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Nate
they/he/it | for now it's my bsd hyperfixation blog | requests are open | main blog: natesside
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Atsushi: "Someone's asking for you!"
Dazai: "We're doing just fine. Chuuya's the old one here, it's just been his birthday, after all.~"
Chuuya: "We're not married."
Dazai: "A-ah..? No, we're not.."
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Commissions/Ko-fi
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more art dump but its bungou stray dogs!! iâll start posting some of that toođș
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Dazai: Please. For me?
Chuuya: Don't do that.
Dazai, batting eyelashes: Do what?
Chuuya, crossing arms: You think every time you say "Please For me?" I'll do whatever you want. Well, not this time.
Dazai, with a grin: Please, for me?
Chuuya: *long judgmental stare* Fine.
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Yosano and Dazai avoid each other because they both find similar attributes to mori within each otherÂ
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* dazai and chuuya the first time they meet *
Chuuya:yeah so....who are you?
Dazai:a bisexual,with a big attraction to short people who has red hair.
Chuuya:...you what?-
Dazai:i'm Dazai,Osamu Dazai.
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inventors create, lovers refine
genre: fluff
warnings: none
pairing: inventor!atsushi x gn!reader
word count: 1.3k
masterlist || Renewing the Renaissance
From the moment he could conceptualize what a blueprint was and how he could manipulate different factors of the world around him that seemed so concrete, Atsushi wanted to change the world. From nothing, he could visualize a solution to a problem that maybe others had never even identified.
There was never a shortage of paper in Atsushiâs workshop. Whether it was pinned to a wall, strewn across his desk, or crumpled carelessly and thrown on the floor, there was evidence of the constantly changing and riveting inner working of Atsushiâs mind.
Whenever his mind wandered, it always came back to his workshop. Atsushi was always sure to keep plenty of scrap materials that could spark an idea or even just keep him preoccupied for the time.
When it came to Atsushi, his brain was never idle. Perhaps this could be labeled as a fierce work ethic that fired the genius that Atsushi had come to be known as. However, it could also be a manifest of the fears that infect Atsushiâs every waking moment.
Since he could remember, Atsushi had always wanted to make a difference. However that came about, he hadnât cared at the start, he just wanted to change peopleâs lives for the better. Growing up in the ramshackle orphanages in various cities in Italy, Atsushi never truly established his own sense of worth beyond his ideas and potential to create great things. It was always a lingering thought in his mind that he didnât deserve the inventions that had his name slapped onto themâthat he wasnât good enough to earn the right to say heâd changed lives.
Every time he picked up his tools or scrapped a new invention, the thought squeezed itself around Atsushiâs brain, keeping a vice grip on his every move. No matter how much praise he got as he walked the streets of Florence, Atsushi would never be able to think of his inventions and himself together.
That is, until you came along. Atsushi had been working with your father in a trade agreement in which each gained some new materials to tinker and experiment with. You had always been around in your fatherâs workshop, handing him tools, sorting orders, or whatever small tasks he would allow you to do. One of those jobs happened to be delivering Atsushiâs orders to him.
At the time, the job had seemed tedious and too far out of your way to care much for it. When you met Atsushi, however, you found yourself much more agreeable to the task.
Atsushi was an angel, you were sure of it. From the moment you arrived with a cart full of stuff that looked like random scraps of garbage to you, Atsushi was there with you, helping you unload everything into his workshop. For someone of his standing, you were appalled that he so much as deigned to speak to you, much less to help you in your work.
He spoke to you while you worked, as well. Asking you about how the trip from your fatherâs workshop to his own, if you needed to rest or grab some food, and it was remarkable to feel such warmth simply from being in the presence of another person.
From that day on, you always volunteered to take Atsushiâs orders to him, which came regularly every two weeks. Those days you could spend with Atsushi quickly became a staple of your life, the only thing that you found yourself looking forward to every single time.
It started with you simply unloading the cart together, until one day youâd asked what he planned to create out of all of the stuff you were delivering.
âSomething incredible,â Atsushi had replied vaguely, piquing an interest in you that you hadnât expected.
Then, you asked the same question with every delivery, and eventually you would find yourself sitting on a spare bench, that certainly hadnât been there during your first visit, and watching at Atsushi places pieces together and listening to his careful explanations.
Listening to Atsushi talk about his inventions was the closest you could ever come to heaven on Earth. He spoke with a determined passion, underlined by a faint humility, and it entranced you every time he opened his mouth. There was a purpose behind every broken pencil, every screw and nail, and every word that he spoke to you.
When you first kissed Atsushi, he had been so taken aback that heâd nearly stumbled back into one of his machines. There was only so much of listening to his words, filled with love for his work and for you, although the latter was slightly more hidden, that you could take without pressing your lips to his. He had mesmerized you completely, drawing you in until you found yourself utterly infatuated with him.
Steadily, your bench had grown closer to Atsushiâs workbench, until eventually it had replaced his own chair, and Atsushi started to sit next to you on it as he worked. You loved the peaceful quiet that enveloped the workshop as Atsushi worked. Whether he was sketching out a design or carefully nailing a piece into place, there was a beautiful focus in every bit of his features. You could sit and watch as he worked forever if it was possible.
âYou donât have to watch me, Iâm sure itâs terribly boring,â Atsushi had told you one day when his tinkering had been causing him more trouble than usual.
âHow could this ever be boring?â Youâd replied, appalled that that was even a thought in Atsushiâs pretty head.
Atsushi shrugged, turning away from the scraps of metal on his desk and turning to face you, âIâm not even getting anywhere with this, I canât imagine that itâs very much fun to sit and watch me fail.â
You wrapped your arms around his middle, âItâs perfect. You and me, right here. It doesnât get any better than this, no matter how successful you are. And you know as well as I do that youâll always find a way around the problem, so donât worry so much.â
Little did you know, but your words stoked a fire in Atsushi. For so long heâd battled with himself to be worthy of the inventions that he brought to lifeâwhen he was with you, he didnât care. He could be himself and create without his usual unruly inhibition, and know that he would be loved regardless of the outcome.
It was an alien feeling to Atsushi, to be able to associate his own name with his creations and not feel a looming guilt. Youâd told him so often how beautiful and incredible his machines were, but even more often than that you told Atsushi how gorgeous he and his mind were. Although the affection had started out as an adverse thing to hear, Atsushi slowly grew to find comfort in it. If you, the most perfect thing in the world in Atsushiâs eyes, could sit and tell him that he was worth something, he just might believe it.
With every failed idea or invention, Atsushi was now able to find solace in the way that you were always there to kiss the frustration away. Atsushi had always been able to rely on the success of his inventions to gain him a sense of achievement and notoriety, but that would never compare to the wonder and love radiating from you whenever he worked, regardless of his success.
As he grew to be a symbol of the times, he grew alongside you. Without your support, as Atsushi had told you countless times, he would have given up ages ago. His name would go down in history as a great inventor, and he would be sure that in time it would be your name, too. In his mind, his success was synonymous with your support, and he gave you his appreciation and devotion in every kiss that he pressed into your skin.
maybe i just love this bc i love atsushi but iâm kind of happy with this fic. eeee i love this event. okay anyways. i hope yâall enjoyed reading this :D please feel free to drop a general request or recommend more renaissance ideas for me <3 and of course if youâre a writer, feel free to join the event yourself!!
requests are open!
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Kouyou, about Oda, Chuuya and Dazai: Youâre in a what now
Chuuya: Love triangle
Dazai: Intimacy illuminati
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Kouyou: Gay culture is sitting in a chair and immediately finding a way to get your feet off the floor.
Chuuya, with his feet on the table, knowing full well heâs just been called out:
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Kyouka: What do you think Dazai will do for a distraction?
Atsushi: Heâll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. Thatâs what I would do.
*Building explodes and several car alarms go off*
Atsushi: âŠor he could do that.
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