formiito
fem ; 17 ; fanfic accounttheme by @seldomstardom
116 posts
Latest Posts by formiito
happy birthday to nobody except best character ever chuuya nakahara the light of my life
THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL??? THANK YOU ONG I LOVE YOUR WORK
( ྀི̫꒰ ✚ ꒱ ྀི̫) dazai 𓏼ׅ ۟ 𓊆☕️ྀིྀི tumblr lyt ་∔་།
ㅤㅤॱֺּׅ༏ིྀ𓏽ִ f2u with creds ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ req by @formiito ᪖ ྀི ᩤ᭔
˳꣑୧ ۠⠀ psds used : borrowed time && afternoon coffee 𓏼♡ྀི ₊
ihope . this is sufficient . . . . it’s not my favorite but it’s growing on me ^__^ also please know that i love love love your works ! ! ! i was really happy when i saw your request ( also because i get to edit dazai ) nyeheh
a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted
their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"
"Every writer"?
come on
oh, but who's to say there is no beauty in the suffering of those frozen martyrs, immortalized forever beneath the ice?
[This account has been flagged for their suspicious activity linked to certain government individuals or groups. Beware of the propaganda machine.]
what if we were brothers in arms in the war torn landscape of europa and i held your bleeding wound as the blood stained the endless, blinding white tundra, your bated breath asking me to bury you back home and our last memory together was looking up to the swirling rings of color on jupiter. what then.
like look at them??
every f1 post on my dash has absolutely nothing to do with the cars i'm not even sure if it is about the cars anymore the sport may actually just be grown men going gay4gay and outdoing each other somehow every time
every f1 post on my dash has absolutely nothing to do with the cars i'm not even sure if it is about the cars anymore the sport may actually just be grown men going gay4gay and outdoing each other somehow every time
dazai's big sad wet cat boba eyes (chuuya is utterly captivated!!)
chuuya who is weak to dazai's big dark sad doe eyes
once my exams end i'm gonna brainrot over my skk AUs again and YOU 🫵 will suffer with me
however i did make a playlist for my upcoming AU because i couldn't resist </3
I don't think so, sweetie!
Dazai’s gonna chase you… dressed as a bush!?
tried my hand at gfx????
idk which version looks better
been a few years since i've done this might've lost my touch
a typo
kunikidazai + “this crossword has a typo”
For Kunikida, that was a simple, calm and unusual night. One in which he hoped to finish the crossword that was taking him around a week to complete due to schedule issues before going to sleep. In fact, he was already in bed, pajamas on and half-tucked already beside Dazai.
It wouldn’t be just a simple, calm and unusual night the next time he looked back at it, though. But he didn’t know that yet.
“Hm.” He suddenly said, frowning not due to having started to struggle but because of something else entirely. “This crossword has a typo.” Was his offhand comment, as Kunikida moved on to correct it as best as he could with the pen in his hand.
“Hm.” Was all he got from Dazai for the time being, in a way softer tone than when he had muttered the same sound.
The fact it had taken a while for his partner to offer any kind of feedback wasn’t lost on him, but he also didn’t think too much into it: it was getting a bit late, Dazai was doing his own thing too… Not to mention how being in a relationship with him still made one an expert in deciphering what he may be thinking even when paying close attention.
Besides, given the fact that such a moment would kickstart a future surprise (a very good one, by that matter), Kunikida not seeing it coming was a good thing.
(also on ao3.)
Never kill yourself if you do people you hate and treated you like shit will milk it for sympathy #inspirational
I LOVE this take on my europa trench ice warfare larping
what if we were brothers in arms in the war torn landscape of europa and i held your bleeding wound as the blood stained the endless, blinding white tundra, your bated breath asking me to bury you back home and our last memory together was looking up to the swirling rings of color on jupiter. what then.
what if we were brothers in arms in the war torn landscape of europa and i held your bleeding wound as the blood stained the endless, blinding white tundra, your bated breath asking me to bury you back home and our last memory together was looking up to the swirling rings of color on jupiter. what then.
made an astarion playlist with songs that actually remind me of him because i'm mentally ill about this man
i want to write a fic for him inspired by disintegration (the cure) so bad </3
bought iems and it's like why the hell did i spend so much on airpods when these 22$ things sound more or less like the same thing
esp since my airpods have shit battery anyway lmaooo
chuuya nakahara is the type of man that if i was in war i would stick a polaroid of him on the side of my plane before we all carpet bombed the fuck out of each other like madmen
Clears Throat. Hello Everyone. I made this presentation instead of working.
soukoku, kunikidazai, sigzai... can we stop letting quality men be victimized by the tragic phenomenon that is dazai osamu 💔💔💔
(they should form a support group and kiss each other)
Guy who is touch starved but emotionally repressed goading you into punching him for completely normal reasons
soooo uhh aside from the current chuuya + soukoku requests, I've been wondering whether i should write a part 2 of poetry in motion tumblr link here but this time continued in the ADA. the dynamic will remain fairly the same (can be read as platonic or romantic). the ending led up to it so i thought it would be fitting to write a follow up and after exams i might have the energy to post a little more + continue my fyodor series.
also have been thinking of eventually making a taglist (hopefully??? i'm sort of new to posting fics on tumblr)
being mad over mischaracterisation is so funny. because like how do you know. like were you talking to asagiri over the phone while i wrote this fic? have you communed with the divine gods of fan content to tell anyone that their way of seeing a character is invalid? im crying lol ts so funny
"the uwufication of chuuya" "the feminization of chuuya" and it's a fic or fanart where chuuya cries
poetry in motion ; dazai osamu
dazai osamu + gn! reader — a conversation by the sea. a morning of quiet contemplation.
author's note: was feeling mentally ill at 2am while listening to lana del rey unreleased and shat this out. can be read as both platonic and romantic! this is set between odasaku's death and dazai's departure from the mafia. i hope i portrayed pm dazai well enough. listen to some ocean sounds while reading for ambience. read on ao3 here. wc: 2930 words.
The foaming blue waves roll softly on the docks, the wooden boards of the pier damp and rotted over the years, silently standing against the ocean currents. The dock workers shuffle through the shipment yard in the early morning hours, sun risen but obscured by heavy clouds. The cold, salty breeze pricks the cheeks of the brunet, leaving a pink hue wherever they gently brush. He was here to watch the sunrise, took you with him, but the hours have already passed and he couldn't tell when the inky black of the night disappeared and was replaced by the greyish blues he sees now. It's always possible to miss things even when they are in your sight the whole time— everything slips past his fingers too easily.
You are still here beside him, wires tangled between the two of you, sharing earpieces; he's never been a fan of your tastes in music, but he's beginning to get used to it. The same way you've made your way into his life; unpredictable, unwelcome, yet needed. Puffs of fog hang around the two; winter's over, but it's still very much cold. Atleast, that's what he thought when he put his coat over your shoulders. It doesn't fit him, it doesn't fit you. Instead, it hangs off the edges of your shoulders like a heavy weight, meant for someone else to bear. Not him, not you.
The song repeats over and over, but he does not feel like clicking to the next one. The endless loop of songbirds, crashing waves, featherlight melodies; there is something comforting in familiarity. Even if it is merely temporary. The sky is empty and grey, so he naturally looks down below. The spot he chose for the two of you was perfect the night before, when everything shrouded in the cold blanket of the midnight hours, playing games and laughing about silly anecdotes to distract yourselves. Even as the both of you were covered in dried blood and sitting with trembling hands from the action of the evening before; it was absurd, but ignoring reality made everything a little bit easier, if only for the little pockets of time you both had. Anything that kept you both sane, wasn't it what you both wanted?
But now the night is gone and he can look at the drop down below, legs dangling off the edge; there's a vague feeling of disappointment somewhere under his skin. It's another day under the sun where nothing ever happens. The thrill of being on the edge of death will creep again at night, but daylight hours were largely sleepy affairs; everything that was worth happening only did once the sun went down. Atleast he has the solace of being around someone he actually likes the presence of. Your eyes flit over the scene down below. The shuffle of life looks distant from this height and when you strain your ears the garbled, vague voices of dockhands reaches your ears, but it's all so far away. There's always a quiet temptation that pulls on the mind; to leave this little bubble of fragile, short lived peace and join the waking world again, to cross this height and meet life where you can feel its signs. For there's no life in the dull chocolate brown gaze that you can feel affixed to the side of your face. Still, you like his company. He's easy to be around, even if he goes out of his way to be troublesome for certain people, like a specific ginger boy you're both familiar with. There is something deliberately performative about it, however; his dramatics are for his amusement, but there is a layer of irony so subtle in his excesses that sometimes, it feels like a mockery of something. Of what, you cannot tell. Your gaze doesn't meet his, mind consumed by the tides below, edged white with seafoam and painted a muted blue by the sky. It's not because you feel uncomfortable holding his gaze, like certain other people do—in truth you've always found something unique in it, because it's only natural that when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back. Right now, however, you felt like any eye contact could ruin this moment, and once that happens, you both will begin the same loop that has defined this life for the two of you.
You're tired by this point. He can tell how you yawn every few seconds, and he knows he's kept you here for too long, but he's not one to ever feel satisfied when it comes to things like this. "Tired?" He asks flicking open his box of cigarettes and handing you one. That might just make you more sleepy, but you didn't seem to care when you took out cigarette from the box and flipped open your lighter. The blue flame lit the stick in his mouth first, then yours, and was shut with a flick of your thumb. "Kinda. You know, maybe we shouldn't have stayed up playing games all night. I think I'm gonna pass out and I can't even sleep in today, man."
"Your fault for asking for rematches for six straight hours. Your win-lose ratio is hilarious."
"I am not a quitter."
"That's right, you're a loser instead. So much better!"
"Shut it, mummy boy." You scoff, tapping him lightly on his arm with the cigarette in retaliation. It doesn't connect, but he doesn't spare a second before gasping. Though, it wouldn't exactly be the first time either of you have tried putting out cigarettes on each other. As a joke, of course. Punchline unknown.
"That hurt!!"
"I didn't even touch you."
"It's the principle of it!" He complained, resting his chin on the heel of his bandaged wrist.
"You're ridiculous, I swear. Next time, I'm gonna win."
"Wanna bet on that?"
"…No."
"Thought so." He huffed, exhaling smoke.
Petty things like this mattered little to you anyway. Even during the mundane minutes where nothing seemed to happen, you never bothered to cure your boredom anywhere else. Even when it would be so easy to point out that you really had no one better to be with, he never taunted you with it. There had grown a silent understanding between the two of you that he'd rather keep it that way. It's not that you had very few friends from a lack of trying either, but friendships in the mafia were mostly superficial. After one point, you had begun to retreat into yourself, at the very least, emotionally. It was simply the nature of things. Even when you tried to reach out to someone else and connect, it felt wrong. There was something unfit and dishonest about it, like trying to find love in a brothel.
Still, for the better or worse, you both were close friends, whether you both said it out loud or not didn't matter because where he is, there's always you not too far away.
When the silence falls again, the acrid smoke curls around the both of you in silence, dissipating into the morning air as you both watch. Once the wind begins to pick up, Dazai adjusts the lapels of the coat draped on you a little. A mundane gesture, but you appreciated it. Still…button ups and bandages couldn't be enough. "Aren't you cold?" He responds with a noncommittal hum. "Kind of, but it feels good." The ocean draft was cold, but soft. A feathery touch.
However, you'd rather not risk him getting sick, even if he would love the excuse to skip out on work. You shift the coat so that it is draped upon the two of you, the black trenchcoat enveloping the two of you. It fit better this way, you think, the weight of it not as heavy when shared. Dazai, despite his earlier nonchalance, does take the lapel on his end and pull it tighter on his shoulder. His bandaged fingers no longer tremble as much, fiddling with the beaded bracelet on his wrist instead, and the crab charm hanging from it. It's silly, but it hasn't left his wrist in years. Or yours. Underneath bandages, shirt cuffs and heavy black coats, the weight of childhood presses down with a gentle reminder. Don't forget who you were.
After all, people don't simply become anew when they grow up; rather the years build upon them like successive shells. The way nacre builds around pearls. But it always seemed to you like your shell was never hard enough for this place; every day felt uncertain, like being thrown into the deep end of a pool for the first time. Then there were the times where you felt like you could almost forget all of that, the little pockets of normalcy within the chaos. Normalcy with him. It wasn't enough, but it was enough to remind you that sometimes, it was worth it to be alive. You were only afraid that one day, it will no longer be enough. That there would be a day when your soul will be steeped in the same loneliness as his, the same mafia black that painted his life in broad strokes.
Still, you had your solace in the fact that Dazai too, seemed to be changing, even if it was in a way that was subtle for most people. He didn't seem to throw himself into death's welcoming arms as often anymore, or with the same passion. Something had changed, but you couldn't tell what it was. You didn't know how to ask, but you already knew that he wasn't going to answer. There was no explanation for it. You just knew. Looking down at the ledge, legs hanging off it, you wonder if his attempts had any merit. That perhaps you were simply desperate for any reason to hold on when you should've just given up and let go.
The port town is a little more lively in the morning now and the sounds that characterize this life still ring in your ears, though it is distant. Painfully so. When you look down at the drop below, gaze over the wooden dock and the turbulent waves, there is a strange thought in your mind. A sort of distressing temptation, some sort of a call that makes you want to close the distance that separated you from the rest of humanity. It appears out of nowhere, but stays in the back of your mind. A siren call to the ground that you don't dare answer. You pull your legs up and rest them on the concrete, slightly away from the ledge. His eyes follow the movement, but he says nothing of it. There was no explanation for it. He just knew. He does the same, placing his legs on the ledge instead of letting them dangle, an arm around your shoulders. "Dazai, can I ask a question?" Your tone was softer, less aggressive than it was during your banter. "Yeah, what is it?"
You extinguish the lit cigarette on the concrete. "You ever get that weird feeling? A temptation to fall? Not wanting to, but the thought feels…"
"…Compelling, yeah. Why do you ask?"
"I don't really know. I don't think I want to die. Sometimes I'm not sure of that either."
Dazai hums, a noncommittal sound. You've been changing lately too, this he knows, but not yet enough to truly consider such a solution. He knew you, how you seemed to still have some sort of a hope for living; a meaning that seemed to be lost on both of you but very much there. He had thought that the nature of death and unbridled vice that gripped the mafia would be enough to give him a reason to live, but some days, he feels a sort of unfounded jealousy towards you. That though you seemed to not know your reasons, you never realized the futility of your existence. Not in the same way he did. In that sense, your presence here felt out of place, discordant; sometimes he thinks if he shouldn't have dragged you down with him.
Eurydice, after all, is not supposed to follow Orpheus to hell.
But this story is all upside down and inside out, wrong in its very nature; meant to evoke a certain disgust in whoever witnessed it.
Even God would turn away.
"It's just a thought. You don't want to die." Dazai remarks, uncharacteristically sincere for once.
He wonders, how long will you hold onto that dying light in your eyes?
"Yeah. I mean, I don't think I do. It's just… living is so exhausting."
"And it's so easy to die, isn't it?"
You nod quietly, but don't agree with him entirely. It is easy to die, especially in the mafia, but you won't willingly seek it. The permanence of death still terrifies you, and you're not that courageous. You don't want to face the devil you know. You'd rather sit here on the ledge with the one you do.
"Maybe. But sometimes it feels worth it to be alive. And I don't want to miss that."
"Even if it's tiring and meaningless?"
"… For now, yes."
The look in his eyes has changed, softened to one of resignation, and it scares you. Even when you are looking straight at him, you can glean nothing from his eyes. You could vaguely guess what a person usually thought of by their expression. But he was different, he always was different; the times when you could tell what he felt merely off a glance were gone a long time back.
"I guess we can't see eye to eye on it, then."
He wonders if there would ever be a day where you start seeing what he sees; if there would be a day you'd come home with your hopes crushed and he'd be able to say something stupid like, I told you so.
He didn't know if he wanted that day to come.
Swallowing a lump in your throat, you observed his far off expression for a few more seconds, before looking away. The question that leaves your mouth feels jarring, without any proper forethought that can soften how rough it feels on the tongue. But it's not your fault there's only one thing you could think of at the moment.
"…Do you think people who can't understand each other can be friends?"
"Understanding or relating? They're different things."
That threw you in for another loop. The worst part was that you didn't even know. You know your friend's sorrows, you know the emptiness that runs through him more than anyone— yet you could never truly piece where it started and where it'd end, nor could you feel it in yourself. No matter how much you wished you could. "Either."
"I think… people should atleast be able to understand each other when they're friends, no? You can't really care about someone you know nothing about. Relating isn't that important, though."
"… Are we friends, then?"
The moment's silence is heavy between the two of you as Dazai thinks over your words. Were you his friend? Here, in the morning light, under the same coat, wearing matching crab bracelets? Maybe you are his friend, but he wonders if he knows what friends are even supposed to be like. You're not like Odasaku or even Chuuya, though with the latter he has a complicated relationship, yet could still call his friend sometimes. You two were close, but he was not blind to the very fundamental differences between the two of you. The chasm of hope that separated you. A space that'd only grow wider once he leaves, and he knows he has to. Still, for some reason he feels compelled to take your hand and hold it lightly in his. Are we friends, then?
"Yeah, I think we are." He answers, with a small smile on his face.
Ultimately, he didn't think any of it mattered. For the better or worse, after all, the both of you were together. Your faint, content smile at the confirmation makes him feel like it wasn't wrong to say it.
"Really? Well, that's good enough for me."
He had the urge to retort back with another quip, something that would derail the conversation and steer it back towards the usual banter; something familiar and easy between the two of you. However, this time, he doesn't follow through with it, instead stewing in the temporary discomfort that comes with sincerity. For once, he feels like being honest with you, even if it means not punctuating this heavy silence. Letting the sounds of the waves and the faint music in the shared earphones be the only voice in his ears. You seemed content with the same, still sitting by his side and sharing the coat, pinky fingers interlinked loosely.
Perhaps you did not need to understand his sorrow or feel it as your own, and he does not have to understand your exhaustion and hope for the future. Everyday is all anyone can ever have, and if these days were a little more bearable like this, there was no reason to deliberately cut this off. There is a passing thought; that perhaps in the coming days, when he finally decides to leave this teenage wasteland for good, he could take you with him. After all, where he was, you weren't too far away. If fallen angels exist, so do risen demons, and perhaps this time, Eurydice will make it back to the surface; for this story is all wrong, and that's alright.
Wild magic taming lessons don't go as planned 😵💫
wizard question: are the undead minions subject to labor laws?
haven't paid mine since like ever and they ain't had a smoke break in centuries