I can't stop thinking about how funny their hiding spots were on The Late Late Show.
Taegi sharing a brain and blending in as crew members!
Jimin being tiny and curling into a ball under the desk!
Jin hiding in the photo booth and taking pictures, so occupied that he is crazy startled when he is found!
Hobi disappearing another dimension!
Jungkook blending in as a cameraman! AK was all around him, completely oblivious. Would he have been found if Joon hadn't snitched? He was in plain sight. I can't.
And Namjoon, IQ 148, hides behind a fucking curtain!
au where anyone other than atsushi is the main character, go
Kyouka
Kyouka is the most obvious option here, as her character arc literally follows Atsushi’s beat by beat and does it better because she gets to be seen having actual flaws and conflict while Atsushi’s point in life is just to Be Very Good.
She’s an orphan who was beat down badly by the universe and needs to make peace with her Gift and how it’s uncontrolled presence in her life has played a huge part in all of the painful garbage she’s had to deal with. She has to learn to not just value her own life (Atsushi) but learn to believe she is capable of using the same abilities she used to kill to help people and that there is value to that (Dazai). She has a connection to Akutagawa, a better one than Atsushi, who just thinks that guy is a dangerous asshole, as Akutagawa fucked her up by trying to 'help’ her the same way Dazai 'helped’ him (which echoes the fact that Dazai fucked up Akutagawa by trying to teach Akutagawa the way he was taught by Mori). This creates a way more dynamic and interesting victims vs their abusers and cycle of violence story that they were TRYING to do with Atsushi and his abuser that falls completely flat, on account of how that guy wasn’t actually a character and we are just told we’re supposed to sympathize with him because ‘life is complicated’ instead of actually shown the ways in which life is fucking complicated.
This would also allow for a narrative of victims vs their abusers where ACTUALLY HAVE, A VICTIM, CHALLENGING THEIR ABUSER AND DEMANDING THEY DO BETTER instead of what we currently have which is 1) Dazai flees Mori and hates him (legit) 2) Akutagawa seeks Dazai’s acknowledgement forever (no?? buddy) 3) Atsushi cries when his abuser died trying to maybe be nice to him for once finally =‘( (ohmygod).
Also, while Dazai and Atsushi mean... something?? to each other, it’s practically only relevant in Atsushi’s arc as something to yell at Akutagawa about, and while we can Assume Dazai Has Feelings we basically never see Dazai impacted by Atsushi. However, if it was Dazai who stops Kyouka from killing herself and takes her out of the mafia we have Dazai directly engaging with his perspective on suicide, and saving someone from the mafia in a way he was never saved, and this leads into him Also Engaging With All Of That, which then could be a continuing theme within their relationship.
(And I didn’t Go In This Direction because my central argument is that Kyouka already does everything Atsushi is doing if better and if given more focus could dramatically improve the manga, but also her relationship with Kouyou could also be given more prominence, and then holy shit, we’d have two important ladies instead of just one!)
In this AU Atsushi honestly doesn’t even need to exist. Kyouka could make friends with Kenji instead, and they could have adorable hyjinks where Kenji teaches her how to be polite to people and then they both get way too extra if politeness fails.
(MORE UNDER THE CUT)
Akutagawa
This would probably have to be a darker manga, or Akutagawa would have to be less garbage, but as one of the only characters with multiple interesting relationships he is kind of a natural point to focus around. He has Gin, Higuchi, Kyouka, (thREE WOMEN) and Dazai as far as relationships that already important, and Chuuya and Mori and Kouyou are all characters that could be explored more if the manga was more mafia focused. While the mafia aren’t actually villains anyway, this change would make them more sympathetic, but Akutagawa would still be a really interesting MC, and this would fix the fact that Atsushi is only interesting around Akutagawa.
Unlike Atsushi, Akutagawa has clear wants, motivations, and character progression, so Atsushi makes a lot more sense as Akutagawa’s rival character than the reverse. Boy with garbage life collides into the boy his master replaced him with, only to constantly seethe with anger that this asshole was so fucking lucky. Eventually discovers that his rival’s life actually wasn’t that easy but still can’t comprehend why his rival doesn’t appreciate what he has enough, or why this prick is worth more to his master than he was. Cue a compelling dynamic of Akutagawa improving himself relentlessly while not fully understanding what path he is on, but desperate to get out of the trashfire of his life. He thinks this means earning Dazai’s approval but in fact it means learning he doesn’t need to be a terrible human being to survive.
This would make Dazai far LESS sympathetic, but Dazai sucks so that is only fair.
Dazai
Okay, I won’t lie, Dazai would a SUPER CHALLENGING perspective character for a manga. What makes Dazai’s writing so amazing is how deftly he handles the unreliable narrator, which is hard to do when we don’t actually see the world via the MC’s perspective. And while I am happy to rag on BSD all the live long day, I do think one if it’s strengths is that it picked up on what an interesting character Dazai-types would be viewed exclusively from the outside, and has managed to portray that sort of peculiar contradiction of personality traits quite well.
HOWEVER, despite being the most popular character, we never really get to see Dazai having a character arc. We know he has improved, we know he has wants and is actually probably working very hard to get his life in order, but we only know any of that from the end of the light novel to the start of the manga. We don’t actually get to see Dazai having conflict, confronting his fears, making hard choices, and growing as a person.
However, while we never really see it in the manga, given what we know about Dazai’s history, we can probably assume that the choices Dazai makes to help Atsushi is something that actually impacts Dazai quite a bit. The last time he put himself in this position the result was Akutagawa; a challenge which Dazai completely failed on many levels, even if the result was technically a very loyal and capable mafioso and thus something Mori would have slated as a win. Dazai engaging with what it means to teach a human without himself knowing how to be a good human, and probably in the process also learning about ‘goodness’ via someone like Atsushi who is naturally inclined toward the heroic, would actually give Atsushi an interesting place the narrative.
This would make Dazai waaaaaay more sympathetic, as we would also presumably see him struggling to adapt to ADA life, see his masks slip more often, and more signs of the fact that for real these last two years of being around decent human beings from 9 to 5 is probably the first time in his life he’s dealt with such people. We’d also get to see that he’s probably still depressed, drunk, and suicidal, but may be able to chart the ways he gradually becomes less so and what prompts those improvements.
Kenji
Kenji is also a nice boy who wants to talk it out but then will beat the shit out of you if that attempt fails. What if instead of being a 2D one time gag character he actually had a motivation and a character arc to engage with? He could more or less follow the same story beats Atsushi sets up, just done better and with less redundancy. Kenji would make an interesting foil for Akutagawa since by all appearances his life wasn’t garbage, and his ceaseless tone deaf optimism in the face of Akutagawa’s ceaseless tone deaf fury would be, if nothing else, pretty fucking entertaining.
Kunikida
wOW ANOTHER HEROIC CHARACTER WHO USES VIOLENCE TO RESOLVE CONFLICT. IT’S LIKE THERE ARE A BUNCH OF THESE. What if Kunikida being Dazai’s partner was at all narratively relevant and they had a dynamic that went deeper than Dazai aggravating Kunikida for the lulz and Kunikida being willing to trust Dazai when the chips are down.
Since Kunikida is slated to be the next leader of the ADA he makes a potentially compelling choice as a protagonist, as it would be an easy way to involve all of the (MANY) under appreciated ADA characters, by having their future boss learn what it means to actually work with and appreciate the backgrounds of his various future underlings. It wouldn’t need to be slated specifically as ‘Kunikida Is The Heir’ but given that it’s a shounen manga it could be effortlessly set up that way, and unlike Atsushi, Kunikida has a LOT of obvious flaws. He is naive, inflexible, emotionally vulnerable, distrustful, impatient, judgmental, and gullible. He also has CLEAR WANTS (Idealism) seeing him struggling for something fundementally unattainable and the ways he learns to update his ideal of idealism, in part by overcoming his individual flaws and in part by realizing that while idealism might be worth seeking it cannot be achieved. He would have a lot to learn from every member of the team, and in doing so could give them more importance to the story.
Yosano
you waNNA KNOW WHO IS GREAT AND DEEPLY UNDER APPRECIATED?? YOSANO. IT’S YOSANO. AU where actually Yosano is the main character. If you need a more compelling argument than that IDK what to say to you.
Tanizaki
What if Tankizaki had a narrative purpose other than gag and deus ex ability.
Mishima
AU where Mishima Yukio is in the manga, he’s an ex-government worker who was fired for being a bit too radical but he deeply respects and is super gay for Fukuzawa’s aesthetic and agrees to join the ADA. Rather than being Dazai’s protege he fancies himself Dazai’s rival and is intent to expose what garbage he is but the joke is on him because everyone knows that including Dazai.
None the less, Mishima also is a more callous and aloof person who wears a friendly mask and via picking at Dazai he picks at himself. The more fixated he gets on exposing Dazai, the more he has to confront the fact that the world is more complicated than he wants it to be and it frightens him to examine the degree to which he doesn’t feel he actually belongs among society and thus tries very hard to construct a place for himself in it with his radical behavior and exacting standards, whereas Dazai accepts that he just should go in the trash.
Dazai, in response, really doesn’t like being picked at effectively. Everyone else within the ADA accepts the masks he wears without question, never actually confronting his suicidal ideation or talking to him about where he comes from, even once they know about it. Mishima, in his relentless pursuit of being able to classify and deconstruct Dazai to overcome him, does just this, and frankly it sucks a lot for Dazai because Mishima would be the first person to A) learn the grueling details of his past and B) understand how fucked up that is for someone like Dazai who is only hiding his sensitivity and C) still look him in the eye and tell him to get his shit together. Mishima becomes the first person since Odasaku who actually understands Dazai but this time it is the worst because Mishima is mean.
Dazai counters by ruining Mishima’s life in the most extraordinarily petty ways as frequently as possible.
Atsushi
ALTERNATIVELY. Atsushi actually is a good protagonist.
HERE IS AN EXERCISE, WHAT DO EACH OF THESE SHOUNEN HEROES WANT AND HOW DO WE KNOW?
Edward Elric: wants the philosopher’s stone, will do basically anything for it, we find this out in chapter 1.
Gon Freaks: Wants to find his dad, chapter 1
Luffy: Wants to find his dad, chapter 1
Allen Walker: wants to save everyone from akuma because dad feels, chapter, idk, like 3
Naruto: Wants the acknowledgement of his village, works tirelessly for it. We find this out in like chapter 1. (yeah I know naruto is bad don’t @ me but look the MC had a clear motivation)
(AV have you read any shounen manga since 2001-- nO)
Atsushi: Wants... uh. To not starve??? This need is met in chapter 1. Wants to... be.. a good employee...? Wants to beat Akutagawa because... he’s bad....??? Wants to... make Dazai proud...?
It’s not impossible to write a story with a MC who isn’t clearly motivated, but it’s a fuckload harder to make it compelling and you prrrroobably need to have some other kind of clear focus to replace the fact that your MC does not. IE if you are specially exploring the story of an unmotivated hero, you frame his actions around the fact that he is really just doing things by route and how this separates him from the people around him who actually have priorities in their life.
Or, if you want to be like ‘Atsushi’s motivation is that he cares and wants to help!’ LOOK: If they are sO HEROIC that they just nEED TO BE THE HERO ALL THE TIME (Allen Walker) either because they lack self worth (Allen Walker) or are so empathetic that they can’t help but try to save everyone (Allen Walker), you narratively frame the story around them so that it highlights this as both a strength and a weakness of their character. The inability to save everyone vs feeling like your life only has value if you can save everyone is deeply fucked up and should haunt your MC.
The manga starts to slightly course correct Atsushi after waaay too many chapters, which is why he starts having an actually interesting dynamic with Akutagawa. But now he wants to ‘overcome his abuser’, and though this itself is extremely unclear as to what it means. I suspect it means ‘continue to do the exact same shit he’s being doing until he believes in himself’ whichhhhh is boring. It could work if the framing is consistent and Atsushi begins to have actual conflict with his own behavior and the way he treats his life as disposable and his suffering as unimportant.
He could also use some flaws, which, again, we only see signs off later in the game with his Akutagawa relationship. Atsushi can be forgiven for not realizing that Dazai was horrible to Akutagawa, since neither Dazai nor Akutagawa will ever explain that, but he is still pretty shitty to Akutagawa deliberately! And it’s nice seeing him be a little prick.
If everything that is happening now with Atsushi had happened from the beginning, you know how you are supposed to start a shounen manga with the protagonist actually doing anything interesting or important, the manga would be much less bad. If Atsushi had more than like 1.5 flaws and a .75 motivation now, the manga would also be a lot better.
I don’t actually like this idea as much as all of my other ones, but if he MUST be the MC, what if he was actually good at it at all.
Honestly the more fandom and canon try to pit one pairing vs another the more I just wind up turning to polyshipping.
Like Genyatta and Pharmercy are both great ships, but when you mix and match them it just gets so much better?
Genji and Pharah would get into crazy sparring matches against each other, with her Ratpora suit against his cyborg body and poor Mercy’s on the sidelines just shaking her head at her dumb boyfriend and girlfriend knowing that she’ll have to patch them up when they’re done.
Mercy would probably be delighted to meet Zenyatta and discuss his approach to pacifism and the technology of his orbs while Genji is just super proud of how cool his boyfriend and girlfriend are together.
Genji and Pharah double team Mercy when she’s spent too much time in med bays and the lab, kidnapping her away to the bedroom so that they can both make sure that she relaxes. They have dumb little shitting contests where they both try to outdo each other with romantic displays until poor Angela is just flustered and overwhelmed and has to tell them both to cut it out.
Zenyatta’s knowledge of the workings of an omnic body and tantric practices combined with Mercy’s knowledge of anatomy and Genji’s calibrations give them both the chance to explore the more pleasurable parts of his cyborg circumstances.
In other words: polyships are great. Please consider polyships.
So I read The Setting Sun and No Longer Human recently, and each has characters that probably inspire Asagiri’s version of Dazai a lot. In the Setting Sun Naoji (the MC’s brother) is the Dazai-like, and in No Longer Human, it’s the protagonist himself.
I read about both books on Wiki and honestly wasn’t interested in them at all. the bullet points of the stories just sound kind of boring. But Dazai’s writing is honestly lovely, and his character work is great. But I only realized that once I saw some of the author’s own work. I won’t give context for many of these, but if you get curious, I highly encourage you to check them out!
Oh and CW for some very pro-suicide stuff. Uh. Dazai writes it better than Asagiri does. And additional CW for some reference to CSA.
Also, spoilers, obvs.
First, Naoji in The Setting Sun:
I want to spend my time with people who don't look to be respected. But such good people won't want to spend their time with me.
When I pretended to be precocious, people started the rumor that i was precocious. When I acted like an idler, rumor had it I was an idler. When I pretended I couldn't write a novel, people said I couldn't write. When I acted like a liar, they called me a liar. When I acted like a rich man, they started the rumor I was rich. When I feigned indifference, they classed me as the indifferent type. But when I inadvertently groaned because I was really in pain, they started the rumor that I was faking suffering.
The world is out of joint.
Doesn't that mean in effect that I have no choice but suicide?
In spite of my suffering, at the thought that I was sure to end up by killing myself, I cried aloud and burst into tears.
Solemnity = feeling of idiocy
It is painful for the plant which is myself to live in the atmosphere and light of this world. Somewhere an element is lacking which would permit me to continue. I am wanting. It has been all I could do to stay alive up to now.
When I entered high school and first came in contact with friends of an aggressively sturdy stock, boys who had grown up in a class entirely different from my own, their energy put me on the defensive, and in the effort not to give in to them, I had recourse to drugs.
I became coarse. I learned to use coarse language. But it was half—no, sixty per cent—a wretched imposture, an odd form of petty trickery. As far as the “people” were concerned, I was a stuck-up prig who put them all on edge with my affected airs. They would never really unbend and relax with me. On the other hand, it is now impossible for me to return to those salons I gave up. Even supposing that my coarseness is sixty per cent artifice, the remaining forty per cent is genuine now.
It may be true that in any society defective types with low vitality like myself are doomed to perish, not because of what they think or anything else, but because of themselves. I have, however, some slight excuse to offer. I feel the overwhelming pressure of circumstances which make it extremely difficult for me to live.
“What’s all this rationalizing for? Anyone can see that he’s a playboy from way back, a lazy, lecherous, selfish child of pleasure.” Up to now when people have spoken of me that way I have always nodded vaguely in embarrassment, but now that I am on the point of death, I would like to say a word by way of protest. I have never derived the least joy out of amusements. Perhaps that is a sign of the impotence of pleasure. I ran riot and threw myself into wild diversions out of the simple desire to escape from my own shadow — being an aristocrat.
Undoubtedly you will weep when you learn the news—apart, of course, from such ornamental sentimentality as you may indulge in—but if you will please try to think of my joy at being liberated completely from the suffering of living and this hateful life itself, I believe that your sorrow will gradually dissolve.
Any man who criticizes my suicide and passes judgment on me with an expression of superiority, declaring (without offering the least help) that I should have gone on living my full complement of days, is assuredly a prodigy among men quite capable of tranquilly urging the Emperor to open a fruit shop.
This is actually a character speaking about Yozo in the prologue of No Longer Human:
He is a student in this picture, although it is not clear whether it dates from high school or college days. At any rate, he is now extraordinarily handsome. But here again the face fails inexplicably to give the impression of belonging to a living human being. [. . . ] And yet somehow it is not the smile of a human being: it utterly lacks substance, all of what we might call the “heaviness of blood” or perhaps the “solidity of human life”—it has not even a bird’s weight. It is merely a blank sheet of paper, light as a feather, and it is smiling.
The rest of these will be from Yozo:
I have been sickly ever since I was a child and have frequently been confined to bed. How often as I lay there I used to think what uninspired decorations sheets and pillow cases make. It wasn’t until I was about twenty that I realized that they actually served a practical purpose, and this revelation of human dullness stirred dark depression in me.
It drove me indeed to the brink of lunacy. I wonder if I have actually been happy. People have told me, really more times than I can remember, ever since I was a small boy, how lucky I was, but I have always felt as if I were suffering in hell. It has seemed to me in fact that those who called me lucky were incomparably more fortunate than I.
I simply don’t understand. I have not the remotest clue what the nature or extent of my neighbor’s woes can be. Practical troubles, griefs that can be assuaged if only there is enough to eat—these may be the most intense of all burning hells, horrible enough to blast to smithereens my ten misfortunes, but that is precisely what I don’t understand: if my neighbors manage to survive without killing themselves, without going mad, maintaining an interest in political parties, not yielding to despair, resolutely pursuing the fight for existence, can their griefs really be genuine?
If that is the case, their sufferings should be easy to bear: they are the common lot of human beings and perhaps the best one can hope for. I don’t know ... If you’ve slept soundly at night the morning is exhilarating, I suppose. What kind of dreams do they have? What do they think about when they walk along the street?
[. . .]
The more I think of it, the less I understand. All I feel are the assaults of apprehension and terror at the thought that I am the only one who is entirely unlike the rest. It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people. What should I talk about, how should I say it?—I don’t know.
This was how I happened to invent my clowning. It was the last quest for love I was to direct at human beings. Although I had a mortal dread of human beings I seemed quite unable to renounce their society.
I managed to maintain on the surface a smile which never deserted my lips; this was the accommodation I offered to others, a most precarious achievement performed by me only at the cost of excruciating efforts within.
Again, I never once answered back anything said to me by my family. The least word of reproof struck me with the force of a thunderbolt and drove me almost out of my head. Answer back! Far from it, I felt convinced that their reprimands were without doubt voices of human truth speaking to me from eternities past; I was obsessed with the idea that since I lacked the strength to act in accordance with this truth, I might already have been disqualified from living among human beings.
I thought, “As long as I can make them laugh, it doesn’t matter how, I’ll be all right. If I succeed in that, the human beings probably won’t mind it too much if I remain outside their lives. The one thing I must avoid is becoming offensive in their eyes: I shall be nothing, the wind, the sky.”
Whenever I was asked what I wanted my first impulse was to answer “Nothing.” The thought went through my mind that it didn’t make any difference, that nothing was going to make me happy.
At the same time I was congenitally unable to refuse anything offered to me by another person, no matter how little it might suit my tastes. When I hated something, I could not pronounce the words, “I don’t like it.” When I liked something I tasted it hesitantly, furtively, as though it were extremely bitter.
I acquired my reputation at school less because I was the son of a rich family than because, in the vulgar parlance, I had “brains.”
I had succeeded in escaping from being respected. My report card was all A’s except for deportment, where it was never better than a C or a D. This too was a source of great amusement to my family.
Already by that time I had been taught a lamentable thing by the maids and menservants; I was being corrupted. I now think that to perpetrate such a thing on a small child is the ugliest, vilest, cruelest crime a human being can commit. But I endured it. I even felt as if it enabled me to see one more particular aspect of human beings.
I smiled in my weakness. If I had formed the habit of telling the truth I might perhaps have been able to confide unabashedly to my father or mother about the crime, but I could not fully understand even my own parents. To appeal for help to any human being—I could expect nothing from that expedient. Supposing I complained to my father or my mother, or to the police, the government—I wondered if in the end I would not be argued into silence by someone in good graces with the world, by the excuses of which the world approved.
It is only too obvious that favoritism inevitably exists: it would have been useless to complain to human beings. So I said nothing of the truth. I felt I had no choice but to endure whatever came my way and go on playing the clown.
I also have the impression that many women have been able, instinctively, to sniff out this loneliness of mine, which I confided to no one, and this in later years was to become one of the causes of my being taken advantage of in so many ways. Women found in me a man who could keep a love secret.
The ensuing days were imprinted with my anxiety and dread. I continued on the surface making everybody laugh with my miserable clowning, but now and then painful sighs escaped my lips. Whatever I did Takeichi would see through it, and I was sure he would soon start spreading the word to everyone he saw.
If it were possible, I felt, I would like to keep a twenty-four hours a day surveillance over Takeichi, never stirring from him, morning, noon or night, to make sure that he did not divulge the secret. I brooded over what I should do: I would devote the hours spent with him to persuading him that my antics were not “on purpose” but the genuine article; if things went well I would like to become his inseparable friend; but if this proved utterly impossible, I had no choice but to pray for his death. Typically enough, the one thing that never occurred to me was to kill him.
During the course of my life I have wished innumerable times that I might meet with a violent death, but I have never once desired to kill anybody. I thought that in killing a dreaded adversary I might actually be bringing him happiness.
Even Takeichi seemed not to be aware of the hypocrisy, the scheming, behind my actions. Far from it—his comment as he lay there with his head pillowed in my lap was, “I’ll bet lots of women will fall for you!”—It was his illiterate approximation of a compliment.
I have always found the female of the human species many times more difficult to understand than the male. In my immediate family women outnumbered the men, and many of my cousins were girls. There was also the maidservant of the “crime.” I think it would be no exaggeration to say that my only playmates while I was growing up were girls.
Nevertheless, it was with very much the sensation of treading on thin ice that I associated with these girls. I could almost never guess their motives. I was in the dark; at times I made indiscreet mistakes which brought me painful wounds.
Women led me on only to throw me aside; they mocked and tortured me when others were around, only to embrace me with passion as soon as everyone had left. Women sleep so soundly they seem to be dead. Who knows? Women may live in order to sleep.
[. . .]
These and various other generalizations were products of an observation of women since boyhood days, but my conclusion was that though women appear to belong to the same species as man, they are actually quite different creatures, and these incomprehensible, insidious beings have, fantastic as it seems, always looked after me.
The pictures I drew were so heart-rending as to stupefy even myself. Here was the true self I had so desperately hidden. I had smiled cheerfully; I had made others laugh; but this was the harrowing reality. I secretly affirmed this self, was sure that there was no escape from it, but naturally I did not show my pictures to anyone except Takeichi.
[. . .]
On the other hand, I was equally afraid that they might not recognize my true self when they saw it, but imagine that it was just some new twist to my clowning—occasion for additional snickers. This would have been most painful of all. I therefore hid the pictures in the back of my cupboard.
I soon came to understand that drink, tobacco and prostitutes were all excellent means of dissipating (even for a few moments) my dread of human beings. I came even to feel that if I had to sell every last possession to obtain these means of escape, it would be well worth it.
(At this point Kindle got mad at me for copying and pasting too many excerpts to a friend (I wonder why!!) and so I stopped doing it, there was only one other thing I wanted to share enough to type it out myself:)
[. . .] I knew that the facts were certain to be discovered, but I was afraid to state them as they were. One of my tragic flaws is the compulsion to add some sort of embellishment to every situation - a quality which has made people call me at times a liar - but I have almost never embellished in order to bring myself any advantage; it was rather that I had a strangulating fear of that cataclysmic change in the atmosphere the instant the flow of a conversation flagged, and even when I knew that it would later turn to my disadvantage, I frequently felt obliged to add, almost inadvertently, my word of embellishment, out of a desire to please born of my usual desperate mania for service. This may have been a twisted form of my weakness, an idiocy, but the habit it engendered was taken full advantage of by the so-called honest citizens of the world.
Some final notes:
Dazai (the author) writes with a lot of character, and he tends to have characters who echo a specific miserable perspective on life which is widely believed to be informed by Dazai’s own thoughts. However, they are different characters. Naoji speaks of playing the clown out of genuine love and Yozo persistently is completely dispassionate about just about everyone in his life, even the people he behaves in loving ways towards.
Dazai (the character) is certainly going to be his own as well, since he does and acts in many ways unlike either character. For one, while Dazai acts the buffoon he deliberately does it to antagonize, which is a complete 180 from Yozo’s motivations and how he is perceived by just about everyone. Making people constantly irritated at him would have sent Yozo into a regular state of panic.
But there is certainly A Perspective here, which I think is hugely influential in how Asagiri portrays Dazai and also probably very #relatable to a great many people.
I know it seems like I quoted a lot but there is also plenty more where that came from, so if you found it interesting, please read the novels!
Anyway I feel a little bad that I am technically ‘back on tumblr’ but not producing any content because all I care about right now is Bungou Stray Dogs and I have already said everything I can think of to say about BSD on another (private) media outlet. I’m now just treading water while I wait for new chapters to come out (either of the canon or my own fic).
I should probably try to gather my thoughts on No Longer Human into something coherent but I think I’ve talked that out pretty exhaustively otherwise and I got weirdly hung up in trying to process it’s unique brand of sexism/f-f-feminism? And I don’t think I have anything exciting to say.
I want to read Confessions of a Mask by Mishima Yukio next week hopefully I will have talking points then.
I’ve been poking back thru my previous posts and like shit I used to have stuff I felt like staring with random strangers that was exciting to me even if only a handful of people cared, where did that that go!
Anyway did you know that Maroon 5′s “Songs about Jane” came out 15 years ago.
Which was in 2002.
/gently sips tea
This is why old people talk about the past constantly it’s real fuckin weird when you can viscerally access memories that feel not that long ago but were definitely like, a decade and a half back
and I assume this will be a continuing trend as I age
I will always remember jamming to basically every one of these songs on the radio from inside my little orange kia but 2002 is only gonna get further away
sometimes I think medicine advanced the human lifespan so quickly that our brains aren’t evolved to deal with the passage of decades or centuries appropriately
