#he is one of two of my bsd ocs

[kowwpow]

(Late) Halloween art of Dazai and my oc :)

They are Emily Davis and Matt Taylor from Until Dawn 😌

[fyodorsushankaaa]

some recent drawings that i forgot to post

[zombielover6472]

OOC - the siblings ever

@sora-human-rot

[ghostlynightpanda]

Hii!! I don't know if you're taking reqs rn but if you are could you possibly do this one Dazai x reader idea I had?

So this is based off my bsd oc who works at the ada and like she's one of the ability users there. Her ability allows her to like kind of summon the characters she writes, similar to kyouka, koyou and moris ability. However, unlike the aforementioned characters, my oc actually sees the characters like her own children. She's quite protective of them, even if they cannot die without her influence. (Overprotective mom core)

Now for the main point, it's like how dazai is with that ability of hers (fun fact: the name of the ability is 'Through our eyes'. This is subject to change but I named it that since my oc is an author and it's based off a quote I made up for one of her books 'through our eyes, we share our wounds. Yet still, the weight of your pain never decreases.') As far as I know, dazai wont be able to physically interact with her characters due to his nullification but he should still be able to talk to them. Even if Dazai isn't the type to talk to them, the characters would nag him into talking and yada yada.

This is basically it. super sorry for the long request, you can skip this if you want. Have a great day!!

Inkbound Hearts

synopsis: In a city of chaos and shadows, a writer with the power to bring her characters to life finds unexpected belonging in the Armed Detective Agency—where her fictional family begins to see a distant, broken man as their own, long before she dares admit her growing feelings for him.

content/warnings: ADA!Dazai x reader, fluff, 3.808 words

Yokohama's old train yard was a wreck of twisted steel, smoke, and chaos. Kunikida's glasses were cracked. Atsushi crouched behind a derailed cargo car, blood seeping from his shoulder. Even Ranpo was grimacing—an unsettling sight, given he rarely bothered showing up unless success was assured.

The mission had been simple: locate and retrieve a smuggled artifact tied to the Port Mafia. Low-risk. Clean. Routine.

Now the sky glowed the wrong color, a contract ability-user had unleashed something molten and monstrous, and the retrieval team stood seconds from annihilation.

Then the pages fell. Literally.

Thin, parchment-like sheets drifted from the sky, ink gleaming midair as they curled into lines of prose—sentences forming before they even touched the ground.

"What the hell—?" Kunikida began, but a shockwave swallowed his voice.

And then—

"Scatter, Rika!" "With pleasure!"

Twin voices rang out, sharp and sudden, like a snapped chord in a string quartet.

From behind a rusted crate, two figures surged forward. A girl in a high-collared tunic, wielding a serrated blade taller than herself. Beside her, a boy with a matching blade held in reverse grip, wearing a grin too wide for the moment—like war was a game and he was winning.

They moved in perfect tandem. Fluid. Calculated. Inevitable. As if their choreography had been written long before the battle began.

Steel met shadow. The beast shrieked. The twins carved through the chaos, a blur of synchronicity and sharpened edge.

Mid-leap, Rika cleaved through one of its legs. "Mom said not to overdo it." Yori laughed, narrowly dodging a writhing tentacle. "Mom also said to enjoy ourselves!"

The team stared, momentarily stunned.

Ranpo blinked. "Did… did they say mom?"

Dazai, arms loosely crossed, tilted his head. "Interesting. I didn't know the enemy had metaphors."

"No," came a voice from behind them — calm, warm, and completely unfazed by the chaos. "They're talking about me."

You stepped onto the field with a worn leather notebook in one hand and a pen behind your ear. Your clothes were scuffed with ink stains, your boots caked in dirt, and your gaze sharp enough to cut glass.

You looked down at the page in your hand — an open journal entry, half-written — and flicked your fingers once.

Another figure emerged from ink and air: a massive man in bronze armor, carrying a curved halberd glowing faintly red. He stepped between Kunikida and an oncoming beast's strike like it was nothing.

"I believe you all needed some help?"

Back at the Agency office, the mood was a strange mix of awe and exhausted suspicion.

Atsushi sat on the edge of a desk as Yosano wrapped his shoulder, but his eyes kept drifting to the twins—now perched on a filing cabinet, legs swinging in perfect sync like they didn't just go toe-to-toe with a nightmare.

Kunikida, nursing a headache, flipped through your notebook with a gloved hand.

"These aren't ability blueprints… they're actual narratives?"

You nodded from the couch, sipping tea. "Every character I write becomes someone I can summon. But only if I believe in them enough. Only if they're real to me."

"That's why they called you 'Mom'," Atsushi murmured, blinking wide-eyed.

"Exactly," you said gently. "I create them, raise them, protect them. They're family to me."

Dazai finally spoke, voice smooth as always, but eyes narrowed just slightly. "And how long have you had this… army of storybook people?"

You tilted your head. "They're not an army."

"They fought like one," he countered.

"They fight to protect what I care about. That's different."

Your gaze met his.

He held it for a beat too long.

And then: "Hm. Cute."

You weren't sure if he meant you or the answer. Probably neither.

Kunikida made noise about protocols and clearances and power thresholds, but Fukuzawa approved your placement within hours.

"Abilities born from emotional truth are rare," he said. "And dangerous. But I believe yours is grounded. That's what matters."

You introduced the Agency to a few of your mainstays:

Rika and Yori, the sword twins — chaotic, loyal, eager to duel anyone who made eye contact for too long.

Kaoru, the former soldier, stoic and quietly polite, already trading tired nods with Yosano.

Momo, the half-winged beast girl who'd accidentally eaten four of Kenji's rice balls before realizing they weren't part of her world's food system.

Rei, the tactician, who had already tried (and failed) to beat Ranpo in a riddle match.

You warned them, though.

"There will be more," you said, hand resting on your notebook. "There have to be more. I don't stop writing. I can't."

Dazai watched you closely as you said it.

Like he was reading the spaces between your words.

Yokohama's morning sun cast a warm, gold light over the bay, glinting off the windows of the Armed Detective Agency's office. The peace was deceptive, fragile—like everything else in this city.

The quiet didn't last long.

"Mom! He took my sword again!"

A blur of blue hair darted down the hall, followed by a boy only slightly taller, both no older than twelve. The slightly younger girl was puffing with righteous fury, her ornate blade now in the hands of her grinning counterpart.

"Did not! You left it in the umbrella stand!"

"Because I was drying it!"

From his desk, Kunikida pinched the bridge of his nose with the restrained suffering of a man who had memorized his ideal schedule by the minute. And none of it included a sword fight before lunch.

"You know this is a government-sanctioned office, not a kindergarten, right?"

At the center of it all, standing calmly with a cup of tea in one hand and a pen behind the ear, was you.

"I'm aware," you said sweetly. You snapped your fingers once, and both children immediately froze mid-run, blinking at you like guilty puppies.

"You two—outside, five laps around the block. And no summoning elemental bursts this time, Yori, Rika."

"Yes, Mom..." the two mumbled before darting out the door with a supernatural speed that made Tanizaki flinch in his chair.

Your ability Through Our Eyes manifested as an extension of your writing—your soul, quite literally, poured into words. Whatever characters you crafted in your stories could be summoned into the real world with form, emotion, and purpose. You didn't just give them roles—you gave them lives. Names. Histories. Pain. Joy. And love.

They came to life like flickers of imagination carved into reality—some warriors, some children, some ethereal beings. They were family to you, and you were their creator, guardian... mother.

They couldn't be destroyed unless you allowed it. Pain and injury were real to them, but death was negotiable. Their connection to you wasn't just magical—it was emotional. They felt your grief, your fear, your rage—and responded in kind. When you hurt, they hurt. When you smiled, they danced in the sun.

It was an ability born of empathy and imagination—a dangerous power wrapped in softness.

Despite the initial chaos, the ADA adapted—more or less—to your unique presence. You've been with them for a few months now and you felt home here. 

Kenji had taken to your younger characters like a duck to water. He spent his breaks rolling around in the grass with them, showing them how to fish, or trying to ride the winged horse girl you wrote for a fantasy short story once.

"I think Momo's part cow," he had said once, completely straight-faced. "She's got those eyes."

Momo, the aforementioned winged girl, had mooed out of spite and kicked a lamp off the wall.

Kunikida on the other hand had not adapted.

"This is not a daycare!" he barked one afternoon as a pair of your summoned twins reenacted a pirate duel behind the filing cabinets. "There is paperwork being trampled!"

"They're technically centuries-old sword spirits," you offered helpfully. "They just like to stay in child form."

"That does not help!"

You had to rewrite one of them as allergic to ink just to keep them off his schedule sheets.

Atsushi, poor sweet boy, had no idea how to handle your characters—especially the older girls.

They'd swoop in, touch his face with curious fingers, giggle at his stammering, and coo about his "puppy eyes." One even offered to braid his hair.

Atsushi turned beet red. "I-I'm not a doll—please stop petting me—!"

You eventually had to stop a flirtatious sky-warrior named Kaida who kept calling him "My little tiger cub."

Tanizaki mostly avoided eye contact. Naomi tried to get fashion advice from one of your more stoic female characters, who unfortunately didn't understand the concept of modern clothing and suggested Naomi wear a breastplate and fur cloak.

Naomi was delighted.

Yosano was fascinated. You caught her chatting with one of your battle-worn soldier characters, Kaoru, comparing scars and talking field medicine like old war buddies. It was oddly heartwarming... until you heard Yosano ask if Kaoru had ever tried battlefield amputation for fun.

Kaoru requested to go back in the book after that.

Ranpo didn't care at first... until one of the characters, Rei, solved a riddle he was working on, then bragged about it for two days.

From that point on, they were locked in a silent battle of wits—he would leave puzzles out, Rei would try to solve them first. Ranpo always won. He never said anything. But he smiled a little wider when Rei got close.

Despite the chaos, your presence felt like a strange kind of glue. You brought warmth—messy, loud, infuriating warmth—to a place that was often soaked in darkness.

The Agency was slowly, grudgingly, adjusting to having not just one new member—but an entire cast of them.

And in the center of it all, you stood—writer, summoner, mother, and soldier—pen in one hand, stories in your heart.

Dazai didn't dislike you. In fact, that was the problem.

He watched you from the corner of his vision more often than he cared to admit—pen tucked behind your ear, hands always moving, pages scribbled in ink and coffee stains, hair mussed from the breeze your "children" caused when they rushed around the office like a thunderstorm of feelings and half-finished story arcs.

You were messy. Warm. Full of empathy that made his skin itch in a way he didn't understand.

And your ability? It was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

Through Our Eyes—a strange, beautiful title for something so dangerous. The power to pull characters from your mind, from your stories, to give them shape and substance. Not just tools, not weapons. People. Emotions. Families.

It should've disturbed him.

Instead, it unsettled him. Because he could never touch them.

The first time it happened, it had been an accident.

One of the twins—Yori—had tripped near Dazai's desk. Instinctively, Dazai had reached out.

Yori vanished with a snap of nullification, evaporating mid-gasp like smoke from a snuffed-out candle.

Your head had whipped around, just in time to see Dazai's outstretched hand and the faint ripple of ability cancellation still fading from his fingers.

You didn't say anything—no anger, no blame—but your eyes… your eyes.

Hurt flickered there for just a second.

Dazai never touched them again. Kept his distance. He dodged their playful jabs, skirted around their boisterous presence, and avoided their relentless curiosity like it was a particularly persistent headache.

But they didn't take the hint.

Rika and Yori became expert annoyance artists—poking, prodding, and rattling Dazai's carefully maintained calm with relentless questions and teasing barbs.

"Why do you always look like you're hiding something?" Rika would demand, circling him like a mischievous shadow.

Yori would chime in with a grin, "You're like a puzzle wrapped in a riddle and dipped in mystery sauce."

He'd sigh, half amused and half exasperated, but they wouldn't relent.

The others joined in too. Kaoru quietly offered unsolicited advice on his posture, while Momo's sharp eyes would study him like a curious beast sizing up prey. Rei, ever the tactician, analyzed him with cool detachment, dropping cryptic comments that left Dazai wondering if he was the subject of some secret game.

No matter how much he tried to avoid them, your characters found ways to get under his skin—not physically, but emotionally.

And then, there was the breaking point.

It wasn't during a battle or an Agency mission, but a quiet moment turned sour when an offhand insult from an outsider caught one of them off guard.

Kaoru—the soldier—had heard a cruel remark, dismissive and sharp. The weight of it pressed down harder than any wound, harder than any physical pain.

Without warning, Kaoru appeared at Dazai's side, silent and steady.

Before Dazai could say a word, Kaoru reached out, placing a hand on his arm.

The world seemed to ripple—the edges blurred—and Kaoru vanished, retreating back into the worn pages of your notebook.

The office was suddenly quieter.

Later, when you found the spot where Kaoru had faded, you understood.

These characters—your family—needed refuge. When the chaos, the pain, the harshness of the real world overwhelmed them, they came to the one person who seemed able to hold that strange calm within the storm.

Dazai.

He might avoid them on purpose, but when they needed him, they found their way to him.

And when they touched him to disappear—returning to the safety of the stories—they found peace.

Until you summoned them again.

Dazai's reluctance to engage with your characters—your children— had always been clear, but beneath his cool, evasive exterior, something else was quietly unfolding.

What he didn't know was that your characters' persistent antics weren't random. They were driven by more than curiosity or mischief.

They knew.

They knew about you. About the way your gaze lingered just a bit longer when you looked at Dazai. The soft catch in your voice when his name slipped from your lips. The way you'd scribble furiously in your notebook, pages upon pages filled with stories that felt less like fiction and more like a secret confession.

Every stolen glance. Every shy smile you tried to hide behind a sip of tea.

Your feelings—careful, complicated, and still blossoming—wove themselves into the very fabric of the characters you created.

So it was no accident that Rika and Yori, Kaoru and Rei, Momo and the rest, took a particular interest in Dazai. Not just as an Agency colleague, but as a magnet for the attention they knew you wished you could give freely.

They taunted and teased him, prodded at his composure, not because they disliked him, but because they sensed his guardedness—and wanted to draw him out.

"Why do you act like you don't care?" Rika asked once, sharp eyes catching his every twitch. "We know you do."

"You're just scared to admit it," Yori grinned.

Dazai's smirk was slow to form, but when it did, it was reluctant.

What they didn't realize—what you hadn't yet voiced aloud—was that their restless energy was a reflection of your own tangled emotions.

After long days of watching the subtle dance between Dazai and your creations, you found yourself pouring those feelings onto paper.

The pen in your hand became a conduit for your heart—writing stories that blended reality and fantasy, crafting scenes where the quiet moments between two people said everything words couldn't.

You wrote about a man who was both distant and near, enigmatic but achingly familiar. A man who wore his walls like armor, yet somehow carried the weight of others on his shoulders.

Your characters echoed those stories, their personalities shaped by the nuances you poured into your pages—the laughter, the frustrations, the tenderness hidden beneath sarcasm.

And as the characters grew to like Dazai—not as a crush, but as something almost paternal, protective—they mirrored your own complex feelings, embodying a family you'd begun to build in this strange new world.

Later, in the solitude of your room—your pages scattered, your fingers stained with ink—you found yourself writing again. Not just to ease your thoughts, but to understand them.

You wrote about walls and doors. About people who closed themselves off because the idea of letting someone in had once led to ruin. You wrote about patience, about small kindnesses that chipped away at those walls without ever demanding they fall.

The next day, Dazai returned from a mission with a quiet sort of exhaustion in his eyes. No injuries, no dramatic flair. Just a weight in his shoulders that told you something had gone wrong.

He didn't speak to anyone—not even Kunikida. He simply walked to the break room, sat at the window, and stared out at the street below.

You entered a few minutes later, alone. No sword-wielding twins. No elemental bursts. No scribbled pages fluttering behind you.

Just you. And him.

You poured two cups of tea and sat down across from him without asking.

He didn't acknowledge you, but he didn't leave either.

"I rewrote Haruki," you said eventually, softly. "He didn't want to fight anymore. I changed him into a healer."

Dazai glanced sideways, having met the former soldier a few times. "And did he thank you for it?"

"No," you smiled faintly. "But he cried the first time he saved someone."

There was a long pause.

"You change them because you love them," he murmured. Not a question.

You nodded. "They grow. Just like we do."

He turned back to the window, his voice quiet but deliberate. "I don't know how to grow without breaking first."

You swallowed, the ache in your chest blooming like bruised ink.

"Then let someone hold the pieces," you said. "Even if it's just for a while."

His gaze lowered to his tea, fingers tracing the rim of the cup. For the first time since you'd met, he looked… unsure. Not lost. Not masking. Just tired.

And still, he didn't leave.

Outside, the city carried on in its usual rhythm—cars moving, people walking, birds weaving across the rooftops. But inside the break room, everything had slowed, softened.

No confessions. No declarations.

Just two people, quietly sitting at the edge of something not yet spoken, but deeply felt.

The shift between you started small.

Dazai didn't seek you out—but he stopped avoiding you. He'd drift near when your characters were out, pretend he was simply walking by when really, he'd linger near the edges of your quiet presence. You learned not to startle that fragile nearness. You let him arrive and leave on his own time.

Some days, he'd speak.

Some days, he wouldn't.

But he always stayed longer than he meant to.

Once, after a mission that left half the Agency nursing burns and bruises, he showed up at your door without knocking. His coat was torn, his expression unreadable.

"I don't want to talk," he said.

You stepped aside to let him in.

He didn't speak a word for over an hour. You just sat with him. Two cups of tea between you. A soft hum of wind through the open window. One of your newer characters drifted briefly into the hallway, then vanished again at your subtle shake of the head.

Later, when he stood to leave, he paused. Something almost apologetic in the curve of his shoulders.

"Thank you," he said. Barely above a whisper.

You didn't ask for more.

It became a pattern.

Not daily. Not scheduled. But real.

He'd show up sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes between missions, sometimes with eyes hollow from seeing too much. And you would be there—with tea, with silence, or with stories if he needed them.

You never asked what happened. You never pried.

And in return, he began offering more than you expected.

He'd mention things he noticed—"You haven't eaten today," or "That new character you summoned… she's a little like you." He remembered details. Made observations that didn't seem important until they nestled under your skin hours later.

One evening, as twilight painted the Agency in amber light, Dazai sat beside you on the rooftop. Your notebook was open in your lap, ink smudging the corner of your palm.

You glanced over, feeling the weight of his presence settle like a soft exhale beside you.

"I wrote something today," you murmured.

He didn't move, but his gaze shifted to you.

You flipped to a page—not new, not recent. One that had been revisited many times. Your fingers grazed the margin where a line was underlined and circled, again and again.

"Through our eyes, we share our wounds. Yet still, the weight of your pain never decreases."

Dazai looked at you.

Really looked.

And for once, you didn't look away.

"I don't ask you to share it," you said. "I just want you to know… you don't have to carry all of it alone."

His voice, when it came, was so quiet you almost missed it.

"I don't know how not to."

You nodded, returning your gaze to the page.

"Then let us keep walking with you," you said. "Even if we can't take the weight, we can still be there."

A silence stretched between you. This time, not tense or uncertain—just full. Like something had finally shifted into place.

You didn't touch. You didn't confess.

But you stayed.

Your characters noticed, of course. They always did. They became gentler around him, even the rowdy ones. They still teased—especially Rika and Yori—but the flukes grew softer. Familiar.

They orbited him like he was part of their story now, not just a passing name in the margins.

And then one morning, as Dazai walked into the office with his usual disinterested slouch, the twins ambushed him at the doorway. They stood in front of him, not letting him pass if he didn't want to accidentally sent them back in their books when touching them.

He raised a brow. "Am I being arrested?"

"You're stalling," Rika said, eyes narrowed.

Yori nodded solemnly. "We've been patient."

Dazai sighed. "For what?"

Rika tilted her head. "For you to admit it."

"Admit what?"

Yori grinned. "That you're part of this family."

Dazai went still.

Not sarcastic. Not smiling.

Just still.

You entered the hallway a moment later, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and your notebook in the other. You paused when you saw them—but didn't interrupt.

The twins looked back at you, then up at him again.

"You can pretend all you want," Rika muttered.

"But you're not just 'some guy' anymore," Yori finished.

Dazai's gaze flicked from them… to you.

You didn't say a word. Just offered the faintest smile. Open. Steady.

He didn't answer.

But he didn't deny it either.

And that, for now, was enough.

Masterlist

[bungoulostdogs]

Old doodle I found of my persona in the BSD world and befriending André (because he's my favorite character).

The top two characters are OCs of mine, and the bottom one with the hat and milkshake is my persona.

[baby-tini]

What type of fanfics/reader x character fics do you dislike? I dislike the ones where reader cries for anything and everything like that AIN'T me tf 😤 or they're weak af and let said character abuse tf outta them and they take it ughh enrages me👹 However I do also like reader x character with character being dominant, possessive and jealous(especially when it comes to bedroom activities)

This is just my personal opinion, if you don't agree, block me.

Mischaracterization- I really hate when people give the character a whole new personality, and I'm not saying this too offend anyone because some characters, like Osamu Dazai from BSD, are really hard too pin point, but when you take people like Dabi from MHA and make him this shallow character of "Oh he just hates his dad and that's his whole personality." It pisses me off because Dabi has quite a lot of character development and depth to him. Yes, hating his dad is a big thing in his character because that's literally the reason he's still alive but Dabi also has grown too care for people like Toga and literally, in his own way, make her feel accepted. Or when people write Dazai as a suicidal maniac who's just there for shits and giggles when in actuality he's way more complex then some people give him credit for.

Weird Ships- I see nothing wrong with people shipping two characters, that's inevitable, but when you take two characters, especially when one is a canon minor and you make them romantic and or sexual, it's weird, like this one fic that I stumbled onto months ago about Hawks and Tokoyami... that's fucking weird, or when people make fics of Sukuna x Yuji and Sukuna is like 1,000+, it's weird. Or again, when people make Gojo x Megumi fics... that's pedophilic and disgusting. Or when people make incest shit, that's also weird, and it's weird when it's actual family, if you wanna write step-brother character whatever I don't see a big deal with that, but when people write Endeavor x Fuyumi shit it's actually disturbing.

OCs- If you wanna write your OC and a character that's fine, there's nothing wrong with that, but when you write insert readers and it's literally just your OC, it pisses me off. If you were too write a reader with a specific quirk or something, maybe a request for a certain thing they have like a mental disorder, that's fine, but when you write that the insert has blonde hair, blue eyes and white skin, that's no longer an insert. It's an OC- or when the reader is given a name... it kinda defeats the whole purpose of an insert.

[feralformyocs]

pspsppss talk about ur mcs 🎤 ? /nf

OHOHOHOOOO I CAN GO ON FOR HOURS 😈😈😈🙏🙏🙏

Okay I'm p sure this is about Our Life, AND RN I'M SO HYPERFIXATED ON OLNF, AAAAAAAAAA I literally have 2 MCs; one for a Tamarack route and one for a Qiu route. I've thought about making an MC solely for polyam purposes, but that's an idea for later. Basically my MC for Qiu is a transmasc who starts out as a REALLY SHY kid in Step 1 (would be pre-trans in Step 1, but for this post I'll stick with they/them when talking about their Step 1), like my MC would ask Qiu/Tamarack for help with communicating and stuff, which leads to them feeling like they're inconveniencing the two. They're easily overwhelmed and they have a bit of self-esteem issues due to dysphoria, but they begin to feel a lot more comfortable around Qiu and Tamarack throughout the moments and will begin to feel more comfortable speaking up around them... BUT BY STEP 2 THEIR INTROVERTED NATURE COMPLETELY CHANGES! Partly because that's when he realizes he's trans (he/they), and while he's still insecure about himself and his body-image, they begin to grow more social and eventually becomes the "sunshine" between the three of them, which is ironic considering when they were a kid he could barely make eye contact without getting super nervous... Also he tries to cut his own hair so it is SUPER choppy, but he thinks it looks cool regardless (nobody tells him his hair looks like it belongs on a BSD character 🤫)

My MC for Tamarack is a transfemme who starts out as a pretty mellow kid who goes with the flow. Likes to think of herself as more "mature" than she really is, and believes that one day she'll be a detective since she's absolutely OBSESSED with mysteries; she's also convinced she'll be a famous artist on top of that, since if you can be anything why NOT be a cool detective and an artist? Despite seeming like a pretty cool and collected kid, she's INSANELY competitive and would literally start practicing biking more often just to prove she has the best set of wheels, even if she thinks her bike is stupid. She's also the kind of kid to draw on her helmet and put stickers on it just to make it look nicer, so she can think she has the best helmet in the world. By Step 2, she's a COMPLETE dork who's pretty laidback on the outside lol. She gets SUPER into fantasy board games, and her creativity is just at full swing by this point. I'd imagine she's one of those OC makers who, in an attempt to not make a mary-sue character, ends up making the edgiest character you've ever seen in your life. I also think she'd be the kind of person to write fan fiction and (/IF/ given the opportunity) would probably engage in shipping wars online.

I may or may not be projecting on both of those characters (I was a super shy kid who was constantly being told to speak up, and in middle/highschool I was the kind of person to argue with LITERAL STRANGERS over shipping/fandom stuff on like TikTok and Amino, while making overly edgy fandom OCs 🫠), but I'm pretty happy with both of my MCs!

I'm pretty sure my Our Life: Beginning and Always MC is the simplest out of all my MCs in both Our Life games, they're just a nonbinary person who retains their golden-retriever energy throughout the years and would have a pretty wholesome relationship with Cove lol (except for their brief emo phase in Step 2 🫢 WHICH THEY DON'T WANT ANYONE TALKING ABOUT OR BRINGING UP IN ANY WAY LOL)

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

While I am in a process of writing next part of "If you were not alone", a small bonus.

Back in this post, I showed two of my BSD OCs. Some people wanted to knew more about this two, so, here I will put some information about them. Feel free to ask questions about them in the comments, or ignore this post.

Warning: Some heavy topics (slavery, child abuse)

Pecrew

Bertha

Ability: Doesn't have one.

Age: 17

Birthday: 20th of May

Height: 175 cm / 5' 9"

Weight: 61 kg / 134 lb

Blood type: AB

Love: Jericho

Like: Fyodor Dostoevsky, rats, Karma, Sigma

Dislike: dolphins

Hate: Her biological family and village she grew in

Youngest member of Rats in the house of the dead.

She was born in a village that was run by an ability-centric cult. They proclaimed, that ability users were above non-ability users.

So, of course, her parents, cultists, two ability users, wanted to have a child with an ability. When Bertha was born, they were sure, that she would have an ability.

Each year, the Celebration of True Powers were held, during which Cult Leader, Yevgeny Zamyatin (another of my OCs) used his ability to reveal, if newborn kids of cultists have abilities.

During one of them, it was revealed, that Bertha didn't have an ability.

For ten years her parents did everything, to destroy her self-worth. For years Bertha was sure, that "parasite without ability" was a mistake and should be grateful, that she is allowed to live. That the only reason she was allowed to stay was because her parents need someone to look after them, when they became old.

When Bertha was ten, her sister was born. And her sister had an ability.

Her parents didn't need her anymore.

So, they do what other cultist were doing, when someone in their families didn't have an ability.

Bertha's parents sold Bertha to one of Zamyatin's accomplices, so she would be forced to work in the mines.

Six months passed.

After an incident with guards in the mines, Bertha was punished by being locked in a cage. She wasn't allowed to have food or water.

After three days, she was 'saved'.

Fyodor Dostoevsky tried to get some valuable information from mines' owner. They arranged a meeting, but, the owner, gets too arrogant and tried to capture Fyodor, to have another slave (and ability user) to work in the mines. Fyodor killed the owner and, to make sure, that there were no witnesses, killed guards and slaves.

But he couldn't kill Bertha, who, at that point, was dying from dehydration and starvation. She reminds Fyodor of someone from his past. For the first time in years, Fyodor acted on his emotions, saved Bertha and took her with him.

After emotions died down, Fyodor was faced with reality. Now he has a ten-year-old girl in his lair and have no idea what to do with her.

She still reminds her of someone, so he can't kill her. He is not that heartless to throw her on streets. But, he also not suitable to be a father. But, Bertha wasn't looking the best, years of abuse and last six months didn't make her look healthy.

After some thinking, Fyodor decided to let Bertha stay until she gained some weight and became a little bit healthier. Until then, Fyodor will search for an orphanage or a family that could take her in.

So, Bertha start living with Fyodor.

Slowly, they opened up to each other. Bertha was treated as a human being for the first time in her life, and Fyodor enjoyed her company.

At the end, Fyodor decided to let Bertha stay with him forever. Bertha, who, thanks to Fyodor's views on abilities, stopped thinking about herself as a lesser being, asked Fyodor to teach her to be more like him.

Bertha start seeing Fyodor as her father figure.

Bertha wants to be strong, to prove anyone, that she isn't weak and can be strong if not stronger, then ability users.

Relationship:

Fyodor Dostoevsky - Bertha saw him as father figure. Fyodor also feels protective over Bertha.

Nikolai Gogol - A little bit complicated. Nikolai treats Bertha nicely, even calls her "his honorary niece", but he is too loud for her liking. Still, they are on a good/neutral terms.

Ivan Goncharov - his obsession with Fyodor and her freaks Bertha out. She tries to avoid him.

Alexander Pushkin - during their first meeting, he made a huge mistake, when tried to laugh at her not having an ability. Unfortunately for him, Bertha was living with Fyodor for a few years already. And she has been training. She almost hung Pushkin up, and only Fyodor's interference saved his life. Now Pushkin is horrified of Bertha.

Karma - Bertha managed to talk Fyodor down from killing Karma. Now Karma is Bertha's underling. She treats him nice and saw him as her friend. They are on friendly terms.

Sigma - her favorite member of Decay of Angels (after Fyodor, of course), Bertha wants to be friends with Sigma. She is quite familiar with the feeling of being an outcast and stranger in the own home.

Jericho - this two met on Yokohama streets one day. They start meeting more often and became friends. Slowly, they fell in love. They understand each other, because they are quite similar (both have terrible past, both are 'adopted' by geniuses with gray morals and, both have trust issues).

Jericho

Abilitiy: "Raven came to Raven" let him transform into a raven-like monster.

Age: 17

Birthday: 10th of January

Weight: 72 kg / 158 lb

Height: 183 cm / 6' 0"

Blood type: AB

Love: Bertha

Like: Dazai Osamu, Oda Sakunosuke, cats, fat tail gerbils.

Dislike: Horses

Hate: His father and Parental grandmother, collars

Young Armed Detective Agency member. Result of arranged marriage and forced pregnancy.

After his mother, who had enough of Jericho's father constant cheating and of being forsed to had a child, committed suicide, his father and parental grandmother sold Jericho to the slavers, trying to get rid of him.

Three years passed.

One day, Jericho got almost killed by other slaves. That moment his ability activated.

In a rage, he killed all other slaves. He was captured, before he can kill someone from slavers.

Jericho was put in "last week" cage. If he won't be bought in a week, he would face fate worse, then death.

Jericho was bought by Port Mafia boss. Ougai Mori bought a twelve-year-old boy as a present for an eighteen-year-old Dazai Osamu.

Initially, Dazai was neglectful. He was harsh during trainings, and Jericho was too afraid of using his ability again.

After a week of Jericho being in Dazai's possession, Oda learned about it and interfered.

With his help (after he spent few hours shouting at Dazai for owning a slave and neglecting a child), Jericho's and Dazai's relationship became more or less normal.

Jericho start doing something during his trainings. He wasn't using his ability, still afraid.

Dazai, who warmed up towards Jericho for a bit, became nervous, knowing, that Mori could organize Jericho's death, if he won't start using his ability to benefit Port Mafia.

But one day, Jericho used his ability again.

It happened three months after Jericho was given to Dazai. At that point, it was clear, that Dazai treated Jericho better, than Akutagawa. So Akutagawa decided to prove, that he is better than some slave.

Jericho protected himself.

If it wasn't for Dazai's "No Longer Human", Akutagawa and Jericho would kill each other.

Jericho was left with a shoulder pierced by Rashomon (still sore during cold weather), and Akutagawa's arm was broken by Jericho's talons (Akutagawa still had scars, after all these years).

After Oda's death, Dazai left the mafia and took Jericho with him. During two years of hiding, Dazai and Jericho learned more about each other, slowly learning to care about each other. Dazai helped Jericho get a hold on his ability and took care of him when he became seriously sick. Right before Dazai joined the ADA, he gave Jericho a choice. Jericho could either be taken in by Ango and Special Division, or continue living with Dazai and join ADA. Jericho chooses to stay with Dazai.

Relationship:

Dazai Osamu - it is a miracle, but Jericho does view Dazai as a father figure. Jericho actually believes, that Dazai isn't a bad person, despite knowing what Dazai can do. Dazai does care about Jericho and his feelings. During their hiding, Dazai gave Jericho a pair of earrings, to mask piercings, that slavers made for a price tag.

Oda Sakunosuke - Jericho misses him. Sometimes, he is dreaming about having Oda as his father.

Kunikida Doppo - Jericho is not the biggest fan of Kunikida. He doesn't like, how Kunikida treats Dazai. Jericho, thanks to his past, doesn't like idealists. He knew, how terrible some people can be.

Bertha - loves her dearly.

____

Some facts:

Dazai and Fyodor are surprisingly capable fathers. Or, at least, they knew, how to treat Bertha and Jericho and be good parents for them.

Apartment, where Dazai and Jericho were hiding were small and only had one room, small kitchen and small bathroom. And first thing Dazai do when he and Jericho escaped Port Mafia was finding a folding screen, so Jericho had some sort of own room and privacy.

Jericho keep his hair long, because slavers constantly shorn it. For Jericho his hair is a symbol of him being in control.

During her first year living with Fyodor, Bertha tried to keep two rats she found on the street without asking him first. She immediately got caught by him. Bertha almost managed to make Fyodor let her keep them, but she made a mistake by revealing, that they are wild. Fyodor immediately made her return rats to the street.

During Dazai's shroom trip in the Entrance Exam arc, he put Jericho in a blanket burrito, so 'he would become a butterfly'. Jericho wasn't against staying in a soft blanket burrito.

When, during the Entrance Exam arc, Fukuzawa and Kunikida were thinking, if Dazai can be trusted, they thought, that Jericho is either also a criminal, or was kidnapped by Dazai.

When Bertha wanted to learn, how to apply makeup, Fyodor let her practice on him.

Bertha can't handle pure black coffee. She got some interesting side effect. After she drank black coffee, she has a burst of energy and start running in circles. Then she became clingy and would hug nearest familiar person (a.k.a. Fyodor). When it happened first time, Fyodor had to work with Bertha on his back for three hours.

Fyodor and Dazai are planning to visit biological relatives of their kids. Just to talk...

[fiight-or-fliight]

Introduction Post

─ ❝ I'm telling you ❞ ─

so, I've finally worked up the effort to make an intro post, after four-ish years of being on here TvT

─ ❝ This life is amazing when you greet it with opens arms! ❞ ─

anyway, I'm Sky (also go by Atlas), and welcome to my main blog! (I also have a Link Click Xia Fei RP blog now - @svnxfelix)

─ ❝ Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart ❞ ─

Basic Information:

I use he/they pronouns

boyflux (current questioning as to whether or not I'm a demiboy)

bi & aroace

ISTP-T

Chinese

multi-fandom and multishipping mess

big fan of rarepairs <3

my interests include reading, writing, art, playing and listening to music (I'm willing to listen to any genre as long as it's a banger song), getting really invested in any sort of media tbh, overanalysing said media, creating OC's, collecting things, annotating books, designing pretty much anything, colouring in, accessorising and fashion

minor and taken (so no being weird, please, ty <3)

will definitely be open to making new friends / mutuals or talking to any mutuals I haven't interacted with for a while :]

anyone is more than welcome to send me an ask in my inbox to chat! (as long as you are nice, ofc)

basic DNI criteria when it comes to interacting, please :]

─ ❝ No matter the place, we can light up the world ❞ ─

Fandoms / Interests:

[red text means that these interests are the fandoms / interests I tend to be more involved in and generally engage in the most. Italics means that I haven't finished / caught up with the media </3]

Murder Most Unladylike (+ The Ministry of Unladylike Activity)

Nevermoor series (by Jessica Townsend) (haven't read Silverborn YET.. unfortunately :()

Riordanverse (including MCGA, KC + also Daughter of the Deep (not included in Riordanverse but will still mention))

ATLA & LOK

EAH

MLP (Gen 4) (including Equestria Girls)

TDP (The Dragon Prince)

TOH

One Of Is Is Lying by Karen McManus (and generally all Karen McManus books)

Osemanverse + Heartstopper TV show

HTTYD (mainly movies) (I haven't read the books for like... nearly a decade)

Ninjago (both the show + movie) (not including Dragon's Rising sadly </3)

AGGGTM (books & TV show)

VLD

Stranger Things

TDLOSK

TMF (The Music Freaks)

Wednesday

Flicker (Roblox)

THG (movies & books)

MHA / BNHA

Studio Ghibli movies, which are: Howl's Moving Castle (book & movie), When Marnie Was There (book & movie), Kiki's Delivery Service, Arriety, Spirited Away, My Neighbour Totoro and Princess Mononoke

some bits and pieces of the Barbie franchise (movies, series, etc.)

Mean Girls

Legally Blonde

Heathers: The Musical

Grishaverse (including the Shadow & Bone TV show)

Total Drama (including Ridonculous Race)

BBC Ghosts (and US Ghosts if there's a fandom there somewhere)

Thomas Sanders Sides

BSD

HSR

Inanimate Insanity

Alien Stage

EPIC: The Musical

Slay The Princess

TGCF (have yet to read the books tho...)

Link Click

The Apothecary Diaries

God Troubles Me

─ ❝ Here's how to start: ❞ ─

Tags:

#navigating the sky: intro / navigation (in case I make nav posts for new works, blogs, whatever)

#sky says something: original posts by yours truly

#sky mention!: tag games

#atlas' asks: answered asks

#atlas' archive: updates

#a sky full of rainbows 🏳️‍🌈: my 2025 pride event original posts :3

[will update as I use more tags]

─ ❝ Greet the world with open arms, greet the world with open arms! ❞ ─

Currently...

... reading: The Sign Of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle, Heart of the Sun Warrior by Sue Lynn Tan

... watching: MHA, The Good Place, One Piece, Downton Abbey (despite how slow going watching the last two are TvT)

... playing: HSR

... obsessing over (aka brainrotting about): Link Click, EPIC: The Musical

— Open Arms; Jorge Rivera-Herrans & Steven Dookie ─

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

okay i'll bite 😭 soukoku for the ship i hate bingo game 😭😭😭

Upcoming sorry to every BSD moot

There are so many fascinating characters in this series and so many dynamics and yet the most popular dynamic is genuinely one of the least interesting to me including a character with barely any screentime and people act like Chuuya is the only fucking person who ever matters to Dazai ignoring the fact every action he's taken has been for Atsushi and the ADA and ignore that Kunikida has been his partner just a year less than Chuuya and at this point the two characters you ship are literally just OCs because they're so badly characterized.

I don't actually hate them I'm ngl what I DO hate is a) the fact nearly every depiction of them is so greviously mischaracterized it makes me want to tear my skin off, b) the fact I enjoy both these characters independently but most content is them as a ship, c) they're so fucking popular it's way too hard to find content of other characters or with Dazai and Chuuya with other characters, d) general bashing of Kunikida, KNDZ, Ango, aka two of my comfort characters and my comfort ship, e) the reduction of basically every fucking character in the series INCLUDING THE MAIN CHARACTER ATSUSHI to an accessory for them, f) the ukeification of Chuuya and general mischaracterization into stereotypical yaoi roles, g) the fact that platonic SKK is just as or more interesting yet any content of these two is almost always romantic or pre-romantic.

[tinyperson00]

Douko Yami, bsd Oc

Total time: 3 hours, 21 minutes

Info:

Douko Yami, age 21

Occupation-

Douko works in the port mafia as their elite assasin. She is executive rank, but prefers not to acknowledge it. Douko was taken into the mafia at age 14, around the same time Dazai would been 15. In the past 7 years, Douko has killed over 300+ people and has gained the alias ‘The crimson moon’ due to the design in her fans.

Relations:

Douko used to work as Dazai partner in the time they were both in the mafia, and grew very attached to him. She later distanced herself from everyone and everything around her after he vanished, but she allows Chuuya to get close to her from time to time. Both of her parents were assassinated when she was only 10 years old, so she lived alone up until the mafia took her in.

Ability:

Name: death no more

her ability allows her to slow time down in her eyes up to 15x, making her appear to be moving up to 15x her normal speed. When in this state, she is practically untouchable hence the name, ‘death no more’. She is only able to stay in this state for up to 30 minutes max before having to stop and rest.

Trauma / Backstory:

when Douko was 10, her parents were assassinated in their home. Douko grew up in a small town in the mountain. Unfortunately tho, her father was a well known menace to society up in the town which eventually led to the families demise. Her father had ended up getting into a disagreement with the town official one day, and he took it a bit too far. Later that night, Douko got a dream showing blood on the snowy doorstep of their house, and both her parents lying dead. Soon enough, the morning came. Douko begged her father not to go outside that morning, but it was to no avail. The second the door was opened, a loud shot could be heard and blood was splattered onto the freshly snowed doorstep of their house. The assassin didn’t stop there tho. Douko’s mother screamed and tried to protect her, only to have a knife stabbed into her back and fall lifeless by Douko’s feet. The assassin went after her next, but Douko activated her ability 5 second prior to the assassins attack. The young girl was still inexperienced at the time so she ended up getting slashed across her eye, hence why Douko is blind in her right eye now. With her ability still in use, Douko ran as fast as she could out of the house and vanished down the mountain. 4 years later. The port mafia took Douko in and trained her to be a merciless assassin. Her first job, killing the man who murdered her parents. Since that first job, Douko has been mercilessly assassinating full organizations solo and taking jobs 24/7.

weapon:

Douko only uses two seemingly simple traditional hand fans as her weapons. Tho, the fans are not as simple as they appear. When flicked s certain way, the fans spit out retractable blades from the spines of the fan. The fans are made from a certain foreign skill user, so they have several special qualities. The fans are just a normal fabric with a crimson moon design on it, but when struck with the force of a bullet or knife, they turn to metal and withstand the blow easily. She also carries a spare dagger in the loop on her legs sometimes when she is going against a particularly strong opponent.

reputation:

over the past 7 years of her work as an assassin, Douko has become on of the most infamous assassins in Japan. She is known to the public as ‘the crimson moon’, and her identity has remained a secret to everyone outside of the port mafia and Dazai.

——————————

alright :D finally finished Douko and drew her out for once in my life! Lemme know if there is any other info you want on her, I’ll be happy to share

reblogs are highly appreciated :3

taggjng: @kimetsu-chan @zenitsustherapist @saffron0v0 @exymybeloved @a-stray-wretched-dog

[https-aster]

NuKani OC posting my beloved. I adore my son. He’s so GRRRRR. Anyways, here’s base info about him~ 🤭. More NSFW stuff and his appearance is below the “read more!”

: ̗̀➛ His name is Nikolai. Loosely inspired from that BSD character with that same name.

: ̗̀➛ I’d say, age-wise, he’s roughly 25? He/they pronouns too.

: ̗̀➛ He’s a gay, ambiamorous man. Definitely had a few past flings with women while trying to discover himself, and found out that he is in fact a boykisser. He’s also fine with having more than one partner in the mix, whether it’s his own , his partner’s, or both of theirs.

: ̗̀➛ Clan member <3 His gemstone is rhondonite, and can be found on his inner-left thigh. It’s a nine-centimetre, upside-down heart shape.

: ̗̀➛ If I were to assign a character that he is similar to personality-wise, I think Sampo or Aventurine from Honkai Star Rail would both be fitting candidates.

: ̗̀➛ He works as a bartender during the day, and tends to those in need during nightfall. Most of the food/medicinal supplies he gives them are definitely either stolen, or from his own pocket. Most often, they are swiped. Also tends to wear a hood/some sort of disguise when doing so.

: ̗̀➛ Nikolai has a major soft spot for people in need/are in crisis/etc. More likely than not, he’ll stop what he is doing to aid them if required .

: ̗̀➛Tying itself to the past point or two, Nikolai was born into poverty, and has lived around such similar tactics by others like him. Stealing to survive, and even relying on others. As he grew up, he was able to slowly provide for himself, and landed a well-off job as a bartender. He does not forget his roots at all, and as such, gives back to his family and people who need necessities.

: ̗̀➛ If I were to ship him with someone? Gods, that’s hard. I see him as pretty shippable. With other OCs? I mean, of course <3. But canon-character wise? I’m saying Olivine, or definitely Yakumo? Eiden too, clearly pfff. I just think that they’d be compatible in a sense!

: ̗̀➛ Nikolai’s “ero-zone” is/are his thighs.

: ̗̀➛ He and Eiden have definitely fucked in his bar more than once. Or, at the very least, have done foreplay there before.

: ̗̀➛ Prior to meeting Eiden, he hasn’t really had sex before. The poor guy was too busy both supporting those that needed help and himself to even consider that. That definitely changes later on down the line.

: ̗̀➛ I see Nikolai as a top-leaning-switch. He likes to keep things interesting. Definitely loves using toys too, for the same reason.

: ̗̀➛ He’s an exhibitionist for sure. And a voyeur. I also see him as someone who is really into bondage.

And finally, his appearance! <3

[ghostlynightpanda]

Hey! I'm here again to request another Ranpo× reader since I adore your writing so much the last two times I requested! Yet again, sorry for bad english lol

This might be a little specific, since I did înspre it from my bsd oc, so you can ignore it! I would totally agree! The reader is part of the ADA and has an ability based on their voice (I called it "A long forgotten song", but idk if it matters lol). With their ability, when they close their eyes and sing, even something as simple as a hum, if it is within earshot, the person that can hear them will freeze. The thing is, reader here actulay has a great singing voice! They loved singing since they were young, but due to freezing people constantly and even harming some by accident by it, they refuze to sing and barely talk (when they do, it's short, to the point, and quiet), unless it is for a mission. During missions, when their voice is needed, the agency members plug their ears as to not be affected by accident, so no one actually knows how their voice sounds like. My idea is that, Ranpo being nosy (and if you may, even has a crush on reader), really wants to hear their voice. He does silly stuff like try and scare them or surprise them to make them speak louder. He would try and talk constantly with them, and they always listen. They even take notes of what others say on ocasion if they think it's important enough. Even so, they barely spoke back. It wasn’t untill Ranpo finely went on a mission with reader that he decided to not plug his ears, just to hear their voice. He didn't care He would ger frozen in place, he just wanted to hear them, and he didn't regret it at all! It was like his little secret– reader had no idea. (I will live it up to you if reader finds out or if it will stay a sweet secret)

HOPE I DIDN'T ANNOY YOU WITH THIS LONG REQUEST, SORRY😭 You are an amazing writer and I bet just as a great person, so I hope you have a great day and take care of yourself!

A Long-Forgotten Song

A/N: This is such a cute idea, thank you for requesting it!

synopsis: You’ve spent years avoiding your own voice, terrified of the power it holds, speaking only when necessary and keeping everyone at a distance. But when Ranpo Edogawa refuses to let your silence be the end of your story, he risks paralysis—just for the chance to hear you.

content/warnings: Ranpo Edogawa x reader, fluff, -3.779 words

The Armed Detective Agency office was rarely quiet, always buzzing with chatter, footsteps, and the occasional crash from someone—usually Dazai—knocking something over. Papers shuffled, keyboards clicked, coffee brewed.

But there was always one place, one person, that stood in still contrast to the noise.

You.

You sat at your desk near the corner window, tucked away where the afternoon sun hit just right. A notebook lay open beside your typewriter, not filled with stories or ideas, but with notes—careful, concise observations on everyone and everything. You listened more than you spoke. In fact, you rarely spoke at all.

And when you did, it was no more than a whisper.

It wasn't that you didn't want to speak. You had so much to say—so many thoughts, so many songs stuck in your head that longed to be hummed or sung aloud. But you knew better.

Your voice was a weapon.

Your ability, A Long Forgotten Song, activated whenever you closed your eyes and let your voice carry. Even the softest hum could freeze someone completely still if they were within earshot. The effect wasn't always harmless—once, someone fell down a flight of stairs because of it. Another time, a teammate had collapsed from the shock of being paralyzed mid-fight.

The guilt had been unbearable.

You were only thirteen then.

Now, you used your ability only when absolutely necessary—and always with strict precautions. On missions, your teammates were instructed to plug their ears with noise-canceling devices the moment you prepared to sing. You kept your eyes closed and your voice short, controlled, clinical.

No one had ever truly heard your voice. Not really. Not for what it was.

They knew the power of it, sure. But not the music. Not the warmth it once held. That part of you had been locked away a long time ago.

Most of the ADA understood. They respected your silence.

Kunikida appreciated your diligence and the careful notes you took. "Efficient," he would say. "Precise."

Atsushi always offered you a kind smile, even if your replies were quiet nods.

Yosano was gentle, almost motherly. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to," she told you once over tea. "But if you ever feel like it, I'd love to hear you sing."

Even Dazai left you alone most of the time—though you suspected it was more out of boredom than respect.

But then there was Ranpo.

Ranpo Edogawa was… different.

Where others tiptoed around your silence, Ranpo strolled right into it, loud and unapologetic. He talked to you like you were just as chatty as him, telling you stories about snacks he found or mysteries he solved in the time it took him to finish a bag of candy.

At first, you thought he just didn't realize you wouldn't answer.

But no—he did realize. He just didn't care.

"Hey, hey. You're always writing stuff down, right?" he'd said one day, flopping down next to you and sliding a wrapped candy your way. "That means you're listening. So I'll just keep talking until you say something. Eventually, you have to say something, right?"

You didn't. Not really.

But the way your pen paused when he said something interesting? The subtle glance his way when he sat too close? He noticed.

Ranpo was observant to the point of being infuriating. And nosy. Painfully nosy.

He started doing things—popping up behind you, clapping his hands near your ear, faking yelps of pain just to see if you'd react. You never did, at least not with words. Just a blink, a sharp breath, a narrowed eye.

Still, that didn't stop him.

You weren't sure if it was a game to him or not.

But sometimes, when you caught him watching you too long, eyes soft and curious, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was trying to see the person behind the silence.

The part of you that used to sing.

Today it started with a paper crane. At first, you thought someone had just left it on your desk by mistake. It was folded with surprising care, its wings slightly uneven, and on its side was a scribbled message in green pen:

"Bet you can't guess who made this."

You picked it up and blinked. A second later, another landed with a soft flutter beside it. Then another. You turned your head.

Ranpo was standing across the room, crouched behind a filing cabinet, hurling paper cranes with the worst stealth you'd ever seen.

He froze the moment you spotted him, then slowly rose like a cartoon villain caught mid-heist.

"Damn," he said loudly, "I was sure the third one would go unnoticed. You're too sharp, Y/N." He smirked and walked over, waving his hand like he hadn't just been pelting you with origami. "Did you read the note?"

You held the first crane up, expression flat.

"Pretty good, right?" He leaned in, squinting at you. "Any guesses?"

You pointed to him with the crane and raised an eyebrow.

Ranpo's face lit up like you'd handed him a medal. "See? I knew you were paying attention. You're way more fun than Dazai's crossword puzzles."

You slid open a drawer, carefully placed the crane inside, and went back to your notes. No reply. Just a calm return to the rhythm you knew best.

Ranpo leaned against your desk. "So," he said. "Why don't you ever talk to me?"

That made your fingers pause.

Not for long—only a second—but he noticed.

"I mean," he went on, a little more gently this time, "you talk when you have to, on missions. I've heard the recordings. But it's always so... mechanical. Like you're afraid to say anything wrong. You're not a robot. You're a person."

You didn't look at him. Your pen scratched faintly on the page as you wrote something and slid it his way.

"I am afraid."

Ranpo blinked. He read the note, then looked at you. "Afraid of what? Hurting someone?"

You nodded once. Slowly.

He sighed through his nose, running a hand through his hair. "You know, I'm kind of a genius." He leaned closer, grinning. "If I thought you'd hurt me, I wouldn't be standing here, would I?"

You gave him a Look.

"…Okay, maybe I would, but still! It'd be worth the risk." He tapped your notebook. "Just saying. People want to hear you. I want to hear you."

You shook your head and reached for another file. But he wasn't done.

"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "If you won't talk on your own... I'll just have to make you."

You froze.

Slowly, you turned back toward him. Your expression said Please don't do anything stupid. Not more than you already do.

Ranpo smiled like that was exactly what he was about to do.

You should've known something was up when he offered to grab you coffee the next morning.

Ranpo didn't get coffee for anyone unless bribed. But there he was, handing you your usual—perfectly made—and waiting far too eagerly for you to take a sip.

You narrowed your eyes and smelled the cup.

Nothing odd. Just your regular order. You took a cautious sip. It tasted fine. Suspiciously fine.

Ranpo was staring at you.

"…What?" you mouthed silently.

He beamed. "Nothing. Just waiting to see if you'd make a happy noise."

You stared at him.

"C'mon," he said, bouncing on his heels. "You know, like an 'mmm' or something. You have to admit, that was the best coffee you've had this week."

You said nothing.

Ranpo groaned dramatically and slumped across your desk. "You're killing me, Y/N. At this point, I'll take any sound. A sigh. A yawn. A sneeze!"

You reached for your notepad and scribbled: "If I sneeze, you'll probably turn to stone."

He snorted, clearly delighted. "You know, that's the closest thing to a joke I've ever gotten out of you. Progress!"

You allowed the faintest quirk of your lips. Barely there. But Ranpo caught it, and the satisfaction in his grin made you shake your head.

Maybe you couldn't speak freely. Maybe you still feared the sound of your own voice.

But Ranpo's antics—ridiculous as they were—felt a little like sunlight creeping under a locked door. Warm. Persistent.

Unwelcome at first.

But maybe not entirely unwanted.

The next bigger incident happened two days later.

The office was unusually calm. Kunikida was buried in paperwork, Dazai had vanished hours ago (likely jumped out the window), and Yosano was humming faintly to herself as she read a medical journal. You were alone at your desk, as usual, head down in your notes.

Ranpo had been quiet all morning, which was suspicious in and of itself.

Too quiet.

You didn't trust it.

Your senses had grown sharp over the years—an instinct born from the need to avoid hurting anyone. You'd learned to monitor everything around you: footsteps, breathing, even the weight of someone's gaze. So when Ranpo finally acted, you should have seen it coming.

But you didn't.

From behind, he suddenly shouted, "BOO!"—a loud, abrupt bark of sound right near your ear, accompanied by the unmistakable snap of a party popper.

You jumped.

Physically jumped.

A sharp inhale hitched in your throat, your heart kicked into your ribs, and your pen slipped from your fingers.

Ranpo grinned like a fox, already backing away with his hands up like, Gotcha!

But even as the startle ran through you, your mouth stayed shut. Not a sound escaped. You didn't even gasp.

Just a full-body flinch… and then a deep, silent breath.

Your shoulders dropped. You blinked at Ranpo slowly.

Then, without a word, you crouched, retrieved your pen, and sat back down, returning to your notes like nothing happened.

Ranpo stared at you.

"Seriously?" he said, exasperated. "That didn't get a single noise out of you?"

You shrugged—one of those little, quiet ones that said 'Yeah, I'm used to worse.'

He blinked, the grin slipping just slightly.

"…You're really used to this, huh?" His voice had lost its playful lilt. It was softer now. Curious. A little... sad?

You didn't answer. You didn't have to.

You saw it in his face—how he noticed the way you'd flinched without reacting, the practiced control in your breathing. How silence had become your second nature. A shield. A habit formed over years of fear and careful restraint.

And yet, for all of that... Ranpo didn't back off. Didn't give up. He just tilted his head and said, "I'm gonna get you to say something one day. A real word. A real voice. I swear it."

You looked up at him, a little tired, a little amused.

You scribbled a note and passed it over.

"Good luck."

He read it. Then smiled.

The assignment came through late in the afternoon.

It was supposed to be simple: track down a rogue ability user hiding in the industrial district. In and out. Surveillance and backup only—unless things got messy.

Which, of course, they always did.

Kunikida briefed you both quickly. "We have reason to believe the suspect can disorient opponents with illusions. If the intel is right, you may need to use your ability for crowd control, Y/N. Don't engage unless necessary."

You nodded. Calm, composed. You could feel Ranpo's eyes flick toward you.

"I'll go with Y/N," he announced casually. "We make a good team, don't we?"

Kunikida frowned. "You hate fieldwork."

"Yeah, but I love being right," Ranpo said with a grin, already grabbing his coat. "Besides, Y/N's too quiet. Someone has to keep the mood up."

You shot him a look.

He winked.

The car ride was quiet at first.

You were in the backseat of a taxi, tapping lightly on your phone screen while Ranpo hummed something tuneless under his breath beside you. The city passed by in a blur of fading golden light, and every now and then he'd glance your way, like he expected you to say something.

Of course, you didn't.

Eventually, you turned the phone toward him with a short message typed out:

Don't do anything reckless. If I have to sing, it could paralyze you—or worse. Don't forget your earplugs.

Ranpo leaned closer to read the screen, his expression unreadable for a second. Then he gave a lazy thumbs-up and flashed a crooked smile.

"Yeah, yeah. I've got them. I'm not Dazai, I'm not completely suicidal."

He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a small black case, flicking it open with exaggerated flair to reveal the pair of sleek custom-fit plugs. "See? Right here. I'll put them in if things go bad, promise."

You stared at him, unconvinced.

He sighed dramatically, nudging your shoulder with his own. "Hey, I'm serious. I'm not gonna do anything stupid."

You raised an eyebrow.

"…Okay, maybe a little stupid," he amended, "but not deadly stupid. I've got too much candy left to eat before I die."

Despite yourself, you let out a soft exhale—almost a laugh, but not quite. Ranpo caught the shift in your shoulders and gave you a quick side glance, his grin turning softer. Quieter.

"Trust me, Y/N. If it comes down to it, I'll do what I'm supposed to."

You nodded slowly, eyes drifting back to the road.

And yet…

You couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something. That little flicker behind his words. That kind of calm someone only had when they'd already made up their mind.

He had made up his mind.

Ranpo never said it out loud—but the moment he found out he'd be alone with you on a mission, he decided.

If he got the chance to hear your voice—really hear it—he was going to take it.

Even if it meant freezing for a few minutes. Even if you never found out. Even if you were furious later.

He just wanted to know what it sounded like when you weren't terrified of your own power. He wanted to know the voice hidden behind all that silence. The one you'd been locking away for years.

His little secret.

The old warehouse loomed ahead, half-sunk in rust and shadow. The air inside was stale—heavy with dust and metal and something else, something off. You and Ranpo moved in cautiously, quiet footfalls echoing across the concrete floor.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket—confirmation from the team that the suspect's ability was active nearby. That meant illusions. Trickery. The moment your surroundings started to shift, you'd have to act.

Ranpo adjusted his glasses and muttered, "Smells like something's about to go wrong. You feel it too, don't you?"

You nodded once, slow. Eyes scanning the dark.

Then it hit.

The world around you twisted like a heatwave, and suddenly the room stretched unnaturally wide. Rusted beams multiplied across your vision, warping into impossible angles. You blinked twice, grounding yourself, but you could feel the illusion sinking in—your sense of direction, balance, reality, all starting to blur.

The suspect stepped from the shadows without a sound. A tall, gaunt figure with dull eyes and a smile that didn't reach his face.

"Well well," he rasped. "They sent the mute and the detective. How flattering."

He raised a hand and the distortion deepened—Ranpo's form flickered beside you, like a broken television screen.

That was it.

Time to end this.

You turned slightly and raised your hand in a sharp, practiced motion—your signal.

Two fingers to your temple, then out like a wing—plug your ears.

The Agency had drilled the gesture into everyone. No questions asked. When you signaled, they moved.

Ranpo didn't.

He watched you, lips parted in quiet wonder.

And as you closed your eyes… he smiled, just a little.

You let out a soft, humming breath—melodic, ethereal, and strange. A single note, low and mournful, barely above a whisper.

The effect was instant.

The suspect froze mid-step, his body locking up like a puppet with cut strings. His eyes widened in shock, mouth half-open in a silent gasp as he collapsed backward with a thud.

Ranpo, a few feet to your right, went still as well—perfectly upright, like someone had pressed pause on time.

You didn't notice.

You moved fast—years of experience turning worry into efficiency. You rushed forward, handcuffed the suspect before the spell could wear off, and rolled him onto his side, checking for movement. Still out cold.

Satisfied, you stood and dusted off your coat, finally letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

That's when you turned around and saw Ranpo.

Frozen.

You blinked in confusion.

"…Ranpo?" You whispered, barely anything more than a breath. 

No response.

You stepped closer, waving a hand in front of his face.

His eyes were open—dazed, glossy. His cheeks faintly flushed. He looked like someone who'd just seen something... divine.

Your stomach dropped. Didn't he plug his ears?

You looked at the case in his coat pocket—still sealed.

A silent sigh escaped your mouth as you silently reached up, snapping your fingers sharply in his ear. He jolted back into motion, staggering slightly, blinking in rapid confusion while you steadied him with a hand on his arm.

He blinked once. Then smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry," he said, voice low. "I just… really wanted to hear you."

You stared at him in disbelief, the weight of his words catching you off guard. You opened your mouth, but no sound came. Not yet. You weren't sure if it was anger, worry, or something else sitting in your chest.

Ranpo gave a slight shrug, rubbing his neck. "Didn't hurt. I mean, I was frozen, yeah, but it was—honestly—worth it."

You frowned, typed out another message.

That could've gone wrong. You could've hit your head. You could've—

He reached out and gently pushed your phone down before you could finish.

"Y/N, relax," he said, soft and unusually serious. "I'm okay. Really."

You looked at him, your jaw clenched, emotions warring under your skin.

He smiled again—gentler this time. "And… your voice is beautiful."

That time, your breath caught.

You said nothing. But your eyes lingered on him for a long, quiet moment, and this time… You didn't look away.

You didn't speak the whole ride back.

The two of you sat in silence, your phone resting idle in your hands, occasionally glancing at Ranpo. He was staring out the window, but you were still worried about him, considering he'd only just thawed out from a dangerous dose of your ability.

But he seemed fine. Humming softly to himself, like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn't frozen in the middle of a hostile ability zone.

Your fingers itched to type out another message—to tell him he was reckless, stupid, lucky—but something about the way he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye held you back.

You could feel it building in the air.

Not tension.

Something softer. Slower.

A quiet waiting.

When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of the Agency, you two quickly got out. But Ranpo didn't make a move walking inside the building, he just stood in front of it, letting out a low breath.

"…Hey," he said, not looking at you. "Can I say something kinda dumb?"

You turned toward him, the unspoken you usually do hovering between you.

He laughed under his breath, finally glancing at you.

"I meant seriously dumb," he said, softer this time. "Not 'wore mismatched socks' dumb. Like… emotionally compromised dumb."

You blinked slowly, but nodded once.

He hesitated for only a second more. Then: "I meant it," he said. "What I said back there. About your voice."

You looked away, fingers curling slightly in front of you.

He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. "It wasn't just the ability part. Yeah, sure, that was… okay, that was a little terrifying, I won't lie." He laughed quietly. "But your voice, Y/N. The way it sounds when you let it go—when you sing, even for just a second…"

His eyes softened, and he looked at you like you were a mystery he'd been dying to solve. "It was beautiful. Not just the sound. The you in it. The part you always hide."

Your breath caught. You stared straight ahead, but he kept going.

"I've been trying to get you to talk, to laugh, to say anything for months now. Everyone thinks it's just me being nosy—'oh, it's just Ranpo, he's annoying like that.' But it's not just that."

You glanced over at him, cautiously.

"I'm curious about you," he admitted, voice quieter than you'd ever heard it. "Not in the 'solve-the-puzzle' way. In the 'I want to know what makes you smile, what songs you hum when no one's listening, what you sound like when you're not afraid to be yourself' kind of way."

You didn't even realize you were holding your breath.

"I guess I just…" He shrugged, scratching at his cheek with a sheepish smile. "I like you. More than a little. And I've been trying to say it without saying it, but now I've said it, so. There it is."

Silence filled the air between you two.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. You weren't sure what hit you harder—the confession, or the way he said it like it was nothing, like it was just a passing thought he couldn't keep in anymore.

He shifted from foot to foot, suddenly a little fidgety. "You can say something, y'know. Or write it, if that's easier."

You slowly picked up your phone. Typed something. Showed him.

I didn't sing to impress anyone.

Ranpo tilted his head. "I know."

I'm still scared of hurting people.

"I know."

Another pause. Then:

I'm scared of hurting you.

Ranpo's expression softened completely. "I'm not."

Your throat tightened.

You should be.

He smiled gently, leaned a little closer, his voice a whisper now. "Maybe. But I'm not. Because I trust you, Y/N. More than anyone else."

This time, you didn't type anything.

Instead, your lips parted—

And for the first time in his presence, your voice came out, quiet and hoarse but real. "…You're an idiot."

Ranpo's eyes widened in delight, and he grinned like he'd just solved the most wonderful mystery in the world.

"There you are," he whispered. "Told you I'd get you to talk."

You rolled your eyes, but the smallest smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You didn't say anything else.

But in the quiet that followed, Ranpo didn't need you to.

Masterlist

[paintedgrilledcheese]

Cheese's 100 follower special part 3!!!

Q&A (where I answer your questions :D)

Q: What inspired you to join the bsd rp community?

A: Well, it's actually a funny story. I originally came her on Tumblr to look at Ivan Goncharov fan art, and I stumbled across an Ivan rp blog. I wanted to mess around and interact with them, though at the time, I was shy. I was being silly on my main before finding the Fukuzawa rp blog and wanted to interact as well. So I created Levi one day, and it went from there. I was having fun just messing around as silly anime OCs.

Q: What inspired you to make Nimone?

A: So when I created Levi and gave him his backstory, it involved this big 9 year war somewhat outside of Japan. I didn't want to use a real content or place, so I made one up!

Q: Who's your favorite oc that you have and why?

A: This one is a tough one since I keep changing who's my favorite. But I have a top three. On top is probably Felix III. He's such a try hard and silly. I love playing as him, and he's one of my favorites to draw. Not to mention all the running jokes I got for him as well such as the Raiden Shogun reference or kicking him down the stairs.

My second favorite is probably Cooper. Everyone about his characters developing is just so satisfactory to me and he's just a sweet little guy :3. Who also has a gun.

My third would be Fiona Delgado, because I like playing as an angry Hispanic accountant who will throw laptops at people or turn into a big dragon because she can.

Q: So you have a favorite ship for you OCs?

A: Oh this one is hard (probably because I'm a hopeless romantic). I really like the cute fluffy ones like Levi x Sayaka (not my oc) and Black X Arthur (not my oc) but then there are the funny ones like Felix III x X (my oc but got another mod playing as him). Though my favorite ship is probably Fiona Delgado x Ace. These two argue like a bitter married couple and it's hilarious. It's my brain rot and I love them.

Q: Milk chocolate or Dark chocolate?

A: DARK CHOCOLATE ALL THE WAY!

Q: What inspired you to make xy and all of your members in it?

A: Honestly, the creation of XY was all for Cooper's backstory. At first, it was just an unnamed criminal organization that I was going to solo as for rps, but someone offered to play as one of the characters, and I was excited. They named it (fun fact, it was actually called XV, but due to miss reading, we called it XY) and I decided that hey maybe this Mafia needs some members other than "unnamed henchmen" so I created a few members and I never thought it would actually get this far which is cool. Its entire creation was almost all unplanned.

Q: What is your process for coming up with OCs?

A: Well, it depends on the circumstance, but most of the time, I always start with the design. I'm more artistic visually, so when I make a design that I'm happy with then I build off of what I want for the character. After the design, I normally give them either their name and personality, and their ability last. Basically, adding anything that would make the character interesting or fit them.

[kaiserkisser]

🐇, 🧃, 🍄, 🪐, 🏜️, 🧩 <3

wheeeee yayayay :333 lets seeee

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? - so far ive mostly only written reader inserts but! i have written for an oc in my roughbook that will never see the light of day :3

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before - ngl i dont have any lore :/ buuuut lemme think uh random but during the lockdown i had turned into a mad painter i would make two acrylic paintings per day EVERY day without fail 💀💀 and then the lockdown lifted and i have made four paintings since 💀💀

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings - uhhhh this is for soukoku from bsd lmao i dont think u know about them but! i love to hc that ever since dazai said ily to chuuya (in the 15!manga) chuuya keeps using that as blackmail material even if he himself is embarassed lmao

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now - my irl friends and moots, my defeating the writers block (if i get time to write lol) aaaand my ability to sleep for 7 hours uninterrupted :333

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? - in all honesty just about any type of nice comment :333 but i love it when people express how my works made them feel!!! or like if i occasionally get those para-long comments :3

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately? - nsfw lol

[findyourrp]

hello! 18m he/ they. looking for 18+ partners. ⠀

✦　⸝ i usually play canon characters, i love portraying the characters that i enjoy. - but i do have ocs if you prefer oc x oc. though with cc x cc i prefer playing a canon against your oc, so feel free to ask. with that being said, i’m okay with canon universes or alternate ones.

✦　⸝ i’m a literate to novella writer, but i can also match my partners length. i prefer detailed response as it makes it easier to respond & write off of. i usually give one or two responses a day to avoid any burn out. i’m very patient, so don’t feel any pressure to reply, do so in your own time.

✦　⸝ i only do m x m, nb x m, nb x nb pairings. its what im most comfy with. as far as genre, i’m open to pretty much anything. (romance, horror, angst, fantasy, cyberpunk, apocalyptic, etc.) i love dark topics too, so feel free to suggest much darker ideas. judgement free zone. ( no underage or incest though)

✦　⸝ when it comes to nsfw i'm alright with it as long as it ties in well with the plot. please don't request expecting strictly smut plots. i'm also a versatile switch so i would prefer if you weren't one or the other. ⠀ 　

ε❤︎з　FANDOMS! ( ) = experienced in but not limited to.

genshin impact ( aether, wanderer, tighnari, kaveh, alhaitham, zhongli) honkai star rail ( dan heng, blade, sunday, dr.ratio, aventurine) jujutsu kaisen ( geto, gojo, choso, megumi, mahito) league of legends ( aphelios, ezreal, hwei, yone) avatar ( zuko) one piece ( luffy, zoro, ace) death note ( L, near) BSD ( dazai, sigma, ranpo, atsushi) identity v (luca, mike,edgar, andrew, alva, ithaqua.) omori (sunny) dc ( nightwing, redhood.)

+ more just ask

LIKE AND I'LL MESSAGE YOU!

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