#nakura

[fdfwfk]

[nakadoo]

shizaya is my OTP

[sssera]

The Black Rider's first appearance 🏍️

[seiwajima]

Nakura is my favorite character from durarara. He only made his cameo once and literally is never important or relevant to the plot in any meaningful way other than to set the stage for Izaya’s story.

So little is known about this weasel of a man that sometimes I come up with nonsense headcanons. To name a few:

If he thinks he won’t get caught he will actively act against Izaya. Even if it’s extremely petty. ie; shit talking him or spreading rumors.

He prays every day that Shizuo will one day put an end to Izaya and release him from his suffering. Amen.

He can’t parkour and is extremely afraid of heights.

Nakura has been a Saika Zombie. It’s unclear when he got cut but it hardly matters as he isn’t even aware of it.

He’s prone to a gambling addiction and can be found straying to casino’s, buying lottery tickets, or oddly enough spending his money on collectible trading cards.

He smokes. He's too stressed not to. Started harmless in highschool, now its a coping method.

[yandereshit]

"See, I've stalked you for some time before snatching you up!" or "I usually like to get to know my victims a little before I kill them." for Izaya Orihara please! I figured they fit him perfectly and I'm in such a dark mood so I'm down for whatever you want to throw at me! I̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶s̶t̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶i̶n̶t̶e̶n̶s̶e̶ ̶p̶s̶y̶c̶h̶o̶l̶o̶g̶i̶c̶a̶l̶ ̶t̶o̶r̶t̶u̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶~̶

FYI I have NO CLUE how long has this been lying in my drafts but I noticed it like now oasihfoiasdhoias

Izaya Orihara x Reader: relatively innocent.

Warnings: mentions of death, mind games, torture.

˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·˙

A simple, textile bag had been torn off your head, and your sight finally returned, giving you a very short-living sense of relief.

Your wrists were tied tightly behind your back, and you were sat on some sort of chair. Your head was still dizzy as you moved, trying to get a hold of your surroundings and the situation you found yourself in. The room was dark, with only two bulbs to allow you to see anything, yet their light being not strong enough to let you make out the exact contours of the room.

Undoubtedly, you weren’t in the room alone. On the wooden chair opposite of yours, a silhouette sat, holding the bag and staring forward at your terrified self, not bothered much by the tears that showed themselves on your face, having flowed down your cheeks sometime ago and then dried out. Maybe if the lighting was better, he could actually see them clearly. But your quiet sobs were enough of a proof, and your face didn’t have to be visible for anyone to know what state you were in. 

You wondered about his own face, but it was too dark for you to make out anything specific. But the man didn’t seem to want you to memorize him, and you had a feeling that it’d be safer for you if you didn’t. 

Once your sobs calmed down a little, his voice echoed in the room, making you almost jump when it rung out of blue, after such a long silence you’ve been stuck in.

“I suppose you’re good enough to talk now” he announced. He was smiling, that much you could tell from his tone alone, his white teeth only slightly visible, giving you a brief image of how he grinned.

“What do you want from me?” you snapped, but your voice betrayed you, clearly trembling through the whole sentence.

A short silence fell upon the two of you, and as soon as the man spoke again, you wished he never did.

“I usually like to get to know my victims a little before I kill them.”

You could swear your heart stopped beating for a second, and you stared dumbly at the other, waiting for him to continue, to explain what exactly he meant, clearly still not believing in such words, because how could you - it sounded too simple, too straightforward to be true, didn’t it?

It didn’t.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you were starting to make out the contours of your surroundings, and your kidnapper’s wicked smile was one of them.

What kind of psychopath was he…? What did he want to do with you? Just why, out of so many young women or people in general living in the crowded city of Tokyo, you were the one who’d been chosen by this man, a complete stranger you’ve never seen or heard of, even after having been raised in the comfort of knowing Japan as the safest place to live on the earth?

“Who are you…?” you finally uttered, your voice weak, still disbelieving, still unable to proceed what was happening.

“Me?” The man seemed genuinely surprised with your question. “I assure you it’s meaningless right now. I’m no one you should be concerned about. For your information, I’m not your enemy. You’ve never done anything to me or anyone I know. So don’t try to make up any reasons, because there’s really none.”

Out of all the people in this forsaken city, you were the one who fell victim to this man. No reason, just… lack of luck, it seemed.

Yet, how could you just accept it? It was your own life that was on line here, and the perspective of losing it out of a mere accident was not what you’ve aimed for ever in your lifespan.

A quiet, frustrated sob escaped your throat.

“W-what do you want?” you asked again. “W-why would you… want to…” The words wouldn’t go through your throat, their weight - suffocating.

Not waiting for you to finish, the man shrugged, unbothered.

“Absolutely no reason. I just thought, why not? I can kill someone without getting caught, so why not do it? Oh, look, there’s that girl passing by. Wonder what she’s up to. Wonder how she’ll react if I take her, will she be scared? She sure will. Will she start yelling at me? Screaming for help? Beg for her life? Try to bargain me in some way? I was just so, so curious about her.”

His words wouldn’t make any sense in your head. Just what kind of person does that? Just what kind of person is he? Even criminals have their reasons. But this one? He seems to not have any greater purpose, other than his own twisted thoughts or desires. 

“F-fine!” you exclaimed in a shaky voice. “Just kill me, then!” you yelled, more of emotions than any sort of actual wish. 

“So quickly? Come on, we still have so much time. At least I do, I’m not hurrying anywhere. Seriously though, I haven’t even hurt you yet, and you’re already begging to be killed?”

“Just tell me what the fuck you want from me!” 

A short silence fell upon you two, the air filled with your emotions, so strong and vivid, your fear mixed with anger, impatience and annoyance. You were like a wild animal caught in snares, still dangerous to whoever would want to set you free. 

In the meantime though, the man seemed terrifyingly calm and composed. He crossed his legs elegantly, observing you with a small, polite smile on his face, completely unbothered with your rage, as if you were nothing but a random show on TV, unable to harm him in any way, and meant to be only watched until its end, and then probably forgotten.

“Let’s play a game” he suddenly spoke, smiling politely. You tried to, but couldn’t make out any more of his face features, and you came to a conclusion he just really didn’t want you to be able to see him well. Maybe you could recognize him if you did? Yet, he seemed unfamiliar. The aura he gave was nothing you’d recall, yet, along with lack of opportunity to see him whole, it added to the terror and uneasiness he caused in you, your primal instincts just screaming to run away from him - as if you could.

“What game?” you decided to ask, although your voice was quiet and weak at this point. 

“Well, I’m going to ask you three questions. If you answer all of them, I’ll release you. If not - I’ll kill you. Any questions?”

“You’re insane.”

“It’s not a question, it’s a statement.”

“A pretty fucking accurate one” you snapped. 

The man burst into laughter, pretty much confirming to you what you just said. But he didn’t seem bothered, instead continuing his previous monologue.

“Okay then, seems like you’re ready. Don’t worry, there’s no time limit, you can take as much as you need to reply.” He cleared his throat, switching his position a little to get more comfortable. You stared at him uneasily, focusing as much as you could on whatever he’d have to say. “First question! Who’s the prime minister of Japan?”

Was that it? It sounded simple. The name instantly appeared in your head, but then you thought - what if it’s wrong? Your life was on the line, you couldn’t afford yourself to be mistaken. Could you just trust your instinct? Maybe you should think more about it?

“Come on, this one’s easy, everyone knows it” the man said, laughing in a manner that could go as genuine if not the circumstances it was done in.

“Shinzo… Abe?” you answered, the end of the reply hitching in question though, as if you weren’t sure of your own words.

“You see? It was a simple one! I made it easier for you on purpose, so that you wouldn’t feel too scared. Hope it worked!” He smiled widely. “Second question. Who am I?”

Your breath got stuck in your throat for a few seconds, and there was a tense silence, the one you forced yourself to break a moment later.

“H-how am I supposed to know that?! You said it yourself, we’ve never met before! How can I answer your question?!”

You could have predicted that. The first question was too easy, to give you a false impression that he’d really go easy on you. But he wouldn’t, he never planned to, the questions he picked weren’t the ones you were supposed to know the answer to.

An unwitting sob escaped your throat, and tears streamed down your face once again.

“I-I don’t know…”

“Should I take it as, you give up?” the man asked, his face twisting in displeasure. 

“…No…” you added quietly. You couldn’t give up your life, you were sure of that. You fixated your eyes on the floor, biting on your lip. “…My kidnapper. That’s whom you are to me” you finally announced, dreading for his reaction, yet fully aware that there’s nothing else you can say now. It was the only thing you knew. And it was… 

“…Correct.” Said kidnapper chuckled, tilting his head. “You’re definitely correct here. I won’t break my own rules, will I? I didn’t specify what kind of information I demand from you. You’re correct.”

Your eyes blurred with tears and your breath got heavy. For a few moments, no sounds would reach you, but you couldn’t tell if the man was saying anything, you felt like your consciousness slipped away for these few brief moments, the rush of adrenaline, stress and anxiety making you pass out for seconds. 

When you came back to your senses, everything was right as you remembered it. The man sat in front of you, observing you calmly, patiently waiting for you to be able to proceed. And once he was sure you were listening to him again, he also spoke.

“Last question. We’re almost there, you see? Only one question, and we’ll know what happens to you. Ready?” You sluggishly nodded your head, to which the man grinned. “So, what’s the length of Congo River?”

 “What…?”

It took you a few moments of complete bewilderment, during which you only stared forward, absolutely dumbfounded. 

The length of some river you recognized as African sounded like common knowledge. Probably more people knew of Congo River’s existence than they knew the name of Japan’s Prime Minister. 

Yet, you didn’t know the answer. Your mind went wild, and you thought vividly of all the possible comparisons you could find. But you couldn’t even place the river anywhere on the map to even compare the lengths, and was it a long river? It had to be, since you’ve heard of it. What was the longest river in the world? How long was it? You surely had to be told it before, during geography classes. The longest river in the world… Around… eight thousands of kilometers? Did it make sense? It sounded like it did. Or maybe not… Five? Five, it had to be five.

Congo River had to be shorter, but how much? You had no clue. It wasn’t that known, the difference had to be meaningful. Half of the longest river? More? Less? Maybe less. Two thousands? He definitely didn’t expect you to know the exact number, but maybe you were remotely right?

And maybe no matter what you said, he wouldn’t let you go, anyway?

“T-two thousands kilometers” you finally voiced, staring at him intensely, waiting for him to either confirm your words or to bury your last hopes for freedom.

The man took out his phone, and the light for a short time highlighted his features, but then he turned down the brightness and you were left in almost the same darkness as before. 

After a few seconds, he spoke.

“The Congo-Lualaba-Chambeshi River system has an overall length of 4,700 km.”

The breath escaped you and your head fell forwards, sobs wrecking your body and your head aching, your heart beating so fast you felt like you would die from a heart attack before the man would finally end your sufferings. 

Without hurry, he stood up. You didn’t dare to return his gaze, but in the corner of your eye, you saw him pull out a small knife. Your heart only beated faster as he approached you, and then stood behind you, disappearing from the range of your sight. But maybe it was for the better, you thought. Maybe it was better you didn’t have to see him.

Would he make it fast? As painless as possible? If he sliced your throat, the agony would only last a few minutes, before your body would go completely numb from the bloodloss. Maybe it’d be worse if he cut through your windpipes, you wouldn’t be able to breathe, but wouldn’t it make it last even shorter? You hoped it would. You didn’t want to die in agony, but the shorter it lasted, the better. 

What was afterlife like?

“Here.”

You heard a sound behind yourself, and soon enough, you felt the blood rush back into your hands, the rope that kept you tied to the chair falling to the ground, leaving you confused and dumbfounded. 

You panted in a newfound sense of panic. Would he take you somewhere else? Make you suffer in another way? Take his time bringing you to your promised death?

“The door’s on your left” the man announced, his voice echoing in your ears for how close he was to you, standing right behind you, way too close for your comfort, if there was any of it left.

“W-what…?”

“Just go, I suppose you have other plans for today” he shrugged, pushing the blade back to his pocket and going in the door’s direction himself, as if completely uninterested in whatever you’d do.

“B-but why…”

His frame shook in a silent laughter as he stood by the door, barely visible, but apparently ready to leave the room, to - finally - leave you alone.

“The game’s rules said, I’ll release you if you answer all the three questions. You did it, hence why you’re free. I never specified I want the answers to be correct, though.”

The light of the outside world blinded you for a few seconds when the man opened the door, stepping into the outside world. The door never closed though, and you were positive by now, that it wouldn’t.

And it was never supposed to, because for all Izaya Orihara was, he definitely wasn’t a killer. A kidnapper - yes, but a relatively innocent one.

 ˙·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·˙

[gameboyxstitching]

‘I Was Very Afraid.’

The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening DX, 1998 1 day until Switch release. [Almost there!]

[starspatter]

Inktober Days 21-22 - Treasure + Ghost

“...a jar... for you... ...put something inside...”

[drx3-imagines]

Hey! How are you guys? Can I get a request? I’d like to ask for a scenario with Izaya being romantically interested in a girl whom he’s friends with. He doesn’t outright say it, but he does follow her around trying to get her attention. She’s nice to him and all, but she tells him that she likes Shizuo instead, which makes him really jealous. Eventually, Shizuo and the girl start dating, which breaks Izaya on the inside but he doesnt say it. Still, he will forever be watching over her.

It had been like this since you’d started seeing that… Beast. He’d watch you from places he was sure Shizuo wouldn’t see him, slathered in so much cologne people made faces when they’d walked by him. He didn’t care, as long as he got to see you, as long as you smiled, and he could even pretend you were smiling at him and not that foul monster you called a lover.

It didn’t matter how much seeing you hurt him, or how it often times brought back vivid memories of the day you’d told him you had feelings for Shizuo, as long as he got to see you happy. He could almost entirely ignore his memories racing.

“Hey, Hey, Izaya… You know thanks to your stubborn asshole attitude I get to see Shizuo a lot.” You say with a grin, making Izaya look at you with a disgusted and confused face.

“Why the hell would you want to see more of that monster?” He doesn’t actually mean to snap as harshly as he does, to this day he regrets it, but he’d never say that out loud, he barely admits it to himself.

“Well… Because. Because I kind of have… feelings for him.” You’d said it so shyly, so embarrassed, looking away from him with a soft blush dusting across your cheeks. A blush he’d imagined seeing on your face a hundred times, a blush that made his heart wrench and his chest feel cold.

Watching you push a stray hair from your face, he questioned, softly, almost seething. “You what?” The way you looked up at him, almost scared, as if you realized then that you shouldn’t have said anything and should have kept it to yourself instead of telling him about your feelings both made his stomach feel like ice and made him feel accomplished, as if that was how you should feel telling him you loved that beast. He hated the way it made him feel. Sometimes, he wished he could hate you the way he hated this feeling.

You’d fought after that, he doesn’t like to think much about it, and most of it comes in short burst of vivid color and screaming in his head. You had screamed about how you never wanted to see him again. He tells you he never wanted to see you in the first place, you’d just been a convenient person to have conversations with and explore the city. Someone, to watch more closely. You’d cried. He’d wanted to, but instead he just remained cold, face unwavering and voice filled with forced joy and angry teasing.

He jumped out of his memories when he heard you laugh, far too close to him for him to feel comfortable. He pushes himself back into the shadows, pulling the hood of a jacket that wasn’t his over his head and looking down to make sure neither of you could see who he was. Shizuo didn’t even glance at him, you looked at him as though you felt pity for him. You must have thought he was a homeless man… Good.

He watched you walk away, feeling a sting in his eyes that he hope remained just a sting, his heart wrenching and feeling like ice in his chest as his hands shook with the effort to keep himself together. He’d keep telling himself that the only thing that mattered was that you were happy. It’s not like he could ever take back what he said and what he did to you anyway. You probably hated him, rightfully so since his efforts to kill that monster had all but doubled. He was lying to himself, he always was, but he wasn’t going to face this problem. He could watch you be happy with someone he hated, someone he’d hated from the start. He could pretend that person was him sometimes.

Regardless of how much he pretended, how happy you were, or how much he got to see you smile and laugh, he always ended right back at his apartment, tearing things apart and screaming into the night. Call the cops, yell at him! He didn’t care. He’d end up curled in the floor, holding his chest tightly with both hands, and sobbing to no one just how much he missed you.

<~Nakura~>