Bsd Dazai Osamu - Blog Posts

i need to start sleeping more

fixed a few formatting issues on this one

Hello! May I request some pre-relationship/crush headcanons with Kunikida, Atsushi and (ADA) Dazai (all separate) with a reader from the port mafia? How would they realise they are in love? How would they handle it etc etc. I love love love crush headcanons with all my heart<33

heart to heart — crush hcs!!

author's note: i'm an idiot who wrote this fic almost exclusively in hours 2-4 am. my eyes are in pure suffering. an unhealthy amount of fiona apple and unreleased lana del rey songs went into writing this. idk how to write headcannons so this ended up kind of like a fic with bullet points lmao 

— KUNIKIDA

• Working with the Port Mafia is something he is (unfortunately) no longer a stranger to. Still, an extended mission was a bit too risky for his tastes. But everyone said that he was fine, so he should be, right? If only he knew what novel sort of trouble he would face once he took the job.

• For the mission, he was partnered with you. You must've been of a different unit, because he is sure he has never seen you in person before. Except for being mentioned in passing by Dazai in his inane conversations, there was little he knew of you.

• At first, he was skeptical. Not sure whether he could truly trust a person with your affiliations to not double cross him in some way. However, you proved yourself capable soon enough. You worked with decisive efficiency, and even with his rather ridiculously timed schedules, you seemed to have no trouble keeping up with him.

• Needless to say, you two got to know each other fairly well over the course of a month. By now, you were acquainted atleast a little of his likes and dislikes. The late night sessions to plan out the routes and inspect the case files over and over; your friendship sprawls over late cups of coffee, the impatient scratching of pen on paper, and the files scattered on the table while you both worked.

• This was still professional; he'd reason with himself. So what if he's had a few drinks with you once in a while? So what if you've been spending a little too much time at his home lately?

• Dazai’s endless teasing on the matter did not help. At all. As he grows more and more defensive, he wonders if he has grown a little too attached to his new partner.

• Kunikida isn't an idiot. Even he can see how much you've made an impression on his life. He simply isn't ready to admit that this could possibly be romantic in nature. After all, you fit none of the ideals he's decided for his supposed future partner. In some form of pointed irony, the pages of the notebook that carry said ideals are also filled with the random, little things he's noticed you need; chapstick, switchblades, pens— all for them to be ready when you inevitably reach for them.

• Nor can he help stealing a littlewhen said chapstick swipes so elegantly along your lips.

• Absolute gentleman, with or without a crush. Opens the car door for you on the other side, makes sure you have your seatbelt on, makes sure to watch your back while you both do field work. It’s just a nice thing to do, he reasons, but feels your touch like it was branded into his skin where your hand accidentally brushed on his elbow.

• The weeks that follow after after drawn out, confusing. As time goes on, he cannot help but read into your every action, taking note of all the little details that outline you as a person; from your tastes to little quirks. While you seem blissfully unconcerned, he could not help but feel the weight of the tension between your conversations. It is not these emotions that scare him, but their intensity. His hands tremble as they once again bandage your wounds from the day’s work, mouth dry as he looks at the gashes you think nothing of—and he wonders since when he started caring so much.

• Kunikida may be a man of his ideals, but he can be honest with himself when he needs to be. And whether he says it aloud or not, he’s already known the effect you have on him. He's known it for a long time.

• When he inevitably confesses to you, there is nothing special about it. It's another evening at his house discussing work, and when you both take a break from investigation, he brings it up to you. He isn't expecting the sentiment to be reciprocated. In fact, he is not sure he even wants that to happen. He says it to be honest. With himself and with you. You deserve to know. And perhaps if he said it out loud, the feelings would subside, even for a little while; with a definite answer, he’d have a reason to put out the growing ember.

• Nothing could've prepared him for the shock of learning that this troublesome feeling could possibly be mutual. And nothing could have prepared him for the coy kiss on his reddened cheek after.

— ATSUSHI

• someone help this poor guy

• no, he's really hopeless with it, but let me explain

• When he was asked to collaborate with the Port Mafia once more, he expected to be paired with Akutagawa once more. You were a pleasant change of pace. At first, he was only met with your suspicion; something that drove an initial rift between the two of you. You weren't sure whether you could truly trust this weretiger you've heard so much about to hold up his end of the deal, and neither could he rely on this complete stranger who regards him so frigidly. However, you both were indebted to your respective organisations—it had to be worked out.

• Your staunch independence, and the confident countenance that carried with it an understated superiority, no doubt the effect of years of experience; at first it irked him. It made him taste a little of the helplessness that trailed him like a shadow all those years ago. He attempted to chase away the feeling; biting back at your subtle digs at his skill and experience, trying to keep up with you as best as he could. You matched each other surprisingly well when you both were at your most competitive; the combination of your finesse and his strength was lethal in the most satisfying of ways.

• Over the weeks, you both get to know each other a little better. The small talks on the way to station were something that he was, despite knowing better, looking forward to. He always seemed more affected by your banter than you were by any retort he could possibly throw at you; and when the sly curve of your lip made him feel the strangest sensation of a sort of rush in his veins, he made no notice of it.

• After that morning, this strange feeling had been growing worse. Steadily through the days, but even so he could point out that the emotion that seemed to sit just beneath his chest was unfamiliar. Sometimes he had to force himself to look away from you just to get it to stop and actually be able to hear what you were saying over the erratic beat of his heart. It was blatantly obvious to everyone but him, and despite the constant teasing and prodding by Dazai on what’s got him so nervous, he still assumed it was merely admiration. Perhaps he was simply in awe of your abilities. For weren't you so impressive when you dispatch your targets so effortlessly, or when you execute such flawless plans with an ease in your mien that makes it look of so simple?

• But then that begs the question as to why he still stares in a daze when you're doing nothing, just catching your breath in the wall crack you had pulled him into to throw off the people chasing you both; his back hitting the wall and you the only separation between him and whoever was at your tails, stalking the alleyway outside. Breaths held, not making a sound; if you both got caught, this was over, and you both understood the stakes better than anyone. He definitely knew just what was waiting for the both of you out there, and that just made the situation far more frustrating, because then why is he so absorbed in how pretty your jelly-like gaze is, or how cool you looked back there when you silently felled that patrol guard? He feels like his brain has melted. Or atleast the still working part of it, because it's not even the first time you've had that effect on him.

• Your hand tentatively shifts, and for a moment he snaps out of the daze. There is abject fear in his eyes, because what the fuck are you doing when the both of you are one slip up away from messing up this mission you both worked so hard on? Yet your fingers, trembling with the rush of adrenaline and the fear of death, wipe the blood on his cheek, observing a rather deep cut inflicted by the serrated edge of a dagger. He could take a hit, but for some reason worry seemed to claw at your mind relentlessly until you could make sure he was okay.

• Perhaps he'd stopped functioning right there and then, because when the footsteps receded and the coast was finally clear, he could barely hear you say that it was safe to come out. Instead, his first move is to hold his heart and take a deep fucking breath. Not just to calm him down from being chased like that—for he's already been chased so many times—but to stop thinking about that brief, soft touch that reasonably, should not even affect him.

• At this point, he's kind of convinced he's going crazy. And like so many problems in his life, there's only one other person to hear it. Coincidentally also the worst person to go to for that kind of counsel.

• Dazai.

• Bastard laughed for fifteen whole minutes before explaining in broken wheezes what Atsushi was possibly afflicted with. Then immediately began sighing and bemoaning about having to help his coworker with silly love problems once he finally stopped cackling like a witch.

• After this… enlightening conversation, Atsushi promptly decides that he's never going to be able to look the man in the eye ever again.

• Now, he's got a whole slew of new problems going on. This mission, you, the fact that he just embarrassed himself in front of his coworker, and that he had no idea how to even face you after this realization.

• Naturally, he wants to avoid this situation. Atsushi doesn't even consider telling you. He wants to, so badly. His throat feels tight when you look at him so sharply, and he can't help but feel that if he sticks around you for too long, you'll look straight through him and somehow find out. But he has every reason to think this won't work out. Every reason why it won't work out. It wasn't the time for love, not even in the small moments of respite between the constant violence you two had to deal with.

• This distance he's been keeping from you…there is no doubt that you feel it too. He can see as much. The disappointment in your gaze when he keeps on pushing you away; it hurts. And he knows with the way your hands are curled in fists now that you're at your breaking point.

• But instead of the argument he thought this would inevitably lead to, you simply pull him into a corner. In the most sincere tone he's ever heard you speak in, you ask him if you did something wrong. Between your deliberate words, your hands on the collar of his shirt that hold him in place with nothing but gentle firmness, and the emotions that he tried so hard to stifle for the past few weeks; he confesses. Leaves nothing unspoken, even if he consciously knows that this is a bad idea. Knows he shouldn't hand you that kind of power over his heart.

• Yet he doesn't regret it a single bit when he feels your hands leave his shirt collar and wrap around his shoulders, your silent answer that kills the bitter uncertainty left in his heart and replaces it with relief.

— DAZAI

• Your history with the brunet was brief, but not something he has ever forgotten. He’s not quick to forget faces in any case, but yours remained in his memory still.

• You both worked together fairly often some three or four years back, the timeline is blurry in his mind now—in those days, your presence seemed like it would be a permanent fixture in his life. Something to count upon. Perhaps he had hoped for the fact, until an year after when he finally decided to leave this life in the dust, and you with it.

• At the time, Dazai had dismissed those feelings as puppy love; the sort of infatuation that comes with simply being of that age where every emotion feels so amplified in intensity. You were one of his first friends, it was only natural to want to cling on, wasn't it? Only with time it became easier to ignore the hold your presence had on him, his mind too consumed with the ongoing chaos in his life to think about that craving he had during initial weeks of your separation— thumb trembling over the call button.

• A few years after, seeing your face stirs nothing in Dazai. A feeble sense of regret is all that remains, and within a few seconds even that dies off. You've changed, definitely; rough-hewn edges from mafia life, knife-hand no longer trembling when it goes for the kill. Decisive, swift movements, a certain confidence in your words that comes from experience. How the glimmer that used to be in your eyes has long since been clouded over. In a way, it makes him feel closer to you, that your soul is being slowly chipped away, just like his.

• Initially, you regarded him like any other professional acquaintance. Not daring to breathe a word of the past, even when you wanted to demand an explanation out of him so desperately. Anything to make the memories of your shared past more bearable. You know better than to give into those whims. If only for the sake of your mission, the past had to be put aside. Between the both of you, there seemed to be a mutual, unspoken understanding for the need to let go. Your slates are cleaned, and you both once again end up in the same place you started; Yokohama’s shipping docks.

• Over the weeks, being around you feels easier. You both work well into the nights, but it's a little more bearable around your company. The banter is easy between the both of you. Lips curved into a cheshire grin at his antics, you always seemed to be more amused with his actions than annoyed.

• Even now when he decides that diving head first into the sea would've made for a perfectly delightful method of suicide, a knowing sigh leaves your lips, painstakingly pulling him out of the fishnets with a firm grip on his beige coatsleeve. Of course, the effort is in vain when you lose your footing and end up falling into the water with him too. Splash!

• Somehow, even when he's walking home, sopping wet in the winter breeze, he feels strangely warm as you chide him, observing how your lips twitch as if to hide a smile.

• It’s your fault, really. Perhaps if you both didn't fit together so well, if it wasn't so effortless to be around you, he might have avoided feeling the same way around you again. It's not lost upon Dazai, how comfortable he's getting with your presence, especially when he knows it's a temporary one. A fact that he is compelled to face again and again everytime you both end up in the field.

• The danger they were facing were still very much real. Despite how confident you seem to be in your ability, your tight shoulders and shaky breaths betray you in the heat of the moment. Through your hesitation to follow through his plans, you still trust him at his word. He can't help but wonder why.

• Your actions hold a certain carefulness—he doesn't want to call it care, for when it comes to you, he finds it hard to tell what you're thinking—that he doesn't understand. As you wrap the gauze around the wound on his arm from a bullet graze, fingers touching his skin with a kind of gentleness he's only ever known from you… Dazai wonders when you'll finally tell him what you're really after.

• The brief thought occurs to him, no doubt, that maybe you do these things simply because you want to. That perhaps you still care too much, like you did all those years ago. But he knows better than to count on something as fickle as the kindness of people’s hearts. He was never that naive.

• Even so, as the long days and even longer nights pass by, he can't help but once again start feeling as he used to in the distant past, only that this time he has no excuse for it.

• Dazai doesn't blush and his heart doesn't race when he sees you. Instead, it's something far more sickening and confusing. With you, it's easier to drop the delicate layers of pretense that seem to obscure his true thoughts and emotions like delicate gauze. There is a sort of ease of being around you, a sense of belonging. In the delicate moments of the late night hours with you, humanity doesn't simply feel like a cloth to wear to hide the rotten core within. You touch him like you know him, even when he knows that the blood staining his hands is far darker than yours.

• You don't even have an inkling of how he feels, and Dazai believes that it's for the best. He’ll tell you in the future, if he can grow to trust you. He wants to say it when he can be sure of it, in a more peaceful time. Even if he doesn't want you to slip through his fingers again like he did in the past, he wants to wait.

• But right now, all he can see is your bloodied fingertips trembling in the aftermath of the day’s chaos, barely having escaped with your lives. In the silent night, neither of you mention how he holds your hand silently on the walk home, bandaged fingers holding yours with deliberate care.

I need him in a manner that would make the gods turn away in shame at what they created

this is the type of greed they talk about in the bible

biting the bullet (literally)

Chibi ranzai :3

🙂👍

🙂👍

Ignoring how BSD is so far going, look at this :DDDD

Souheki having entire convos in their minds

New Fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65076295

Come here. Sit with me.

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Soukoku - Dazai x Chuuya

Prompt: “Come here. Sit with me.” 

TW: none that I can think of.

A/N: Also posted on my ao3, the link is on my master list

It was a relatively slow day.  

After everything with Fyodor and the Decay of Angels had settled, everyone had gotten a well-deserved few days off.  

Their relationship had been slow to reach the point it was at now, what with Dazai’s disappearance from the Port Mafia and his 2-year absence before re-emerging in the Ada and then another 2 years before Chuuya and Dazai had actually run into each other.  

 What had been left of their relationship was smoldering coals. They still trusted each other, as Chuuya had hardly hesitated before using Corruption at Dazai’s request. But Dazai had treated Chuuya horribly, he had left without so much as a text explaining what he was doing. He had blown up his car.   

He didn’t believe it was possible for someone as divine and beautiful as Chuuya to have any fraction of a good thought about him. Sure, he had patched up Dazai plenty of times when he was in the Port Mafia and he had stopped him from many attempts but it was only because he relied on Dazai to use Corruption,… right?   

And yet, here he was, in Chuuya’s penthouse, with him, being taken care of. He and Chuuya had gotten closer, closer than they ever were. They had yet to put a label on it.  

And while Dazai knew that it was only because of their clashing schedules, their different jobs. They worked on different sides now. Dazai knew that they simply hadn’t the time to truly talk about it. And then everything went to absolute shit with Fyodor and then they hardly had time to even relax on their own time.   

But now everything was over. The dust had settled and they finally had time to talk and to sleep, to just be around each other. Chuuya was back to making sure Dazai ate three meals a day, even if his portions were small. But… they hadn’t talked about it yet.  

Dazai tried to not let the sapling of doubt grow and bloom within, but his own self-deprecation was relentless in its ability to make him spiral in his thoughts. He was supposed to be relaxing but his brain couldn’t seem to shut itself up.  

“Dazai?”  

A voice snapped Dazai from his never-ending thoughts. The voice, Chuuya, his brain provided for him, sounded from the direction of the living room. Dazai was still sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. He had been doom-scrolling as his brain spiraled.   

Deciding to finally stretch his legs, he stood up. He stretched until he heard his back pop, sighing as he dropped his shoulders, and relaxed. He sluggishly made his way toward the living room. The sleeves of the sweater he was wearing were rolled up to his elbows and his hands were in his pockets.  

“Yes?” He stopped at the entrance of the living room, looking towards where Chuuya sat on the couch, the TV had some movie on that Dazai didn’t care to figure out.  

Chuuya looked up towards Dazai, a small, pleasant smile adorned his face. “Come here. Sit with me.”  

Dazai didn’t have the energy to whine about how the dog shouldn’t be the one giving out orders, the exhaustion showing itself as prominent bags under Dazai’s eyes, so he wordlessly listened. Walking languidly to the open spot next to Chuuya, who immediately brought his arm from the back of the couch to Dazai’s waist to pull him closer as soon as he was sat on the couch.  

“So… you’ve been living with me for the last few months…” Chuuya trailed off as if he wasn’t sure how to continue or word his question.  

Dazai stilled, though tried his best to hide it. So they were having that conversation. Had he done something over the last few months to annoy Chuuya to get him to kick him out? Of course, he had, what was he thinking? He couldn’t stop his destructive habit of annoying Chuuya till he retaliated, more often than not, physically and violently. He had done it when they first saw each other after 4 years. Surely Chuuya has realized how horrible Dazai is and is going to kick him out. He only wants to let him down gently…  

  _____________________________

Chuuya felt Dazai tense under his arm. Though he hid it exceptionally well, as expected of an executive, even if he no longer is one. Chuuya’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have even noticed had he not had his arm around him and his trained eyes on him.   

It was hard to tell what was going through his mind, and he doubted it was easy to understand even if he could see it all happening in front of him. He imagines it would be too fast to comprehend most of it.   

But while he can’t read his mind word for word, he does know Dazai better than anyone else. He was the brawn to Soukoku and Dazai was the brain. They had to be able to read each other to some degree to function as one. So Chuuya had an inkling of an idea what Dazai was thinking.  

It was probably something self-deprecating, and probably something Chuuya would find stupid.  

Truly, Dazai was the smartest dumbass he knew. A genius who wouldn’t know affection if it slapped him in the face ten times,… or punched him perhaps a few too many times that he had lost count.  

Chuuya pulled himself from his thoughts. He needed to relax Dazai so he could get it through his thick genius skull how much he loved the lanky man sitting next to him. He let his hand on Dazai’s waist rub nonsense shapes into his sweater in a comforting manner.  

“Relax, it’s nothing bad.” He spoke in what he hoped was a comforting tone. It seemed to work as Dazai minutely relaxed into his side, though traces of his overthinking mind still lingered.  

“You’ve lived with me for the past few months… and now that all the dumb shit with Fyodor is done and over with, I… I want to take a step further if you are ready, or if you even want to…” Chuuya trailed off awkwardly. They didn’t often voice their emotions or thoughts to each other, not really seeing the need for it as they were typically adept at reading each other. If they weren’t capable of at least that then they wouldn’t have ever been such terrifyingly great partners.  

But at last, it seems that neither of them is knowledgeable enough on the topic of affection and love with how blind they are to each other's feelings towards them. At least… Chuuya hoped that was the emotion in Dazai’s eyes that he couldn’t seem to read. He hoped it was a mutual feeling of love.   

____________________________

Dazai’s mind was attempting to process a million thoughts that were running miles in seconds. He was so caught up in them that he hardly realized what Chuuya had said, so terrified of being rejected before he even had the chance to confess. He had to backtrack his thoughts to process what Chuuya had said and when he did…  

How… How did Chuuya not hate him? How can someone he treated so horribly, like nothing more than a dog not hate him? Him. How could anyone ever feel anything other than disgust and loathing when thinking of someone like Dazai?  

He vaguely felt something wet on his face, but his mind paid no attention to it in lieu of overworking its ever-present self-deprecating thought process.  

____________________________

Chuuya could see, and feel, as Dazai stilled in his arms once again.  

And then, as Chuuya looked at his face with slight worry, he saw it.  

Tears.  

Chuuya can’t recall a time he’s ever seen or heard Dazai cry during their 7, almost 8, years of knowing each other. As an ignorant teenager, he believed that someone such as Dazai couldn’t cry, but he knew better than that now. Dazai was as much a human as anyone else, and therefore capable of crying, of being sad, of feeling.   

Dazai’s body trembling slightly pulled him from his thoughts. He now reached to rearrange Dazai to face him on the couch. Though Dazai didn’t fight it, he didn’t seem to respond to the movement at all, completely lost in his endless thoughts.  

Chuuya reached out his hand to Dazai’s face, cupping his cheek gently. Dazai made no reaction.  

“Dazai? Hey, you alright?”  

Dazai blinked and suddenly he seemed to be present once again. He looked up at Chuuya with glass eyes.  

Chuuya offered a small smile. “You okay?”  

“I’m fine,” Dazai responded, his tone flat as he looked at Chuuya.  

Chuuya noted that Dazai probably wasn’t even aware he had cried.  

“Dazai, you’re crying.” He let his thumb rub under Dazai’s left eye in a hopefully comforting way.  

“Oh…” Dazai made no movement to wipe away the tears, rather, it seemed like the admittance of it brought down the last bit of Dazai’s barrier.  

Dazai looked down and the tears once brimming his eyes fell down his face. Chuuya’s hand previously resting on Dazai’s cheek had moved down to the back of his neck when he looked down and now slightly tugged, prompting Dazai to cling to him.  

Dazai’s voice was shaky when he spoke. “H-how…” His voice faltered but Chuuya let him work out his words.  

“H-how could you possibly love me? Me? All I’ve ever done was treat you like shit…”   

Chuuya sighed. He had a feeling that was the reason behind Dazai’s reaction.  

“Yeah, you’ve treated me like shit plenty of times, as I have with you. But you also have saved my life so many times I’ve lost count. And you’ve reassured me I was human every time you noticed me doubting it, even if you often found a way to insult me while doing so. No matter how much we teased and annoyed each other when it came down to it, we had each other's backs. We have each other’s back. There’s no one I trust more than you.”   

Dazai looked up at Chuuya in shock, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.  

“There’s no one I love more than you, Osamu.”  

Dazai clung to Chuuya, burying his face into the crook of Chuuya’s neck. Though Chuuya couldn’t see the tears cascading down Dazai’s face, he could feel them soak into his shirt and he could hear Dazai’s choked back sobs.  

Between Dazai’s sobs, Chuuya just barely caught his choked-out words.  

“I love you too, Chuuya.”  

Dazai is born in Aomori, and if you take out the “Ao”, it says Mori. That mfs has been following him since day one.

Dazai as the Cheshire cat

I headcanon that Dazai knows how to draw but like horror version.

Like this for example

Ps : I do NOT know who the artist is, I saw this on Pinterest and searched for the artist but couldn't find it. The account where I found it is Anastasia Bankova, but I dunno if that's the artist.

Mori : I need you to do that.

Dazai : Odasaku said I shouldn't.

Mori : If he told you to jump off a cliff, would?

Dazai : Bold of you to assume I need someone to tell me to kill myself

“Hey, so Dazai is actually a very well written character that was abused and only knew that for a very long time, but he's genuinely trying to get better, no matter how hard you deny it, he's truly trying to be a better person! He's an abuser but was an an abused, and not acknowledging his trauma isn't cool!”

Dazai's hater : NAUUUURRR ‼️‼️ H-H-H-H-H-H-E ABUSED MY BABY AKUTAGAWA ‼️‼️‼️‼️

That is actually very disgusting, tbh. Not acknowledging Dazai's trauma just to paint him as the bad guy and painting Aku as the good guy, ignoring he also abused Kyoka.

Dazai is not the greatest guy, it's true. And his actions are obvi bad. And I'm not justifying his actions. I'm saying as it was : HE WAS A GODDAMN CHILD. He was also trapped in an abuse web. He's not the only abuser. Mori is, then comes Dazai, and finally Akutagawa. Only counting Dazai as the bad guy is down right disgusting. He's TRYING his best. You can dislike him. You can hate him. But denying his trauma is not something that should be done. It's disgusting. It's inhuman.

I have a very sad hc but HEAR ME OUT

Okay so I saw a post that spoke about how Dazai didn't show any emotions when Mori killed the former boss right in front of him. Dazai was a child. Seeing a murder for the first time and… Nothing. No expression. Just acceptance. As if his body is here but not his mind. He's dissociating.

Look at that look. He's not focused. He's just looking at whatever is happening.

So what if it happens each time he commits a crime? What if each time he kills someone, he's not fully realising his actions and only realizes it later, but it doesn't hit him so hard because it happened slowly.

Well, I headcanon that one time, Dazai killed a bunch of innocent civilians for X or Y reasons. Mori told him to. So he did it. But he usually didn't kill innocent people. Usually it's the mafia's ennemis. So the realisation hit him right as everyone's already dead. He's there, surrounded by corpses. He's the reason they're dead. His hands is covered in blood. The realisation hit him so hard he thought he was gonna vomit (he didn't).

Very joyful 🫶🏻‼️‼️

Hc that Dazai can be rlly overprotective of people he loves.

Like, you said Kunikida's new shirt doesn't fit him? Okay, Dazai is just going to burn your house but that's okay

I headcanon that when Ranpo knew abt Dazai's past as the Demon Prodigy etc, his first reaction was “Cool”

⚠️ SPOILER BSD CHAPTER 117⚠️

I need, and when I say I need it's true, for Dazai to be in pure rage when he finds what happened to Kunikida. Like genuinely. Even worse than Junichiro's reaction. He is no longer the Dazai we know, but a mad man on the verge of despair. He is angry that he treats him like this. Him and his ideals? You don't treat him well? Very well, Dazai will take care of you.

Oh boy that'll be crazy

*Just watched inside out.*

Dazai : What emotion controls me the most?

Kunikida : Depression.

Dazai : It's not even—

Kunikida : Depression.

it's my baby boy's birthday!!!!!!!

happy birthday dazai!!!

i am enamored. everyday. by this man.

these two are the only two people that are keeping me sane

bonus dazai bullshittery

💦

🌃

💐

some old pen doodles for you friend :3

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHUUYA!!!!

i kinda rushed this drawing but whatever :3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64238365

Dazai finally gets what he wants, it hurts Chuuya more than either expected it to

major trigger warning for suicide and death, please be warned!!

with that said please enjoy i had a lot of fun writing it :3