#muse: nikolai gogol.

[guacamoleroll]

ɪᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ · ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ʙꜱᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ༉‧₊˚

featured. osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol, sigma. content. f!reader. based on a request. mentions of alcohol (dazai), mentions of food, nicknames, slavic dishes. (minor) spoilers for stormbringer. translation at the end. not proofread.

author's note. this was an incredibly fun request! these men either shift between being incompetent, or not being reliant on others, so it took a sweet turn.

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. the kitchen can be many things. a refuge from the toils of everyday life. a workshop for the creation of exquisite tastes. an assemblage of conversation over collaboration.

but one thing is certain—a well-endeavored meal can warm the coldest of hearts.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 arrived home late one evening, tromping through the doorway with the confidence only a drunken man could muster. It had been one of those nights, ones in which he was all too aware of the hollowness of his own heart. One of those days where everything was too loud, the ones where he picked up every minuscule detail, whether he wanted to or not. So, he had taken to a drink or two to fill a void, only to dip into another—before he knew it, the room was spinning, and he found himself kicked out of the bar.

But he still had you to return to, so he gathered any soberness left within him and clambered to place his trench coat and shoes in the spots you had set out for them. He was glad you didn't hear him walk in. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been granted the opportunity to take in the view. You pranced around the kitchen, a lifted twirl in your heel as you stirred ingredients in a saucepan, the domestic mess of powders against your skin.

You were all his. The reason he had a home to return to. His sanctuary from his own mind. He often fretted—though he pretended not to—about the idea of you being taken away from him, a fact that he had come to accept as his reality. But in these simple moments, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that you encompassed for a moment longer.

His arms fit snug around your waist, his head like a puzzle piece against the curve of your shoulder. "Is that for me?"

You hummed, pressing a peck on his cheek as you leaned into him.

"You'll always have a meal to return home to, Osamu."

Yeah. He'd indulge for just a little longer.

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 did not expect to pass out. He had returned home from a weeks-long mission overseas, anxiously awaiting the moment you reunited and ran into his arms—only for him to arrive early to an empty home. You were at work, and it wasn't his fault the couch clung to him like a vice! For a moment, he thought he had been dreaming of the fresh smell of savory pasta sauce and spices.

Wait. He can't dream.

He cracked open his eyes, his vision steadily straightening out, and trudged into the kitchen with a befuddled pout, his sight narrowing in on exactly what you had been up to.

"Babe."

"Chuuya!" you yelled, almost losing your grip on your spoon before you managed to catch it, clutching it close to your chest as you twisted the knob on the stove to place the heat at a simmer. "You scared me!"

His arms crossed as he leaned on the doorway. "What're you doing cooking in here by yourself?" he asked sternly, scanning the contents of the pot along with your face. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was mad. But you did know better, catching onto the subtle tilt of his brow, narrowed in simultaneous amusement and disappointment. Cooking was often a partnered endeavor.

You couldn't resist laughter, cupping his cheek as if comforting an upset child. "You've had a long week, and you looked so peaceful lying there. I couldn't bring myself to disturb you."

He would've been quick to argue��you could wake him anytime, no matter the circumstance—but a thought overwhelmed him and kept his mouth at bay. You had done something for him, not with anything to gain, but simply because you cared. He was used to it happening the other way around, but this. . .this felt nice.

So, he relented, his ginger locks tickling your skin as he tucked his face into your neck with a sigh. "Thank you, baby."

𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 had been busy preparing the next phase of his plans, though you supposed he was always busy—too busy to take care of his own basic needs, that was for sure. He was always sorting through different data, exploring multiple angles to achieve his goals.

With the many tasks flooding his brain, he hardly had time to abandon his screens. The skin of his thumb had worn from his subconscious biting habit as he looked over another spreadsheet of banking information, his hands about to slide over the keys yet again.

The scent of stroganoff stirred him from his trance. His eyes shifted to find a steaming plate of the delectable dish sitting next to him on the desk. And he finally registered the firm hand propped against his shoulder, with you looking upon him from above with a sweet but knowing smile.

"Eat."

He wouldn't have customarily taken kindly to such a harsh demand, but he bent to the stern look of your gaze, one that hid behind it a level of care he ravenously craved. You worried for him, not in the same fashion as his so-called "friends," but with the genuine desire to see him thrive, no matter the circumstance.

So, the demon allowed himself a momentary reprieve, kissing a smile into your hand before taking a bite of the dish.

"Delicious, as always, моя милая."

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 had practically burst through the door, prepared to recount the travesties and trials of his day. That was until he caught onto the unmistakable scent of savory pirozhki filling. He followed his nose like a bloodhound, the smell creating a distinct path into the kitchen, where you stood, unaware of the man behind you as you mixed spices into a pan.

"What'cha cooking, dove?" His breath bristled against your ear as he sprung up next to you, using his ability with a shit-eating grin. Your expression mirrored his own, used to the stint of your lover's sudden appearances.

"I found some old Ukrainian recipes online and wanted to try them out." You held out a spoon, and he bit into the filling without a second thought—a mistake. He clutched his throat as his eyes watered, realizing it was too hot for consumption far too late. He finally managed to choke it down, releasing a loud whew!

"Trying to kill me so soon! How cruel!" he exclaimed.

Your laughter roared throughout your home, a shaking hand rubbing his back as you wiped tears from your eyes with the other. "Is it good?"

He brought a finger up to stroke his non-existent beard, humming a quick tune. "Hmm, perhaps a cup of chili powder."

"Коля," you deadpanned. "That's too much."

He sighed, a pout settled on his lips, but you caught the hand sneaking into the interior of his overcoat, snatching his wrist before he poured something irreversible into your dish. He cackled, attempting to pull away as you chased him around the kitchen island.

For a moment, it felt as if you were the only two people in the world—free of restraint. He could feel the bonds tied around him loosen. He could reach out, taste that sensation of freedom for himself. A freedom he had always found in you.

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 had arrived back to his section of the Sky Casino earlier than he expected, having a strange lack of paperwork. But he simply decided to take it as a sign that he had been doing good work, and ignored the anxious feelings that always sprung from not having anything to do.

"I'm home—!" he called, but was stopped in the entryway by a sweet aroma. It was intoxicating, and he couldn't resist the temptation to lurk into the kitchen.

"Welcome home, honey!" you called back, your voice echoing down the hallway. He stripped himself of his coat, leaving it folded on one of the benches before he trekked across the threshold, a curious shift in his furrowed brow.

You were baking cookies, fluffy chocolate-chip cookies. He couldn't resist the smile on his face, even if he wanted to, nor could he ignore the bubbling warmth in his heart. But he couldn't help his confusion.

"Cookies?" he asked, dipping his finger into a batch of dough before he popped it into his mouth. "What's the occasion?"

You swiped at him with a flour-coated hand before dusting the rest of it off on a towel. "You've been busy lately, so I wanted to make you something sweet," you stated as if it were the simplest thing. But those few simple words took him aback.

You cooked for him. No one had ever done that before, not without being an employee or attempting to manipulate him—or both. And in a matter of seconds, only enough to let in a sweep of hot air from the oven to warm his skin, he realized something that had long remained empty had been filled. He felt whole.

"Sigma!" you exclaimed, and he realized that he had tears streaming down his face. The look of concern drawn through your strained lips, your furrowed brow, and your shifting eyes only further set in his new reality—he had his family. He had found his home.

"I'm okay, love. Just. . .thank you."

моя милая = my dear коля = kolya

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @lovedazai @osameowdazai @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @ajaxism @himikoslove @little-miss-chaoss @justcallmesakira @sillyspookycat @aureatchi @mxxny-lupin @emyyy007 @betweensinners

© ɢᴜᴀᴄᴀᴍᴏʟᴇʀᴏʟʟ 2024 — ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ. ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇᴅ

[yeonban]

Fun games to bond with your friends over, according to Nikolai: a) creating the events that will lead to a witch's death which will have you locked in a church overnight for 3 days straight as her corpse walks around you summoning evil spirits that will eat your soul and disfigure you beyond belief, b) borrow money from the man with piercing eyes who can be found in the desolate side of the village OR find a way to get his portrait in your possession only to find yourself falling into depravity and losing your mind before dying young and passing the curse onto someone else, c) being asked by a handsome man if you would like something in this life more than anything else and after telling him yes & what it is, waking up in a place between dimensions with him and a witch who kiIIs the closest relative of the person you love most before granting you your wish and stealing your memories, ultimately driving you and everyone around you insane and leading you and them to an early death

[st4rd0lly]

does anyone wanna share any thirsts for the birthday clown today 😋😋😋 !!!

[silierepersonalblog]

//Nikolai's bio/verses/what not:

TW: Child abuse, bullying, animal attack, parental abandonment

Biography: 

Born in Ukraine he was the son of two circus members, one of the clowns and one of the trapeze artists. His mother was considered a very lusted after beauty so when she decided to start a family with one of the clowns it wasn’t taken well. Gogol and his father found themselves delegated to the role of outcasts, but when it was just the three of them it was as if the outside world never existed.

It was almost perfect until his mother for reasons she never explained just disappeared one day with no explanation, leaving him and his father behind. Heartbroken, he relied on his father for emotional support and the man did his best not to disappoint, at some point teaching his son ‘keep your head up and go on with the show when life gets hard’.

He tried to live up to his father’s advice until one day a group of the other circus kids decided to play a really cruel prank on him, under the guise of wanting to finally include him they tricked him into putting on a blind fold before throwing him into the Siberian tiger cage. Pulling off his blindfold just in time he narrowly avoided a fatal blow that left him with a scratch over his eye.

Dizzy with terror and blood loss he swore he was about to die but his father managed to drag him out in the nick of time and upon making sure the tiger was in her cage and he was alive he went ballistic on all of the fellow circus members (this being the first time Gogol ever remembered seeing him angry) before taking his son to a local doctor.

Until Gogol turned 20 he traveled with his father as traveling performers. Making just enough to get by before Gogol finally decided to strike out on his own.

Eventually he joined the Angels of Decay and now is living in Yokohama, keeping in touch with his father and lying about what he is actually doing.

Character Notes:

➢ Notes Pending

Verses: 

Main Verse. V; The Show Must Go On (Main Verse)

This follows much of the main verse, with a few differences here and there depending on how my portrayal develops.

Canon Divergent Verse. V; She Chose Me (Canon Div. Verse)

When his mother disappeared instead of leaving him behind with his father she took her son away from the circus, together they quickly found work at a mostly female group of female performers that were better known for their more ‘risque’ productions.

Finding joy in what he was doing he stayed with the group well into his twenties, even joining a few times when they needed someone both strong and flexible enough to perform.

[furykept]

@henshyne​ ( doppio ) asked: “ i could go with you! “

to be missed // open

it’s certainly an idea that has crossed his mind before. but even nikolai can tell when he’s being too impulsive ( sometimes, anyway ). bringing an outsider, even if it’s his most beloved, into the business of the decay of angels would only cause problems. and with doppio’s own loyalties to passione, it could cause conflict of interests, too. or maybe there’d be no conflict at all, but nikolai isn’t sure that there are any exceptions to fyodor’s plan to eradicate those wielding special abilities. he doubts, too, that kamui would take well to his involvement with someone in another organization, or at least not one that isn’t aligned and involved with the decay of angel’s overall plan. so, though it pains him ( and he’ll certainly be whining to anyone who will listen for the entire trip ), he resists the urge to say yes, please do. 

❝but then who would take care of things here, hm~?❞ he offers playfully instead, grin never once faltering. ❝as much as i can let myself put off my duties, i’d hate to take you away from your own~ i’ll only be gone for two weeks, anyway. i’ll be back before you know it!❞ which is going to be a long time in the jester’s eyes, because time always seems to lag when doppio isn’t around, but he hope that the other has people around him to pass the time in nikolai’s stead. and they’d better take care of him too, or there’d be hell to pay! 

brushing that thought aside for now, though, he wraps his arms back around the other, nuzzling affectionately against his shoulder. ❝besiiiiides~ that trip is still another week away. we still have time we can spend together, no? all that time to try and make up for what we’ll have to spend apart~ and there’s no sense in spending it dwelling on depressing things. especially since i’ll come running right back into your arms! perhaps even earlier than expected, if i get all my work done in a timely manner for once~❞ which he’ll definitely be shooting for, if it doesn’t mean rushing whatever plans are laid out for the organization. 

❝now, let’s turn that frown upside down again, shall we? seeing you sad does my heart such pain, doppio dear. can’t we bring that dazzling smile of yours back instead~?❞

[clown-demon]

Oh, I could throw you in the lake, Or feed you poisoned birthday cake~. I won't deny I'm gonna miss you when you're gone~. Oh, I could bury you alive, But you might crawl out with a knife and kill me when I'm sleeping~.

That's why

I can't decide~. Whether you should live or die~. Oh, you'll probably go to heaven~. Please don't hang your head and cry. No wonder why . My heart feels dead inside~. It's cold and hard and petrified~. Lock the doors and close the blinds, We're going for a ride

🤡🐀 Indie Nikolai Gogol and Fyodor Dostoevsky Canon Div. RP blog from Bungo Stray Dogs. Also has some other muses for request only! Everything friendly. Cross over HIGHLY friendly.🐀🤡

Written by Ti.

©

[ruified]

❝ A Symphony for My Lonely Heart ˎˊ˗ — Ch. 1

warnings: this fic will be fyozai . characters: fyodor dostoevsky , osamu dazai , sigma, nikolai gogol . synopsis: fyodor, a well-known cellist, travels to japan in search of better competition. he finds himself incredibly bored and lonely always winning music competitions and wishes to find some sort of rival. until he decides to target a certain pianist who happened to pass by him . a/n: fyodor not knowing what his feelings really are so he sees this man preform and is like “this must be rivalry” .

- ̗̀ ❪( ❛ PREVIEW ❜ )❫ ˚̩̥̩̥.

Walking off stage, bow in hand, a crew member close behind carrying the heavy string instrument carved from wood, beads of cold sweat laid still on his forehead. Once he was off stage, the raven-haired man sighed and pivoted on his heels. He offered the crew member a gracious smile and extended his hands towards his beloved instrument. “I’ll take it, thank you.” His words were blanketed by a thick accent and his voice as rich as velvet. The crew member carefully handed off the cello to its rightful owner and bowed slightly before taking their leave.

The man briskly walked back to the hall where the case for his cello waited, his arms accustomed to the weight of such an instrument by now. He gently laid the instrument to rest in its tomb and closed the lid, gold latches clicking rhythmically. He stared at the name tag on the case for a moment: “Fyodor D.” He knew that he had performed quite beautifully, as he typically did, and was expecting that he would place rather high in the end. However, he couldn’t help but feel a bit bored of all of these competitions—what fun are they when you’re barely competing anyways? Fyodor always placed first in these, if not second, perhaps during days where his sickly nature gets the better of him. He was looking for a challenge, really, and he had hoped Japan would offer that to him. Alas, his muse, of sorts, had yet to appear before him.

[ssouhekii]

ᵗʷⁱˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁻ ᶠʸᵒˡᵃⁱ ° . ☆ • ° . ☆ ● . ○

fix-it fic, angst-comfort.

☆ wc -1.3k

warnings: blood, mentions of death and grieving, implied bipolar disorder in nikolai, sad clown ouuugh

Nikolai returned to his apartment, empty.

Empty-armed. He refused to carry the last piece of his best friend home with him. It was too much. He didn't need yet another reminder of Fyodor, not now. He buried the arm in the rubble of the crash, hands shaking as tears wet the dented glass shards. Nikolai had cut his hands profusely on them, gloves being stained just like Fyodor's bandages.

Empty-minded. Nikolai could think of nothing else, other than the crash. The way the helicopter fell to the ground. The way it caught in flames. The way that, just like that moment, Nikolai wasn't able to think. No, he kept his eyes forward and his mind blank. He would rather have nothing than lose something.

Empty-hearted. Nikolai Gogol had been drained of his joy, his energy, his love. There was nothing left of him. Every feeling that Nikolai had, every passion, died along with Fyodor. Fyodor had told him that he was fighting to lose himself, and now he had.

Nikolai had lost himself, because the only time he was ever really him was with Fyodor.

In all that day's madness, Nikolai hadn't eaten. He drudged to his little kitchen, and opened the door to his pantry. He didn't want to eat anything there. He wanted Fyodor.

With all his excitement and anticipation, Nikolai hadn't slept. He dragged himself to his bed and lied down. He didn't want to sleep, though. He wanted Fyodor.

With no thoughts in his mind, Nikolai hadn't bandaged his hands up. Nikolai didn't get out of bed, though. To bandage his hand would be to make it look the same as Fyodor's. He didn't want to keep bleeding. He wanted Fyodor. He just wanted Fyodor.

Just the idea of bandaging his hand brought tears to Nikolai's eyes. A bandaged hand like his. Salty tears stung the wounds as Nikolai brought his hands up to his face. For the millionth time that day, Nikolai wiped the tears from his eyes and the snot from his face, choking out sobs over the only person he'd ever loved.

Loved.

He had loved Fyodor, and he'd never even said it.

If a thousand more knives could've fit themselves into Nikolai's heart, then they did at that moment.

Nikolai had spent all their time together peppering Fyodor with threats and musings without ever once telling him how he'd really felt.

Nikolai violently brought his fist to his face to wipe his tears again. The only person who'd ever been a home to him was gone. The only person who'd ever tried to understand him was dead. And the worst part was, that person would never, ever know how Nikolai felt.

Unbeknownst to himself, Nikolai had started muttering through his choked out sobs. In the dark of the night, with his tears glistening in the moonlight through his window, the only things that could be heard were sharp gasps and whispered apologies.

Apologies that Fyodor would never, ever be able to hear, that Nikolai would have to keep to himself until the end of time.

Or so Nikolai thought.

Disoriented, it took Nikolai a moment to register the sudden tilt in his bed from his visitor. It took him a moment to realize that he had heard his door open a few seconds before. Most of all, it took Nikolai a few seconds of labored breathing to untuck his head from his knees and look up.

Fedya.

"It's alright, Kolya."

In front of him, patched up and sitting on his bed, was Fyodor. Nikolai let out a hiccup before shoving his head back into his knees.

"This isn't real, you're not real! I know you're gone, and I'm sorry. Go away, go away!" Nikolai tried to shout, but each word came out as simply a little whimper.

Of course Nikolai had deluded himself into seeing Fyodor there. He was sure he was the only person who could ever have pushed themselves into an episode.

He felt the dip in the bed move closer, and a hand place itself on his back. The touch was gentle, and Nikolai sobbed again.

"I'm real, Kolya. I'm here."

Nikolai slowly moved his head up. In front of him sat his dearest friend, arm intact, smiling at him. The moon's beams bounced off of his friend's messy locks and caused a faint glimmer in his eyes. Nikolai quietly parted his lips.

"I watched you die."

The figure looked down at him, hunched over and wet with tears.

"No, Kolya, you watched me crash. I'm back now."

The figure rubbed circles on Nikolai's back as his face contorted and he realized that the person in front of him was really and truly there.

Ten minutes ago, Nikolai would've thought he'd be the happiest person on earth to see his best friend back.

Now, he kicked his blankets up into a pile as he moved back against the wall.

"How could you do this to me? How could you- I watched you, I-"

Nikolai tripped over his words, sniffling as he escalated into nearly shouting.

"I watched you die! You were- you were stabbed, and the helicopter- it- it crashed, and- I-"

Fyodor watched him with calm, gentle eyes.

"I was not crushed by the rubble. I had Ivan on standby. I'm here, and I'm fine, I promise."

"That's not the point, Fyodor! That's- I-" Nikolai grabbed his hair and pulled at it, yelling through his tears. "I thought you were dead, and I didn't know, and I- I thought you'd be fine but you werent, and, and now you are and I-" Nikolai let out another sob. For someone who so readily expressed himself, who wore his heart on his sleeve, articulating his thoughts proved to be difficult at this moment.

"You're fine, and I trusted you to be fine- and then you just- you weren't and suddenly I- I didn't have you anymore and I just.." Nikolai trailed off and shifted his gaze to Fyodor, whos lips formed a small "o."

"Nikolai, I'm," He looked away, almost in shame. "I'm sorry, Nikolai."

Nikolai furrowed his brow.

"You could've told me beforehand."

"It wouldn't work then, I had to make a getaway. I needed to avert their eyes, and-" Nikolai cut off Fyodor abruptly.

"You could have averted their eyes any other way! You could have blown something up, or lit a- a fire, or-" a small hiccup. "You could have just gotten in the helicopter with me and left! I would have gone with you!"

"I'm sorry to have upset you, Nikolai. I really, really am." Both of them stared at eachother in silence for a moment.

"I really missed you."

Fyodor's eyes widened, and Nikolai whipped forward.

"I love you, Fedya. I'm sorry I never told you, and- " Nikolai's tears came rushing back, and he wiped his eyes while speaking. "And I love you and I'm sorry I couldn't just be- be okay loving you and how I tried to kill you instead and it was my fault-"

Fyodor pulled Nikolai into his arms. The jester went limp, shocked.

"It's not your fault, Kolya. I love you, too. I always will, no matter what you say to me."

Nikolai grabbed a fistful of Fyodor's shirt.

"So you don't.. hate me? You don't want to kill me, like you said?"

Fyodor gently stroked his hand down Nikolai's locks.

"Never. I'm sorry for saying that, Kolya. I hope you know I didn't mean it."

"Promise?"

"Of course."

Nikolai's breathing slowed, another moment of silence between them.

"Please don't leave again."

"I'll be right by your side until the end of time, now. It's all over, and I'm here with you now."

Nikolai let out an exhale, gently complying as Fyodor lifted his chin up so their eyes met.

"Tomorrow, you and me, we relax, okay? We can make pirozkis, just like old times."

Nikolai smiled at him for the first time again.

"Thanks, Fedya. I'd like that."

a/n: they make me so unwell

[prpfs]

18+ looking for other 18+ people for a Bungo Stray Dogs roleplay - I recently got back into the manga and it inspired me to muse some BSD characters. I'm looking to play either Nikolai Gogol or Sigma in these ships!

Nikolai/Fyodor Dostoevsky

Nikolai/Sigma

Sigma/Fyodor Dostoevsky

Sigma/Osamu Dazai

Sigma/Rare Pairs (M/M)

I write 2-3 paragraphs in lit/adv. lit lengths, and I prefer longer term rp partners as I love developing ideas and creating complex plots - due to this I prefer discord for organization but tumblr is fine as well! If you're interested leave a like and I'll reach out. 👻

like if you're interested and anon will get back to you!

[guacamoleroll]

— 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖎'𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖒! ⋆⁺₊

featured: osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol, sigma

content warning(s): fem!reader, domestic moments, mentions of marriage, kisses and cuddling, these men are whipped, fluff, references to christmas traditions

author's note: i hope you're all enjoying (or at least relaxing) during the holidays! sit back, grab a cup of steaming coffee or hot chocolate, and enjoy some sweet moments with our bungou boys ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

summary: what gifts do our bungou husbands gift you during the holidays?

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

𝗢𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗨 𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

Your eyes flutter open as sprinkles of sunlight peeking through the blinds serve as your only alarm, traces of chocolatey hair prickling your skin as he nuzzles into your neck. Your fingers twirl the coils of his knotted tresses, smoothing them into shining waves before pressing kisses against his ear. And that's when you see it.

A basket perched on your nightstand, tied neatly with a bow, and piled high with various cosmetics and accessories. As you sort through each item, feeling nostalgia pinging with every gift, you realize there's a reason you recognize them. 

Each is a small element from a moment in your relationship—the nail polish you wore on your first date, the lipstick you chose for your first kiss. He notes the quirks of others subconsciously, though he chooses to ignore them unless it benefits him. But not with you.

He cherishes every ephemeral habit—the crease of your forehead as candles burn on, the haze of your eyes as raindrops pour down, the indention of your lips as movies summit closed. You're always too preoccupied to notice, but he gawks at you without shame, admiring the purity of your features. He is known for being abstract, but you are his complete opposite. So completely unabashed in sharing your opinions and sentiments, even through your own expressions. And in a way, you're far braver than he believes himself to be, so he knows he must remind you of that.

𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗨𝗬𝗔 𝗡𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

Your sleep is interrupted by a yelp. For a moment, you wanted to keep your eyes closed, still sluggish with sleep, but a sequence of other noises pulled you out of bed. Unaware of the eyes peeking out from under the covers, a smirk on their proprietor's face as you shuffled out of the room, you journeyed into the living room. And he knew that you had found precisely what you were looking for when he heard a barrage of coos and badly muffled shrieks escape your lips, rushing back into the room with a puppy snuggled in your arms, a cute bow fastened to its collar. He knew your heart had been stolen at a glance, much like he had been long ago.

That puppy is now your child, a part of your family. Even if you don't realize it, this dog expresses his eternal fondness and dedication to you and any family you plan to have. He would prefer to pick a larger dog breed, the loyal type of canines that remain devoted to their families (Akitas, Belgian Malinois, German Shepherds, etc.). He knows you'd love any dog, but he wants to guarantee that you'll be protected if he isn't there.

And don't be surprised if an engagement ring follows a few months later. You're raising an animal together—your fur baby—and while it's a bit out of order, he wants to tie the knot officially. And you'll have the cutest little ring bearer in the world ⋆˙⟡♡

𝗙𝗬𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥 𝗗𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗘𝗩𝗦𝗞𝗬 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

(I briefly discussed this in a post a while ago, but I wanted to expand on it a bit further.)

A stack of uniform presents pile in symmetrical mountains around the base of your shared tree; each fold intricately pristine. However, he insists on having a large breakfast, reveling in your anticipation with each course as you eye the gifts—it's too cute. Once you've finally reached the tree, he observes with unstated delight as you rip open the wrapping paper, only to discover hardcover copies of classic novels in your favorite genres.

He knows you peruse through his personal collection while he is away on missions, missing him and seeking comfort in his familiar words. Without your knowledge, he has caught you with a beaming grin on your face, skimming the story, enamored by his annotations. So once you've finished the book, with your thoughts written neatly inside the pages, he'd offer to swap with you, finding a sudden interest in the story.

Because the way your brain operates is absolutely fascinating to him—it is, in his (correct) opinion, one of your most stunning attributes. He finds himself seeking other ways to look into your thoughts, and if you just so happen to get inside his head as a result, he finds that he doesn't mind all the much.

𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗜 𝗚𝗢𝗚𝗢𝗟 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

He would be bouncing up and down as soon as the sun rose, forcing you onto the sofa as he picked presents up from across the room. However, breaking away from tradition, he insisted that he opened the first few, utilizing many of your gifts as props for a little skit.

He enjoys your laughter more than any other sound in this world. It's such a freeing sight, watching you throw back your head, unable to help yourself. Even in the midst of his antics, he finds himself unable to avert his gaze, wide-eyed as you laugh without a care in the world. To him, you're always beautiful, but especially when you're happy.

And in that, he realizes that he wants to make you laugh all the time. Every second that you're together should be filled with joy. His heart constricts painfully whenever he sees sorrow on your face, and he has made it his prime duty in life to relieve your suffering. Anything that has ever made you laugh is collected in those gift boxes, and he feels lighter than ever as you giggle in your seat.

You have become the rope that tethered him to the ground, but he finds that he no longer wishes to fly free. Perhaps he has become exactly what he used to fear: his own attachments anchoring him, but he doesn't mind. He is a fool, but only for you.

𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗠𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺

He has never had anyone to celebrate the holiday with before; there hasn't been a reason. So instead, he would bury himself in his paperwork, trying to find a purpose through the letters, though he knew it was all in vain. So when he finds someone to celebrate with, he will ensure that you will stick around until the holiday next year.

You're met with bundles of presents, heavy with luxurious clothes and fragrant accessories, things he knows you like. But one of those gifts stands out amongst the rest: a simple box with a neat but fashionable outfit inside. Your eyes scan the seams, and it dawns on you—these are handmade. 

He knows his stuff about fabrics and colors, constantly choosing different options for the casino, and one of his stress-relieving hobbies (in my headcanon) is sewing. Before you came into his life, he made his own clothes, finding only brief comfort in the repetitive stitches.

But there is something so domestic about creating clothes for someone you care about. Thoughts of them are embuded in every stitch, seams pressed with care as it's molded to flatter your body specifically. It reassures him whenever you walk around the building, showing off your new clothes with a smile on your face—you are his family, his home. His other half. And you are here to stay.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @justanotherjester @sillyspookycat @kotysluny @aureatchi

[yeonban]

How do you view love?

DAN HENG: Soft.

Love that is welcoming, one that encompasses you in its warmth. The feeling of a warm mug after a cold day. Familiar huffs of laughter respond in the air as you lean on each other for balance. The feeling of falling on a soft bed of clouds on a nice sunny day. Of waves lapping at sand on a beach.

NIKOLAI: All encompassing.

"The enormity of my desire disgusts me." It consumes you. Thoughts that trace the same memory every waking second. Body engrained with muscle memory at even the slightest sound. Everything that is the earth reminds you of it. Courses through your body like fire, keeps you afloat and wanting, always wanting for more.

Tagged by: @scrtilegii MERSII!! Tagging: @oneireth (Caelus, Ratio and/or Youta), @quirkthieves (Nobimaru and Mioara), @skilledsenses (Ranpo), @antinomos (Fyodor) & @achroanimus, @gonguji, @rikyos & whoever else sees this and wants to do it!

[skipjack-rp]

✰ SKIPJACK-RP ; ind, selective ; multi-muse, multi-ship ✰

♡ Skip ( he / they / 30+ ) ♡

✰ MOST ACTIVE CHARACTERS: ✰

main : (bungo stray dogs) akutagawa ryunosuke, nikolai gogol, ogai mori, osamu dazai ; (honkai star rail) argenti, sampo koski ; (mr. villain's day off) black ranger, general ; (mda : rain code) vivia twilight, yakou furio

more info and muses in carrd (WIP) -> X

rules below:

⚠ Rules:

⚠ No hate allowed. Asks/submissions/replies that are meant to cause malicious harm to myself or others will be immediately trashed and ignored. I don't have the patience for folks that want to turn a fun, social hobby into an aggressive defamation party for kicks; it's silly. ⚠ I appreciate any heads-up about known malicious users but I don't follow Blacklists or create my own. I think everyone should get a fair shake and will take any gossip with a grain of salt. ⚠ Violent and/or NSFW rp is okay but at my own discretion on Tumblr (If our personalities vibe then Discord might be an option for more mature themes)!

⚠ No toxic, exclusive shipping. Muses can be monogamous in the verse that we are writing but I will not agree to be anyone's exclusive writing partner. If you don't like seeing me shipping with multiple blogs then you should look elsewhere. ♡ Thank you for reading! ♡

[three-pens]

so how will the freakin prison break arc end? (theory masterpost)

I’ve been having too many thoughts about this arc and how it’s going to end, after all it involves my top 3 favorite characters along with dazai, so I needed to get my thoughts out. Here is my brain-dump of theories and analysis:

Part 1: Dazai and Fyodor

Dazai won’t die in this arc -my first thought. Asagiri hasn’t killed off many characters, (Oda and Aku are the only ones the come to mind) and the ones that he has killed left a huge impact on someone important to them. If I were to take a guess as to whom Dazai would die around (if he does) it would be with the agency or Atsushi alone (for fairly obvious reasons) none of whom he is currently around. This brings me to my next point: if Dazai dies here the agency looses. In chapter 95 Ranpo muses that the battle above ground will be determined by whoever defeats the other. The conclusion to this is that Dazai will not die, on top of that, the agency is already in a very tough spot so if Dazai dies they’re practically done for. Of course these are only a few reasons as to why I don’t think he will die and i’m sure there are far more.

But Fyodor won’t die either- for one we don’t know anything about him really. His true goal, his backstory (not that a character needs one to be compelling, he’s already my second fave lol) not even his ability. But let’s focus on the first item on that list, his true plan, his goals. I don’t believe that Fyodor agrees with Fukuchi’s plan and stuff, I don’t think it’s his goal. For one Fukuchi is all about the magic mind control cube and controlling the world yada yada while Fyodor’s introduction had to do with the book and getting Atsushi in order to get to the book. This VERY INTRIGUING plot line has been pretty much dropped in the wake of Fukuchi. This plot line is where I think Fyodor will shine, we clearly haven’t seen his full potential, his true plan or how far he will truly go in order to achieve HIS goals. This is why he can not and will not die in this arc. There’s also the contrasting fact that if Fyodor wins (aka lives) and Dazai dies, the agency pretty much looses (basically what I said in Dazai’s section above) and that wouldn’t really work. 

Now that we’re done with our two opponents we have to talk about the main man, the enigma, my absolute favorite character of them all, the cause of this whole predicament…

Part 2 Electric Boogaloo: Nikolai Gogol

Let me just start this off by saying that yes this man is my favorite character, but god, his plan is his downfall (aka it makes no sense). Let’s say Dazai wins, good for everyone! Agency gets their Dazai back and enacts a masterful strategy to defeat Fukuchi once and for all, and Gogol got rid of his dearest friend without killing him! Yippie freedom! But we also have to take into account what he said to Sigma after he rescued him. He said he needed Sigma with him in order to figure out Fyodor’s ability, something that hasn’t really happened and wouldn’t if Dazai wins. Now in the event of Fyodor winning, uh then Nikolai’s plan literally didn’t really work? He’d have to come up with another scheme to attempt to get Fyodor in a situation that would get him killed and with enough of those, I think it would just kinda prove that he’s not free in that he would be in a constant loop of trying to kill Fyodor to prove that he doesn’t have feelings for him, which would prove he clearly does. A paradox if you will. His plan doesn’t really work for any intended outcome. But his emotions, his goals, his feelings, those are where my theories come from.

So the conclusion, neither Fyodor nor Dazai  will die in this arc, and who is the only one who can make it so they don’t die? Nikolai Gogol. Because we haven’t talked about the most important part, and most intriguing part of his plan: the poison. Which brings us to…

Part 3: Let’s get into the theories

I’ve come up with three major theories, with a few smaller ones I’ll list towards the end. Now let’s get into the theories!

Theory 1: There was no poison. They injected themselves with something that does nothing to them or something harmless or whatever- just nothing lethal. This works for a number of reasons, it wouldn’t make Nikolai the direct killer of Fyodor (something he clearly cares about I’d say even more than actually KILLING him as it proves he isn’t actually free), and more than killing Fyodor it creates the opportunity for Fyodor to BE killed. 

If this is true I predict that the breakout will proceed as usual, both Fyodor and Dazai outmaneuvering eachother at every turn and eventually when they reach the top they figure it out and have a stand-off and eventually go their separate ways with the promise of another matchup. Another option is that Dazai reaches the top first and leaves without knowing if Fyodor is dead or not. 

Theory 2: There will be two vials of antidote at the top. This introduces a variety of situations. For Gogol it works as in he would never directly kill Fyodor as there was always an antidote waiting for him at the top (so if he dies it must be Dazai’s fault!) this doubles as it really actually proves he cares enough about Fyodor to not really let him die (the double sidedness of this is very in character for him I think). 

As for the situations: whoever gets to the top first can do a bit of blackmailing, only giving the other the antidote in exchange for something, this could be a very interesting concept that could come back to haunt the other in the future. 

They could also get there at the same time and either mad dash for the antidotes (ending most likely with the situation above) or they both get their own antidotes and walk away from eachother in a sort of stand-off way, with a thinly veiled threat or whatever.

Theory 3: Dazai wins, Nikolai can’t stand the fact that Fyodor lost or smth and gives him the anitdote before he can die. This one is pretty silly I’d say but it could work. Dazai gets out and administers the antidote and leaves without knowing if Fyodor is TRULY dead but he has more pressing matters to attend to. Nikolai, unable to accept that both Fyodor LOST and the fact that Fyodor will be dying pretty directly by him (by the poison that HE gave Fyodor) and in turn gives him an antidote. He could justify this to himself in a number of ways that I won’t list (if you wanna hear some ideas just ask in the comments). I’m the end he ultimately comes to the conclusion that his plan failed but maybe Sigma found out Fyodor’s ability in the chaos and he starts planning another scheme. Who knows, there’s a lot of ways this theory could go so that’s why I really like it.

Smaller theories: 

a. The reverse of Theory 3, Gogol comes to Dazai and gives him the antidote as he realizes that Dazai is the only one who can truly outmaneuver and kill Fyodor in order for him to be free.

b. A spin-off of Theory 1: There was no poison but the “antidote” at the top is a lethal poison. This doesn’t really make sense because one of them would die but I just thought it would be interesting from a Gogol perspective. A sense of randomness so that whoever “wins” (hopefully Fyodor) actually looses. In his pov his faith in Fyodor’s winning would be his faith in Fyodor’s death. 

2b. Same thing, there’s a vial of “antidote” that’s actually poison, but this time nobody uses it. Because they’re too smart or whatever.

c. Nikolai just straight up changes his mind about needing to kill Fyodor for his freedom and just saves him (aka silly goofy times)

Conclusion(ish):

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed my theories :)))))

[furykept]

more tags, mhyk & bsd

[clown-demon]

Winding down our emotions, Family and friends, Becoming ghosts to dream of. Time will erase every face every name. We are alone. No-one to blame. Oh, no-one to blame

Home | Nikolai | Fyodor | Yumeno | Dazai | Other Muses | Rules

Indie Multi Muse RP blog with main muses being; Nikolai Gogol, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Yumeno Kyuusaku, and Dazai Omasu, all from the series Bungo Stray Dogs. Request muses on the side from various fandoms and fandomless OCs.

This blog DOES contain Hazbin and Helluva muses. They use the tag hh/hb.

Everything friendly, cross over HIGHLY encouraged.

Loved by Ti.

©

[crispbeigepages]

~Second Chance~

CW: mild spoilers, mentions of death

The soft sound of a cello rang through the otherwise silent room. Fyodor-the source-was sat in the middle on a small chair, the room completely dark save for a few dimly lit candle flames. His dark violet eyes were closed and his hair following the tilt of his head as he played.

The silence and sweet serenade were swiftly interrupted by a gaudy man in a jester-like clad, one that Fyodor knew well.

"It's a wonder you can even still play, Dostoy~"

He mused, waltzing into the room.

Two lights suddenly came on; the first illuminating Fyodor, the second revealing an old worn-down piano in which the jesterly man was gliding to.

While Fyodor saw everyone he'd met as simple pawns, Nikolai intrigued him enough for him to humor the man as a friend. The man desiring only one thing: freedom.

The man that had watched him die.

The idea that his friend had witnessed his supposed death was an intriguing one; a thought that made Fyodor ponder.

The spotlight overhead reflected slightly off the metallic surface of Fyodor's prosthetic arm, the source of Nikolai's earlier comment.

Fyodor didn't bother to reply, simply closing his eyes once again as he began to play Bird of Death on his cello. Nikolai soon followed suit, deftly matching the chords of the cello with the plunks of piano keys.

It was like an unspoken agreement between them.

They continued to play together, making a beautiful symphony of voiceless words and unspoken thoughts. The instruments flowed together beautifully, as if played together like this thousands of times before, yet truly only once.

Once the song was finished, the room was once again silent. The lights had faded, leaving the fleeting candlelight as their only weapon against the encroaching darkness of the room.

Fyodor turned to Nikolai, his piercing violet eyes gazing at him with a cold warmth to them as he formed a smile that never reached his eyes.

"I'm still going to kill you one day."

He mused, finally putting words to their otherwise silent agreement.

"Excellent, I wouldn't have it any other way."

In the time between Fyodor's 'death' and the time spent nursing him back to health once he was found alive, Nikolai had time to think.

He'd thought the thing that would set him free would be the death of his only friend, to have the blood of the only man who ever understood him flowing across his palms. Yet, after witnessing the possible end of that friend, he realized that that wasn't what would actually grant him freedom.

Nikolai no longer wanted to kill Fyodor, no, he wanted himself to die by Fyodor's righteous hands. The perfect, freeing end to Nikolai Gogol would be his own life's end, by the one man he found to be a friend.

By the one man that he had fallen in love with.