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@kunikidazaiweek
Hello! Are you gonna make Kunikidazai week for 2020?
Hello! We do plan on hosting a week for 2020, though it’ll definitely be later on in the year! It’ll most likely happen around the last week of November, just like last year! We’ll keep you all posted!
Guess who finnally remembered to post the kunikidazai week entries
@kunikidazaiweek
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It’s amazing to be with the one you love
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Life is a series of moments
Kunikidazaiweek2019 day 05
@kunikidazaiweek
Fighting ._./
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Once it is opened, it can never be closed the same way again.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Kunikida always had faith that Dazai will come home.
Kunikidazaiweek2019 day 04
@kunikidazaiweek
Still to be continued ._.b/ lol
@kunikidazaiweek day two
surprise | graveyard
“don’t you know I love you but am hopeless at fixing the rain?
but I am learning slowly to love the dark days.”
—Derek Walcott
-
The sun has barely begun its ascent, painting the coastline in thin ribbons of pink as Dazai steps through the cemetery gates. He moves as if the path is imprinted in his bones, his feet carrying him even as his mind wanders—a turn to the left, then another, followed by a hard right up one of the older gravel trails, lined with bits of paper and dried flower petals blown over by the breeze.
The path ends on a small hill, where a handful of gravestones sit beneath a tree, overlooking Yokohama Bay as if keeping vigil over the sea. Dazai stops in front of the grave at the edge of the row and reads it, neutral-faced, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.
"You can come out," Dazai announces. He tips his head towards the shadow lurking just past the tree. "No one followed me."
A twig breaks behind him. "How sure are you?" a familiar voice floats out from the dark.
Dazai chuckles humorlessly. "You know me better than that, Kunikida-kun." He turns around to face the shadow, hands still in his pockets. "Trust me. No one followed."
There is a beat of silence before Kunikida sighs and steps into the meager morning light. He's chosen his disguise well—a nondescript hoodie and loose-fitting blue jeans, his long hair tucked into an old Yokohama Baystars baseball cap. His glasses are still missing, long-broken and left behind on a road at the edge of the city, and their absence feels wrong to Dazai, like it's not just glasses that are missing, but something else.
Maybe it's the hollowness in his moss-green eyes, staring at Dazai like he's not entirely sure that he's real.
Dazai puts on his best attempt as a reassuring smile and takes a step forward. "How are you holding—"
Before he can finish, Kunikida lunges forward and pulls him in a hug.
Dazai stiffens, wholly unprepared, then wraps his arms around Kunikida and relaxes into the embrace. Kunikida tightens his grip and buries his face in Dazai's hair, and Dazai hand slides up to Kunikida's nape if of its own accord, fingers threading into the tangled hair beneath the baseball cap.
They stand there for a long moment, silent as ghosts, before Kunikida finally lets go and steps back, a little sheepish. "Sorry about that," he mutters, rubbing the back of his head.
"Don't be," Dazai says sincerely. He fights the urge to lean in again, to seek the warmth that, in its absence, leaves Dazai feeling cold despite the tepid summer air.
Instead he shoves his hands back into his pockets and laments his cowardice.
"Have—have you heard any news about…" Kunikida trails off uncertainly.
Dazai shakes his head and scowls. "Nothing new. Ango is doing his best but… Dostoyevsky's roots in the government are very deep. He was only able to get me off the hook because we'd already had a plan in place before my arrest."
Kunikida hums thoughtfully and nods. "I see."
"But," Dazai adds with as much brightness as he can muster. "I do have a gift for you!"
"Oh?" Kunikida raises an eyebrow.
Dazai grins and fishes dramatically into his coat pockets. "There's a bit of damage from… well, from the bomb. But hopefully it will ease your mind while in hiding from the government's dogs," he declares as he pulls out Kunikida's notebook with an exaggerated flourish and thrusts it forward.
Kunikida's face seems to be at war with itself, relief and distress flitting across his features in equal parts before settling on relief. He takes the notebook and traces the Ideal on the cover with a shaking hand.
"Thank you," he says softly, tucking it into the front pocket of his hoodie. He glances beyond Dazai's head toward the coastline, where the sun has finally breached the horizon. "I should probably go," he adds, more than a little reluctant.
Dazai nods, his usual mask of neutral nonchalance returning to his face with such practiced ease that he barely needs to think about it. "Probably for the best," he agrees.
The silence between them is so palpable that Dazai thinks he could touch it. The urge to reach for Kunikida returns with a vengeance, and he struggles to squash it down, clenching his fists tightly in his pockets.
Kunikida shuffles, pulling his hat down low over his eyes. "You'll let me know if anything comes up?"
"I promise."
"Okay," Kunikida hesitates, then steps toward the path. "I'll see you soon," he says, and turns to leave.
Dazai watches Kunikida's hunched form shrink until it disappears around a bend in the gravel pathway. He turns to the gravestone before him and sits. "Yeah" he murmurs to no one in particular as he leans his head back on the grave and closes his eyes. "See you soon."
(dedicated to all the clowns on twitter who keep quote-retweeting kunikida-centric tweets with “he’s dead”)
Kunikidazaiweek2019 day 03
@kunikidazaiweek
To be continued :3
@kunikidazaiweek day two: graveyard
Trying to find Dazai is like trying to find a needle in a haystack the size of Yokohama when the needle wants nothing less than to be found, but as Dazai’s partner it is still Kunikida’s job to try.
One can predict things: he is probably trying to kill himself. He saw someone he used to know and ducked away to avoid them and wandered down an alley and got into trouble. He thinks he knows what he’s doing, and unfortunately they have yet to prove him wrong, so he continues to do what he does under the assumption that it’s correct. He saw a vendor selling crab cakes and decided work could wait.
Those are the known factors. There are others. One time Kunikida found Dazai playing cat’s cradle with himself on the staircase of a temple and refused to explain what he was doing there.
They did talk about it, though. Dazai asked him if he believed in god. Kunikida didn’t and never had, but he still prayed. He couldn’t believe in god when there was so much suffering in the world, because to believe would be to admit that someone could help and chose not to and Kunikida’s faith in the world was not that strong. Dazai did believe, apparently, but he believed that god was the most cruel entity of all, and had put humans on earth to suffer for his amusement. That every scrap of happiness would lead to agony later, because the god could not abide satisfaction and love.
It was the kind of unexpectedly bleak thing that kept Kunikida up for the rest of the week, before Dazai cottoned onto the fact that he was still thinking about it and told him that fighting god was as noble an endeavor as any and a much-established one besides; nothing to be ashamed of. It hadn’t helped but Kunikida slept that night. Small victories.
It’s a Saturday. He has a schedule but two items were struck away when the clients failed to turn up for their meetings and also called in their absences, eliminating the need to search for them. So now instead Kunikida searches for Dazai.
Or rather, Dazai finds him, as he’s walking down a street and turning into another. “Kunikida!” Dazai trills, and Kunikida turns around with a rebuke already on his lips.
Dazai waits out his lecture with clear impatience, shifting from one foot to another and rolling his eyes like a recalcitrant teenager. “Are you done,” he says finally, interrupting. “Good. I wanted to show you something.”
“Oh,” Kunikida says, and follows. Dazai leads him to a graveyard, of all the places, weaving effortlessly between headstones until they’re standing above one with a tree casting a shadow over them. S. Oda, the headstone says. Kunikida blinks down at the worn letters, wondering what he’s looking at.
He turns to Dazai to ask, but the question dies on his lips. There’s a look on his partner’s face he’s never quite seen before, a silent longing and bone-deep sadness.
He was important to you, wasn’t he? Kunikida thinks. Whoever he was.
“He would’ve liked you,” Dazai says. His voice is small. Kunikida steps closer to him without thinking about it, wraps an arm around his shoulder. Dazai stiffens and then relaxes, leaning into his side. “You always reminded me of him.”
“I think he’d be proud of you, too,” Kunikida says back. He doesn’t know why he says it, except that it seems like the right thing to say.
Over their heads, the leaves rustle softly.
Pairing: Dazai Osamu/Kunikida Doppo Word count: 962 Summary: Kunikida catches cold and stays home for a day. Dazai decides to surprise Kunikida and make him homemade food! Links: ff || ao3 For @kunikidazaiweek, day 2 (Surprise)
Kunikida getting sick was unusual in and itself but him being so sick that he would skip work was unheard of. And yet he had phoned Fukuzawa in the morning apologizing that he cannot come to work due to cold. And this is precisely why Dazai was standing in front of Kunikida’s door right now.
Keep reading
Kunikidazaiweek2019 day 02
@kunikidazaiweek
To be continued
._./
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Kunikida Doppo (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Kunikida Doppo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Oda Sakunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: minor background odazai if you squint, guess who the death warning is for : ), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, inhuman Kunikida, star Kunikida, Star AU, this one is hard to tag, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending, becoming human, omnipotent being falls in love with a human, Falling In Love, Sacrifice, Kunikida being in denial, why is not-smut harder to tag than smut Series: Part 1 of Kunikidazai Week 2019 Summary:
Stars were never meant to fall in love with humans, but, for once in his life, Kunikida spat on the rules.
Kunikidazai Week 2019 Day 1 Prompt: Staircase
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Kunikida thought he had seen it all
Kunikidazai Week 2
Prompt: Surprise
Word count: 642
Summary: Love languages are tricky, especially in this line of work.
CW: BSD typical violence.
Surprises were expected in their line of work. The mere act of investigation called for surprises at every turn; what weapon did the murderer use? Surprise, they used a baseball bat, rather than the conventional gun or the knife left at the scene, covered in the fingerprints of an innocent ability user who was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Thus, surprises weren't welcome in Kunikida's daily life. Routine was ideal, and allowed for the mental space to be prepared for surprises during a day at the job. In a way, surprises themselves became routine, and once it was routine, it was ideal, and once it was ideal, he could excel.
The first night he came home late, he found a bouquet of roses on the table. The second, a box of chocolates. The third, rather than a typical romantic gesture, there was a new pen, his favorite brand, the same make and model he snapped in his hands at a bad pun Dazai made earlier that day. After a while, he couldn't guess what would be waiting for him on the table; some days it was romantic, other days it was practical, some days it was nonsensical. One day he was greeted with a pile of dirt ("Just to see your reaction, Kunikida-kun!" "You're cleaning this up.").
It took up space in his head.
Valuable space he needed to be aware on the job.
Space that he desperately needed when he was staring down the barrel of a gun in an alleyway, assailant gripping the collar of his shirt in a white knuckled fist.
It should have been expected. All signs pointed to an ambush, that the killer was tracking them just as much as the Armed Detective Agency was tracking their prey. And yet, the precise time, place, even the way he was taken by surprise wasn't something Kunikida had thought of.
No, he wanted to know what curiosity Dazai would bring home that day. What his partner was thinking of. What his smile looked like seeing Kunikida's reaction.
But, as the trigger began to click back, manic grin upon the killer's face, Kunikida knew his reaction time was compromised because of that Dazai. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
"Surprise!"
A chipper voice broke the tension, and a quick punch to the throat broke the killer's hold on the blonde's neck. As the two staggered away from each other, Dazai lunged toward the killer, landing a kick dead center in his chest, pushing him down with unexpected strength, grinding his foot into the unsuspecting victim's sternum.
"Haha, I made it just in time, didn't I?" He smiled toward his partner, who quickly regained his composure. Kunikida brushed off some dust on his sleeve and pulled out his notebook, scrawling the word "Handcuffs" on it.
The brunette leaned down toward his prey. "Listen. I'm the only one allowed to surprise my partner. I need you to understand that, because if you pull something like that again…" Dazai ground his heel once more, the killer gurgling beneath his feet, "I'll surprise you somewhere, at any point, and you'll wish you had died here."
"Dazai, did you say something?" Kunikida walked up, handcuffs around one of his fingers, the red and blue lights of police cars shining from the alley's entrance.
"Nope! Well, I did warn him of what would happen should he try this again." Dazai smiled. "I wanna go home now."
"We still have to finish this up… and quite frankly, I don't want any more surprises."
"Ehh? That's boring… maybe I should head home and remove my gift to you."
"You're not getting out of work that easily." Kunikida grabbed the brunette's wrist, interrupting him mid-exaggerated step away from the police.
"Besides, I want to see what you brought home for us."
@kunikidazaiweek Day One
fear | staircase
“but my arms want to carry my heart wants to hold. tell me your worries. I want to be told.”
—J Newsom
-
When Dazai awakens, it is with great reluctance.
And who can blame him, really? Certainly not Kunikida, for all his nudging, because frankly he feels terrible. His body aches like it’s been hit by a truck and his heartbeat thumps in his ears like loud, angry drums that mix poorly with the dizzying, high-pitched ringing in his ears and oh now he’s floating. Gross, who invited Chuuya—
“Stop—stop squirming, you idiot, or I’ll drop you!” Kunikida protests indignantly from somewhere over his head.
As if to illustrate this, Dazai’s world tilts, and he lands painfully onto wet concrete stairs. “Serves you right,” Kunikida mumbles as arms reach beneath his knees and neck. A grunt ghosts against Dazai’s forehead, and then he’s lifted again and cradled against Kunikida’s warm, solid body. How romantic.
The arms holding him jolt like they’ve been shocked, nearly dropping him a second time. “There’s nothing romantic about making your partner rescue you from a den of rats in the worst part of Yokohama.”
Oh. He said that out loud.
“Yes, you did.” Oops. “Stop playing around Dazai, this is serious. They could have killed you this time.”
Dazai cracks an eye open. Above him, Kunikida’s hair looks disheveled, and blood drips down the side of his face, tracing his jawline in a way that shouldn’t be as appealing as it is. Dazai reaches up to try and wipe the blood away, but his arm is kitten-weak, and instead he only succeeds in spreading it comically across his cheek, like a child’s finger-painting. Kunikida spares him a glance and huffs.
“It was worth it,” Dazai rasps. He lets his arm fall to his chest and, when it lands with a plop on a still-fresh wound left behind by one of Fyodor’s lackeys, regrets it immediately. Kunikida doesn’t miss the pained expression that flits across Dazai’s face, and his frown deepens as he regards Dazai with furrowed brows.
“Besides,” Dazai adds, “They won’t kill me.”
“You don’t know that,” Kunikida retorts, his voice low, like he thinks someone might hear him.
“But I do know—how could I die when you always find me, Kunikida-kun?”
Kunikida sputters above him, unintelligible. Dazai catches a glimpse of a reddening cheek beneath the smear of blood, and before he can give himself away, he buries his face in Kunikida’s chest to hide his smile.
