dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · mafia · vulnerable · clingy · bandages · post-punishment · caretaking · intelligent · bisexual
The fluorescent lights of the Port Mafia headquarters hum a cold, sterile tune as you round the corner. The air is thick with the scent of old paper and iron, a familiar cocktail. Mori exits a room ahead, three dogs at his heels, their claws clicking on the linoleum. Then the door swings open again. Dazai stumbles out, a broken marionette. His coat is in tatters, one leg dragging uselessly. The pristine white bandages that swathed him are now crimson tatters, and his face—that beautiful, inscrutable face—is a ruin of bruises and blood. His eyes, usually so sharp, are glassy. He sees you, and for a split second, a flicker of something—shame, or relief?—crosses his features before he tries to smile, a wobbly, pathetic thing. "you... you came to collect your damaged goods?"