, and Lady Kouyou knew that all too well. "That's not true," she whispered, her eyes closed.

Indeed, it wasn't true. Dazai had regarded Chuuya as one of the most important people to have around in this wretched existence. Otherwise, he would have cast Chuuya aside long ago, seeing him as nothing more than another face among many. But he hadn't; he cared deeply for him.

Kouyou slowly withdrew, adjusting her kimono. "Apologies, Chuuya, but I have many matters to attend to. If you need assistance or if you've made up your mind, just call for me. I'll do my best to help you. Furthermore, I'll find a way to speak with the boss, perhaps even secure a day off or, more likely, a night off for you. Please remember, Chuuya, you're not alone in this. I must go now," she conveyed, ensuring he was listening, before leaving the room with a troubled expression.

Chuuya watched as she picked herself up and exited his room. His facial muscles relaxed, leaving behind an expression of emptiness. It was yet another lonely night in Yokohama, Japan.

---

On a familiar rooftop, a man lay gazing at the stars, pondering how things would unfold if they were to meet again. Would Chuuya be regarded as someone with shared memories or merely a stranger? How deep would the pain cut?

Such thoughts were enough to make the ginger weep himself to sleep.

[cresctsukiko]

Sea fairy cookie and Moonlight cookie, my friend told me to make a poem about them. Thought I could share it here

—

In the twilight's tender embrace, the sea does yearn,

To reach her moon, her distant love, her heart's concern.

With whispers of waves, she stretches, ever so high,

But the moon eludes her grasp, beyond the sea's sigh.

A dance of silver strands upon the dark expanse,

The sea's waves caress the night, in a delicate trance.

Yet though she strives with every tide's fervent flow,

The moon's distant beauty remains an unreachable glow.

Oh, the sea's devotion, a timeless serenade,

As she sways to the moon's pull, in a rhythm unswayed.

But when she's nearly there, her heart in a swoon,

The tides hold her back, leaving her frozen under the moon.

Silent tears in shimmering trails, sadness intertwine,

For the love that can't be held, though it's constantly in line.

The sea gazes upon her love, her soul eternally marooned,

Two celestial lovers, forever apart, the moon and the sea, attuned.

—

[cresctsukiko]

A fanfic I wrote while having a mental breakdown, I don't know if it makes sense at all, I've decided to dump it here and forget abt it💗

—

As Alhaitham stepped out of his home, an unsettling feeling gnawed at his heart, enveloping him like a heavy cloak of worry. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him to feel concerned at times and rush back home as soon as his duties were done, but this day was different; a sense of unease nagged at him, urging him to stay put, to ignore the call of the Akademiya. He was, after all, the esteemed scribe, highly respected and depended upon by many. However, that very fact also weighed heavily on him, making it harder to heed his gut feeling. Yet, he couldn't shake off the persistent doubt that whispered in his soul, hinting at lurking dangers he couldn't quite put a finger on.

The bustling city of Sumeru was grappling with a crisis of massive proportions, far beyond the usual skirmishes with eremites. A shadow of impending doom loomed over the realm, extending its reach far beyond the walls of the Akademiya. In such times, his presence as the wise scribe was needed more than ever, as the city's leaders struggled to find ways to protect their people from the impending storm.

Despite his responsibilities, Alhaitham couldn't quite grasp the reason behind his desire to stay by Kaveh's side. It wasn't possessiveness; he had always allowed Kaveh the freedom to do as he pleased. They hadn't argued or fought this morning, making this longing all the more perplexing. Alhaitham hoped to understand his emotions before it was too late, but for now, he swallowed the heavy feeling and made his way to the Akademiya, where the meeting seemed to take an eternity to begin, leaving him even more irritated.

_____

Around the table, all present voiced their opinions on various suggestions except for Alhaitham, who had drifted off into his own thoughts, yearning to be back home. His lack of engagement did not escape the notice of those sitting with him. "EHEM. Earth to the scribe?" One of the officials coughed loudly, bringing Alhaitham back to reality. Embarrassed, he stammered, "Uh, yes, go on," his response nonsensical. The truth was that his opinions mattered, being the smartest among them, but he hasn't spoken since the discussion began.

As others sighed and massaged their temples, some shamelessly rolled their eyes. "What?" Alhaitham asked, dumbfounded. "Sir, with all due respect, we were asking for your opinion," another official replied bravely. "If you're not going to take this seriously, let's end this and discuss it again when our great scribe is focused on the matter," scoffed an official at the end of the table. Alhaitham didn't react immediately.

Just as they were about to resume discussing the crisis, he spoke, "Very well, then. Let's talk about this another day. Goodbye." And with that, he left the table, leaving everyone else dumbfounded.

___

Silently cursing, Alhaitham couldn't believe he had endured five agonizing hours at the Akademiya. As if that weren't enough, the rain started pouring down. It seemed that since he left home, the skies had darkened, and the once clear day had turned gloomy. No time to shake off these thoughts, he rushed back home, not caring that he was drenched.

Standing before his home, Alhaitham's hands trembled as he twisted the doorknob and swung the door open. The silence that greeted him felt too pristine, almost unsettling for someone like Alhaitham. The sharp scent of bleach emanated from the floors and marbles, but instead of offering comfort, it only intensified his unease. The once cozy house now seemed gloomy, devoid of any signs of Kaveh's presence. Despite not having any recent quarrels, he could vividly recall the architect's distant demeanor, the faint frown that had gone unnoticed by many. The memory of Kaveh's forced and lackluster smile as he bid him goodbye lingered in his mind, raising concern.

With a furrowed brow, Alhaitham searched every nook and cranny, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kaveh. There was an absence that weighed heavily on him, and even the broken mug on the kitchen floor, a favorite of his, seemed insignificant compared to his desire to see Kaveh safe and sound. The urge to check Kaveh's room, off-limits due to privacy, overpowered him now; what use was privacy when his heart was gripped by fear? Pushing the door open, he was met with a stark contrast between the tidiness of the house and the chaotic mess inside Kaveh's room.

As Alhaitham's heart weighed down with each passing second, the burden seemed almost unbearable. Kaveh's absence was like an ache deep within his soul. But then, amidst the heavy silence, a heart-wrenching sound pierced through the air—the sound of crying and sniffing. The source of this anguish was none other than the bathroom. Without a moment's hesitation, Alhaitham rushed to the door, a sense of dread and trepidation engulfing him.

As the door swung open, a horrifying sight unfolded before Alhaitham's eyes. The once serene bathroom now bore the marks of chaos and pain. The floor was littered with broken glass and spilled bottles, as if a tempest had ravaged the tranquil space. And there, amidst the debris, was Kaveh, the person Alhaitham held dearest, huddled in a corner, wailing with an unrelenting pain.

A shattered mirror adorned the wall, reflecting the shattered pieces of Kaveh's heart. Blood mixed with hair, creating a surreal tableau of suffering. Kaveh's trembling hands clutched a pair of scissors, a symbol of the turmoil within him. Alhaitham's face contorted in pure horror as they cautiously approached their beloved, desperate to offer solace in the midst of such devastation.

Gently laying his hand on Kaveh's quivering shoulder, Alhaitham encountered resistance as the architect fiercely pushed their hands away, urging them to retreat. "GO AWAY!!"Kaveh's hoarse voice echoed through the room, tears still streaming down their cheeks. It was evident that Kaveh's mind was ensnared in a tormenting realm, as if he were grappling with a haunting nightmare. Alhaitham's own emotions trembled within, tears threatening to spill, as he tenderly spoke, "Kaveh, it's me, Alhaitham," his voice a soothing balm in an attempt to bring comfort to his distressed lover.

_____

Kaveh's cries echoed through the room, growing even louder as a comforting presence enveloped him, leaving him feeling utterly vulnerable and powerless. The person holding him acted swiftly, removing the scissors from his grasp and tossing them away, adding to his sense of disorientation. Despite the person speaking, the words reached him like distant echoes, blurred and incomprehensible, yet each syllable carried the weight of shame and accusation—"You're not good enough," "Worthless," "Murderer." They pierced his ears like arrows, and even though his ears rang with the intensity, the cutting remarks remained painfully clear.

Tears streamed down Kaveh's face, and his heart felt heavy as his mind replayed those hurtful words stuck in his memories. "It was his fault, right?" the cruel voices echoed, like sharp daggers piercing his already wounded soul. He couldn't escape the relentless self-blame, haunted by the belief that he was responsible for his father's death. The weight of guilt burdened him, suffocating him with each passing moment.

The tormenting thoughts consumed him, and Kaveh's inner voice continued to taunt him relentlessly. "He's the reason his father is dead after all," it whispered with vicious conviction, as if condemning him for being a nagging child, a thorn in the side of fate that caused the tragic loss.

A surge of self-loathing washed over him, drowning him in feelings of worthlessness. He couldn't bear to think of himself as anything other than a murderer. The word echoed in his mind, branding him with a label he couldn't escape. How could anyone love someone like him, he wondered, when he felt nothing but a burden and a heartache to those around him?

His mother's abandonment only intensified the self-doubt and guilt. He couldn't shake off the belief that he was unlovable, undeserving of any affection or care. "His mother left him there for a reason," the voices sneered, insinuating that he was beyond redemption, that even his own mother couldn't bear to be near him after the tragedy.

He was suffocating in a sea of disparaging remarks, each insult feeling like a knife through his heart. "What a dream for this child to think someone would love him for being him," the relentless voices taunted, crushing any hope of finding acceptance for who he truly was.

His spirit wavered under the barrage of negativity, and he couldn't help but believe the predictions of a dark future. The fear of becoming a criminal, forcefully taking lives like he believed he had taken his father's, gripped his soul. "Bet he's gonna grow up to be a criminal and forcefully kill people," the haunting words played on repeat, adding to his despair.

Gripped by the torment of his memories, Kaveh's cries intensified, his heartache echoing through the empty spaces around him. The insults seemed to echo endlessly, and he desperately pleaded for the painful barrage to cease, wishing for a moment of respite from the torment within.

The taste of blood filled his mouth, a bitter reminder of how hard he was biting his tongue to suppress the anguish welling up within him. "What a useless man, you're just cleaning and you managed to break a mug? Who else would want you now?" Those cruel words struck deep at his core, causing him to wail and scream with desperate fervor, trying to defend himself against the onslaught of his own self-doubt. "I-I'M SORRY! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! I-I DIDN'T MEAN TO—I PROMISE NOT TO BE USELESS, DON'T THROW ME AWAY!" His voice cracked with desperation, yet his pleas were met with nothing but mocking laughter, tearing at his already shattered heart and driving him to the edge of agony. In his torment, he clutched at his own hair, a futile attempt to release the overwhelming pain clawing at his soul.

Kaveh felt strong arms envelop him in a tighter yet a warm embrace. And then, finally, the tormenting voices stopped. As the arms wrapped around Kaveh gave him comfort, he sobbed. Soft words, soothing and reassuring, washed over him like a gentle breeze. "Shh, it's okay, Kaveh, I will never leave you behind." His mind was still too overwhelmed to make out the words clearly. Yet, there was something familiar about that voice, and it brought a sense of comfort amidst the chaos.

Kaveh turned his head to face the person, his vision blurred with tears. It was hard to see clearly, but deep down, he knew it was Alhaitham. Alhaitham had always been the one he trusted with all his heart, the one he could rely on no matter what. Even in his darkest moments, Alhaitham was there for him.

As much as he wanted to hug him back, Kaveh couldn't because of the cuts on his arms, painful reminders of the struggles he had faced. Instead, he let himself rest against Alhaitham's shoulder, finding solace in his embrace. The tears kept flowing, but this time, they were tears of relief. Relief that he was no longer alone in this overwhelming darkness.

Alhaitham's touch on Kaveh's hair felt soothing, like a gentle caress, and his kiss on Kaveh's forehead brought a small, grateful smile to his lips. In that moment, Kaveh felt safe and loved, protected from the torment that had plagued him.

"I'm here, and I always will be," Alhaitham whispered again, his voice filled with sincerity. Though the words were faint, they carried a powerful promise that touched Kaveh's heart deeply.

In Alhaitham's arms, Kaveh found a sanctuary, a place where he could let go of his fears and worries. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was this intimate connection they shared. Exhaustion took over, and Kaveh felt himself drifting off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of Alhaitham's love and care. Finally, he could rest, knowing that Alhaitham was there to watch over him, to keep him safe from the darkness that had tried to consume him.

_____

Kaveh stirred on the soft cushion, his head still throbbing from the ordeal. The surroundings were unfamiliar; he knew he wasn't in his own room but rather in Alhaitham's. As he shifted, he felt the presence of bandages wrapped around his arms and thighs, extending down to his legs. Despite the pain, he attempted to call out for Alhaitham, but his voice betrayed him, leaving him silent. Though his throat still ached, the taste of blood had vanished, offering some relief.

Something felt different, and Kaveh soon realized that his hair was now shorter than before. A tinge of sadness washed over him at the realization, though he struggled to find the strength to dwell on it. "You're awake," a soft voice reached his ears as Alhaitham stood at the door, concern etched on his face. Unable to form words, Kaveh watched as Alhaitham approached him, carefully holding a bowl of freshly made soup. Placing it down beside Kaveh, Alhaitham gently kissed his cheeks, a tender gesture that warmed Kaveh's heart. "I thought you would like some soup to start your day," Alhaitham said with a reassuring smile. In response, Kaveh managed a weak but grateful smile, allowing himself to be lovingly fed by the one who cared for him deeply.

_____

"Don't move too much," Alhaitham cautioned, his voice gentle but firm, as he tried to keep Kaveh still. "But this position is uncomfortable," Kaveh weakly retorted, a faint frown on his face. "Stop, or your hair will end up uglier than it already is." Alhaitham's playful tease made Kaveh scoff, "As if you know what you're doing." Unperturbed, Alhaitham prodded, "Oh? What's the reason you need a haircut right now?" He knew Kaveh wouldn't answer. Kaveh playfully smacked Alhaitham's arm, the exchange ending in soft laughter. The final result was a cute butterfly cut, which Kaveh couldn't help but like, and Alhaitham, the self-appointed barber, took pride in his creation.

_____

The sound of a resounding smack reverberated through the halls, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. Cyno's piercing gaze locked onto Alhaitham, his anger palpable. "TWO DAYS," he proclaimed, the weight of the punishment hanging heavy in the air. Alhaitham's eyes met Cyno's, and without a word, he nodded in acceptance, knowing that his absence had consequences. As a result of his actions, he would now spend two long days assisting with the arduous task of cleaning.