Karlach Being A Cat Magnet Throughout The City Because Of Her Warmth Is Something I Often Think About..

posted something and immediately wanted to delete it call that post fic clarity

the day after i killed myself ; dazai osamu

trigger warnings; suicide mentions, possibly ooc dazai.

author's note; first time writing literally anything on tumblr. haven't even finished bsd, so i'm sorry if this may turn out ooc. let me know how it goes. wrote this while half asleep as fuck in a warm sunny afternoon fuckkkk

Gloveless hands anxiously wrap around one another to grasp at a warmth that isn't there. The wind leaves behind a color of life on the cheek, a little mark of the stinging night. The world had stopped moving for the time being, yet there is an impending feeling of something to come. Something will happen tonight. He just ignores the vague feeling and continues on, walking on the narrow sidewalk. The steps on the pavement and the sound of distant cars is drowned out by the music currently playing in his head, the lyrics blurring the thoughts that flit past.

Now, Dazai should've been home countless hours before. And he was, if only for a moment, but as soon as the clock had started inching into the small hours of the night, there was a growing sense of restlessness he simply couldn't live with. The smoke tinged air of the room wasn't enough, the open window overlooking the street wasn't enough, and even now on the open road there is something uneasy under his pulse begging him to run off; it isn't enough.

But he's thinking too much. The brunet is certain that this kind of mundane insanity is simply because he has nothing to do at the moment. As soon as he would find a distraction, it’ll leave again. He's realized the absence of people brings about more thoughts than his head could keep in, as if to make up for the empty space outside of his body. A small message ping distracts him from his thoughts. Kunikida’s message, an attempt to check up on him. Some were still back at the Agency, settling affairs for the next day. His partner was one of them, though he would probably complain that his perfect sleep routine was thrown all out of order. Again. The message is responded to with a click of the button, a sticker of a cat sent in response. Such boring details don't deserve any merit on a night like this.

And it was so beautiful, too! The flickering lamplight shines over the glistening asphalt, city drenched in the afterglow of an evening rain. Dazai hums the song playing in his ears. Although that doesn't ease the feeling either. He wondered what felt more wrong, the absence of feeling? Or an overwhelming amount of it? The unexplained sensation remained in the back of his mind.

Dazai often avoided reflecting about his life. Atleast, about the things that lay under the surface. When he began to revisit the past, his new life started to look like something of a shiny new veneer painted over rust. The corrosion of the soul is all that’s left, and it is still fragile. But when he thought of the present, a lingering weight would still linger there somewhere between his ribs, a sensation that felt so physical for a feeling that should only exist in his mind. Burden.

But there is a third feeling; realization. Somewhere between sleeping and waking, in the instant where the flame burns the tip of the cigarette and creates the first ember. In the times when he catches himself smiling at a joke, whether someone else's or his own, and then suddenly becomes acutely aware of this short lived happiness and at that transitional moment he's already lived through the memory of that joy.

Then, it's gone as soon as it came by.

The idea of life is something fleeting, really. He's aware of the fact that for a man that covets death so much, there always seems to be a convenient excuse for him to continue on living. This paradox isn't lost on him, and the answer is so painfully simple, he knows. But for a while, he will continue to think otherwise. If only for those fleeting moments when he could feel life through his bandage wrapped fingers, the times where he was hit by the realization of this very obvious yet forgettable fact; yes, I exist. But standing on the edge of a bridge right now, looking down at the drop; he felt far too much. Suddenly so aware, without warning, without explanation. There is something tempting about such great heights, a siren call. The distance makes one feel so painfully full and empty at the exact same time; the chill in his bones no longer a product of the weather but that of an acute awareness of distance. He reaches out with one hand as if testing, if it makes him feel any closer to being human.

For there has always been something separating him from the rest of the world. Somehow this outstretched hand feels comforting. And when the song in his ears rises to a crescendo, he cannot help but want to close that distance, unable to resist the calling of that warm void. His eyes see that the ground is empty, yet at this instant he feels realization again. An acute awareness of life. As his leg dangles over the edge, the emptiness in his hands feels like it has been replaced by something.

And when he falls, it's not with purpose, but with natural ease. Falling as one does into a comforting hug, the air that whips through the strands of chocolate brown hair chilled, chest warm as it anticipates the coming embrace of death. Just this once he does not fight, even subconsciously, the depths that his body falls into. The neon lights melt into blues, and all bleed together to form a single, comforting hue. Black. The color of the void that called his name with such affection.

The next morning at home remains uneventful. When the sun hits, the empty cigarette boxes remain on the coffee table, the ashtray that lay next to it a dry memorial of a life lived far too long. At the Agency, it is quieter than usual. A lingering feeling of emptiness takes too much space in the room, though no one knows what it is yet.

When the lifeless body washes up ashore, his lips remain curved in a certain complete happiness, as the cellphone in his hand buzzes with calls never to be answered again. Perhaps in the pain that he leaves in his wake, he'd find meaning.

your stitches are good, but not the best - your hands are twitching to the beat of your heart. but they're going to be perfect soon, whether you want them to be or not.

posts will be less frequent since my entrance exams (aka an exam that'll decide the trajectory of the rest of my life) are in a month! i will still be posting, but requests will be on hold. askbox will still be open, but you may need to wait a long time for requests

works in the making:

drunk walk home — a soukoku fluff oneshot. (posted!!)

melting moment — chuuya x reader, will be a continuation of let the light in, which i'm planning on making a series soon.

the first taste — spawn astarion x tav pre-relationship oneshot.

also i'm gonna start cross posting my fics on my ao3 account by the tag of @formicablues. i've only posted two fics on there for the time being given i'm still figuring things out lmao

picture of my cats to apologize for late content <3

who do we serve here ? — anyone who seeks escapism is welcome at bar lupin. would you like your drink strong and bitter, or disgustingly sweet and light?

 what is this place ? — formiito's very own establishment of disillusioned lovers and poets. feel free to look around.

❥・my name is formiito, the writer behind these fanfics. bar lupin themed blog, though not solely restricted to bungou stray dogs. i take requests for resident evil, bg3 and may yap about other fandoms too. find me on discord as @ chococoa.a

❥・ my carrd

❥・ theme by the lovely @seldomstardom

❝ — to the stray dogs! ❞

i. MASTERLIST   ii. RULES iii. AO3

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED for all characters.

you guys think about it too much i think chuuya is just a bat in a coat

Headcanon: Chuuya being on the ceiling is never planned—it just happens.

One second, he’s standing like a normal person. The next? He’s casually upside down on the ceiling like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Half the time, he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. Someone pisses him off? Gravity shifts before he even thinks about it. Need to get out of a conversation? Ceiling. Dazai being insufferable? Ceiling. Need a moment to process? Ceiling.

At this point, the Port Mafia barely reacts. New recruits get spooked when they realise Chuuya is watching them from above like some kind of feral gargoyle, but the executives don’t even bat an eye.

Meanwhile, Dazai has an entire catalogue of dumb jokes. “Flew too close to the sun again, Slug?” “How’s the weather up there?” “Should I start leaving food on the ceiling for you?”

One day, Chuuya’s going to lose patience and dropkick him from above.

Might make this a running series of HCs.. someone please draw feral gargoyle Chuuya on the ceiling I will love you forever...

once again kunikida doppo being the agency's backbone fr

Headcanon that anytime anyone in the Agency gets a job they don’t feel comfortable taking, they’ll say Kunikida said no.

Even Ranpo and Yosano who are his superiors will just shrug like well I’d like to help but, Kunikida looked it over and has declined it.

Kunikida doesn’t know about it for the longest of time until Atsushi slips up and says it with him there.

Fortunately Kunikida, while confused agreed with him because I don’t want you taking such a task.

There were many conversations had later and it concluded with Kunikida saying to make let him know on such occasions.

Especially the teens.

Kunikida was surprised by it but he is rather touched that they trust him to take care of them like that.

And he vows to examine the cases they get through carefully so no one’s sent out on a case they aren’t comfortable with taking.

One time Fukuzawa got a call to meet with a rather unsavoury individual and without missing a beat simply said “I’ve consulted my second and I’m afraid I must decline your offer.”

bsd "deleted scene" (right after the lovecraft fight)

is it too early to kms

also yeah he'd probably make playlists for his friends and never be able to share them and just get reminded of a friend he couldn't be with everytime he hears his songs

him and dazai probably had a shared playlist from pm days to avoid fighting over the aux too and once he left it's just nvm im gonna take myself to the psych ward

low effort hcs : what music would bsd characters listen to?

everyone puts mother mother and tnbhd in dazai playlists but i can't stop thinking about how this guy would probably love 70s city pop. likes number girl and betcover!! as well. rotates between like five songs he's just obsessed with all the time.

he also feels like the exact type of mf to listen to the smiths and now it's canon in my head. 'there's a light that never goes out' is HIS song im convinced.

akutagawa is the kind of guy who would listen to visual kei. everyday that malice mizer is not on spotify he loses it a little. would also love classic goth. bauhaus, the cure, sisters of mercy, he likes all that shit. probably started with old panic! at the disco, it's that emo -> goth pipeline fr.

in my head chuuya loves rock. likes deftones but would be put off by the screaming. probably fucks with soundgarden, maybe sonic youth, rhcp, nirvana, alice in chains, the velvet underground. it just is the vibe to me. but most of all, i think chuuya would like jazz. chet baker, coltrane, miles davis. likes physical media and would spend a bit too much on records. listens to ultraviolence on occasion, i don't make the rules.

look me in the eye and tell me ranpo wouldn't love shibuya kei. lamp, pitcher56, 800 cherries, satellite lovers, roundtable ft nino. just the sort of music i could picture him listening to. would also love bossa nova. would listen to laufey. once again, i don't make the rules.

fyodor dostoevsky listens to only three kinds of music: symphonic metal, classical music and gregorian chants. this is true and real and you should believe me without question. i think he'd like opeth quite a bit as well. fyodor is also the kind of mf who hates when people refer to baroque or romantic compositions as 'classical'. Yes, he has the eras memorized. disgustingly skilled with most instruments. heard liszt play firsthand.

before i officially finish this account, i need something to kick off the writer's block. i'll open up requests after this!