rllysane169

[rllysane169]

WIP!! I'm pretty excited for this one ><

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Chuuya's bday art plus some other drawings for him that I never really posted :33

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Forgot to post after i was done with it 😭😭 I was busy being active on insta 🥀🥀

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KWKSKWKS GUYS SORRY I WAS QUITE INACTIVE💔💔 anyway working on smthing new again 😭 my Tsukasa wip is sitting idlee

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From my recent edit :3

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EMUKASA WORLD DOMINATION!!1!1!1!!1!

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Wip Wip!! Drawing the world's future greatest star TSUKASAA🗣️🗣️⭐⭐

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YAYY KYUSAKU FANART HEHE, this took me awhile because I was procrastinating alot KSWKHEBDEJ, according to ibispaint, it took me like 4 hr 30 mins tho😭

[rllysane169]

Angstyy

Second time posting, still kinda nervous

Summary:

Two years after Dazai defected from the Port Mafia and joined the Armed Detective Agency, he and the reader cross paths again during a cooperation mission between the two organizations. Once, he had been the one to take them under his wing, training them into the perfect subordinate. But his guidance was laced with manipulation, cruelty disguised as care, and love wielded as a weapon.

Back then, the reader had worshipped him—loved him despite the pain. And Dazai had exploited that love, breaking them apart piece by piece until nothing remained but the image he had shaped. Then, without a word, he vanished, leaving them to pick up the fragments of what he had left behind.

Now, standing face to face after all these years, the reader is filled with rage, fear, and something far worse—love that never truly faded. Dazai, burdened with regrets, seeks reconciliation, but the scars he left run too deep. He wants to fix what he destroyed, but the reader isn’t sure it’s even possible.

Because some wounds never heal. Some ghosts never fade. And some loves, no matter how painful, refuse to die.

Fragments of us

You had met dazai at 14. Mori had taken an interest in you, seeing potential in the way you moved, in the way you analyzed situations even at your young age. You were bright, sharp, and reckless—but that recklessness needed to be honed, shaped into something dangerous. And who better to teach you than Dazai?

Back then, you thought it was an honor.

Dazai was a legend even among the Port Mafia—ruthless, cunning, and utterly untouchable. Everyone feared him, and yet, you couldn’t help but admire him. He was a force of nature, someone who could command a room with just a glance.

And, at first, he was everything you wanted in a mentor. He pushed you harder than anyone else. He never allowed mistakes, but when you succeeded, when you finally met his impossible expectations, he would reward you with a rare nod of approval, a smirk, a “Good job, belladonna.” You lived for those moments.

Then, you fell in love with him.

It wasn’t sudden—it crept up on you, subtle at first. The way your heart beat faster when he leaned in too close, the way his praise meant more than anyone else’s, the way he occupied your thoughts even when he wasn’t there. Dazai knew. Of course, he knew.

And he used it against you.

You didn’t see it then. You only saw him. The way he held you after brutal training sessions, whispering sweet reassurances when you shook from exhaustion. The way his hand lingered on your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your ear as he guided you through strategy. The way he owned you without ever saying the words.

But his kindness was calculated. His affection was a weapon. Because when you faltered, when you questioned his methods, when you disappointed him—he knew exactly where to strike.

“You’re nothing without me.”

“Do you really think anyone else would care about you?”

“You want my approval? Then prove you deserve it.”

And you did. Again and again, no matter how much it hurt. Because you were desperate to be worthy of him.

Even when he left bruises on your skin, whether from training or something harsher, you told yourself it was your fault. That you needed to be better. That if you could just reach him, if you could just be what he wanted, he would love you back.

But then, one night, he left. No warning. No explanation. Just gone. And you were left in the ashes of what he had turned you into.

Two years had passed since Dazai defected from the Mafia and joined the Armed Detective Agency.

Two years since you last saw him.

When Mori sent you to handle negotiations between the ADA and the Port Mafia, you thought nothing of it. You were the Mafia’s secretary now—this kind of task was expected. You had mastered the art of diplomacy, perfected the balance between grace and intimidation. It was all routine. Until you walked into that room and saw him.

Dazai.

Your heart lurched violently, an ugly, painful thing. He looked different.

He still had the same lazy smirk, the same bandages wrapped around his body like armor, but his presence had shifted. There was something lighter about him. Something missing.

For a moment, you thought it was the lack of blood on his hands. But no—that wasn’t it.

It was the emptiness in his eyes.

For the first time, Dazai looked haunted. You forced yourself to sit at the table, to act like nothing was wrong. The meeting blurred together, voices muffled by the blood rushing in your ears. You felt his gaze on you the entire time, waiting, watching. You refused to look at him. The moment the meeting ended, you turned to leave, desperate to escape, but his voice—that voice—froze you in place.

“Belladonna.”

You inhaled sharply, your nails digging into your palms.

“Don’t call me that.”

Dazai was quiet for a moment before he sighed, softer than you had ever heard him. “I figured you’d say that.”

You turned to face him, forcing every ounce of steel into your voice. “What do you want, Dazai?”

He looked at you for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he said, “I wanted to see you.”

You laughed—sharp, bitter. “See me? See me?” The anger you had buried for years came roaring back, clawing at your ribs.

“You don’t get to see me, Dazai,” you spat. “You don’t get to want anything from me. Not after what you did.”

Dazai didn’t flinch. He just watched you, that familiar calculating look in his eyes. But there was something else, too. Something you had never seen before.

Regret.

It made you even angrier.

“Why are you even here?” you demanded. “What, did you think we could just pick up where we left off? That I’d just forget?”

Dazai shook his head. “No. I never expected that.”

“Then why?” Your voice cracked despite yourself. “Why now?”

He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. For a moment, he almost looked… uncertain. As if he didn’t know how to say what he needed to.

“I hurt you,” he finally said. “More than I ever should have.” You froze. Dazai never apologized.

Never.

He continued, voice quieter now. “I—” He hesitated. “I was cruel. I used you. And I thought—” He let out a humorless chuckle. “I thought I was doing you a favor.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. A favor. He had broken you, twisted you into something you weren’t, and he thought he was helping you? Your fists clenched. “Screw you, Dazai.”

“I deserve that.”

You hated this. Hated that he was standing here, acting as if he was suddenly burdened with guilt. As if that could change anything.

“You don’t get to regret it now,” you hissed. “You don’t get to come back into my life and act like you care.”

“I do care.”

“No, you don’t!”

The words tore out of you before you could stop them.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then, Dazai took a step closer. You immediately took one back.

He noticed. And it hurt him. You could see it in his eyes.

“I can’t undo what I did,” he admitted. “And I won’t ask you to forgive me.”

“Good,” you bit out.

“But…” He hesitated. “I do want to make things right. Somehow.”

You let out a sharp breath, trying to steady yourself. Your heart was still a mess of anger and something far more dangerous—something that ached when you looked at him.

You wanted to hate him.

You should hate him.

But love didn’t just disappear, no matter how much you wished it would.

So instead, you whispered, “I don’t think you can.“

Dazai’s expression didn’t change, but you saw something in his posture—defeat. Acceptance.

“I know,” he murmured.

And for the first time since you met him, Dazai Osamu had nothing left to say. Yet you? You had so much you wanted to tell him, so fucking much. You wanted to cuss at him, yell at him more but your mouth didnt move. It couldnt. You couldnt be as heartless as he was. Or perhaps its because you still love him?

Pt2?

[rllysane169]

THE WARM COLOURS AUR HITTINGG

Dazai my beloved 😌

[rllysane169]

The port mafia def won't be able to deal with half of the fandom's asses

Has somebody else ever stolen a fact that you had?

Could you then say that your fact was got?

Well then, you just might be in the fact got community!!!!

[VIDEO]

Dazai glared at the camera with a narrowed eye, a slight frown on his bandaged face. “I think you’re calling me a slur, in a weird, convoluted way,” he barked, sticking his pointer finger towards it, “and that is not very nice. Keep an eye open, because I’m sending the Port Mafia after your ass.”

“I am not gay. You’re gay,” he added a moment later, then moved to flick off the camera.

[rllysane169]

Work in progress💤

REALLY LIKED HOW THE HAIR RENDERING TURNED OUT :333

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Decided to share this art piece that I made last year on December ^^ (recreation of an official art)

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"I LOVE SIGMA" we all screamed in unison

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my insanity is insaning, I need some good reasons to live othrwise I'm commitimg