Latest Posts by lastminuteaction - Page 3

New headcanon that Atsushi isn't actually a fan of his birthdays. Especially right after he leaves the orphanage. I feel like on his b-days there things would get extra bad. The only good thing is that the other kids would avoid him instead of joining in on the harassment from the staff, and even then they'd avoid him like the plague, giving him glances that screamed they were disgusted and scared of him. The staff would double down instead. Because of this Atsushi probably didn't mention his birthday to anyone, and was hesitant about it when any of the other ADA members asked. Ranpo ofc knew, and the first time Atsushis b-day passed Atsushi walked in to see a piece of candy from Ranpos stash on his desk. Now everyone knows when it is because of that, but the most they do is take a bit of the workload off of him (AKA get Dazai to do his own work, which he doesn't argue against aside from some complaining that day), and put something on his desk, because they know celebrations make him uncomfortable.

i love you fanfiction authors who write Atsushi with cat traits. yes he likes to be pet. yes he likes to rub his face on people and do forehead bonks. yes he has sharper than normal teeth and weird eyes. yes he will be a grumpy cat and hold a grudge against you. yes he will fight you to the death for food scraps. yes he will look at you with big ol pupils and jump 20 ft in the air when you scare him. he’s cat, he’s kitty.

Atsushi and Akutagawa just cuddling, well TRYING TO CUDDLE

Idk but like I have this one idea that anytime when Atsushi starts to feel like strong positive emotions that tiger is gonna kick in thus I can see him being very careful with Akutagawa with that happens 😂 idk why but it be funny if Akutagawa was just thinking in head going HOLD ME LIKE YOU MEAN it or something

[Lovechild AU]

Whenever I'm bored I draw nonsense (and these are always about SSKK). Well, a break before tomorrow's chapter.

Headcanon that the tiger causes Atsushi to consume more calories/energy doing literally than normal people so his coworkers are always making sure he’s eating enough (especially difficult because growing up in the orphanage taught him to not eat a lot)

byakko has licked all her favorite humans but she cannot lick dazai becuz of his ability which upsets her so its not uncommon for atsushi to be relaxing and a part of his brain try to convince him to fix dazai's hair via tongue like a giant cat

he tries not to think about it

and ignore ranpo laughing at him

SIGHHHH BSD REREAD…................I MISS THEM SO MUCH :(((

Makeshift parental figure (byakkos on her way to work

“over and over, all born into great pain” — bungou stray dogs — chuuya, atsushi, dazai

“Atsushi appears on Chuuya’s doorstep covered in blood and full of drugs. Dazai, despite not being present, dutifully haunts the narrative. or: Strangers who’ve been shaped by the same person. or or: 4,000-ish words of musing and vibes and no plot.” — posted for @dazaibirthdayweek2024 !

words: 3,925

first published: 6/18/2024

characters: dazai osamu, nakahara chuuya, nakajima atsushi

relationships: nakahara chuuya & nakajima atsushi, dazai osamu & nakajima atsushi, nakahara chuuya/dazai osamu

tags: mild hurt/comfort, light angst, introspection, no plot/plotless, implied/reference drug use, non-consensual drug use (off-screen), mild gore, tiger nakajima atsushi, implied/referenced cannibalism (crazy), caring nakahara chuuya

crossposted on ao3

Dazai’s stupid kid is crumpled on Chuuya’s doorstep.

Chuuya had wanted to head down to the liquor store. Instead, his boots hit boy as soon as he stepped out the door. Fucking Dazai, Chuuya thinks, because it must be Dazai’s fault.

Chuuya sighs. He turns back to his empty penthouse, as though expecting Dazai to pop out from behind his couch and shout surprise! then announce to him some stupid plan that absolutely necessitates the weretiger bleeding out in the hall.

“Weretiger,” Chuuya says. The weretiger gives a noncommittal grunt. Copper is already filling the air and seeping into the carpet from a wound that must be in the kid’s torso, way he’s doubled over it. God, the stain in the carpet. Chuuya should just get the carpet ripped out, with how often he has to call the cleaners. Doesn’t the kid have superhuman healing? Chuuya squints. Shouldn’t he be healed already?

“Weretiger,” Chuuya says again. The kid’s shoulder shifts a centimeter and that’s about all the response he gets. Well, okay. Questions later. First things first — the weretiger rises into the air and floats into the middle of the living room. His eyes flutter, but he doesn’t seem to register the red glow around him.

“Bwuh,” the weretiger says. A conveniently stashed sheet of plastic (this is not Chuuya’s first rodeo) lifts up and settles over the couch cushions. The weretiger follows. “Bwuuuhhgggg,” he says smartly into the plastic. His left arm is a long pale line hanging off the couch, which Chuuya’s black Maine-coon is already clawing at. The weretiger seems unperturbed by this.

“Uh-huh.” The first aid kit deposits itself into his hands as he strides over to the couch. “Lemme see that wound.”

Except there’s nothing to see. Under the ripped up shirt and all the clotting blood and bits of loose flesh, it’s just smooth skin. So his ability has done its work, if belatedly. Some of this blood is only a few minutes old. It healed fast, but not as fast as it ought’ve. But the weretiger is still acting all loopy, whimpering like something hurts. Just blood loss? That doesn’t feel right.

Chuuya sits himself on his coffee table, knees bumping the couch. “What’s your name again?” It’s somewhere in the back of his mind, but all he ever hears is Akutugawa’s jinkos.

“Naka…” the weretiger starts, then seems to forget he was saying anything. He turns to the cat as though he only just realized she was drawing tracks down his arm, and coos, scratching at her chin. His pupils are huge. Ah, that’s one question answered at least. A hard drug hindered his healing — and it would have disoriented him enough to panic, go out searching for help. Now the question was what drug, why, and how the fuck did his mind, even drug-addled, end up at Chuuya?

“Naka…” Chuuya echoes, scratching his chin. He really should know this, considering the scuffles and the bounty and the general hot topic the boy was around the Port Mafia. The weretiger does not provide any more help. He is entirely caught up with the cat. Now fully turned onto his side, the weretiger has both hands around the cat’s face, scratching dutifully under both her ears. She purrs like a motorboat.

“Hello,” he says reverently. Big-eyed, he tilts forward until he and the cat can touch noses. When he smiles Chuuya catches braces and grimaces. “Hello, hello, meow.”

“Mrow,” the cat offers.

“Nakajima!” Chuuya finally settles on, triumphant. Nakajima looks up at him fully for the first time, grinning with a Dazai-like edge. Well — tree, apple, falling, etc. Chuuya supposes he’s not so much grinning like Dazai as he is grinning like someone high on nebulous hard drugs, which Dazai often is.

“What’s her name?” Nakajima asks, glossy eyes settling somewhere on Chuuya’s chin.

“Pingus,” Chuuya says, and Nakajima dissolves into giggle fits. He rolls over, pushing himself into the back of the couch, giggling so hard his feet kick out. Pingus, scandalized, climbs onto the couch and begins kneading at Atsushi’s side, trying to force her head under his hands. “What!” Chuuya says, even though he’s listened to a hundred people laugh at his cat’s name before. “It’s a fine Spanish wine, Nakajima, does your idiot mentor teach you anything—”

Nakajima’s laughter stops abruptly. Everything about him stops abruptly. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and Chuuya realizes he hates the sight of him — collapsed on Chuuya’s fine couch, which he’d bought with blood money; white hair and moonlight skin and tatters of a white shirt, all matted and sticky with his own blood, bits of flesh trailing down his stomach. He’s got, Chuuya realizes, red smears all over his chin, his neck, and if he opened his mouth a little wider it might be on his teeth, too. Chuuya had always thought the kid sweet, a bit naive, earnest and reckless. Akutugawa had called him a stupid dog. He wonders about the man-eating tiger stories; wonders what Dazai saw in him in the first place that he thought would make a good partner for Akutugawa. He wonders what Dazai’s taught the kid - what he’s nurtured in him.

“Dazai,” Nakajima says, just as reverential as when he’d been speaking to Pingus. “Dazai told me to come here.” Out of his front pocket, he pulls a crumpled, slightly damp piece of notebook paper and holds it out to Chuuya. He grins big, proud of himself.

A safe place in case of emergency! :D It reads, in Dazai’s stupid messy scrawl. Chuuya will be kind and keep Atsushi for a bit. Tell Chuuya Dazai sent you!

Below these instructions are Chuuya’s address, his phone number (Jesus, Dazai, Chuuya thinks — might as well start plastering Chuuya’s face all over Main Street), and, of course, nothing directed at Chuuya.

Chuuya sighs, runs a hand through his hair. Fucking Dazai — what was he thinking, sending Nakajima his way? Did he tell his whole gaggle of do-gooders Chuuya’s place was a safehouse? And why the hell would he send Nakajima straight into the Mafia’s hands?

(Unless, of course, he believed Chuuya would decline to tell the Mafia about this at all. It was a big risk, believing that.)

“So.” Chuuya leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He studies Nakajima, whose chest is heaving, every breath coming with a hint of a wheeze. Did he overdose? Chuuya taps his foot, considering — he has aspirin in his first-aid kit. Narcan too. “What happened, huh? Too much catnip?”

Nakajima grins lazily (yes, he was right — blood and braces), head lolling against the couch. His arm is limp when Chuuya picks it up, presses two fingers to the pulse point at the inside of his elbow. Nakajima’s offering way too much trust, either because of the drugs or Dazai — Chuuya could stop his blood from flowing at all, if he wanted to. But Dazai would shoot him in the temple, probably.

“I dunno,” Nakajima slurs. His mental condition is definitely unnerving, but at least his pulse feels fine, and his skin isn’t clammy.

Chuuya pinches his inner arm and Nakajima yelps, jolting — his arm becomes monstrous and heavy. Chuuya stares at it, considering the length of its claws. Man-eater, he thinks.

“Huh,” Chuuya says. Then: “Wake up, kid. Tell me what happened.”

“Um.” Pingus is rubbing her face all over Nakajima’s jaw. A deep purr rumbles in Nakajima’s chest to match Pingus’s, which Chuuya is only mildly surprised by. There’s some semblance of awareness in Nakajima’s eyes that Chuuya thinks is due to Pingus’s bothering. She’ll get extra fish with her dinner, as a reward. “Dazai and I were undercover…” Nakajima’s eyes roam the ceiling, running his (both now human, thank God) bony hands up and down Pingus’s back. “Undercover, and… Dazai told me to leave — really fast.”

“Why?”

Nakajima looks frustrated, and Chuuya understands. With a mind addled like his is, it can be hard to put words to things even if you know exactly what you’re trying to explain. But if there’s trouble, there’s no time to wait for Nakajima to sober up.

“Because…” Nakajima says, “He said we were drugged… we were at this fancy party, and I started feeling funny, and Dazai said, go to the Agency, but the Agency was far away… I left him there…” Nakajima jumps up, suddenly, throwing a yowling Pingus off his chest. White knuckling the back of the couch, Nakajima shouts, “Dazai’s in trouble!”

“Calm down.” Chuuya considers reaching out, pushing Nakajima back down onto the couch. That probably wouldn’t go well. “You know Dazai’s fine.” Fine was maybe a strong word, but alive was a fact that seemed to stay true no matter what. “I need more from you. How’d you get injured?”

Nakajima blinks at him. “Injured?”

“Injured,” Chuuya reiterates, pointing at the chunk of yellow fat smeared across Nakijma’s stomach. What a fucking sight. All the hallmarks of a corpse on his couch, except the actual injury.

“Oh,” Nakajima says, squinting down at his own blood. He sort-of snarls as he runs his tongue over his upper teeth, like he just realized the blood on it. “I don’t — remember? I think someone tried to stop me leaving…”

Chuuya puts the images together. Thinks it through — Nakajima and Dazai, both of them completely out of place in some party full of cocktail dresses and tiny sausages. The drugging had to be well hidden for Dazai not to notice, but he would have known the second it slid down his throat. He imagines Dazai’s panicked face — the one no one else ever notices except Chuuya, who is very well attuned to the tiniest twitches of Dazai’s eyebrows — imagines him calculating exactly how many minutes him and Nakajima had, making an estimated guess based on Nakajima’s size and ability and how much he’d unknowingly chugged, and then deciding the kid had enough time to get the hell out of dodge.

Nakajima would have had to leave as discreetly as possible, as though he didn’t know anything was wrong. But if someone had drugged them both, then they were watching them, too. Nakajima had been intercepted, gotten hurt, and — hm. The man-eating thing had only ever been rumors. But if he had claws like that, Chuuya could only imagine the teeth, and what one does when there’s an unknown drug and panic and blood loss all settling in at once. With his efforts to get all the blood off his teeth and out of the crannies of his braces, Nakajima is making a lot of funny faces.

So someone was probably dead. And Dazai was God knows where. And — okay.

Chuuya tilts his head up to the ceiling, ignoring Nakajima, who has once again become preoccupied with Pingus. Question time:

1. Where’s Dazai? Did he get himself out too? Or is he drugged up in someone’s basement?

2. Why Nakajima and not him? If it were one or the other, Dazai would have had a much easier time getting himself out than Nakajima. His tolerance is higher, he probably had less, and, frankly, he’d probably be much more useful in terms of knowledge.

3. For that matter: why not both? Why couldn’t both of them leave? Scratch question 2, then — the only reason Dazai would let himself get caught is if he had a reason to.

4. Fine then, last question, besides why come to Chuuya: how long should Chuuya wait for the stupid mackerel to show his face before he sucks it up and calls the Agency?

Hopefully, he won’t have to deal with the last question. Either Nakajima sobers up soon or Dazai escapes. It’s been a few years and Dazai’s gone weird and soft, but at the very least he should still be totally capable of escaping some stupid fucking kidnappers.

Chuuya should probably add who drugged them to his list of questions, but that’s not really his problem. With the story straight-enough in his head, he just needs to focus on getting Nakajima sober. By the state of the kid’s giant pupils and still-heaving breaths and incessant giggles every time he whispers Pingus to himself, it’ll be a while.

Babysitting duty. Ah, well — Chuuya’s used to babysitting duty, ever since Dazai fucked off and left the Akutugawa kids reeling and helpless. (Not that either of the kids would admit that’s what happened.) Dazai was always leaving him on babysitting duty.

Chuuya sighs, stands, retrieves a blanket. By this point Nakajima’s sunk back down onto the couch, holding a loaf of Pingus against his chest. “Rest up, weretiger,” Chuuya says, throwing the blanket over the both of them. He’ll wash all the viscera and shit off the blanket later.

Nakajima, covered up to his nose, blinks with those big, dual-colored eyes. With a little mrow, Pingus’s head pops out of the blanket and she starts nuzzling Nakajima’s cheek with his nose.

“Are you gonna tell Akutugawa I’m here?” Nakajima asks softly. It should be a question asked with fear, but it’s awfully bland — unafraid. Chuuya’s lips twitch.

“No,” Chuuya says, and heads into the kitchen.

Dazai used to do a lot of cocaine.

He probably doesn’t anymore. Or he’s really good at hiding it. Chuuya doesn’t imagine a cocaine habit would go over well with the detectives, and he doesn’t imagine Dazai could even hide something like that from the smart one. (From the others, he could definitely hide it. But not the super smart one.)

Chuuya’s done it a few times himself, but it’s never been his preference. The dignity of alcohol, the richness of it, and most of all the beauty of it — all those fine, expensive, aged bottles sitting on his shelves — has always appealed to him. But Dazai liked the way things like cocaine got him excited, amplified his mania. He liked uppers, from cigarettes to ritalin to coke, because they made him feel human.

Not that it’s cocaine, Nakajima’s got in him. It’s definitely not cocaine. It was probably ketamine or benzos, an attempt to make Nakajima all loopy and relaxed and weak. That’s not what happened, clearly. At least it’s not what happened immediately, because Nakajima had enough strength in him to escape an attacker. Must’ve been his ability slowing the drug.

It doesn’t matter. This is all to say that Chuuya has more than enough experience sobering himself and others up. He sets to work frying some eggs.

Nakajima’s not asleep; from the other room, Nakajima’s quiet voice wafts in, indistinguishable murmurs interspersed with giggles and Pingus’s mrows. At some point he starts humming a song which Chuuya has to strain his ears to hear. It’s a sweet, lilting melody — his brain fills in the lyrics instantly and his heart twists at the realization that it’s Dazai’s stupid song, can’t do a double suicide alone.

Chuuya slides the eggs off the pan with his spatula and sets them gently on the plate. Then he stops there, stares at the eggs, the shaking yolks. Thinks about being fifteen in Mori’s office, glaring at Dazai, the feeling in his gut that something horrible had changed in his life. Thinks about the stark red marks of Dazai’s hand on Akutugawa’s cheek. Thinks about childrens’ feet pattering softly down the halls of the Port Mafia’s safe houses and headquarters’ halls. Thinks about Nakajima, smiling at Dazai’s name, singing silly tunes Dazai taught him.

Toast pops out of the toaster. It’s a little burnt. Chuuya blinks and takes a breath that does not shake. He flicks on the radio — some public station playing soft jazz — and he can’t hear Nakajima anymore.

When Chuuya returns to the living room with two ham egg and cheese sandwiches, Nakajima pops fully up, although this time he holds Pingus to his chest so she doesn’t fall. The blanket falls, though, and it’s the same as it was before: the remains of a nice shirt falling over thin shoulders, drying brown blood splattering his stomach and chest and arms, his own fucking skin and flesh and fat stuck to him. Chuuya’s seen gore before — seen it a thousand times worse than this — but something about the sight has him keeping his eyes dutifully on Nakajima’s forehead.

Nakajima devours the sandwich in practically one bite, his jaw wider than it ought to be. Chuuya pretends not to be unnerved by this.

Once Nakajima has fully chewed his sandwich and patted his stomach and hummed his thanks, Chuuya asks, “Feel any better?”

The penthouse is cold. Chuuya likes it that way. But Nakajima shivers, pulling the blanket back up, tucking himself back down onto the couch. “A little,” he says, suddenly very childlike. As though he’s only just realized he’s cold (likely, considering what some drugs can do to one’s awareness of things like temperature), Nakajima curls more and more into himself on his side, pulling the blanket up his face. Ridiculous, that he’s on Chuuya’s couch right now. Ridiculous, that Chuuya doesn’t call Akutagawa. Fucking Dazai.

Chuuya stands abruptly. Nakajima blinks in response.

“Rest,” Chuuya says again, then promptly retreats to his bedroom.

Dazai is sprawled out on Chuuya’s bed, twisting the soft black covers beneath him, hair fanned out over the pillow. He’s got a few bruises on his cheek but there’s no blood, Chuuya recognizes first, then recognizes second that Dazai is on his fucking bed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Chuuya says. Throws his hands up in the air, lets out a noise like a yell without any air — makes a scandalized face that Dazai only blinks at, throws his arms back down, then towards Dazai, into the air, then out, gesturing widely at the room around him. Every loose object in the room raises about a centimeter, drops, raises. “When the fuck did you get here!” He crosses the room in two long strides, pulls the lounging Dazai off the bed by his shoulders, and shakes him. “Your stupid kid is high out of his mind in the living room!”

Dazai groans, fake, squeezing his eyes shut. “Chuuya, Chuuya,” he whines, putting on a strange voice like a telenovela housewife, “Chuuya, my head is killing me!”

“You’ve done worse drugs,” Chuuya says, but he brings up a hand to start prying Dazai’s eyelids open and check his pupils. Yelping, Dazai bats him away, wiggles out of his grip, then rolls floppily onto the other side of the bed. He pats the space next to him in invitation.

“Fuck you,” Chuuya says.

Dazai just frowns.

The window is open, Chuuya realizes, a breeze fluttering the blackout curtains. This is somehow an even worse realization than finding Dazai on his bed, and Chuuya has to fully turn on his heel so he’s facing away from Dazai. He grabs his face in his hands, bounces on his heels once, twice, thrice. The idiot had either broken into the apartment below and climbed up to the penthouse or started from the roof and climbed down — either way, it’s so ridiculous and unnecessary that the thought of it gives Chuuya heart palpitations.

“You have a key to this apartment!” Chuuya hisses, although something about it feels like he shouldn’t say it out loud, like it’s an admittance. “Why would you-!”

Dazai hums in a way that tells Chuuya he won’t get an explanation. Either he’d done it for fun or done it because it was all part of some stupid plan or mind game or manipulation. Chuuya decided he didn’t care, because the more pressing question was—

“Why would you give that kid my address?” He steps forward so his knees are bumping the mattress.

Doe-eyed and innocent, Dazai stares up at him. “Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, “Chuuya is a good babysitter…”

“I’m going to kill you,” Chuuya says, but he doesn’t add his usual violence to it because he’s squinting at Dazai’s pupils. Blown pupils, but his cheeks are a normal warmth, he seems perfectly able to move himself around. No need for the damn narcan, which is a blessing, because Chuuya’s had to give Dazai narcan more times than he’d like in this lifetime.

Dazai pats the spot next to him again. Rolling his eyes, Chuuya acquiesces. Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee; fifteen, twenty-two. They sit in quiet a moment, Dazai taking deep breaths Chuuya recognizes as an attempt to sober up. The summer breeze through the window adds a bit of warmth to the cold room. Nakajima is humming that tune again, loud enough to hear through a closed door. Chuuya closes his eyes.

“I escaped a little faster than I meant, but I got good information,” Dazai muses. When Chuuya glances over, an eyebrow raised, he waves his hand in dismissal. “Agency business.”

“Agency business,” Chuuya repeats flatly, “but you can send Nakajima here in the middle of it.” He’s indignant, even though an hour ago he said whoever drugged the two of them wasn’t his problem. It’s the principle of the matter — he can decide he doesn’t care. Dazai can’t decide that for him.

Yawning, Dazai scratches at his jaw. “I didn’t specifically send him here. I gave him your information a long time ago. You were closer than the Agency.” The drugs are making him a bit less playful, more direct than usual. His gaze is sort of lizard-like, unfocused on the wall opposite him. “Chuuya’s a good babysitter,” he repeats. Chuuya could vomit. He leans a bit away from Dazai, but Dazai just lifts one leg and settles it over Chuuya’s, holding him in contact.

They’re silent for a long moment, in which Nakajima begins to giggle, repeating Pingus to himself several times.

“What’re you doing with this kid?” Chuuya finally asks, glancing sidelong at Dazai.

There’s that Dazai smile. The actor one, the robot one, that reaches his eyes as though it’s clawing for them. “Does Chuuya have a soft spot?” he asks, leaning back into Chuuya’s space, chin hitting Chuuya’s shoulder. He whines when Chuuya plants a hand on his face and pushes him off. With the momentum he falls over himself so that he’s become a ball on Chuuya’s bed, moaning about how mean and awful and cruel Chuuya is.

“No,” Chuuya bites, “I just wanna know what you’re planning in your stupid mackerel brain.”

Said mackerel doesn’t respond for a while. Chuuya is reaching out to jostle him when he realizes the rise and fall of his back is real, actual sleep, and his hand stops in the air.

“Damn it,” he says, but it’s a quiet mutter. Out in the living room, Nakajima’s quieted, too.

He stands. Goes into the living room. Stares at the now-sleeping kid for a long moment. In sleep he’s serene, cheeks thin but still childlike, face still all smooth like an artist had just gone over the clay of him with her thumbs. Pingus curls under his chin. All sweet, except for the brown-red on Nakajima’s jaw, resting against Pingus’s dark fur.

Chuuya crosses into the kitchen, sits heavy in a chair, and considers. Considers — all of the safe houses Dazai could have sent Nakajima off to. Considers that stupid tune Nakajima and Dazai seem to love, and the edge to both their smiles, and the vigor with which Akutugawa and Nakajima hate each other. Considers how a man was dead, and how he probably deserved to die, but it had been a desperate, drugged eighteen year-old on a job who’d done it. Considers Chuuya’s a good babysitter, and tea with the Akutugawas, and Nakajima’s braces. He comes to no satisfactory conclusions.

Do you think it would have been cool if Atsushi's white tiger aged with him as he grew up

Convinced atsushi is so stressed out all the time that he is pretty much always running a low grade fever

I love the idea of this so much actually...maybe it has something to do with the tiger ability...maybe he goes to Yosano one day exasperated asking for some advice or medication to help manage his stress because it overwhelms him sometimes and maybe while looking him over she feels that he's warm...she checks his temperature and it's just an even 100. Not bad but not normal. She recommends something he can take and gives him some fever reducers and sends him on his way...she checks on him a week later and realizes he still has the same fever. and then the week after that. she comes to the conclusion that he just always has this for some reason and I need to figure out how to fix it lol

i like to imagine byakko only lets dazai transform her back to atsushi in ways she likes to bully him

if u dont know, my general headcanon is that byakko still overtakes atsushi completely during full moons (i mean... weretiger) but she's no longer aggressive becuz atsushi is no longer abused/alone/in danger so she just hangs around, takes walks, goes hunting, tries to eat ranpo, ya know the normal stuff

but sometimes if atsushi is scared or anxious or stressed, she'll just take over, especially at night time (weretiger i mean come on) but like still, she's chill

anyway a lot of the time she takes over and the ada get called in and need atsushi or just need atsushi back for whatever reason, dazai has to use his ability on her

and she's surprisingly nonchalant about it... kinda

dazai: okay byakko, lets have atsushi bacmphfasdfj

byakko, stalking forward to slap her paw against his face:

/

dazai: byakko there u r, enjoying the stars?

byakko, calmly walking over, getting on hind legs to place her front paws on dazai's covered shoulders:

dazai: aww missed me

byakko, licking his face:

dazai: mph-afjsslkf eww stop that

atsushi, transforming back: huh? where am i... dazai san why is ur face wet

/

dazai, seeing byakko and waving at her: there u are!! be a good kitty- oh no ... no bad kitty... stay back bad kitt-

byakko, leaping of whichever building she was on to run full speed at dazai and tackle him to the ground, transforming back to atsushi in the process:

atsushi, waking up dazed and confused on a vaguely injured dazai: wha? *falls asleep*

/

dazai: here kitty kitty

byakko: >:(

dazai: aww are u mad at me?

byakko turning away dramatically and letting her tail slap dazai across the face:

/

sometimes she's nice and puts her face against dazai's and gives him a little greeting or lets him try to pet her or grabs the end of his coat and starts dragging him away or bites his hand or sits on him or sits still and lets him transforms her back

dug a deep hole

Atsushi leaned against the railing, half of a sandwich hanging from his mouth. “What’s going on here?” he asked Ryuu-chan, sitting on the railing swinging his legs, and watching the spectacle.

“Acchan has to run an entire lap without using his ability at all,” Ryuu-chan said, kicking his feet. Atsushi raised an eyebrow, taking a bite from his sandwich and watching as Acchan, tail out, ran face-first into a wall of Rashomon.

“Return to the starting line,” Akutagawa’s voice carried clearly to where they were standing. “Again.”

A clearly furious, red-faced Acchan stomped back down the track. “How many—?”

“Thirty-nine times,” Ryuu-chan reported dutifully. Atsushi chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from looking too amused. “He actually got halfway around the track, earlier.” Ryuu-chan looked up at Atsushi. “Why is it so important that he doesn’t use his ability? Father never stops me from using mine.”

“Because you think about using Rashomon, and typically have to intend to cause harm with it.” Atsushi watched Acchan sprint—on two legs, instead of four—and make it nearly a quarter of the track before round ears sprouted from his head. Acchan dodged the first Rashomon wall, dropping to four legs, tail out, used a second tentacle as a springboard, and was plucked out of the air by the third, catching him around the middle. They both heard the growl from the stands.

Akutagawa’s voice was razor-sharp. “Did you just GROWL at me, Nakajima Atsushi?”

“And that’s my cue,” Atsushi said, slinging himself over the railing and dropping to the track.

“I didn’t growl,” Acchan very clearly growled, getting fuzzier by the minute. Atsushi managed to contain his laugh, catching Acchan by the back of the shirt. Akutagawa scowled, but Rashomon released him.

“Deal with your son,” Akutagawa said, and Atsushi patted Akutagawa’s shoulder.

“I think that’s enough practice for today,” Atsushi said gently. “Everyone’s tired and hungry, yeah? Let’s go get something to eat.”

anytime atsushi gets excited his tail pops out and wags but no one tells him becuz they think its funny to see atsushi try and pretend he's not excited and act nonchalant

atsushi is genuinely surprised and confused how everyone always knows what he wants or wants to do

dazai, kunikida, and atsushi coming back from a mission

kunikida, noticing atsushi looking at an ice cream stall: atsushi do u want ice cream

atsushi: oh i dont care either way! if u and dazai san want to then...

dazai: i dont re-

kunikida and dazai staring at atsushi's wagging tail:

dazai: ooh~ kunikida-kun~ how kind~ to offer us ice cream~

kunikida: as if bastard! i'll buy it for atsushi but ur a grown ass man

dazai: if only i had a tail :(

atsushi: what

dazai: what

atsushi:

//

like that

yosano: how did u choose a gift for atsushi? theres so many things i could get... since he's not used to owning much

ranpo: my genius deductive skills obviously

yosano:

ranpo: okay fine i chose like 10 and mentioned them to him subtly and bought the one he wagged his tail for the most

yosano:

yosano: oh shit u are a genius

ranpo: why r u acting surprised

//

atsushi: cant believe i have to work with you again,,, why do we always have to see each other ugh

akutagawa, staring (like wan staring) at atsushi's wagging tail:

//

bet atsushi never takes time off becuz idk he doesn't think he can - like he knows he can but he also doesn't think he can

that doesn't make sense but i hope u get it

anyway he never requests time off - he's only not there if he's sick (and was bullied into resting) or something like he personally never puts in the request

if there's some festival or event or anything that anyone thinks atsushi would want to go and would go if not for work they let the boss man know

fukuzawa: atsushi, you haven't taken much time off, but it's good to take a break now and then. if you want, you can have monday and tuesday off. (which weirdly is the exact time that that one event u wanted to go to is on but obviously thats just a coincidence)

atsushi, tail wagging: oh that's alright

fukuzawa: i insist.

//

what else hmmmmmmmm

kyouka: atsushi, do you want me to make that dish again? you liked it right?

atsushi: oh i did! but you dont have to if you dont want to! i mean if you do you totally can

kyouka, staring at his tail: i'll make it

//

junichiro, after coming back from a longer mission:

atsushi: heyyy we didn't see each other all day!

junichiro, trying not to show how touched he is becuz atsushi's tail is wagging, showing how happy he is:

and so on

I headcanon that Atsushi’s ability will on occasion partially or fully activate in his sleep so every so often in the middle of the night Kyouka will hear the thump of a huge tiger getting squished into the walls of Atsushi’s closet

i think a lot about how atsushi sleeps in kyouka's closet. like. boy did you need a den. did you need a little tiger den

tigers like to sleep in cool areas but i feel like atsushi wouldn't becuz he'd associate it with the cage (at least at first) vs warm and under the sunlight is more catlike but also distinctively different from the cage

i mean gradually he overcomes it but for now

Your honor that’s his son

Get ready for a slew of Bungo Stray Dogs hcs because I'm so fucking hyped from the trailer. I'm not sure if I've done this before and Tumblr's search function sucks ass but here are some Catboy Atsushi hcs (With some Shin Soukoku) because I am a firm believer that if there's an animal-type character then they should have animal traits

-When he cares about someone he'll do the slow blink, but all the other person can see is Atsushi staring at them kind of intently, blinking slowly, and then returning to his work like nothing happened

-He purrs when he feels comfortable and safe. This could be if someone plays with his hair, curled up before he goes to sleep, situations like that. But it was something the orphanage punished him for so he tries to repress it as hard as he can. When the agency finds out they think it's the cutest thing possible and always try to elicit that response

-He bunts, the thing where cats drag their jawline against something they care about. The first time he does it to Akutagawa they both freeze and Akutagawa just kind of stares at him for a moment. Atsushi promptly realizes what he did and starts panicking and apologizing profusely. Akutagawa's not entirely sure what happened but he thought it was cute, not that he'd ever tell him that of course

-If completely left alone his nails will naturally grow into claws but they were always cut by the headmaster, often cut back so short his nail beds would start bleeding. He still cuts them back

Head empty, one thought: Imagine Atsushi bunting, the thing cats do where they rub their jaws along things to essentially mark them with their own scent, the side of Akutagawa's face who just stands there a little shocked for a moment before Atsushi realizes what he's done and panics. Of course, he doesn't know why he does it and just does it on instinct

A (kinda sad) idea: Atsushi makes a tiger kitty noise in front of someone and loses it panicking because he’d get punished for making those noises at the orphanage.

I WOULD SNUGGLE HIM SO HARD

Since Atsushi is a cat I think Dazai would want to communicate on his level :D family bonding time

My only "pet peeve" about Cat Like-Atsushi stories

I don't know if anyone else cares about it, but I care about it so imma talk about it.

Tigers cannot purr.

Basically Roaring and Purring are exclusive. Cats who can purr can not roar and cats who can roar can not purr. Tigers roar, they do not purr.

Now honestly, it doesn't bother me too much, as purring is adorable and Atsushi being able to purr while human can be explained away by "Oh human vocal cords aren't strong enough to roar, so when he's human he can purr instead", but i would like to see some roaring atsushi fics.

Like, maybe Dazai's teasing goes a little too far one day and he roars to warn Dazai to get out of his face, or Kyouka gets lost in a crowd and he roars to find her out of instinct, or if you wanna get shippy he roars as a way to get Akutagawa's attention.

I guess I just wish Tiger habits were explored more was apposed to him just being compared to a domestic cat.

That's all.

Edit: Unrelated, but you know how Snow Leopards carry their tails around in their mouths? I know tigers don't do it, but I kinda wanna see Atsushi do that. Like his tail pops out when he's nervous and he walks around with it in his mouth. Idk it just sounds cute.

i like to think that atsushi has longer nails that are maybe a little sharper than normal when he isn’t transformed. little leftover tiger influence yknow?

Headcanon that the reason why Atsushi’s eyes are purple and yellow is because the yellow part of his eyes is his ability. He was born with bad eyesight and couldn’t see shit so the tiger manifested itself in Atsushi’s eyes to fix his eyesight but now he’s also colorblind.

And then for Atsushi’s first month and a half of working at the agency every time Dazai makes direct skin to skin contact with Atsushi his vision gets 10x worse. And Atsushi’s too scared to point it out at first but eventually he’s like “hey guys every time Dazai touches me I can’t see and also I start seeing new colors what’s wrong with me”

Eventually they all figure it out and get Atsushi a pair of glasses so that he can turn off his ability every once and awhile, Atsushi also ends up learning how to drive because Kunikida and Yosano can’t just be the agency’s chauffeurs and even though he can only drive if he turns off his ability and puts on his glasses it’s still really funny to say that a colorblind teenager can drive better than 90 percent of the agency.