Cool ones i wanna keep
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Summary
“There’s something we need to talk about,” Dazai says, voice low.
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Summary
Port Mafia Executive Dazai Osamu finds himself at yet another Chuuya Nakahara concert, counting down every song until he can sneak his way backstage and make him scream a song he actually likes.
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Canon Divergence where Chuuya (22) defects instead of Dazai (22) and becomes a rockstar, but Dazai's freaky infatuation won't stop for a career change
(Chuuya makes Dazai hard & Dazai's obsession makes a stubborn Chuuya wet) -
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Summary
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the voice of a man sang, filling Chuuya with dread. This instinct he knew to trust. Yōkai often took the shape of people to gain the trust of their victims, their true forms being revealed only in the moments before death. Even the wise old ladies could not tell him what he was dealing with, just that it bore a terrible plague upon the region for centuries.
Chuuya, a spirit hunter, is the last resort for exorcising an evil spirit that has been tormenting a mountainous village in rural Kyoto for centuries. The first rule is to not play its game when asked. The second rule is that once he bears witness to its form, he's already dead.
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He heard several variations of the tale that befell this place. Most not so good. But the story was so old that it was impossible for it not to have turned into something fantastic and whimsical in the modern age. Whimsical, because it became a children’s bedtime story. Children did not like the idea of going to sleep with the story ending in the man-eating kitsune devouring its lover hand-by-hand and leaving the head for last. All the merrier, so the poor, dead human can feast their soulless eyes upon their trickster that was once between their thighs and now closed in on their face.
(Or: Chuuya uncovers the harrowing tale of the nine-tailed fox and lives to tell it.)
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Summary
“A hundred years.”
“Hm?”
“A hundred years,” Chuuya says again, looking up from his closed fist to meet Dazai’s eyes again. A fire of determination burns in the set of his mouth, the furrow of his brow, the look in his eyes. “I’ll hold onto it for a hundred years and then you’ll come back for it. As soon as you get your second tail. Promise?”
Once upon a time, a snake and a fox met in a forest and made a promise to stay friends forever.