Amber-sekio - BLANK

Silly little doodle because I’m cooking come angst ish

Together Forever

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Chuuya x Dazai (Soukoku)

TW: Major Character Death, Angst, Major Angst, No happy ending, I love making characters go through hell, except Chuuya, which is why this isn’t in his pov, I felt evil today

Since the first time Dazai had witnessed the storm that was Arahabaki, Chuuya, he was enthralled. 

Chuuya was human. So painfully human. So beautifully human. 

After all, there was nothing more human than chaos and discord. The human need to find the most perfect, the most orderly form of chaos. 

Chuuya was chaotic and he was perfect. The perfect form of chaos. 

Human. 

Chuuya was human. 

Human. 

_______

For the first time since Dazai witnessed the storm that was Arahabaki, Chuuya, he wasn’t enthralled. 

Chuuya was human. So painfully human. So horrendously human. 

After all, there was nothing more human than life and death. The conclusion to a human life, the inevitable cessation. 

Chuuya was deadly and he was corrupt. 

Human. 

Chuuya was human. 

Blood. 

So much blood. 

There was a burning in his chest from having run here.  

He fell to his knees with no regard for the rubble beneath him. He pulled Chuuya into his arms. 

Red. So much red. 

Yet the body he was clinging to like a child to a stuffed animal was cold. 

He could feel the lingering warmth leaving the body and seeping into his own in a cruel twist of fate. 

He could feel as the warmth entered his own freezing body. 

There was an annoying chattering sound somewhere in the rubble. 

It was cold. It was cold and the body in his arms was becoming freezing to the touch but he couldn’t let go even as he shivered. 

Chuuya was covered in red, further staining his abdomen in sticky red. 

Cold. 

It was so cold. 

He curled himself over Chuuya as if to shield him from the cold, cruel world. 

He was tired and cold. 

He shivered, closing his eyes, pretending Chuuya wasn’t so freezing in his arms. 

… 

So cold…

________

It had been raining nearly all day. He couldn’t help but think it was painfully fitting. 

The gravestone was large and elegant. It was surrounded by droves of people clad in black. Only those closest were allowed to be up near the grave. 

When he finally made it up to the grave with the others, his melancholy grew. 

In the middle of the gravestone, in large, fancy font was the word Soukoku. Below that on the left was Chuuya Nakahara and on the right was Osamu Dazai. 

Apparently, when they were found together, it first looked as if only Dazai was clinging to Chuuya, but Chuuya had his hand clenched around Dazai’s coat as well. Out of respect, they weren’t separated. 

He was startled out of his thoughts when he felt someone grab his arm. He looked up only to realize most people had left after the rain had gotten worse. He looked to his side before relaxing at the sight of Kyouka. 

“Thank you.”

A/N: Requests are OPEN, read the rules, please

🦈

WISC -Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Prolog -Opening:

If you were to compare the number of every individual species on Earth, the human species would be the main inhabitants of planet Earth. However, when you compare humans, who are non-magical creatures, to the number of sentient magical beings, you will find that they only make up about half of Earth’s inhabitants. If you go even further? If you compare the human species to the number of every magical creature, sentient or not, the human species only makes up about 35% of Earth’s population. 

That said, with their numbers, they still hold a greater weight in most of society. Especially after they began to learn how to use their own magic, gifted by our gods. Though humans used to be born without magic, some families were blessed by the gods for their devoted belief.  

Witches and Wizards are the backbone of the human’s strength. It’s the only reason they continue to hold such influence on the world. 

Perhaps… our gods had never sought to include themselves in the happenings of our world… perhaps… things wouldn’t be like this now. Fighting over the rights of magical creatures. 

Do they deserve to live? Are they too dangerous to the ‘wonderful and mighty’ humans? 

What absolute bullshit. 

To think any human would have the gall to believe something like magical creatures not having the right to live. When the only reason they have stayed on top is because they were given the ability to wield magic by our gods. 

Our gods; who rule over the nine realms. The Dragons of Asgard. 

Dragons. 

Our Gods - dragons – are magical creatures, and they have the gall to think themselves better? 

A/N: This world's structure is based off of Norse Mythology but that is it. Besides the existence of 9 realms and using the same names, nothing else is the same. In other words: Thor, Loki, and Odin don't exist

UnderTale AU - Player:[VOIDTALE]

Background Lore

[Player] goes through many genocide runs, taking their pain, frustration, and stress out on fictional characters

After yet another genocide run, [Player] true RESETS the game but gets caught up in [irl] problems, unable to return to the game

-

In 'Frisk's' sudden disappearance, Sans becomes more unstable than he already was (genocide route over and over again)

Sans grows restless waiting, constantly on edge

In a fit of desperation and his spiraling mental health, Sans tears his soul out

-his justification being that 'Frisk' will just RESET when they notice he's not there

...He doesn't die somehow, but feels... content, no worry, no fear, no sadness,... no joy, no... happiness...

...void

-

[Player] awakes with a horrible, splitting headache in a field of... yellow flowers

[Player] doesn't have a soul of their own as they aren't from the world, as such, their body latches on to the first/only soul with no body, Sans' soul

-

Frisk wakes up in the flower field once again... they feel... strange

It feels as if something has changed, something has left them...

They feel... free

ABOUT:

Sans

[Player]

Frisk - NOT OUT

A/N: Feel free to send in asks about the au or sans!

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

Oneshot -Pushing and Pulling. Home.

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Soukoku - Dazai x Chuuya

A/N: This is the fanfic version of the comic with quite a bit more detail in it than the comic did. It has Dazai's direct thoughts leading up to his attempt from the beginning of the comic, as well as a look at Chuuya's own thoughts.

TW: blood, self-harm, suicide attempt, language

A/N: Also posted on Ao3

Comic version HERE

Nothing… 

Numbingly empty… 

A mirage of thoughts ran rampant throughout his mind with no end in sight. They pushed and pulled him down with arms of inky black darkness into the sheets below. 

The tug had been growing worse, harder to ignore over time. It came on gradually, leaving him little chance to fend them off before he realized it was too late. It had taken him too long to notice the grip of the demons in his mind. 

He didn’t want to admit that even after defecting from the Port Mafia, after surviving for two years underground, after doing everything for Odasaku, he hadn’t changed. 

Even after all of Fyodor’s bullshit, and he and Chuuya had finally become partners again -though now it meant more to them. 

He hadn’t changed. 

It had been a while since he had genuinely attempted anything, what with Chuuya’s watchful eyes. That and when he was around Chuuya, the darkness of his thoughts often receded, soothed by the ethereal man he had the undeserved privilege to call his lover. 

Sadly, with their differing jobs, it was simply impossible to be with Chuuya every minute of every day. 

In fact, Chuuya was currently away on an abroad mission. He was set to be back sometime tomorrow after having been gone for an entire month. 

Without Chuuya around to soothe the demons in his head, he fell. 

He fell victim to the grabbing hands. 

Pushing and pulling. 

Inky blackness. 

His face contorted in a frown as a restlessness overtook him. 

‘He’ll be back tomorrow.’ He tried telling himself through the cacophony of countless thoughts. Fruitless, really, but he didn’t want to hurt Chuuya. Not again. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

Blackness. 

Darkness. 

It filled his lungs like thick black blood. 

Sweet like honey with the seducing promise of relief. 

A quiet mind. 

With no thumping beat of a heart. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

His feet hit the ground before his mind could stop him. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

His hand reached for the door to the bathroom. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

Chuuya had stopped messaging daily sometime after the first week. Too busy with his mission. 

Chuuya hadn’t messaged him since last week. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

What if he was hurt? 

What if he didn’t come back. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

What if he didn’t want to come back? 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

His clothes hit the floor by the door, the bandages on his arms and legs following. 

Pushing. Pulling. 

The blade cut, stinging. 

Through his skin. 

Through the bandages still covering his chest. 

Red. 

Pushing. Pulling. 

Inky red blood flowed out. Seeped into his skin. 

Into the pristine white covering him. 

White never did suit him. 

Pushing, pulling. 

The water from the faucet meshed horrendously with his rampant thoughts. 

His vision was flooded with a bloody red color as his arm reached out in front of him to stop the running water. 

Waves of steam rolled off and over the tub. 

Pushing, Pulling. 

The water bled red as he stepped into the tub. 

Burning. 

A pleasant burning from where the blade had cut through him and from the water as it came into contact with his skin.  

The burning water seeped through his bandages, further burning. 

Burning to combat the endless, bone-deep, freezing cold. 

The inky red blood polluted the water. 

Pushing. 

Pulling. 

Pushing and pulling him into a soothing embrace of darkness. 

Quiet. 

_____________________

The door clicked behind him softly. 

He could feel the exhaustion deep in the marrow of his bones as he hung up his coat and haphazardly kicked off his shoes into the genkan.  

He called out into the quiet house.  

“Dazai! I’m home!” 

He was greeted with silence. 

He was supposed to arrive home the next day, so perhaps Dazai was asleep? 

It was well past 2 in the morning. 

But Chuuya knew Dazai always struggled to fall asleep. And since Dazai began to live with him, he relied on him to sleep. 

‘I need my Chibi heater to stave off the cold! If you leave, then I’ll be left freezing and awake!’ 

The memory flashes through his head as he places his hat on the dining room table. 

“Dazai?” 

Silence. 

He made his way towards their shared room when he noticed the bathroom light on. 

He knocked softly on the door as he called out to him. 

“Dazai?” 

There was no response. 

A seed of fear sprouted into a hideous flower in his gut. 

Dazai wouldn’t… He had been clean for so long now. 

He called out again, hopeful to get a response this time. 

“Dazai? Are you in there?” 

Silence. 

He reached to open the door, unlocked. 

His mind went blank as he looked at the bloody scene in front of him. 

He stood there for a second that felt more like an hour, a day, a month. 

He could see the steam from the likely scalding temperature of the water.  

The blood was a vibrant red. Fresh.  

The scent of iron filled his nostrils. 

Then the panic set in. 

He suddenly felt like a victim to the gravity he normally had flawless control over. 

He rushed forward to check Dazai’s pulse, with little care for the blood staining his clothes. 

Through his own rapid breathing, he was able to subtly feel Dazai’s slow pulse. 

There was so much blood. 

He let his mind wander to what could have happened while he was gone while he fell back to old habits. Picking up Dazai’s limp body, unplugging the drain, pulling off what remains of his bandages. Rinsing the blood still on him, redressing his wounds with two layers of bandages to avoid any more bleeding. 

When he got to the ‘clothing Dazai’ step in his habitual process, Dazai began to stir into consciousness as he pulled up boxers over his legs. 

He hardly noticed as his mind continued to drift. His hands moved to pull one of Dazai’s heavenly soft sweaters over him. 

He left Dazai sitting on the stool in the bathroom as he finished cleaning the mess, mumbling to himself as his mind returned from drifting. 

“…got Dazai cleaned, bandaged, and dressed…” 

He pulled off his blood-soaked gloves, tossing them into the trash. 

“Dinner can wait I guess… and I’ve got to change…” 

He looked over himself, clothes stained red in blood. 

“Dammit! And I’ve still got that report…” 

A soft sniffle from behind him pulled him from his thoughts. 

Behind him was Dazai, still sitting just like how Chuuya had left him to clean up. 

He crouched down in front of him, reaching out to wipe some of his tears. Hesitant on whether Dazai was up for touch. 

When Dazai didn’t shift away he brought his hands down to gently run along Dazai’s thickly bandaged knees. 

He was at a loss for words, not having quite come to terms with the fact that if he had returned tomorrow, as was planned, Dazai would have been dead when he found him. 

“…Do you wanna talk about it?”  

His voice hardly sounded like his own, tentative, shaky, unsure. 

Finally, a response reached his ears. 

“Not really…” 

Dazai’s eyes were blank, devoid of any feeling, as he looked into them. 

He closed his eyes, sighing, both at finally being able to hear his voice and at the emotionless stare. 

Then, Dazai spoke again. 

“Can we… talk tomorrow?” 

He didn’t realize he had been frowning until he felt his lips pull at a small smile. 

Before they had gotten together, Dazai would never have asked to talk about something. If he didn’t bring up something then Dazai would never do it. And even when he did try to bring something up, Dazai would attempt to deflect and distract him from the conversation. 

“Yeah… tomorrow. For now… I’ll change, we can order food and watch a movie. How’s that sound?” 

“Cuddle?” 

A soft chuckle left his lips at the hesitant tone Dazai spoke in. 

“Yeah.” 

Chuuya was hardly paying attention to the show, thinking of everything they would have to talk about tomorrow.  

He felt Dazai nuzzle into him, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked down at the soft brown curls against his chest. Dazai’s head was turned toward the TV but from what he could see, Dazai’s eyes were closed, asleep.  

He smiled, letting his eyes close. 

He could feel sleep begin to overtake him now that he was finally home. 

Home being the man in his arms.

Recent re-observations of SB Chuuya's design have spawned the idea of Chuuya being farsighted and his glasses in Storm Bringer actually being prescriptions glasses so he can read all his documents. Have the scenario that @whathorselegs came up with from this what-if sdjfhskdjfh