Id Like To Say I Like It For The Metaphor But Really Its Because I Like To Imagine Trees Growing In Weird

You just... summed up all of atsushi’s character interactions...

who is nakajima atsushi to you?

INCORRECT QUOTE HERE by @incorrectbungoustraydogs

i was really inspired and wanted to practice animating so!! ive been working on this on and off for a few months c:

oh look its half of my aesthetics

a friend encountered while on a run; my blurry notes on a physics lab. my friend and I last year, unaware of what the year 2020 would bring. the graveyard I pass on the way to campus.

Keep reading

i think writing fanfiction is easier than writing original stories because there are restrictions. You known, like characterization or past events or genres. Because some flowers can only grow if they have a wall to climb

he doesnt need anyones help, he’ll do it all by himself, thank you very much

stop being a coward and put dazai in a dress you fucks

Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

Let me talk about Dazai Osamu.

Dazai is often so animated, whether it be flirting shamelessly with beautiful women, or trying to get on Kunikida’s nerves, or messing with naive little Atsushi, or irritating the living heck out of Chuuya.

But, emotions? In a previous post, I talked a bit about deciphering Dazai’s emotions, about how he shows real and true emotions only in certain very calculated and planned situations.

Even for a person who rarely shows true emotions, it is visible how his face changes when the Port Mafia is brought up. His voice, his eyes, the tightness in his jaws— everything changes.

Season 1 Episode 3, when Kunikida is describing the Port Mafia to Atsushi.

For me, this is a very important hint to decipher him, a tiny gap in space-time from where I can peek into his heart.

In Season 1 Episode 5, when he intervenes the sergeant’s nervous rant to say, “No, this wasn’t the Mafia’s doing”, he’s a changed man. He not only describes, but reminisces and relives the numerous times he’s seen the event he’s describing unfold.

He doesn’t meet anybody’s eyes, he’s staring into space. His voice is lower, a sharp contrast to the usual high pitched, lulting, lively voice. This isn’t the voice he uses to talk with his colleagues in the Detective Agency, with Atsushi.

In Dead Apple, while facing away from Atsushi, he says, “I might have stayed there, murdering people.” His head is angled towards the ground, voice low.

(what might he have been feeling then? that’s a topic for another day.)

In Season 2 Episode 9, while he’s talking directly with the Port Mafia boss, Mori-san, there’s is somethingly uncannily odd about his face— eyes open far too wide, smile far too forced.

I’ve searched long for the right word to describe this expression— it’s uncomfortable.

Haunted.

He’s uncomfortable, he’s uneasy, but he doesn’t know that, he can’t acknowledge that, he wouldn’t accept that, because how do you hide what you don’t know you’re feeling?

∘

The problem here is, Dazai cannot see that he himself, was also a victim. He sees himself only as an abuser.

The fact that he’s also a victim, a young boy who watched his boss murder an old man, a young boy held at gunpoint so he couldn’t go to save his friend— he doesn’t understand his abuse. He doesn’t understand he was also wronged, he always sees himself as the wrong do-er.

Which is why he never let himself heal, because in order to do that, you have to notice your injuries first. Like he literally covered himself up in bandages, figuratively he did so too— made up a smile and built walls all around him, impenetrable, insurmountable.

In these specific moments though, his face betrays his mind.

His face makes it very apparent that he was affected, is still affected, regardless of whatever he tells himself.

It’s in these moments, that you see he has a living, beating heart, scarred and heavy and haunted with the trauma of his unspeakable past.

It’s in these moments that you see he’s human— still, despite, after all.

∘

I want that outfit no cap

When you’re a werewolf you’re not  50% wolf and 50% human, but 100% werewolf, similarly when you’re bi you’re not 50% gay and 50% straight, but 100% bi. Nothing else is similar though, the bite of bi person, generally, doesn’t do much.

rotating hamlet in your head when you're NOT mentally unwell is actually a wonderful experience. because now you can see outside the barbed walls of pain. beyond the balcony rails that look like prison bars. you can see the glimmers of gertrude's undeniable love for hamlet, even when she did it all wrong. you can see the defiance in ophelia's yes my lords, a sort of kindredness to the women you grew up with who knew how to pick battles and hide a smirk. you can see the banter between horatio and hamlet, like boys playing in a creek before one moves away for good. you can watch hamlet mouth the plays the thing, wherein ill catch the conscience of the king and have your heart break for the scared son who's clinging to a reason to live through narrative. and oh, how you notice the narrative. how it encircles. how it continues, despite laertes trying to fling himself to be with ophelia, despite horatio's lips almost kissing the cup. now, you can hold the characters gently, with the distance and closeness of a gravedigger. now, you can hold yourself gently: act five is over now. close the curtains, strike the props, hug the other ones who made it out covered in fake blood and real sweat. the play's the thing, and you might have to do it again. the story lives, on and on and on, in a hundred adaptations in a hundred formats. in a hundred broken peoples heads, and sometimes, those people heal long enough to say denmark was a prison, let me tell you about it.