Chuuya “Small Crisis” Nakahara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thetaintedsorrow) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nysalogs2018-04-05 12:01 pm
thetaintedsorrow) wrote in nysalogs2018-04-05 12:01 pm
[Open] April Catch-All
Who: Chuuya Nakahara (thetaintedsorrow) & you!
What: Event aftermath and various shenanigans
When: April
Where: Olympia
Warning(s): None yet, but NSFW will be marked if it happens
I. Bird is the Word
[To all those familiar with Chuuya, the news of the mystery egg he’d magically acquired finally hatching isn’t surprising, nor is the news that it’s a bird. However, what they may not know is that Apollo (a name carefully chosen for his precious child) has grown into something quite flashy in the past month. A royal flycatcher, to be precise, with beautiful plumage to rival any peacock. It’s quite fitting that Apollo is tiny and beautiful, considering who his mother is, but don’t tell Chuuya that.
He’s quite an energetic little thing, and Chuuya can be found out and about in town with the little guy perched on top of his hat, or in the mansion with Apollo perched on his shoulder.
Should anyone get close (within five feet) of Chuuya, they’ll find themselves with a faceful of feathers and an earful of chirps as Apollo checks them out, up close and personal. Of course Chuuya is amused.]
Looks like he likes you.
II. Shots, Shots, Shots
[Chuuya can also be found, sans Apollo, in one of the multitude of bars located around town. He’s currently nursing a glass of fireball whiskey, but anyone who approaches him for either company or simply to harass him will be abruptly challenged to a drinking contest. God bless your soul if you take him up on it.
Should they decline he’ll simply shrug and continue sipping at the amber liquid in his glass.
Either way, they’ll receive this greeting: ]
You here for booze or company?
III. Among the Stars
[Lastly, Chuuya will make a trip to Thesa Station to see all the newly awakened refugees. He can be found checking out the stasis pods, hanging around in one of the lounge areas, or simply indulging in a glass of wine at the mess hall.
He’ll have Apollo on his shoulder, but don’t be afraid. He won’t peck your eyes out. Chuuya may very well try it though, if you see fit to call him tiny. Otherwise he’ll be friendly enough, no matter where he’s approached on the station.]
How’s it going?
IV. Wildcard!
[Surprise me! Or plot things with me! I’m over at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
arcanestardust!]
thetaintedsorrow) & you!What: Event aftermath and various shenanigans
When: April
Where: Olympia
Warning(s): None yet, but NSFW will be marked if it happens
I. Bird is the Word
[To all those familiar with Chuuya, the news of the mystery egg he’d magically acquired finally hatching isn’t surprising, nor is the news that it’s a bird. However, what they may not know is that Apollo (a name carefully chosen for his precious child) has grown into something quite flashy in the past month. A royal flycatcher, to be precise, with beautiful plumage to rival any peacock. It’s quite fitting that Apollo is tiny and beautiful, considering who his mother is, but don’t tell Chuuya that.
He’s quite an energetic little thing, and Chuuya can be found out and about in town with the little guy perched on top of his hat, or in the mansion with Apollo perched on his shoulder.
Should anyone get close (within five feet) of Chuuya, they’ll find themselves with a faceful of feathers and an earful of chirps as Apollo checks them out, up close and personal. Of course Chuuya is amused.]
Looks like he likes you.
II. Shots, Shots, Shots
[Chuuya can also be found, sans Apollo, in one of the multitude of bars located around town. He’s currently nursing a glass of fireball whiskey, but anyone who approaches him for either company or simply to harass him will be abruptly challenged to a drinking contest. God bless your soul if you take him up on it.
Should they decline he’ll simply shrug and continue sipping at the amber liquid in his glass.
Either way, they’ll receive this greeting: ]
You here for booze or company?
III. Among the Stars
[Lastly, Chuuya will make a trip to Thesa Station to see all the newly awakened refugees. He can be found checking out the stasis pods, hanging around in one of the lounge areas, or simply indulging in a glass of wine at the mess hall.
He’ll have Apollo on his shoulder, but don’t be afraid. He won’t peck your eyes out. Chuuya may very well try it though, if you see fit to call him tiny. Otherwise he’ll be friendly enough, no matter where he’s approached on the station.]
How’s it going?
IV. Wildcard!
[Surprise me! Or plot things with me! I’m over at
no subject
[ The Bar Lupin may only be a hazy, rose-colored recollection by now, but that doesn't mean he didn't build something precious there, shared between three people whose numbers have now dwindled down to Dazai alone. It existed, as did everything that happened there. The same goes for the ADA, and all the ridiculous antics or adventures, including long nights spent with stale coffee and crowded desktops, the lot of them stewing over cases Ranpo refused to lower himself to handle. ]
As if I could ever forget my past- [ Or ever want to. ] When...
[ Touching Chuuya is always a feat in which consequences are weighed against rewards. Desperation makes it easier to accomplish, and dulls concern over which reaction Chuuya's temper will determine gets thrown his way in response. But when it truly matters, on those once in a rare blue moon moments where Chuuya is still like the ocean at midnight, his eyes darkened and as depthless as the waves he can't see beneath, Dazai risks contact when he has everything to lose. ]
...It's flesh and blood, right here in front of me.
[ Fingers slip from where they've been perched on his glass and set a course of contact for Chuuya's torso, stilling only when the warmth of Dazai's palm is bleeding down past a wool vest and dress shirt, into the skin below.
That should be enough to get a point across. Yet those fingers linger, skimming up the black bands crossed over a chest that's broadened over the years, or flicking over buttons with digits that press into the body below as they slide upward.
Fingers spread as they trail up a slender throat his mouth has kissed a hundred thousand times, and buried teeth into even more, soon as the both of them got a taste for the sensation. The rational, wary part of his mind warns him to stop long before these touches goes any further. But only when the still-soft curve of Chuuya's cheek is cupped within his palm does Dazai even begin to feel satisfied that enough of his partner's skin has fallen beneath tonight's yearning touch. ]
Where should I be, Chuuya?
[ His response lands in near whispers, mellowed to cushion the impact of just how tenderly Dazai chooses to emphasize his words with an idle thumb that has yet to still as it strokes against the slope of Chuuya's cheek.
And though the pair are already leaning in so close to one another, practically with their heads together in a universe of their own, there's space enough to abolish with a dip of his head.
It's the makings of what would be a very good kiss, if only he wasn't loitering in that intimate space for the sheer sake of drawing the sight of Chuuya into whole of his focus, his world, and every inch of his line of sight. ]
You want me here. Tell when where I'm supposed to fit.
no subject
Chuuya is silent as Dazai takes the liberty of touching him, but not because he’s pissed or sulking. The look on his face says it all; he can’t recall the last time Dazai had touched him quite so gently, and it’s enough to make Chuuya’s heart skip a beat. It feels like he’s a fine porcelain doll that’s being admired with a borderline reverent touch, and for once in his life he doesn’t want those hands to grab and push and pull. Without a second thought his body seems to lean into Dazai’s hand like a cat that craves petting, and when it comes to rest on his cheek, cupping it so gently that if Chuuya were to close his eyes he’d never guess it was Dazai, he doesn’t slap the guy’s hand away or bite his fingers out of spite.]
What are you even saying, you bastard??
[The slow, tender swipe of Dazai’s thumb makes Chuuya’s heart ache; how many times had he seen Dazai touch a pretty face like this? How many times had he curled up on his bed and sulked well into the night about Dazai casually brushing shoulders with Oda, or sharing a glass of whiskey with him? How many times has Chuuya wished that Dazai would look at him with more than just lust in those dark eyes of his? It’s not fair that he’s doing this now! It’s not fair that Chuuya can’t bring himself to push Dazai away and tell him that he’s too goddamn late to win Chuuya’s affection now! It’s not fair that he’s hovering so closely and yet not kissing Chuuya like he’s done countless times before.]
Shut up.
[Without a single care about prying eyes, Chuuya crushes their lips together with all the ferocity Dazai knows him for, his hand gripping the bastard’s shirt to anchor him there like he’ll float away if Chuuya lets go.
This is the only way Chuuya knows how to express the full extent of his emotions, even if Dazai’s question goes unanswered. Or perhaps that single gesture is enough to tell him what Chuuya cannot.]
no subject
[ Three words should pale in comparison to all the times they've saved each other; Chuuya salvaging the battered bits of Dazai's demonic soul and breathing humanity into him with every minute they've shared. And Dazai doing the same in return, pulling him from the brink every time Chuuya has thrown himself over and submitted his soul to the wicked force of nature that Corruption is.
After all the late night misadventures, sleepless nights wrought with traumas weathered together like the two orphans they've become and a youth of shared scars to the point that if they lay naked each could trace their joint injuries from lessons hard-learned together, like a road-map of lives lived on the edge...
At what point did he ever not love Chuuya? Wholly. Completely. As much as one small speck of dust in the Universe can desperately need another to exist. ]
Do I have to say the words?
[ Chuuya crashes into him, unrelenting and ferocious, like one solid, towering wave whose undertow seems to take hold of Dazai's body and soul with the unwavering intent of dragging him with it. Hot-mouthed kisses are swallowed down en-mass without any effort at pacing himself as Dazai immediately takes the reins, turning that one hard push of contact Chuuya initiates into a continuous stream.
Every open mouthed and wet kiss, scattered between all the hungry licks of his tongue, are I love yous stacked one on top of the other. Words that Dazai's much too fractured heart has ever been able to heal enough to feel worthy of speaking, even when Chuuya needed it most.
One hand may steadfastly stay on Chuuya's face, but the other twists into the leather straps at his partner's torso. With one singular but ever present pull Dazai drags them together, aligned more or less chest-to-chest. Hands still only when the rise and fall of Chuuya's every breath molds against his rib-cage, feeling achingly like his partner is just now burrowing into his heart. As if Chuuya hadn't made his home there, nesting in the cradle of Dazai's chest, when he first laid eyes on Chuuya seven years ago and felt dry-mouthed and weak-kneed and awed for the first time in his life.
Always, always, no matter how close they are no amount of contact is enough. So leather straps go free, released as he seeks out better options with a desperate haste that speaks of an urgency better suited to first times and first kisses, yet somehow fits this moment now. ]
Hold onto me.
[ No further words or unspoken warnings litter the path to where Dazai plans to take them as both arms slip low around Chuuya's center. It's telling enough, how he leans in first, balancing their weight on Chuuya's stool in preparation for something before tilting back and hauling his partner back to straddle Dazai's hips.
If Dazai has been evasive about what he wants, that single mystery of his often obscured heart should begin to dissipate when Chuuya is pulled around him like a warm coat, draped over Dazai from the arms he hopes stay slung over his shoulders, to the deliciously satisfying fullness of Chuuya's entire weight pushing into his pelvis. Chuuya makes up for his vertical shortcomings in a way that's felt in his larger than life presence, and the solidity of a body that feels like being wrapped under dozens of blankets in the dead of winter and pushes away any doubt that Chuuya is atop him, here and now. ]
If you asked me how to find happiness- I couldn't tell you where to go.
[ In the midst of relocating their contact falls away, leaving lips free to finally say something. Because Dazai has a lifetime's worth of things left unsaid for too long, and he could fill up every waking moment, if he allowed himself the honesty, to admit all the things he ought to have said years and years ago. ]
It's not a place or a purpose for me. But a person.
no subject
At least, that’s what Chuuya has believed for seven goddamn years, and now Dazai is, for the first time in Chuuya’s life, causing him to question every fucking thing he’d ever thought to be true. If Dazai really cares about him the way he’s saying, then all of Chuuya’s rage and hurt will all have been for naught...
Of course the bastard could be lying; he’s good at that, after all. And yet, as Chuuya is hauled into Dazai’s lap, Chuuya’s conviction wavers, those lips pressing hot against his own breaking down that sturdy wall that Chuuya had built around his heart all those years ago like sledgehammers against glass. It’s not fucking fair how easily Dazai weasels his way into Chuuya’s life time after time, reappearing just when Chuuya thinks he’s gone for good. It’s easier to let go of something when it doesn’t keep coming back and tempting you, after all.
But here Dazai is, once again turning Chuuya’s life upside down in ways that will last and last.
It’s those words, ”it’s not a place or a purpose for me, but a person”, that finally shatter Chuuya’s resolve. He throws himself completely at Dazai then, as if he’s hurling himself right off a cliff with the hope that he’ll be caught before he falls. How dare Dazai reappear now and say the one thing Chuuya has been waiting to hear since they were teens?? To anyone else those words might mean exactly what they sound like, but to Chuuya, it’s a declaration of love louder than any three words could ever be.
Maybe it’s a lie, but if it is, then Chuuya wants to die believing it.]
God damn it, Dazai.
[There’s no real anger behind those words, and the evidence of just how Chuuya feels in return well up in the corners of his eyes and threaten to spill over like a dam that’s been holding back a flood for far too long. When’s the last time he allowed himself to shed real tears?? Stupid Dazai...!
The backdrop of the bar fades from Chuuya’s mind, and all that’s left is the here and now that Chuuya still can’t quite believe.]
You better fucking mean that, or I swear I’ll kill you nice and slow.
[Chuuya devours Dazai’s mouth then, as if he’s afraid to hear confirmation that this is all some sick joke on Dazai’s part. He bites Dazai’s lip and sucks on his tongue, as if he’s a fire that’s just trying to light Dazai ablaze. His weight settles atop Dazai as if they were made to slot together like this, and what happens next is all Chuuya cares about.]