#dazaisms

[kodaiki]

hihi! just asking if i can join the taglist for scripted hearts. absolutely love it btw <3

hey love! the taglist is closed rn but i’ll keep your url in case anyone leaves the taglist!🥹🩷

[dazaisms]

❀°:.• YOU'RE SAFE, I'M HERE !

synopsis. dazai attempted again, and he called the only person he knew would be awake at this time.

pairing. nakahara chuuya × dazai osamu

cw. mentions & depictions of suicide & sh, bl00d, a little angst?? it is fluff tho guys. (i can't write smth without an ounce of angst)

Chuuya had no idea why he was awake at this time. He had no reasonable explanation for it, just that he was sat up in bed with a bottle of Petrus 1989 in his hand.

He wasn't drunk, no way. Just... not sober.

So, he thought he was hallucinating it when his phone vibrated beside him, the caller name shining at him as 'Mackerel.' Why the fuck was Dazai calling him at this time?

Although, that didn't stop him from picking up the phone with a slight groan. "The fuck do you want at this time, shitty dazai?"

The ginger's voice was raspy and brazen as he spoke, but his breath slightly hitched when he heard no answer from the other side of the phone, only the gasping breaths of the other.

"Oi, dazai? What're you calling me for? What's the issue?"

A few minutes of silence passed until the brunette finally spoke up and gave Chuuya an answer, but not one he wanted, exactly.

"need chibi to come overrr – need help bandaging.."

Dazai spoke quietly, hiccups interrupting his words from the tears that slipped down his face. Chuuya could tell he had been crying, just by the sound of his voice and the way he was speaking.

"Right. Stay on the phone, Dazai. I'm on my way."

In a record breaking 5 minutes, Chuuya was at the agencies dorms, his motorcycle left outside of them. He could always afford another, he was just in a rush to help Dazai.

He didn't bother knocking as he reached the room, just pushing the door open and shutting it behind him.

Though, Chuuya couldn't help but grimace at the sight that laid out in front of him.

Dazai's arms were covered in blood, fresh wounds over the scars that had only just recently healed. The blood was on his hands, staining his clothes as well as his bed sheets. Hell, his phone was now covered in it after his desperate call to Chuuya. The mafia executive knew what was coming from Dazai's mouth instantly, a stupid little apology about calling him, about having to deal with the sight of this. So, he shut him up before any words slipped out of his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, Dazai. We both know I have seen worse than this, and we both know I'm the only one you were able to call, yeah? So don't start with shitty, pointless apologies. I'm here to help, so that's what I'm going to do."

At the end of his sentence, Chuuya ruffled Dazai's hair, hesitating a little before kissing his head. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

So, that's what they did. When Chuuya got Dazai to get up, they made their way to the bathroom. The former grabbed a washcloth, before running some cool water in the sink, getting Dazai to sit on the edge of the bath.

"You know it's going to sting a little, but you've got it. You can always hold onto me if it's stinging too much, okay?"

He spoke softly, which was odd for a port mafia executive, especially towards Dazai. But he was gentle with a sensitive Dazai, he had to be.

That's why he was as gentle as he could be as he ran the wet washcloth along Dazai's wrists, getting rid of both the fresh and the dried blood. The fresh wounds weren't a pretty sight, but he would never say that out loud.

He also didn't force Dazai to talk about anything, whether that be what brought on this attempt, or anything as simple as what he did in his day. He stayed silent, letting Dazai dig his nails into his arm when the drag of the washcloth hurt a little too much.

After around 20 minutes, he had finally cleaned both arms, save for the little droplets of blood that formed on some of them.

When Dazai tried to get up, Chuuya lightly pushed his shoulder to sit him back down. "I've still got to bandage you up, idiot."

Which got a small smile out of Dazai. "always with the insults, chibi."

This caused Chuuya to roll his eyes with a small grin as he reached for the first aid kit in Dazai's bathroom. "Yeah, yeah. You love it."

He gave the taller male another warning about the sting as he got a disinfectant wipe. He had just cleaned them, but he had to be extra cautious with Dazai.

He was gentle with the wipe, too, taking less time than he did with the washcloth. After a little bit longer, the shorter male grabbed the bandages, unraveling the end.

Then, he finally started wrapping the bandages around Dazai's wrist. He took around 15 minutes on each wrist, ensuring it was tight enough to stay on and prevent any more bleeding. After he had done that, he pulled Dazai's hands up to his face, pressing light kisses against each wrist.

"I'm not going to force you to talk about it, Dazai. But if you want to, you know I'll listen."

His words resulted in a shake of the head from Dazai. "Don't want to talk, chibi –" his words were interrupted by a yawn.

Chuuya's face softened a little. "Then I'll get you a blanket, and you can sleep. I'll clean up your room, yeah?" and surprisingly, Dazai agreed.

So, 30 minutes later, Dazai was curled up on his bed. Not asleep, no, of course not. Just watching as Chuuya fussed and cleaned his room up. By the end of it, there was no blood, and no sign of anything occurring.

"Thank you, Chuuya." The brunette mumbled quietly, his arms wrapped around some plushie Kyouka and Atsushi had gotten him.

Chuuya just shook his head, sitting down beside Dazai on his bed, hand lightly stroking his hair. "Don't thank me, Dazai. It was the very least I could do." At that, Dazai had grabbed Chuuya's arm, pulling him to lay down. "cuddle me, chibi!"

Chuuya just scoffed, laying down and wrapping his arms around Dazai. From there, it didn't take long for the pair of them to fall asleep, arms and legs entangled with one another.

toby's notes ;

sorry not sorry for the long one guys :p hope. this slightly makes up for my angst!!!!

[swimminginyokohamasrivers]

I KNOW!!!

but u so are a fruitcake

Am not!!

[vxnuslogy]

— what does it mean to be a star?

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: sunday has stayed with you and the stellaron hunters for a few years. your lives has been filled with many adventures, both good and bad. but like any other story crafted by elio, they must come to an end eventually.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, implications of committing suicide, not proofread that much.

– author’s note: one final (?) stellaron hunter!sunday fic before he gets released. ive missed writing for this man. art credits to 冒火锅海台 on Weibo for the art. | 1.9k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @mitsvriii @https-sourlimes @dazaisms ; if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know by sending an ask off anon or filling out the forms in my pinned !!!

“what do you think makes a star, a star?”

elio asked you that question decades ago. and only now have you arrived at one final answer. out of curiosity, you asked each hunter the same question over the years that have passed, each of them giving one answer that didn’t quite match the rest.

“to be the top player of course!” silver wolf exclaimed, her tone in a matter of fact manner as she didn’t even look up from her console. you only shook your head in amusement, jotting her answer down in a new journal your boss had given you as a present.

“a star you ask,” kafka tilted her head curiously at you. eyes freed from her usual contacts and makeup followed your movement as you stirred the coffee in your cup. “well, a star for me would be something that captures the attention of others without much effort. stars often piqued your interest, didn’t they?” you only smiled in response and nodded. you made a mental note to write it down later before you went to bed.

firefly took a little longer than the last two to answer. you patiently waited, spooning pieces of cake to your lips as the girl in front of you was deep in thought. “a guide. even in your darkest moment, a star will shine as a guide for you to follow so you don’t stray from your path.” she answered in a whisper. eyes wistful as she played with the dessert on her plate. 

“a star,” blade’s gruff voice cut through the night like a knife. a few bottles of local xianzhou wine separating you two as you sat on the roof overlooking the stars above. you hadn’t expected blade of all people to humor your questions, but here you were, grateful in his presence. “it means to burn. so brightly you are unrecognizable, to others and yourself.”

“you have a sad answer,” you mutter, taking a sip of the wine from the small cup as the man huffs. 

“time takes a heavy toll for both you and i,” the wind sways his hair in a deathly dance. he brings his cup to his lips and drinks in one go. you don’t mention how you can barely finish a cup with how strong the drink was—blade could not feel the pain of it in his throat, and he never will. “you’ve already burned through the remains of your past self. it won’t be long before you look in the mirror and be unable to recognize your reflection.”

you frown at his response. “you’re pessimistic.”

“and you’re hypocritical.”

you have no rebuttal to his accusation, after all, at the very core of your character, the word “hypocrite” hangs like a thorny crown. 

“tell me, starcatcher,” red eyes reflected the conflict you’ve been massing deep within the columns of your bones. they crash onto your being like how the oceans do to the shores—unrelenting and loud. “are you that afraid of losing another that you love them as if tomorrow they’ll die?”

you fled the roof that night. unable to face your hopelessness head on after a fresh wound of death lingers by your heart. another attempt, another reminder of the welling darkness that swells from the tip of your fingers and slowly corrupts your entire body. it drowns you and you can’t help but fear that time is clutching your shoulder, weighing you down to the ocean floor as it laughs at your predicament.

“so it’s decided then.”

but that’s no longer the case. no, not anymore. it's been decades since then, and you’ve changed.

elio sits by his office chair, typewriter moved to the side as he personally penned the final bits of your songbird’s script. you were elio’s editor and proofreader. you don’t exactly remember when it started but when you were still an unwilling understudy—an actor who refused to acknowledge the stage—he would trap you in his office and force you to read over his script to make sure there were no errors.

a small and sad smile tugged at your lips as you read the pages of inked fate. “this is for the best.”

“the best, yes,” elio ceases his writing. compiling the papers into one bulk and staring right at you. “but it's not the ending you wanted.”

you shook your head, “my preferred ending isn’t relevant to how the story ends. it’s not my story to tell.”

“yes, but it's a story you’re meant to read,” there was pity in his eyes. your heart felt too heavy with realization to even feel offended by such a look. “you have the right to feel dissatisfied.”

“thank you, elio, truly,” you only gave destiny’s slave one final smile before standing. you quietly made your way to the door, forcing your steps to sound quiet and lacking sadness. but you can’t do that, you never will. building up walls will only prove to be a waste of effort. not when elio knows every brick by heart.

with a heavy sigh, you linger by the office door before making your way to your workshop. memories from years ago flood your mind as the halls fill your senses. photos from vacation, missions, and simple outings hang by the walls while certain trinkets and relics from bygone travels litter the many desks and drawers. time did take a heavy toll just like blade said. kafka’s skin started to wrinkle a bit, silver wolf started growing taller, firefly grew paler and paler, and blade looked more like death with every breath he took.

time was a painful thing to remember—it’s not infinite. and even if it was, it's never always kind to everyone. and you? you are worse than time and death itself. you were the inevitable–finality. 

“good morning, [name].”

a voice from behind greets you like a new sunrise–a reminder that a new day is here. you couldn’t help the smile that tugged on your lips. seeing sunday in blade’s shirt hang over his body like a blanket, firefly’s hair ties on his wrists and a spare console from silver wolf in one hand brings you so much joy. 

“sunday, good morning!” you sounded breathless. tucking both hands behind your back to hide your shaking as he joined you on your way to the workshop he’s made as his makeshift nest.

sunday smiles—filled with all the hope you’ve craved and lost. it stings your heart like a needle but you don’t show it. you’re first to look away, like all the other times in his presence, unable to face the way his wings flutter and smile twitch in concern.

when you reach the workshop, you flicker the lights on and sunday makes himself at home. sitting by the windowsill as you sat down by your table. scattered fabrics for sunday’s final mission lay in your hands, and you’d be damned if you messed up now. even with a heavy heart, you willed your hands to work, all the while ignoring the concerned stare of the angel sunbathing by the window.

the two of you spend the first few hours of morning in each other’s quiet presence before your tongue itches to ask him a question. “sunday,” you call his name and you curse the flutter in your chest when he immediately looks at you. he noticed his overly quick response and covered half of his face with a fist, pretending to hide a cough instead of his coloring cheeks.

“yes?” he asks, attention solely on you as you pin the needle back on the cushion and smooth out any creases.

“what does it mean to be a star?”

he blinked owlishly at your question. a soft hum escaped his lips as his fingers tapped on the rim of his cup in contemplation. “is there…” he tests the waters—seeing if it's too hot or too cold. “any particular occasion for you to ask me a question?”

you shake your head in amusement when his more formal tone slips out. “no, not at all. just a little tradition is all.”

“well, then,” the words die out on his tongue. every once in a while, sunday would peer at you like a lost child but you’d only nod encouragingly. “a star means to be remembered.” he looked out the window, watching the clouds pass by in a blur. “even if they aren’t always there, you know they exist.”

sometimes you wonder if it's possible for sunday to look at himself through the lens of your eyes. he was beautiful like the praise of idrila, happiness like aha’s laughter, and the curiosity for adventure like akivili. sunday wasn’t just a star, he was the entire universe. and he remained blissfully unaware of it.

“[name], is everything all right?” 

you’re snapped out of your daze when you feel his hand on your cheek. lost in the replays of sunday’s image in your mind, you didn’t notice the stray tears that had betrayed your image of an unbothered editor. 

“please, don’t cry,” he whispers, pressing your foreheads together. his thumb gently wiping away the tears that escaped your eyes. you can’t help but chuckle. sunday truly was like a sponge when it comes to others’ habits.

“what hurts you so?”

“what makes you think i’m hurt?” quite frankly, you were hurt. so incredibly hurt by his eventual departure but your heart knows his stay was only temporary. but that didn’t mean you never hoped. 

hoped. over the course of a few years, sunday had succeeded in the mission the other hunters failed at. he made you hope again.

“kafka is cooking everyone’s breakfast. it’ll surely brighten up your mood.” he states taking your hand in his and tugging you in the direction of the dining room and kitchen. sunday maneuvered through the headquarters with such ease your ribs began to clamp on your heart again.

this was his home, his respite. but only for a short time.

when the two of you enter the room, you notice his frown. the emotions of everyone were palpable—it felt suffocating. your eyes met blade and you just smiled. one deep breath in and you snapped back into your joyous self. bringing temporary light to the room.

even as you ate and chatted, there were undertones of sadness. sunday nudged your side and quietly asked you, “are you quite sure everything is alright? everyone seems sad today.”

you look at them one by one. kafka’s eyes are slowly being accompanied by eye bags and wrinkles, silver wolf is nearing blade’s shoulder, firefly looks paler, and blade’s hand shakes as he holds his chopsticks. you look at sunday’s eyes, and smile. even he was a victim of time with the way his hair grew longer and face filled with more life.

“they’re just worried,” you look away first like always. meeting blade’s gaze halfway and smiling to yourself when you see him huff in denial. “your next mission is here.”

what does it mean to be a star? elio asked you that question a long, long time ago. and you only found the answer in the form of an angel with wings behind his ears and eyes that shined like the sun. the star you’ve grown to love burns brighter than the sun but still requires rest when night falls. 

to be a star means to be remembered, even in the face of departure. you remain bright and unforgotten. left in the care of a conductor and an express you’ve once loved.

to be a star means to face the inevitable that sunday was meant for greater things than being just a fugitive venturing the universe.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[chokisnumber1fan]

how far can we go?

a certain situation you find yourself entangled in has kinich playing pretend as your boyfriend...

[fake dating au, friends to lovers?, no ajaw (yet?), possibly slow burn, no nsfw, bad writing in general, may contain graphic imagery, stalking] — status: ongoing

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taglist !

@yuriisclumsy @fandomfan-102 @jiminscarmex @keiiqq @blaxvoid @eunchaeluvr @just-simping-over-genshin @kuniz-darlingg @sugacor3 @help-whatdoimakemyusername @yomsy @kunichio @dazaisms

[please send me an ask or DM if you would like to be added ♡]

[dazaisms]

yeah wtf is Rapunzel saying about me????

[dazaisms]

❀°:.• STOP HAUNTING ME !

synopsis. after suguru died, he plagued satoru's mind. turns out, he was being haunted by his lover's ghost.

pairing. satoru gojo × suguru geto (jujutsu kaisen)

cw. main character death, mentions of death, blood. angst, suguru is literally a ghost haunting satoru??

It had been exactly one month since Suguru's death, and it was still plaguing Satoru's mind. He couldn't escape it. Not at work, not in the shower, and not in his sleep.

It was always there, at the forefront of his mind.

It was infectious. Affecting everything he did. He still tried to put on that smile for his co-workers and his students, but it always managed to fall and disappear.

Everyone could tell that Satoru wasn't well. It was obvious how much Suguru's death had impacted him – especially since he was the one to officially kill his best friend.

Best friends. At least that's what everyone else called them. They didn't get to see the secrecy of their relationship.

They didn't see the sneaky kisses stolen around corners. They didn't see the cuddles and deep talks they had behind closed doors.

They knew nothing.

But Suguru was always there, haunting him. Figuratively, is what Satoru had always thought until tonight.

The dark haired male was literally fucking haunting him.

How did he find out? He saw Suguru's figure in the back of a picture he had snapped. When he saw it, his phone slipped out of his hand and he spun around. His breathing rapid and out of control, especially when he felt that breeze brush past him.

It was that night he rushed to get all kinds of ghost equipment, just so he could talk to his best friend. No, his lover.

Could this be why the thought of Suguru Geto and his death plagued his mind every moment of every day?

. . .

When Satoru had gotten home, he sat on the floor, equipment laid out in front of him.

The REM pod was sat just a few feet away from him, powered on, of course. Suguru knew what some of this stuff was, so he knew Satoru wanted to talk to him.

Whilst Satoru was setting up some other equipment, Suguru decided to see if he could scare the other. He brushed his hand past the REM pod, making it go off momentarily, which made the white haired male jump and curse Suguru.

After a little while, Satoru was sat, spirit box in his hand. And he had a conversation with Suguru for over an hour.

Suguru had attached himself to Satoru when he had died, wanting to stick by his lover's side through death, too. He found out a lot that night.

All of it overwhelmed him, causing him to break down. When he felt a cold pressure against his shoulder, he flinched.

"Do NOT touch me, Suguru! please!"

Almost instantly, the cold was away from him, a light beep from the REM pod was all that was heard.

"All I have to ask of you is to stop fucking haunting me! You're plaguing my fucking mind, you're haunting me both literally and figuratively! please, just... stop."

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. A "sorry" came through the spirit box, a broken voice, which had the male sigh.

"I.. don't forgive you, Suguru. You've ruined my life this past month. Just... let me move on! I can't keep having you haunt my mind every second of my life!"

No response was given after that. Even when Satoru sat there for another hour, there was nothing. No signal that Suguru's spirit was still in the room, still with him.

It showed over the next few weeks, too. The thoughts and memories of Suguru became less and less, Satoru was more motivated in the day, and the smiles came naturally.

He regretted getting rid of Suguru out of his life fully. But he could finally live happy and carefree again, with nothing infecting his mind.

toby's notes ;

thinking about it now.. i don't know if I'd call this full on angst, but it's not fluff, either. sooooo. take it :D

[musamora]

— 𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 + 𝖉𝖆𝖟𝖆𝖎 ₊˚⊹

pairing: osamu dazai (bungou stray dogs) x fem!reader

content warning(s): non-descriptive illness, kisses, cuddling, osamu dazai is a softie, tooth-rotting fluff, sickness care, ailment treatments, pet names (love, belladonna, baby)

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

“Osamu?”

You had awoken in quite a predicament. Swaddled in a clump of blankets with a cool washcloth pressed to your forehead, bubbling cups of tea and soup spinning steam into the air.

However, you partially clued in on the situation when you felt your head pounding. Your throat felt raw as a cough encroached on your breath, your skin was inflamed as sweat gathered by your temples, and your muscles ached as you attempted to stretch your arms. You were sick.

The smirking man before you was how you clued into the next part of your predicament.

“Yes, my love?”

You had no idea how long you had been swaddled up on the living room couch, but knowing Dazai, he had clued in on your sickness hours before you did. A perked brow was your sole response to him.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re sick.” He snuggled into your side, a lopsided grin on his face as he pressed kiss after kiss onto your skin with a coo. “My poor sweet baby.”

“You seem a bit too enthused about this entire thing.”

“Me?” he gasped. “I can’t believe you would accuse me of such a thing!”

He quieted his voice as you winced. “But who wouldn’t be?” he teased, sweet nothing whispered into your ears as he ran his nimble fingers through your hair, massaging them into your temples. “I have an excuse to miss work and spoil my sweet belladonna. Sign me up.”

“Did you somehow get me sick?” you deadpanned.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he whined, digging further into the blankets until he was snuggled up with you, bracing your body against his chest as he lazily burrowed into your neck.

“Mhm,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to his hands. “Watch out. You could get sick.”

“You’re saying that,” he smirked. “But you’re doing nothing to get away.”

“I’m sick, and you’re warm. Sue me.” You leaned into him as you toyed with his bandaged fingers.

He trailed kisses across your neck, his cool skin drawing a soft groan from your lips. “And that means I’ll have extra time to spend with my baby because she’s so sweet, and I know she’ll take of me.”

“Mm, I’ll consider it,” you mumbled, eyes heavy.

He gasped, much to your tired amusement, as tiny giggles escaped your lips between a cough. His arms were hot as they squeezed around your waist, and before long, you found yourself nuzzled into his chest on the cusp of sleep. His fingers traced your features as your eyes fluttered closed, a kiss pressed against your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @sillyspookycat @aureatchi @dazaisms

© MUSAMORA 2023 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

🪡EPILOGUE

“This sucks,” Megumi mumbled, adjusting himself so his head laid on a softer part of your shoulder. “Being cuddled up next to me sucks?” you joked. “No my fucking headache.”

You exhaled a breath, and although your boyfriend may have been in pain, you couldn’t help but smile at the way he continued nuzzling himself into you. He had been like this for the past two days after the ‘incident’. You gently brushed your fingers through his hair trying to soothe whatever tension you could. “Well, at least you seem a little better today.” Megumi just grumbled softly, closing his eyes and letting you basically pet him.

After a couple more minutes, he shifted again, this time moving up to meet your face and stealing a kiss from your lips. “Sorry about keeping you here for so long,” he whispered against them, before kissing you again. “Hm, I don’t mind.”

Just then the door to his room opened, causing you two to quickly move apart. “We’re back!” Yuji announced, “And we brought pizza!” All though his excitement, Megumi just kept glaring him down, not even bothering to sit up until after you did.

“Take it out, we’re not eating on my bed.” Yuji just shushed him, completely ignoring his statement and setting the box down over the covers. “It’s okay, you need your rest we’ll take care of it Megs.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Nobara just snickered, and you almost joined her if it wasn’t for the fact Megumi was right next to you. “You couldn’t have gotten anything easier to digest?” Megumi asked Yuji. “Woah, I just got like a strong sense of deja vu,” Yuji said.

Megumi just ignored him, staring down the now opened pizza box. “Need help little baby?” Nobara teased him. He threw her a glare, but that did very little to actually disturb her. “Open up, here come the airplane!” Yuji exclaimed, picking up a piece of pizza and shoving it in his direction. Although Megumi was fed up with their actions, hearing your laugh beside him made it worth it.

“Give me that,” he said while snatching it out of the others hand.

If Megumi really thought about it, besides his condition, and even if he was kind of annoyed with their behaviour, he wouldn’t have this any other way, with you by his side and his friends companionship in front of him.

After eating, once Nobara and Yuji got distracted argueing over what movie they wanted to put on Megumi’s tv, you pressed a kiss to Megumi’s forehead. “I love you Megs.”

“Love you too Y/n.”

Author’s Note: well that’s it :3

thank you guys for reading!!

vote for next smau here

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins @kasumitenbaz @talkingsperm @nymphsdomain @inlovewithlondonn @rzcnlb @enchantingkitty @fuyuzemi @lysaray @ni-ki-ismyluv @reneny @frumira @mixzimi @miralunaela @dreamxiing @p3achiee @anianurst @fishii28 @arguendo @samutoru @hallothankmas @invisible-mori @aiserex @all-in-the-fandoms @milza12 @nyxlai @daintyminho @tokyodarlng @molovs @hopeladybug @dazaisms

[dazaisms]

thanks for the tag!!!!

tags are open for anyone to join!!!!!

Tag game!! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ✨

Birthday colour vs favourite character.

Link to birthday colour

Tagging: @white-flower-blooming // @shaxxophone // @queerferalgremlinnooneaskedfor // @31duskballs // @weepingpussywillowtree // @subtlybrilliant // @jadedzer0// @icarus-suraki // @oneiro-nautical // @fismoll7secinv // @princessofxianle // @quilleth //

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა if you are not tagged but want to join, please feel free to reblog this post with your results and favourite character, I'd love to see it!!

[tofumiarchives]

★;; mutuals I regularly interact with, ♡;; irls, ∆;; mutuals I haven't talked with in a long time / don't interacted with often, ✮;; haven't interacted, but are technically mutuals

˗ˏˋ MUTUALS ! ´ˎ˗

∆,, @abyss-mystic

♡,, @tired-xyra-urstruly

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˗ˏˋ ANONS ! ´ˎ˗

,, shello

[vxnuslogy]

— to you, who finally saw the sun.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: to you, who finally saw the sun, i bid you one final farewell.

— warnings: angst (kinda, i also dont know), bittersweet goodbyes, they do kiss yippie, written before the 2.7 update.

— author’s notes: in honor of getting e1s1 sunday, have this actual final stellaronhunter!sunday fic. art credits to 隐世樱yyy on weibo. also, fun little easter egg, colored texts are a reference to previous stellaronhunter!sunday fics i've made, so yeah!! maximum emotional damage!!!!!| ~2.8k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @mitsvriii @https-sourlimes @dazaisms @st6rly @pneumosia @tetrachrxmacy ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms on my pinned or post or send me an ask off anon!!

how long has it been since sunday played the piano?

he can’t quite remember the last time he pressed a finger to the delicate white notes and let its noise resound in the room. but he does recount the harsh judgemental stare his instructure had whenever he made a mistake—a note lingering too long and going off course, it always led to the snap of a ruler to his wrist.

“do you play?” a voice from behind asked.

sunday turned around to capture the stars in your eyes. when he met your gaze halfway, a gentle smile grazed his lips before his golden eyes skidded to the instrument once more. “yes, i do. though i have not played in years.”

he heard the click of your shoes as you approached. sunday took a peek from the corner of his eyes as you longingly stared at the grand piano in front of you both. your gloved hands gliding over the polished wood before you eventually sat down by the small stool. you turn your head to him, hair fluttering with the wind as he feels the remaining breath in his lungs be taken away because of your smile. you patted down the space beside you and sunday reluctantly took it.

“will you play me a song?” your request was nothing but a small plea, one exhale away from crumbling. sunday didn’t know about that—he never will. you mask the desperation in your voice when the first note rang and sunday looked at you with a smile.

“i apologize if it sounds rusty,” he looked bashful and bare in this light. drapes of white clouds, dark blue galaxies, and golden suns hang from his body and you couldn’t help but stare. the wings behind his ears flutter in embarrassment with your silence so you laugh—forced, melancholic, and unlike you. 

“i’ll love anything you play, sunday.” and you weren’t lying.

when the following notes soon echoed in the empty music room that was once reserved for only kafka, you let your desire to be close to him consume your entire being. sunday flinched slightly when your head fell on his shoulder, but didn’t shrug you off. with a flustered clear of his throat he continued.

sunday played the piano like it would be his last performance—forever caging himself to the audience after this performance to never take the stage again. he felt your emotions like they were tangible items courtesy to the halo behind his head, because the following song, he briefly muttered “for you” under his breath.

you both relished the moment spent by each other’s side. 

to sunday, this song was dedicated to the person who dragged him onto the stage once more. despite all his reluctance, difficult attitude, and past grudges, he will always bathe you in a golden light like the followers of xipe. singing choirs about your greatness till the end of time as he remained as your faithful follower. this was his thank you to you, and he felt it would never quite repay the kindness you’ve given him.

but to you, this was goodbye. each note, though filled with tender affection and cherished dreams, pinched at your heart like tiny pins and needles. you looked up to gaze at his face—calm, moved on from the past, and freed. though not fully, his contract with jade still remains, he was as free as the express travelling the cosmos. 

this was goodbye.

“will you play a song for me too, sunny?” a voice from the entrance joked.

there stood kafka, in her usual attire but without the coat, leaning by the door frame with arms crossed over her chest. you chuckled as sunday hid his embarrassed and flushed face, finding an excuse to say “no.” because everyone knew—order or finality—that sunday will only play for you.

“nothing to worry about angel,” kafka seemed solemn as she cleared her throat. she motioned for both of you to get up and follow her. “new mission is here. be sure to do your best, m’kay?”

sunday furrowed his brows as his wings twitched in confusion. kafka only took a few steps forward before leaving you two alone once more. you shook your head as you took his gloved hand in yours and tugged him in the direction of his new home. even though it's been a while since he joined, sunday still never voiced his worries—a habit you hope will slowly die out once he arrives at the boarding station.

“where are we going this time?” he asked. now he only realized your new attire and he feels his eyes wander. a black undershirt and pants, layered with a white asymmetrical coat. the gold cuffs of your sleeves caught the moonlight and casted a faint glow of your tears. sunday doesn’t get the chance to say something when a body crashed onto his back.

“good luck, mister,” silver wolf buried her face onto his back. arms tightly wrapped around his waist. if you looked closely, you would notice the way she slowly started stepping back—trying to prevent sunday from going out the doors he once entered from.

but sunday only chuckled. he turned to face the girl, patted her head and squatted down to her height as he slowly tried to pry the arms hiding her tear stained face. “it’s going to be alright, i have [name] with me, remember? they’re elio’s favorite, remember?”

the girl gripped the sleeves of his coat with an iron grip. sunday frowned in sadness, he hated seeing the girl so upset over a mission. and all you did was stand there, motionless as the clock by your waist continued to tick.

“sunday.” you call and you don’t know what shattered you the most: silver wolf’s fresh tears, or how sunday cradled and shielded her from your harsh reality.

silver wolf eventually peeled herself away. with a harsh motion, she wiped away all her tears and returned to her quirky self, “you better beat the final boss! if you don’t, then don’t bother to show yourself to me ever again!”

sunday nodded and once he reached your side, he waved the silver haired girl goodbye and fell into the same steps as you. each turn, each stairway taken to reach the skies, it drowns your lungs in realization. and like the time when you were both drenched in the rain, the ticket in your back pocket suddenly felt heavier than it should.

“leaving without as much as a word?” 

you both stopped in your tracks and turned around. the hallway was dimmed, your only witness being the moon in its full glory. sunday was the first to break the delicate silence with a soft utter of ignorance, something you never realized could happen.

“a mission that requires both of us,” he replied, a sketchy smile on his lips as he slowly shielded your vision of the immortal man from view. “we won’t take long. it won’t end like it did back in the capital of passion. i promise.”

you felt blade’s judgeful stare before he let out a heavy sigh. he threw a small journal bound by beds of stars onto his hands and handed you a sheathed sword. “i expect you to be back before dawn.”

sunday nodded and you don’t have the heart to tell him that blade wasn’t speaking to nor about him. 

“sunday wait!”

right when you were about to board your car—a testimony to your genius in engineering, sunday still wondered how you got it to work like the express. firefly ran out the door with nothing but her sleep attire. she clutched a small item to her chest as sunday looked at you. you hated the look of expectation in his irises, but you still relent. with a heavy sigh, you muttered, ‘5 minutes’ before you entered the car. sunday nodded like an obedient servant and met firefly halfway.

“i–!” she tried to find the words to say, but they always fell short by the time a sound escaped her lips. but sunday was understanding, he was kind, so he waited. like a dutiful older brother letting his baby sister come out of her shell.

beats of silence passed before firefly settled on a simple goodbye, “please take care on your mission.” she took his hand and handed him a small pen. his name delicately engraved on the fountain pen’s cap in her handwriting. 

the wind howled and she shivered. and like a moment right before a mission started and ended, sunday took off the white hood over his shoulders and draped it over her. “thank you, firefly. i’ll be sure to put it to good use.”

sunday wished firefly told him the rest of her thoughts, but he saved them for another time he will never have. even as he buckled the seatbelt in your car and drove off, firefly tried to chase after you. and if he looked close enough, soft glimmers of hopeful tears would be seen.

“you never answered my question.”

you looked at him from the rearview mirror. the way he carefully placed the fountain pen in the journal and the way he softly grazed the cover—afraid that the small book would shatter under his fingertips.

“it must have slipped my mind. what was your question again?”

“where are we going?”

you wet your lips and tighten the hold on the steering wheel. you don’t answer immediately. instead, you let your vehicle warp through space like a nameless traveler through the stars. when you start unbuckling your seatbelt, sunday follows shortly and you both get out.

“penacony.”

sunday feels his vision blur and merge into one giant puddle. he feels you drape another hood identical to the one he gave firefly as you harshly tugged it over his head. your hand finding its way to his and tug him towards a familiar direction.

“h-hold on!” he cries out in a desperate plea, but you don’t turn around. “what business could we have in penacony?! and,” sunday’s eyes wander again over your figure and feels dread start to bubble in his stomach—you weren’t wearing a disguise like you did in past missions.

you don’t answer and sunday feels his wings hug his abdomen tighter and tighter. he can already imagine the ghostly hands of the family—even under robin’s guidance—do unspeakable things to you. sunday can’t have that, he will never allow you to be caged in their clutches like they did with him. so with all the force he could muster, all the while being mindful of your comfort, he caught your wrist in a firm hold and turned around. tugging you in the direction of your home.

“sunday.”

“apologies, but i promised blade. bare with me for a moment longer.”

“sunday.”

“[name], please.”

“sunday.”

“cease the uttering of my name! do you not understand the position we are in right now?!”

sunday never shouts—not in anger, but in worry. he takes gulfs of air into his lungs as if he’s being dragged to the bottom of the ocean as he looks at you with blown eyes. his wings flapping erratically, fanning the reddening of his face as the pair by his waist briefly flutters. if you close your eyes and listen carefully, you can hear the soft clinks of the golden exoskeleton you created just for him.

“sunday,”

“i believe this is where your journey ends, mister sunday.”

“our story is over.”

you feel the world still as small orbs of danger surround you both. a man with whiting hair stands behind him, a cane glowing in pink as you feel your body grow heavier and heavier. welt pushes his glasses up and lets his eyes fall to you.

“[name].” he says in a tense tone. the grip on his cane so tight you’d argue beneath the gloves he wore, his knuckles were turning white in confusion.

“mr. yang.” you reply back, calmer than the loud beating inside the column of bones inside your chest. “please let him go.”

the older gentleman debated in his mind. before sunday could raise a hand, you step forward and force him to face you. you feel your body go back to normal and you sigh. sunday on the other hand, remains on guard as the golden eyes you grew fond off stared at you with emotions that could only be named as betrayal.

“the express misses you, [name].” welt says, “it won’t hurt to say goodbye to them.”

you only nod bitterly. “thank you, mr. yang. but there’s really no need.”

“what do you mean our story is over?” you hear sunday murmur.

you take a shaky deep breath, of all the ways he could ask, why did he do it as if he was about to cry? you shut your eyes tightly, you let your desires consume you again as you interlace your hands together in one final hold before you relax and exhale. when you open your eyes, you feel tears drop one by one like idrila’s blood. welt stays motionless behind him, looking at you both in confliction.

“welt,” you lower both your hands, stepping in front of the angel. “i know this isn’t the reunion you had hoped for. but please believe me when i say that we come in peace. i’ve come to return what is lost.”

welt’s frown deepens, “i take it you aren’t talking about yourself.”

“no, and i never will.” you feel sunday’s arm snake around your waist and his head fall on your shoulder. and suddenly, it felt like your shopping trip with the rest of the hunters was today.

“please wait for us by the golden hour.”

“no…” sunday weakly protests. “i can’t leave, i won’t allow myself.”

“welt. please.”

“mr. yang, please don’t.”

“welt–”

“i’ll wait.” the older man says in a rushed tone. he was quick to turn around and start walking away. it was unlike him, but you don’t blame him. after all, the missing child of the express was now found and the previous head of the oak family were together—with conflicting convictions to top it.

his steps grew fainter and fainter until all you could feel was sunday’s tears and his quiet whimpers, begging you to not let him go.

“sunday,” you mutter, slowly facing him. “our story is over. you need to go.”

“what about you… will you stay behind?”

“i have to.”

“no you don’t!” his volume rises as his arms tighten around your waist. “you can come with me. they’ve been looking for you, they’ll accept you! so please, don’t make me lose you, too.”

you chuckle, and for the first time tonight, you smile genuinely. “silly bird, you’re not going to lose me.”

“but i already have…”

you frown. you try to pull away from his embrace but he still keeps you caged in his arms. “sunday, will you play me a song?”

“enough, please.”

you pat down his hair, pull away just an inch, and cradle his face. “sing me a song about adventures and stars. can you do that?”

“will you come with me if i do?”

you shake your head no and he dives his face into the crook of your neck again. you laugh in disbelief at his stubbornness. it reminds you of the time he first started to try and take flight. how long ago was that memory? you can’t quite put a number on it but it no longer matters.

“sunday,” you sing his name like a song to be remembered. reaching into your back pocket, you take out a golden ticket and gently lay it flat on sunday’s palm. when you meet his eyes again, his wings obscure half of his face. you gently push them away and rub away the tears staining his cheeks and press your foreheads together. “perform. not for me, but the world. your stage is set, all you need to do is step on it.”

his gloved hands hold yours, you feel his head turn for his lips to meet the palm of your hand as presses a soft kiss that leaves the spot tingling. “will you watch me play?”

you drag a knuckle down his nose, an action too affectionate for people who claim to be just “comrades.” suddenly it dawns on you that kafka’s teasing, firefly’s giggles, silver wolf’s eye rolling, blade’s huffs and elio’s script all align for this moment. with a careful step forward, you invade the line with the words “comrades” and look up. you feel his breath on your lips and you smile.

“for all eternity, my eyes will always be yours.” you stand on your toes and press your lips together in a final goodbye. his arms hug your waist just a tad bit tensely as sunday tries his reciprocate—but in the back of your mind, you know he doesn’t have to try. sunday loves you like it's as easy as breathing.

“sunday, congratulations. you’ve finally seen the sun.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[swimminginyokohamasrivers]

@teddymochi @dazaisms :3

@dniosamu hey chuuuya if you really dont like me and dont want me to interact, why are you my second biggest fan hmmm??

[dazaisms]

HOLY OQNDOQKRWKIADIWJRB

does he need a cat? bitch i can meow. or does he prefer dogs?? i can bark too.

Ivan Goncharov

artists: @chiy_1

[dazaisms]

meow.

[kaiserkisser]

mutuals 1

alright i wanted to make a mutuals list to keep track of all of you wonderful people, know that i absolutely adore yall even if we don't interact much/ havent interacted in ages and i apologize for the tags tis a one time thing (maybe) (ʘᴗʘ✿) (also i wrote this in the order that u guys followed me on this blog i think)

if somehow i forgot you/ you dont consider us mutuals pls dont hesitate to lmk and ill add/remove u np <3 and again ilyyy :D

@floraldresvi @mikacynth @meowmaii @alexisomnias @m1shapanda @ilyuu @kitorin @seelestia @damyoujackson @yoimyas @noomon @camvrin @noctuamagna @starchivves @kaitfae @supernova25 @obeymearmageddonau @aventurne @nordicbananas @utterlybrainwrecked @dumbificat @whateverimareader @swimminginyokohamasrivers @dazaisms @haruu-luv @xianyoon @syunkiss @elizais @casinoownersigma @chuuyabutdrunk @haismie @colors-and-water @iamthemess @remingtoniii @creatorbiaze @papiliotao @callilouv @bungouchronicles @alhenaonthestage @rivermist606 @myboyherodotus @sonics-atelier @saelique @mariaace @milk-violet @lensbananas @moshighostx @thegolden-tigeress @starracoonagain @ranpd