YOU JUSTIFY THOSE THAT DIED

azrael / zai . he/they . masterlist . mw @reapkusho !!!

side spam blog : @mahitotruther . ask to be moots . bllk oc anons : 🐟 . 🦭 || pfp by @/keshiki-scenery

requests : open [no nsfw, gore, anything grotesque]

frequent writer for : bllk . bsd . jjk . free! isc . hq!! other fandoms : mtp . mha . wbkr . tokyo rev . kny + more

works seem familiar ? previously : kenyuukissme . azraeyuu .

(free me #wlw hg)

HAPPY PRIDE XENA

ily for this anon

half full, or half empty?

the glass of water you just brought for ryuunosuke akutagawa... he swears by whatever god is out there that it's half empty.

and that's not the issue; see, he's grateful that you got up from your comfy spot, skipped over the cold tiles and into the kitchen to grab him a glass of water. he's very grateful that you did something he very well could've done on his own, for him.

the issue, albeit small, was that the glass was half empty.

if you're going to do something, you should do it right, right??

he claims that its half empty. hell, it might as well be fully empty!

you argue that it's half full. and at least it is full, although only halfway.

half is a lot...!

as you quarrel back and forth, he grows more and more irritated, and the water seems to not be increasing or decreasing at any rate.

you begrudgingly return to the kitchen with his half filled cup to top it up, mumbling to yourself about how he's too fussy. when you hand it back to him in the living room, you flop down across from him, feigning annoyance.

he drinks his full glass of water until it is around halfway, putting it down beside him.

"why were you so adamant that it was half empty if you only planned to drink half?" you raise your eyebrow slightly.

"because I was about to give you the other half," he calmly responds, holding out the glass to you.

you shake your head, smiling softly to yourself.

"it's okay, i already drank some before. half of your glass, to be specific."

that joke didn't land too well with him.

TGIS IS WHAT I WAS REFERENCING EARLIER BYTHEWAY

LMFAOAOOOOOOOO YOU SONT KNOW HOW FUNNY THIS IS

good looking boy.

you are no stranger to michael kaiser.

no matter what he does; he can cut his hair, tattoo his red eyeliner, dye his ends blue, become a world-famous soccer player, find meaning to life... that man will always have a visceral reaction to your name.

they say that hair holds memories.

when micha was still your sweet boy, you would take care of his hair for him.

it was long and blond—natural and beautiful, in all its glory. you'd brush through it, time after time.

his hair was so well-kept, even when long and left open while playing soccer, because it was you who tended to it. you'd rake your fingers through it while he bent over the bathtub, laughing at how he groaned in discomfort, yet refused to take a break.

you'd tousle it with a towel, trying to dry it a little before letting it air dry. on winter evenings, you'd blow dry it, brushing it out as he'd tell you about his day. begrudgingly, but it was progress.

when he truly just wanted to chop it all off—start over, or end it there—, you'd be extra gentle. you'd let him sit with his back against the bathtub, his head leant back slightly so that you could lean over him and massage the soap in and out of his hair from the front. he'd never admit it—and fuck, he wishes he did—, but it felt nice.

you'd tousle it with a towel from the ends, to not cause more distress or pressure at his head. you'd blow dry it and brush it out as usual, being careful to not pull at knots too hard.

finally, before he'd fall asleep in your arms, you'd braid his hair.

one long, loose but neat braid. he grew quite fond of it, over the amount of draining days he saw, before he went pro.

before he went pro and ditched you.

so yes, kaiser, the new-gen 11 prodigy, thinks about you sometimes.

whenever he comes home from a rough day on the field, and his hair is greasy, and it's itchy, and he's hyperaware of how it's touching his skin, he doesn't tie it up in a braid.

one, because it's now cut into uneven chunks. and two, because it would remind him of you.

you, who treated him with such tenderness and kindness that he had never seen or felt before. only dreamt of.

you, who adored his long, blond hair.

you, whose name would forever be a chapter unopened in his book of life.

you, who thought he was beautiful, even before all the hair cutting, hair colouring, tattooing and finding meaning in life.

hair dye, tattoos, fame, reasons to live—they all fade. but his memory of you does not falter. what a burden to bear; a reason to live deterred.

but is there truly any meaning to life, if he's lost you?

evil assumption and blindness made me think that what im generously sprinkiling on my beautiful red strawberries is sugae

my cousin comes bqck and i ask him "damn these strawberris taste weird asf" TELL ME WHY I PICK UP THE PACKET AND FOCUS ON TBE WORDA A LITTLE TO READ "SALT"

eveyone laughed at me bro

Oh my gof NO WAY. i’ve done this shit too lkke

at times i wanted to experiment with my themes too but i need to assert my dominance of kaiser to the commonfolk 😔😔😔

the life of being the sole kaiser fan

on some i dont feel like sharing nonchalant shit

THANK YOUUUUU

THIS IS GENUINELY FRYING ME u da real kaiser fan

AWWWW THANK YOU ;3333