Dazai Osamu - Blog Posts
It's late.
Dazai feels a little ashamed, if he were to be honest. How pathetic is it that he's unable to sleep unless in the arms of his coworker? A little pathetic. His eyebrows furrow as he begins to pick the lock to your apartment.
It's late. You're probably asleep.
He's jealous. Yeah; the clenching feeling in his chest is jealousy from your ability to sleep through the nights (a feeling of his that isn't shared towards his well-rested coworkers). You're asleep, and he should be. He will be.
The door clicks quietly, and Dazai doesn't react. How many times has he broken into your apartment? The question is left unanswered as he saunters into the place, making sure to close and lock it behind him.
You're asleep. It's late.
He makes a pit stop by your kitchen, staring blankly into your fridge like he'd do if he lived here. He counts the number of half finished water bottles littering the shelves, dispersed in between random ingredients you don't open and snacks that are dwindling in number.
If Dazai lived here, maybe he could make you dinner sometime. Gather the ingredients to fill your fridge, put a pan on the stove — however people cook, he can't remember. The fridge closes quietly; It's late. You're asleep.
With a final glance towards the sink, taking note of the dirty cutlery delicately balanced around the edges, he makes his way into the hall. Three steps and he'd be outside your door, your bedroom door, where you're asleep.
Dazai pushes away the same thought that keeps appearing in his mind. Of course you're asleep, it's late.
He turns away from your bedroom and finds himself standing in your living room. It's happily lived in - cushions that have lost their fluff, a blanket strewed across the couch haphazardly. His hand runs over it; always the same blanket. Dazai can imagine sitting under this blanket on the couch with you, the couch you two would share, watching some movie on your small tv just across the small room.
If he lived here, he'd make sure to tidy up the living room before you two went to bed. You kept a basket of blankets just next to the tv, and Dazai could easily drape the blanket back into it before following you off to bed. For now, he leaves it; There'd be no trace he was here come morning.
Once again, he finds himself mere steps away from your bedroom door. You live alone, for now, and yet keep the door closed every night. Is it habit? Are you worried some barbarian will break in just to watch you sleep? (Dazai isn't here to watch you, of course; He's here to sleep as well.) If that is what you're worried about, he could always spend the night with you, just to make sure you're safe. Well, spend the whole night with you, rather than breaking in late and sneaking out early.
Dazai turns into the bathroom.
You have the cutest rug next to your shower, one that always makes Dazai smile. A tough persona is applied at the agency, so only he is privy to your cute pink Sanrio bathmat. It's not what he would have expected for you, and that's what makes him smile. Your counter holds an electric toothbrush and has a lot of clutter Dazai wants to sort through. If he lived with you, he could place his toothbrush next to yours and keep your hair care stuff in the cabinet below. Maybe one day you'd let Dazai comb your hair, with a brush or just his fingers.
It's late. You're asleep. The same thought Dazai has been pushing down since he began the walk to your apartment fills his head once more. He's not delusional, no, but what if you weren't asleep? What if you were waiting up, just for him?
His hand touches the doorknob. It's late. You have no reason to think he's coming. The door opens slowly and quietly as he peers in.
You're asleep.
Dazai's chest constricts and he can't help the frown pulling at his lips. Of course you're asleep; He's stupid to get his hopes up. If you were awake anyway, you'd kick him out and probably call the cops. He is trespassing right now, at a time when you're most vulnerable.
Still, Dazai slips into your warm, cream-colored sheets, his hands clasped together under his cheek as he lies on his side. You're so calm, so serene under the dull light of a street lamp just outside the bedroom window. Hesitantly, Dazai's hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, the tips of his fingers experimentally tracing your skin.
His eyes flutter shut when you move closer. Were you used to his presence? Dazai likes to think you need him to sleep as much as he needs you. Sure, you could fall asleep without him curled up beside you, but maybe he was soothing nightmares. The thought made him frown. He shouldn't care, he shouldn't be here. His eyebrows furrowed like they had when he first broke in — this is weird. This is illegal, too.
A frustrated puff of air leaves his mouth, his eyes shutting more firmly. Tighter, tighter — why isn't he asleep yet?
He curls more into himself, feeling ashamed and embarrassed and anxious and annoyed and-
Your hand moves from your chest to his, softly resting over his heart. The small smile resides back on Dazai's face as he relaxes, slowly drifting to sleep in your bed.
Light filters in through your sheer curtains, the sun kissing your face as you quickly wake up. The blaring of your alarm was the first thing you'd noticed, rubbing your eyes with one hand as you turned to shut it off. Just a few moments of peace, and then you'd get up....
Those few moments didn't come to pass before you were hit with a boost of energy, sitting up in your empty bed. Of course your bed was empty, no need to emphasize it. You live alone, did you expect someone to be there when you woke up?
Dazai is antsy. For those who've seen him regularly the past month, this isn't a new sight: him pulling at the edges of his bandages, shifting continuously in his seat, eyes flittering back and forth... It happens daily at this point.
Until you show up, when he jumps into your arms, drapes himself over your back, leans into your side, anything he can do to be as physically close to you as possible. His clinginess has started to affect your work, unable to do much as Dazai pulls you onto his lap during the day or sits on yours, head pushed into your shoulder. At least lunches are fine as he pulls you onto the Agency's couch and holds you from behind: you can still access your packed food (which Dazai always steals bites of).
Holding your hand isn't enough, either. Dazai needs to be on top of you or have you on top of him, or he's antsy — which leads us to now. He's shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat of your car, the edges of his bandages unraveling as he picks at them. A small look of panic crosses his face as he finally notices, discretely trying to pull them more tightly in hopes of bringing them back to how they were before.
He glances over at you. Your eyes were focused on the road, one hand holding the steering wheel and the other resting on your lap. The hand was taunting Dazai, practically begging him to grab it... so he did. You glance at the intertwined hands briefly before smiling at him, focusing back on the road right after.
...
It wasn't helping. You're right there and he can't hold you? So close he can smell you but can't have you in his embrace?! This must be his own hell, fashioned by Satan himself to torture Dazai for all eternity (or for the next ten minutes before you reach your destination).
"You alright, Dazai?"
He huffs at your question; Of course not. The childish pout on his face makes you let out a breathy laugh. He turns to you with such adoration - what an adorable sound that he coaxed out of you... Ugh, it just makes him want to hold you more.
You squeeze his hand reassuringly, the feeling causing Dazai to relax momentarily... Until once again he's thinking about the warmth of your hand, and how much warmer it'd be to hold you.
"How much longer?" He whines, the same pout on his lips.
"GPS says seven minutes. Are you that excited for this case?" An amused smirk plays on your lips, the teasing tone making Dazai's heart flutter.
He shifts in his seat, the hand not holding yours fidgeting with the fabric of his vest. "Excited for it to be over," he replies, trying to keep his gaze out the window and not on you.
"Seven minutes, and then you can solve it."
Seven minutes. Seven long, excruciating minutes in hell before he can touch you again, hold you again. Seven minutes, 420 seconds, a few red lights and then a shoddy parking job. Seven minutes... seven...
You let out a yelp, eyes widening as you swerve slightly on the road. "Dazai!" You chastise, both hands moving to tightly grip the steering wheel.
His face is pressed up against your neck, hands grabbing you tightly as he leans over the car's center console to be closer. A stupid grin sits on his lips as he giggles, feeling heady from your warmth. Mmm, this is what he was missing...
"Dazai, I'm driving!" you say, as though the man would understand and move off of you. Instead, he lets out a low whine and hugs you tighter, entirely off of his seat and pressing up against you.
"I'm not stopping you." Your gaze shifts over towards him. "Eyes on the road." You huff, but do as he says. His eyes were closed, how could he see you looking at him?
"You can't do this, Dazai."
"It's like you said: it's only seven minutes," Dazai grinned smugly. Part of him wanted to ask why you didn't like him holding you so closely, but he knew you didn't mind. Should he be clinging to you while you're driving? Probably not, but then maybe you shouldn't be so warm and inviting.
You say nothing else, now focused entirely on the road with a tight grip on the steering wheel. Dazai says nothing either: after all, he got what he wanted.
Dazai didn't mind you playing with his hand. In fact, he kind of liked the attention and care you seemed to be showing him, even if it was just towards one appendage. Light tugging and pushing on fingers, delicately tracing his knuckles and the scars littering the back, and even occasionally lacing your fingers with his for a moment — Dazai was happy to let you do it all. To think hands that have previously participated in such horrid acts could be treated so gently made butterflies erupt in his tummy.
He let you do whatever (having trouble saying no to you) while he wasted time rereading his book. You'd pull his hand to your face sporadically through your time playing with it, so it never caused Dazai any alarm. Sometimes you would inspect it closely, sometimes you'd drag his calloused fingertips along your cheek just to see if the degree of toughness had changed, but his favorite was when you'd press a tiny kiss to his palm. Usually that meant playtime was over — soon you'd drop his hand onto his lap and scurry away. Even knowing it brought about the end of his favorite time with you, the tingly feeling of your lips on his skin lingering long after you'd leave made it worth it. All this to say, Dazai was used to you tugging his hand up towards his face, bringing it closer to your mouth. He had to work overtime to keep his heartbeat steady, certain of what was to come next, when...
"Ow!"
It was hard to catch Dazai off guard. You weren't even trying, you just... Well, you wanted to see what would happen.
"Did you just bite me?" He couldn't help the amused (his coworkers would say smitten) smile on his lips as he turned to look at you.
You turned to him with wide doe eyes, a deer caught in headlights as you seemed unaware you had even done something wrong. Timidly, you press a tiny, chaste kiss to the tip of his middle finger — the same finger you'd gently bitten the top of moments prior.
"Mmh... Sorry, Dazai." Your words were languid, gently squeezing his hand before dropping it out of your hold.
Dazai wanted to pout, to say 'you forgot my kiss' while pointing to his palm, but he was too focused on his middle finger — the tingling of where you kissed him and the warmth of your mouth he'd felt around his fingertip for a fleeting moment. As you shuffled beside him, preparing to stand up, his hand shot out to grip yours.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The smirk on his face told you he wasn't too upset by your impulsive action, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Um, away..?"
A grin spanned across his face as he leaned closer. "Not before my payback, you aren't."
Losing distance, his mouth opened slowly until his head stopped just over your shoulder. "I require penance, you know," he mumbled before biting down onto the soft skin.
small insinuation of self harm
Dazai realizing he loves his s/o, telling them, and then wanting to tell the world ! He's very dramatic, so he repeats it religiously at the agency - a mantra that follows him everywhere :))
Until afterwards when he's alone in his apartment, heart beating out of his chest and feeling especially anxious. What's wrong with him? He didn't do anything differently today than he normally does...
He thinks hard as to what might be causing this, when the door opens and you step in. Oh, he's anxious about you.
But why? He loves you! He's quick to say it as you close and lock his door, and the feeling suddenly returns.
Oh.
He feels a sudden urge to break up with you, loosen contact, drive you away - Does he love you? He didn't want to tell anyone else (he did, he regrets it now). What happens if he falls out of love? Why did he do that? His chest just keeps squeezing, keeps constricting — feeling almost as though he was drowning in his thoughts. A moment of reprieve is granted only by the gentle placement of your hand over his heart.
"Are you alright?"
A few deep breaths and Dazai's heart rate is back in his control. Yes, he loves you, he thinks. But saying it is too scary.
Dazai just looks at you, a war tearing between his brain and his heart, unable to decide how to feel. His brain wants him to vanish: pack up and leave you forever so he doesn't have to deal with this vulnerability. His heart, however, wants to pull you closer. Never leave you, never let you out of his sight, always keep you within six feet of him to protect and love— and like you.
You pull his head onto your chest, cradling it in one hand as the other cards through his hair. "You can tell me anything, you know."
Dazai knows. But telling you he's not actually sure he loves you after his huge breakthrough what was merely the night before feels cruel.
It took a lot for him to open up and admit that, and he's not sure he can open up and admit that he regrets it. He should leave you - you deserve someone better, someone who can shout from the rooftops that you're theirs. But selfishly, he wants to hold you close and let you sooth him.
Seeing him still so torn, not moving as you hold him, causes a frown to come onto your face. All you want is for him to be happy and healthy and loved, and you'd thought you had a 66.67% success rate (you're working on the health thing). Like Dazai had moments prior, you wrack your brain for a change, and quickly land the same place he did: his love for you.
You smile softly, maybe a little sadly, and pull him closer until he's sitting on your lap. "Osamu," you press a kiss to the crown of his head.
He says nothing, just staring blankly. This is the hardest he's ever had to work to keep his heart in check, to stop the frantic beating. Is it hot in here? Should he take off his coat? Why can't he tell everyone he loves his partner? He does love them, he does.
How are you supposed to approach this? If you say you don't have to love me, he could go on the defensive. You just want him to relax. "I'd never force you to do something against your best interest."
Dazai meekly nods. Of course not. You always focus on him and his needs, emotionally and physically. You pack him lunches so he doesn't skip it at work and force him to eat dinners with you most nights. He just now notices the plastic takeout bag on the table - you must have brought that in when you first arrived. You want what's best for him, and he loves you for that! Doesn't he? Does he?
"I don't want you to force yourself into doing anything— saying anything you aren't ready for yet."
Dazai shuts his eyes tightly. Of course you figured it out. Feeling anxious, his heart beats desperately as he relinquishes control, not caring if you notice. Several soft apologies begin to fall from his lips quicker than you can stop them. The turmoil of this is eating him alive, and he hates it. Is running still an option? Does he even want to? The only thing keeping him from opening up new scars tonight is the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He's not sure if he'd leave even if you made him.
Fuck, but staying is so hard. His hands move up to tightly grip the fabric of your shirt, bunching it up between his fingers in hopes to ground himself.
You say nothing, allowing Dazai time to collect himself. Minutes pass, the food you brought likely cold now as Dazai just breathes in your embrace. A small growl from your stomach pulls him from his head finally, a small smile on his face as he looks up, seeing an embarrassed blush decorating your cheeks.
"Sorry, sorry!" Suddenly you're burying your head in Dazai's chest, seeking solace from your embarrassment. You trust him, love him enough to let him comfort you, just as he does you. A groan comes out of your mouth as your hands cover your face.
Dazai chuckles, pulling your head up before gently removing the hands covering your face. Your shoulders fall as Dazai's smile makes you relax. Whatever's bothering him won't go away over night, but you'll always be there to help.
"Come on, let's go eat," Dazai says, voice much calmer than it is when he's loudly boasting about his s/o at the agency. You don't mind. You like this version of Dazai all the same.
He loves you, he's sure of it. He just needs some time to properly accept it before yelling it from the rooftops - and you're more than happy to give him that time.
Dazai's playful grin falters as you chastise him once more, the words punctuated with his name. His last name, once again.
"Why don't you ever call me by my first name?"
Your playful attitude freezes at his question, your fake pout dropping as you turn slack jawed. "W-what?" A stutter passes through your lips as you just continue to stare.
"We've been dating for a few months now, and you never call me by my name." He plays off his words as a joke, something to fluster you, but with the way his fingers slightly pinch and pull at the edges of his bandages, you can tell he's being vulnerable.
An embarrassed blush decorates your face as you just continue to stare at him.
"I'd like it if you'd call me by my name, love." His flirting isn't helpful. From vulnerable fidgets to a cocky grin, Dazai (for once) inaccurately pegs your blush as a flustered reaction, likely feeling shy at the notion he'd now mentioned.
Inaccurate, because it wasn't a matter of not feeling ready, or close enough, but rather because-
"...What's your first name..?"
-you'd forgotten.
Dazai's eyes widen in a rare expression of genuine shock, his movements pausing at your timid question. The embarrassed blush decorating your face that had briefly fooled Dazai only began to grow.
You bury your face in the palms of your hands and let out a groan as Dazai begins laughing: a genuine, gut laugh that you rarely got to hear.
"It's Osamu," he says politely, not wanting to make you any more embarrassed. As you look up from the palms of your hands, you notice Osamu's soft expression and let out a sigh of relief.
You grin. "Nice to meet you, Osamu."
A soft smile pulls at Dazai's lips as he watches you grab your phone. The bright light illuminating your face in the dark kitchen makes you look ethereal, yet he can't stop himself from making a joke. "You know I don't know how to do this."
"You know better than I," you say softly, an amused smirk pulling at your lips as you press play. Nocturne Op. 9, No. 2 begins to softly play from your shitty phone speakers as you place it on a counter, walking towards Dazai.
"I'd probably be better with the lights on," he tries joking again. You don't reply as you place your hands softly on the back of his neck, pulling yourself close as you begin to sway.
Back and forth, back and forth, you continue to step, and Dazai follows each move perfectly. It's no waltz by any means, but it is yours to share. A moment together, a moment of quiet vulnerability in the late hours of the night when everyone else is asleep is sometimes just what he needs - and you always know it.
The peaceful piano piece and the warmth of your body near his makes Dazai's eyes flutter closed, his head moving to rest on your shoulder as yours falls onto his. He hadn't realized just how tired he is, physically and emotionally. His throat begins to sting, and his eyes feel dryer than normal. He feels like crying. And yet, no tears slip past his eyes - they never do - as his hold on you tightens.
The music swells, hitting the part you'll always say is your favorite, and he feels you give him a gentle squeeze, a reassuring touch that causes him to loosen his hold. You aren't going anywhere, neither of you are.
A small this is my favorite part is whispered into his shoulder and Dazai wants to laugh. You're so predictable, and yet that predictability brings a sense of ease and comfort to him that he hasn't felt in a long time. He keeps quiet, his head moving further into your neck as he continues swaying with you.
I've never been one for classical music, I can barely see in the dark, you know I can't waltz, all excuses to stop himself from being vulnerable with you. But the second you pull him close, holding his face to your shoulder and rocking him like a baby on the wood-paneled floor of your shared apartment, he wonders why he fought it in the first place.
As the last note fades out, Dazai's face is fully buried into the crook of your neck, grasping onto your body loosely and tiredly. You aren't going anywhere, neither of you are. And the two of you continue to sway for minutes more, nothing outside of the occasional floorboard creek to interrupt as you embrace each other under the moonlight.
Dazai likes having someone to take care of; It helps him to take care of himself. After all, if he goes, who will be there to look after you? He doesn’t realize just how much he likes it until he’s slipping things into your drinks and food, keeping you in your sick and weakened state.
Surely he isn’t doing anything wrong, you’d be scolding him if he was. And yet, you thank him so genuinely, looking at him with such hopeful and appreciative eyes... He’s definitely doing the right thing, he’s taking care of you! Anyone would appreciate that, right?
"Maybe we should kill ourselves, hm?" The voice was loud and humorous, and Dazai had been used to his friend going along with what he said for their own entertainment, but this time was different.
The way their eyes are slightly glazed over, the fact that they had brought up suicide instead of just playing off of some of Dazai's many comments, the slight shake in their hands.... they meant it.
Dazai grabbed their hand, squeezing it slightly - something he found himself growing fond of recently. "Nah, let's stick around a little longer."
CONTAINS: mentions of a fictitious car crash, the occasional threat of death, gender neutral reader
While some may disagree, nothing is as painful as boredom.
Now more than ever you believed this, seated in the back corner of your classroom, cheek resting in the palm of your left hand. You didn’t even want to take this class; World Music has nothing to do with your major. However, it fulfilled some stupid university credit that everyone needs in order to graduate. Glancing down towards your empty notebook, you grabbed a pen with your free hand.
big drum = big sound
You scrawled the four words down before lazily looking back up at your professor. He had spent the last 20 minutes explaining the difference between the same two drums, and you weren’t excited to listen to the rest of his lecture… So, you didn’t. Your focus shifted from the tall, orange-haired man in the front of your class to the bickering just outside it, head tilting slightly to the side. The walls in the basement of your university’s Fine Arts building were thin, so even though your seat was situated at the other end of the classroom’s closed door, the pattering of footsteps still made its way through. Along with that, you could hear the tick of the clock that was hung up above the teacher’s desk at the front reading 1:27 pm—you still had 23 minutes left of this horribly boring class. What that also meant is that any student walking through the halls must be from a class that was let out exceedingly early.
Only two pairs of footsteps echoed outside the classroom, a pair of bickering voices accompanying them. If a class got out early, surely there would be more—both in terms of footsteps and voices. Maybe two students were arriving to a class early? This far in the semester, it was safe to say this would be a common occurrence if true, however, you had never heard anyone pass by at this time before today. These two weren’t students arriving early to a class, or leaving early from another. Two people wouldn’t be arriving 30 minutes late, at that point they’d skip the class. You put the tip of your pen between your teeth as you thought.
Maybe the pair had been getting out late? The basement of the fine arts building does house just about all of the campus’ art classes, maybe they had a project coming up and decided to stay and work late. No, all of the art classrooms are situated to the left of the basement, these two were coming from the right. Perhaps they were lost kids, visiting colleges for the following year? Maybe professors, bickering over lazy students and assignments they had yet to grade. Or maybe, piggybacking on your earlier idea, the two had come early to work on a project outside of class…
“Are you still with us?” You realized Mr. Patrick had stopped banging his drums when he called out your name. Oops, you zoned out. Your coworkers always warn you that you tend to zero in on one thing and need to work on being more aware of your surroundings. A small smile pulls at your face. Maybe you should drop out of school: you’re learning more from your current part-time job than your stupid World Music class.
“Yes, sorry. Just listening to the difference in the drums.” I’m listening to the muffled conversation happening in the halls, you thought to yourself. The pen you were chewing on a moment earlier was placed next to your notebook.
Your teacher hummed in response. “Is that so? Then maybe you can explain the difference for the rest of your classmates.” Maybe you can explain the need for this class— you held your tongue, choosing to clear your throat instead of being gifted a lecture from your professor.
“I’m willing to try,” your voice was lighthearted and playful as the hand that was holding your head up dropped to cover your suspicious lack of notes. “While both drums are marketed the same and share the same size, the one on the left has a richer, deeper sound when played,” You almost let an embarrassed smile slip as you improvised your explanation. “I would guess that there was a miscalculation during its production, and the left drum is likely a tiny bit bigger than the right, creating said deeper sound.” By the end of your explanation, your cheeks were slightly tinted. While you had coasted through school by bullshitting answers, you truly had no idea if you could get away with this one. Damn those two outside of the class, this wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t been here.
The longer the teacher didn’t respond, the worse your red cheeks got—and your cruel professor remained silent for what felt like a while after your little speech (which, in reality, had only been a few seconds).
“So you had been listening, glad to hear it. Yes, the difference is…” as Mr. Patrick went back to explaining the drums, you let out a sigh of relief, head dropping ever so slightly as your eyes closed. The confidence you had just shown as you gave your answer was an act, one you weren’t sure you could’ve kept up if he had urged you to continue. You couldn’t afford to zone out again: you had to let the strangers outside go.
With newfound determination, you grasped your pen once more and looked back up to your ginger music professor. Paying attention isn’t that hard, you can do this.
At least, that’s what you hoped, until the same strangers that had helped soothe your boredom for a moment stopped just outside the door to your classroom. You clicked your tongue in disdain—it felt as though they were tempting you, telling you you’re so close, just think a little harder! Those assholes—no way would you do that again. You had a feeling Mr. Patrick wouldn’t be as kind if you were caught zoning out for a second time. Besides, it hadn’t even been five minutes. Whoever was bickering outside your classroom could choke for all you cared, as long as they stopped distracting you.
“Fine, then let’s just ask!” was the first full sentence you could make out from the pair before the cheap wooden door on the back left corner of your small white classroom swung open.
This was definitely distracting you.
Glancing over from your place in the back right corner, you finally got to see the people that caused you to anxiously ramble in front of your whole class even if you’d done so correctly and confidently, the assholes you’d end yourself.
Holy shit.
Your eyes widened when you noticed who had burst into your classroom: a bandaged brunet and a bespectacled blond, two of your coworkers. You wondered if you had ever looked away so quickly before this moment. It suddenly made sense, why the bickering seemed so familiar and why you couldn’t pinpoint the reason for the pair’s appearance. They weren’t supposed to be here, and you made sure to scratch a quick fuck you into your notebook so you’d remember this later. After all, if you forgot, how could you make sure to complain to your boss?
“May I help you?” Mr. Patrick was careful to put down the two drums he had been cradling very delicately as he addressed the two men that had barged in.
Feeling embarrassed, you placed your hand flat against your cheek, turning your head down and hoping your face was hidden. You can’t believe these two would pull such a stunt as this, especially the blond. Wasn’t he a teacher at one point? Shouldn’t he know not to interrupt a class?
“We’re sorry to-“ before the aforementioned blond could properly explain the situation, his brunet partner started talking over him.
“I believe you can help us, you see, we’re looking for a student that goes here,” he punctuated the sentence with your full name. Seeing as the teacher had recently said your name to humiliate ask you a question, every student in the class turned to the back right corner, directly to where you sat—or, rather, where you slouched, as you had curled your body in on itself in an attempt to hide.
“Is that so? May I ask why?” You silently cheered, hoping Mr. Patrick would scare these two morons away so you wouldn’t have to deal with all of your peers’ eyes directed towards the safe back corner you resided in.
But of course, nothing was that simple. The tall brunet you had come to occasionally appreciate at work started tearing up, ready to give the performance of a lifetime.
“It’s hard to vocalize,” he started by stuttering. “You see, we came to tell them that their dear sister has…” the man paused briefly as you peaked through your fingers with an amused smile, ready to see how this would play out. “Their sister got into a car crash,” and he burst into tears. Quite the actor, but it’s a good thing you are, too.
You didn’t really have a choice but to play along. What were you supposed to say? ‘No, he’s lying; Please resume your boring ass lecture?’ So, you contorted your face to make it seem like you were about to cry (fake crying was something you had yet to master) and pulled your hands down your face. “She what?” Spinning from your spot, you looked directly at the two.
“We need you to come with us, so we may escort you to the hospital where she is being held.” The blond did not look comfortable with the brunet’s show, and simply walked out of the classroom as he continued.
You’re the worst, you wanted to say. Instead, you stood up, packed your nearly empty notes into your backpack, and followed your blond coworker into the hall.
“You see, sir, they need to visit their sister. If you can excuse their absence this once…”
“Of course, I won’t take any points off; This is an emergency.” You rolled your eyes as you overheard your teacher’s voice. You were supposed to save me, Mr. Patrick.
The tall brunet slipped into a hallway and immediately his eyes dried, a cocky smirk appearing on his face.
“I hope you get into a car accident,” you whisper, swinging a backpack strap over your shoulder as you start following the blond, who now stood at the end of the hallway. He stood impatiently, as was indicated by the tapping of his foot and him checking his watch repeatedly.
“Not the first time I’ve gotten that.”
“I find that extremely easy to believe.”
The two annoyances in the hall were none other than Kunikida Doppo and Dazai Osamu: employees at your part-time job.
AKA: the only people that could make you miss the torturous boredom.
I tried drawing smt with lasso tool for the first time, so I did a femzai sketch!
Teen femzai doodle !! (Might color it but idk lol)
Lazy Dazai sketch !! Seriously idk when I'll get this done I've been too lazy to draw on ibis at all ALSO I FORGOT HIS BANDAGES 🧷
New BSD Fic
After so long, I finally wrote a fic. Not so long but I did my best. Pls go read it .....It's Chuuya centric
You guys know what, I just got a midnight thought.
If we observe closely, then we will find out that four (main) members of Port Mafia had tried or wanted to leave it or have succeeded in leaving it.
First was Kouyou with the man, when she tried to run away but failed.
Second was Murase and Chuuya where Murase wanted Chuuya to leave Mafia but failed.
( I am pretty sure that if Chuuya had heard Murase's last words like Dazai did, there would have been 60 to 70% chance of Chuuya leaving the Mafia.)
Third was Dazai and Odasaku, where Odasaku on his last breath told Dazai to leave and he succeeded.
And finally we got Koyka and Atsushi, where Atsushi helped Koyka get out of Mafia.
So we can see a pattern here.
One wanting to leave but failed and dead, other wanting someone else to leave but failed and dead , another wanting other to leave, succeeded but dead and finally last on wanting other to leave, succeeded and alive.
This trying to leave Mafia pattern just got brighter with each attempt....
Just a midnight thought....
Hello everyone. I have....written a fic ....a soukoku fic.....well the fic was mostly completed few months ago ...I just didn't have to courage to post it on Ao3. But , i found the courage, and have posted first 13 chapters. Pleas please go read it.
It's called: Of Bonds and Burdens
By: Seahorsesunshine
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60061927/chapters/153248845
I hope you guys like it.....
HELP ME FIND THIS ONE [SKK] AO3 FAN FIC
The only thing I remember about it was that dazai and chuuya are in relationship and ada knows about it. Then dazai is going to therapy and he is having some dreams or something. And chuuya is being over protective of dazai and is scared to mess up things an he talked to yosano . and also went to therapy with dazai.
Ive been searching my whole damn bookmark, related tags and history and still couldn't find it- help this desperate fella pls.
An Analysis of Dazai's Reactions to Death
Disclaimer: I haven't actually finished reading the manga yet so all information in this post is taken solely from the light novel and anime.
Spoiler alert: This post contains spoilers from 15, Storm Bringer, Dark Era and the anime of BSD
Warning: This post is about Dazai so naturally it contains mentions of su*cide and death.
This is my first analysis of BSD, so please be kind. That said, any constructive feedback is welcome. If you have any further questions about my perspective, please feel free to ask!
Then without further ado...
Bungo Stray Dogs written by Kafka Asagiri and illustrated by Sango Harukawa is a multimedia series which explores the complex nature of the human mind through its characters. One such character, Dazai Osamu, inspired by the 20th century Japanese novelist of the same name and his well-known work No Longer Human, is a character known for his eccentric behaviour and fascination with suicide. Often times his behaviour may come off as bizarre on first sight and one might think it is purely for comic relief. This essay aims to explain the reason behind his strange reaction to the sight of the murdered woman in episode five season one of the anime, or this scene.
This screenshot was taken from timestamp 6:27 of Season one episode 5 of Bungo Stray Dogs.
This will be done by exploring first Dazai’s reaction to death between the ages of 15 and 18 or during Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen and Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era, second by exploring the fact that Dazai is aware that he is different to other people, and finally by exploring the way he deals with this difference and with strong emotions during the present of Bungo Stray Dogs or at the age of 22.
Dazai’s reaction to death was unusual to say the least when he was the age of 15 and it continue to be so at the age of 18. There are three main instances where the audience watches Dazai react to death at these ages. In consecutive order from Dazai’s perspective—rather than the order they were published—is first, during the seventh light novel, Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen just after the fight before Dazai and Chuuya go to meet Randou. This scene takes place from page 53 to 54 of the English version of the light novel. There are several unusual points during this scene. But first it should be made clear that the audience has no real way of knowing what kind of experiences Dazai had been exposed to in his early life which could have a bearing on why he behaves this way at this age. There are plenty of theories but at the time of writing this Asagiri had not revealed what Dazai’s early life was like. Now, back to the point at hand. First it is unusual that a boy of 15 when faced with a dying man would ask him if he would like him to ‘end your suffering with this gun,’ (p. 53) however this may be disregarded considering that Dazai although not a part of the mafia seems to have been with Mori for some time at this point. What is more strange however is what Dazai says next ‘…But you’re showing me something extremely valuable—your death—so I want to pay you back,’ (p. 53). He then proceeds to repeatedly shoot the dead body while laughing. This could be chalked back to some sort of love for seeing others in pain if it wasn’t for what Dazai said before. He states that he sees the man’s death as valuable. There is no way of knowing how often Dazai had been exposed to death before but the fact that he views it as valuable suggests that at this point perhaps he had not been desensitized to it. Viewing death as valuable though is, decidedly, an unusual perspective for a 15-year-old boy to take.
The second time Dazai experiences death is also in the same light novel when Randou passes away. Those who have read Storm Bringer will know that’s not precisely what happens but at this point there is no evidence to show that Dazai has any idea Randou isn’t really dead and so it will be treated as another experience of death. There is a marked difference in Dazai’s behaviour in this instance compared to the one highlighted above. This scene takes place in Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen on pages 118 and 119 of the English version. Whether this difference in behaviour is to be attributed to the fact that Dazai probably knew Randou to some degree or to the fact that Chuuya had earlier highlighted to him the fact that his behaviour in the earlier scene was abnormal is up to interpretation. However, while his behaviour is more normal than before it is still rather unusual. During this scene Dazai seems more aware of the sensitive nature of what is happening because he asks Randou if he has any last words and continues by saying, ‘…If you have any final wishes, we’ll see what we can do to—’ (p. 118). This shows that he is sensitive to what’s happening and that it requires a certain type of behaviour, but it is still rather unusual given that this man is dying because of Dazai’s doing and the fact that Randou was trying to kill the former and Chuuya a few moments ago. Additionally, after Randou explains about what happened between himself and Verlaine before Verlaine betrayed him Dazai goes off on a tangent about the ‘inevitable destruction’ caused by ‘a fight between two skilled spies’ (p. 118). While Asagiri may have chosen to have Dazai say this in order to make it more clear to the reader why Randou tried to absorb Arahabaki, it is still a strange thing to do at somebody’s death bed. This being said, it is clear that Dazai is a lot more respectful at Randou’s death than he was at the G.S.S. officer’s death in the scene highlighted before as Asagiri states, ‘Both Chuuya and Dazai quietly listened as if there was something in what Randou was saying that they couldn’t allow themselves to miss,’ (p. 119). While it is possible Dazai is simply imitating Chuuya’s behaviour here in order to seem more normal it seems more likely that Dazai knows how to react better to the death of a person he knows and this idea is reinforced by his reaction to Odasaku’s death in Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era, which will be explored shortly. It is clear, however that Dazai is affected by Randou’s death in some way when the novel states ‘Some things, however, would not return to normal: the body of a man who no longer felt cold, and the hearts of the two boys who stood rooted to the spot, staring at him,’ (p. 119). This shows that Dazai is affected by death, but he seems to interpret it and deal with it in unusual ways.
The final example of when Dazai experiences death takes place three years later during the second light novel, Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era, when Dazai is 18 years old. At this point he has been in the mafia for three years, so he has probably experienced death quite a bit between now and when he was 15, however this is the death of the person who is probably the only one who ever understood Dazai—with the exception perhaps of Chuuya—and who cared for him in a way which was arguably like a father. This scene takes place from page 159 to 161 of the English version of the light novel. This scene is arguably the most interesting in terms of Dazai experiencing death for several reasons. One of those reasons is that while the scene deals with Dazai’s emotions, it does not deal with his reaction to Odasaku’s death but rather with his reaction to what Odasaku says, which causes a dramatic shift in his world view and which, as any reader will know, ultimately causes Dazai to leave the mafia and strive to become a better person. While the scene does start by dealing with Dazai’s reaction to Odasaku’s death the majority of the middle of the scene is spent on Dazai’s reaction to what Odasaku says to him before returning to his reaction to his death. The scene begins with Dazai rushing into the room, calling Odasaku’s name. This is pretty normal behaviour for anime and manga characters on seeing someone close to them dying. But Dazai then proceeds to say, ‘You’re such an idiot, Odasaku. The biggest idiot I know,’ (p. 160). That is arguably an unusual thing to tell your friend on his death bed, but compared to other things Dazai has done it’s not that abnormal. The scene continues with Dazai saying that Odasaku didn’t have to die. Which is standard behaviour. Then Odasaku says he wants to tell Dazai something. He proceeds with his statement about Dazai stating that he’s looking for his reason to live in the mafia and telling him that he won’t find it. The scene then proceeds to explore the idea that Dazai has finally realised how well Odasaku knows him. The rest of this scene is spent exploring this idea as well as Odasaku’s advice to Dazai. It only actually returns to Dazai’s reaction to Odasaku’s death at the end. By stating ‘Dropping to his knees by Odasaku’s side, Dazai looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. His tightly shut lips faintly trembled. The smoke from the cigarette rose straight up to the top. Nobody said a word,’ (p. 161). The strangest thing about this scene is arguably, that Dazai doesn’t cry. It’s possible that he was holding back tears, based on this description but the fact that it is only implied and left up to the readers interpretation suggests that Asagiri didn’t want to explicitly state that Dazai was crying. In the anime version of this scene as can below there is no hint of Dazai’s eyes being shinier than they usually are when he has lights in his eyes.
This screen shot was taken from time stamp 21:33 of episode 4 of season 2 of Bungo Stray Dogs.
After that the scene zooms out so that Dazai doesn’t have a face as can be seen here.
This screen shot was taken from time stamp 21:38 of episode four of season two of the anime.
This suggests that the decision to not show if Dazai was crying was deliberate. Given how much Odasaku means to Dazai, and that he had just realised how well Odasaku understood him it seems unusual that he would not cry.
The combined evidence of these three scenes suggests that Dazai behaves rather unusually in regard to death but that he seems to process it more normally when the person is closer to him than when it’s a stranger, where his behaviour is decidedly strange. Regardless of his closeness to the person however, evidence would suggest that the way Dazai deals with death is different to other people to a greater or lesser degree.
Now, how does all this have a baring on Dazai’s behaviour many years later in episode 5 season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs? It has a baring on it if one accepts the fact that Dazai is aware that his behaviour towards death is rather strange to other people. It is never explicitly stated that Dazai is aware of this, however based on his behaviour it is clear that Dazai knows he is different to other people. This is highlighted in a particular instance in the seventh light novel. This scene takes place in Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen on pages 53 to 54 of the English version. In this scene Chuuya stops Dazai from repeatedly shooting the dead body of the G.S.S. soldier. The scene commences with, “‘Quit that, you idiot […] He’s already dead,’ said Chuuya, ‘Quit shooting his corpse,’” (pp. 53-54). However, it is Dazai’s response to Chuuya’s statement which shows that he knows his reaction is unusual. Dazai responds with ‘You’re right. When you’re right, you’re right. That’s the most normal reaction to have,’ (p. 54). Then as he walks away from the body after dropping the pistol he laughs. This is the scene as it’s written, “‘Ha-ha. ‘Normal.’ Ha-ha-ha.’ Dazai’s hollow laughter filled the cluster of trees, vanishing into thin air,” (p. 54). The fact that Dazai reacts by stating that what Chuuya says is normal and the way he laughs about it shows that he knows that he is not normal. If the idea that Dazai knows he is not normal is extrapolated, then it is implied that he also knows that his behaviour towards death is abnormal. If it is taken into account that Dazai realises his behaviour, particularly around death is odd it makes sense that as an adult he would want to hide that.
All of the above scenes took place when Dazai was still a teenager. However, it seems that even as a young adult he doesn’t know how to behave around emotionally charged situations. This is shown in episode one of Bungo Stray Dogs where Atsushi and Dazai are in the warehouse waiting for the tiger to show up. During this scene Atsushi is amazed by Dazai’s confidence and he states ‘You’re really confident, I’m kind of jealous. They called me a good-for-nothing at the orphanage. And now I don’t know where I’ll sleep tonight or whether I’ll be able to earn my keep tomorrow. […] No one’d care if someone like me were to die in a ditch somewhere. Yeah, I may be better off eaten by a tiger…’ this happens at 13:30-13:57 of episode 1 of season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs. To Atsushi’s statement Dazai does not reply. He is silent for a beat with a neutral expression as shown here.
This screenshot is taken from timestamp 13:58 of episode 1 season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs.
He then proceeds to state that he thinks the tiger will come soon. This is an unusual reaction given what Atsushi just said, and it would make more sense for him to comfort the boy. But he doesn’t. This is arguably because Dazai doesn’t know how to react in what would be considered a normal way in an emotional situation like this. If he doesn’t know how to react normally here it is unlikely he knows how to react normally to death. Now, it has been made clear above that he recognises his behaviour as abnormal, and it is likely that since his instinctive reaction is abnormal, he is unable to fake a normal reaction as he doesn’t know what this would be. Hence his unusual reaction in episode five season one. He reacts with such melodrama because he knows that his instinctive reaction isn’t normal, but he doesn’t know what a normal reaction would be, and he can’t just not react either thus he opts for this melodramatic reaction which, although isn’t normal still shows a rather dramatised version of sadness at the woman’s death which is perhaps more normal than what his instinctive reaction would be. And although the others at the scene who don’t know him are rather confused at his reaction it attracts less attention than if he were to react in a similar vein to his reaction to the G.S.S. officer’s death.
To conclude Dazai’s melodramatic reaction to the murdered woman in episode 5 season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs it not just comic relief, there is a deeper meaning behind his eccentricities. He reacts this way because he is self-aware enough to know that his instinctive reaction to death is unusual and in order to not shock other people at his behaviour, he opts for the melodramatic response he gives since while still unusual it is more similar to the way a normal person might react being a rather melodramatic version of it.
Dazai drawing that I think I drew for his last birthday, so like 4 months ago, I think
I got the reference picture from Pinterest, but I wasn't able to find it again, so I don't know who to credit
Headcanon time, because of course, I need to ramble.
Dazai's hair was black during his time in the Port Mafia, but not because it was his natural color. It was a reflection of his own neglect. He didn’t take care of himself, rarely going outside during the day, and when he did, it was only in dark alleys. His hair was greasy, unwashed, and full of dirt, sticking to his scalp. God knows how much old dried blood remained in it as well...
It was only after leaving the Mafia that he began somewhat caring for himself, even if only a little bit. He still struggled with it (God knows depression was hard on him), but it was still better than his days in the PM. It was an improvement. Over time, his hair actually grew quite healthy, regaining its softness. The black color was gone, replaced by a warm shade of brown, and his curls regained their natural bounce, framing his face.
He actually looked healthy.
chuuya, when he finally gets his own car (he's known how to drive for ages now, but hasn't been allowed to unless necessary), marching over to dazai and forcing him inside. all smug and excited—"get the fuck in, dazai!!"—absolutely elated that he's the older one. rolling down the windows and turning the radio up all the way, annoying every building they pass as they speed through the entire city in minutes. fuck the red lights, and fuck the stop signs—they're laughing almost hysterically the entire time, and chuuya's clutching onto his hat because more than once it flies out the window. dazai's trying to stay calm and be the mature one but chuuya's smiles are infectious, and soon enough he's shouting off-key along with the music, flipping off anyone they pass, and skipping through the stations just to irritate chuuya—except chuuya's nearly doubled over in laughter, struggling to maintain control over the car and himself. they come home at 1am, with texts and calls from their superiors because their mission reports are late, and where the fuck are they, and answer the damn phone, but neither of them could care, stumbling into someone's apartment (is it chuuya's, or dazai's, or someone else's entirely?), giggling the whole way through. "we're doing this again when you get a car, mackerel," chuuya bites out, knocking dazai over to grab himself some water. dazai agrees silently, rolling his eyes and picking himself back up. "just try not to lose your hat when it happens, then," he calls back, with chuuya's hat in his hand and a panicked chuuya reaching up to his head to find it.
This... was not on my list of things to draw. Anyways,
Atsushi is growing up. He has bristles (due to the tiger's abilities there is a lot of it). Ryunosuke shaves Atsushi with the help of Rashomon.
Perhaps Dazai suggested this idea. Perhaps Chuuya taught Ryunosuke how to shave with a blade properly.
Chuuya definitely shaves with a blade. Dazai definitely can't be trusted with a blade.
Dazai: get out of bed
Chuuya: no
Dazai: get up or I will-
Chuuya: will you what?
Dazai: I'll lie next to you
Chuuya: come on, lie down
Chuuya: I'll push you out
If I had a nickel for every time I meet boy who has two friends who always argue but remain the best partners, one of which is an organized grump and the other an extreme lazy ass, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.
Если бы мне давали пятак каждый раз, когда я встречаю парня, у которого есть два друга, которые всегда спорят, но остаются лучшими партнерами, один из которых — организованный ворчун, а другой — крайне ленивый осел, у меня было бы два пятака. Это немного, но странно, что это произошло дважды.
I'm gonna die right now
Angst no comfort fanfic, I highly recommend "Theory of the two demons [bsd]" by asuoug on quotev (or maybe the author published on AO3 too idk).
The book focuses on Dazai before he meets Odasaku btw, so maybe it's not what you want but I think it portrays his character well.
When I mean I am just about tired of every fanfic being smut I mean it. I just want x reader fanfics that are beautifully written that will make me cry and feel a sense of fufilment once I read that final sentence.
Please?
For example, I'm really itching for a Dazai and the Dark Era fanfic that portrays his character well, not just some suicidal maniac, but the Dazai Osamu that Odasaku brung out in his last moments. The talks about life, everything that arc emodied was perfection.
I'm past just blatant mischaracterization of characters for the sake of everything being nsfw fanfics. It's tired. Genuinely.
Where are the writers that are going to have you sobbing into your pillow and having that churn in your stomach when you can feel the absolute mental termoil from the character in the book?
I'm begging. Please 😕
Turning to you guys because SOMEONE has to have it somewhere, this is my wallpaper and I'm desperately looking for the og picture because I'm changing phones soon and I'd like to keep it!!! I have no idea who the artist is, like an idiot I just saved the picture and long story short, lost it like a dumbass.
I most likely found this on Twitter (I have a vague memory of that at least) somewhere around 2021-2022, but I can't provide any more information unfortunately
Tried to image search it but the ggl image search engine fucking sucks, gonna keep looking in the meantime, but if someone somehow has a copy of this I would sob uncontrollably in thankfulness