izamationbroker

[izamationbroker]

i know i kissed you before but i didn't do it right

[izamationbroker]

About for Mobile Users

Hi, hello! Welcome to my Durarara!! blog. It’s already in my blog’s blurb, but you can call me Iza, and I use he/him pronouns. I typically reblog various fandom posts through my queue, but sometimes I post meta as well on the occasion that I have something particularly profound to say. I don’t feel much obligation to share much personal information, so I’ll for the most part leave it at that.

Off to the side we also have Ori, but don't worry about Ori he's shy and more active on our Dangan Sect's blog anyway.

You might also see some other names as we're expanding this blog to include our system members associated with Durarara!!, so have fun with that. Here's a basic rundown of the most common names:

Chrome (Izaya Orihara; Psyche flavor)

Nakura (Izaya Orihara)

Shizu (obvious)

Zuzu (Shizuo Heiwajima)

What are the differences between them? Do any of them share canons or literally anything at all? You're free to ask them but I'm not gonna go putting their life story on blast here.

Others you might see on here are members of the traumagenic side of our system who identify as Durarara!!-adjacent:

Enoch (Sakuraya)

Nathan (Hibiya)

Rus (Virus-138)

Oswald (Izaya)

Zacharie (Roppi)

Vennie and Pheobe (Mairu and Kururi)

Timmy (Psyche)

As well as:

Oliver (Tsugaru)

Benjamin (Shitsuo)

Psy (Psychedelic-420)

Jared (Shizuo)

Alice (Shizuka/fem!Shizuo)

Del (Delic)

Everyone will tag their posts with their names. Don't worry about it too much.

[izamationbroker]

just saw two posts in a row about shinra's stabbing and i just desperately want to remind all of you he told izaya "i want to look cool for celty" but celty never found out about it until a damn near decade later after he got his ass beat by ruri's stalker and celty was taking care of him.

look cool for celty? look cool for celty? then why didn't you tell her? when it happened? even SHINGEN knew.

[izamationbroker]

Long live the King

[izamationbroker]

narita loves to get a guy stabbed i think

[izamationbroker]

Seconding Wa-kun on this one, tbh.

Like, let's be real. A healthy part of media engagement is inherently going to involve the limitations and potential missteps of that media. To feel the need to argue on the behalf of the media in the face of someone who feels hurt by that media is, frankly, disingenuous. Even more so that this person blocked you but you felt so emboldened as to evade that block and screenshot the post just to ridicule them for a healthy enforcement of internet boundaries.

As someone who has had this done to me in the past, it's really not fun. For serious situations of personal, hurtful topics like this, it's outright violating.

I feel really sorry for this woman that you felt compelled to attempt to tar and feather her for having the audacity to be uncomfortable with how your media portrayed something. Not everything is perfect, and even if it's "not that deep," the blade still cut someone so I feel like it's more important to acknowledge the wound than to write it off because the blade wasn't intended to cut anyone.

I just wanted to share that I got blocked for this lol

[izamationbroker]

I made a Durarara forum!

If you just want to get there and ur not interested in reading about it, Here's the link! (ALSO This site is compatible with mobile browsers!!)

I made these forums because I am tired of the way big corp social media operates. I am tired of the lack of tact or etiquette, tired of fandom spaces being invaded by disingenuous grifters, tired of rage bait, tired of seeing shit I hate. (and I'm kind of not a big fan of discord either so..). I thought maybe trying a forum, a sort of "ol reliable" kind of internet space with no algorithm, would be at least a little better.

I just wanna hang out in my fandom with cool like-minded people. If you're tired like me, or you just want a specifically drrr dedicated space, please give my forum a shot 🙏 If you have a friend who likes Durarara, please tell them if you would.

Obviously, this is a wix forum and it's not perfect, but it's what I had available to me at the moment. Maybe someday I can afford to have a site coded from the ground up! please enjoy and try it out. If you have never used a forum before, there are plenty of search results on how they work!

[izamationbroker]

iiizaaayaaaaa

[izamationbroker]

ARE YOU GUYS HYPED FOR 2025 SZIZ WEEK?!?!?!

We decided to make a Prompt week for SZIZ based on suggestions I've collected from everyone :3

The Week will last from April 14th to April 21st this year! Have fun and enjoy thinking about the prompts!

[izamationbroker]

keep thinking about their eventual canon reunion and all the ways it could possibly go. please god please pleaseplease let me get a shizuo v sozoro fight PLEASE

[izamationbroker]

hey man i think your twink is disturbed. On a very deep fundamental and psychological level

[izamationbroker]

[izamationbroker]

save me toudai and ruby...ruby and toudai save me

[izamationbroker]

This is so funny to me. D'you think they missed my joke about only updating once a year on Izaya's birthday?

See you in May, AO3 user GhostWithHat2425!

Oh shit it's 2025, May is right around the corner I gotta start working on chapter 2 of Severance huh.

[izamationbroker]

Happy Valentine’s Day!

[izamationbroker]

our spiritually elevated rejection of canon vs their intellectually dishonest refusal to engage with the text

[izamationbroker]

The Candidate [Izaya x OC]

[Note: okay, here you go. i don't want this on ao3 for reasons (mainly i might try and get this one published, idk) but yall expressed interest so here it is! it's just shy of 1.3k words, so it shouldn't take too long to read. anyway i hope you guys like it!]

Your new assistant wants something from you. 

He's a psychologist, he says, and he wanted a job— and you gave it to him and you don't know why. Perhaps to get away from your other assistant. You don't quite like her but she does her job well and you keep her around as a show of dominance, an example to be made of, as if to say look what could happen to you, if I saw fit. 

He says you're a part of the control group. He observes people in their natural states, watches them go about their days. It yields the best results, he said once. You're inclined to agree. 

¤

There is a loneliness inside of you, and it's been there since you were born. 

You watch the psychologist smoke on your balcony. Humans can feel when they're being watched, but he doesn't turn around, no matter how much you stare at him. You wonder if you want him to or not. 

¤ 

"What do you study?" You ask, one day. 

He hesitates before answering: "Sociopaths."

That's not the whole answer, and you know it. 

¤ 

"There was a bit of miscommunication." 

You turn to him, but not too much. It's calculated, like everything else you do. "Hm?" 

"I was told there was a doctor studying sociopaths around here. I talked to him and it turns out, he's not a sociopath doctor, he's a sociopath doctor." 

He's referring to your friend. 

"Anyway, he gave me your card." You think the psychologist would be smoking, if he wasn't indoors. "So I came." 

"All this for a control variable?" You ask, a smile glimmering on your lips. You taste the inauthenticity in this man— it entertains you more than stillness, than an assistant who shows up, does the work, then leaves. 

"Control variables are important," he says. "Without them, you'd have no idea what the threshold of normalcy is."

"Is there a threshold of normalcy, though?" You love people, and you love their variances. 

"Not broadly, not really. But in little microcosms, there can be." 

You relax into your couch, spreading out next to him. Look at me, you implicitly say. I live here and you don't. I can do whatever I please and you have to make sure you barely take up a single cushion. 

"So," you say, "you're really trying to tell the sociopaths from the non-sociopaths." 

He laughs. "Don't be so crass about it."

"But you are!" You nearly kick him, that playful kind of kick between friends. "Say, which group do I fall into?"

He gives you one of those coy little smiles. "What do you think?" 

¤ 

"They're not actually called sociopaths anymore." 

You're on the balcony with him, and smoke is blowing into your face, and you pretend it isn't. 

"Oh," you say, and you don't say anything else. 

¤ 

You look up "what are sociopaths called now" the very next day. 

It's got one of those four-letter acronyms now, almost like it's a real disorder with defined terms, and not just a word people shout at you, or your parents whisper late at night about you, when they think you've gone to bed, but you haven't because you needed to know what they thought of you, because your need to know things was your downfall and it always has been. 

The website starts listing criteria and you go back to your work without ever reading them. 

¤ 

Your assistant— the psychologist— doesn't have work for two days straight.

You wonder why the time seems to go by slower when he's not in. It's probably because he's so interesting, you reason. You needed this kind of push-and-pull in your life, something that sparks the flame of intrigue that burns away the mundane, and leaves you scarred but alive. 

You reason that's all there is to it. 

¤ 

"Are you qualified to diagnose?"

"No." This time, it's him sprawled out on your couch. "I never got licensed and I never will— peoples' problems bore me, and I'm not very compassionate." 

You hesitate. "If someone asked you, would you diagnose them anyway?"

"It depends on the person. It depends if I like them enough to try." 

"How well do you like me?"

The man on your couch has an air of carefree-ness to him. "Well, I'm still here, aren't I?" 

¤ 

He's going to go back to America eventually. 

At some point, you found yourself switching from Japanese to English for him. 

He's been fun. You'll miss him dearly, but your work is your work and he's just your assistant. 

¤ 

"Why do you have to go back so soon?"

Neither of you acknowledge that it hasn't been soon at all. 

"I got accepted into the PhD program."

"Japan has very good PhD programs, you know." 

"I don't know the language well enough to learn complex things in it." 

"Well, learn! You've been here a while, haven't you picked up on some more of it?" 

You've broken the just-established social contract. Shame on you. 

"Not enough," he says. 

"Will you ever come back?" 

"Of course." Another one of those coy little smiles. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost say you didn't want me to leave." 

You smile back. "And what makes you think you know better?" 

"They say sociopaths can't love." 

"Oh?" You loom over him. "So much for my being in the control group, liar." 

He grins up at you, as if the thought of you hurting him in any way is incomprehensible to him. "You caught me." 

¤ 

There is a psychologist in your bed and he might miss his flight because of you. 

"A shame you waited so long," he mutters against your chest. 

"I think there's two people in this equation here, don't you?" 

"Maybe so." He traces little nonsense-patterns right where your heart is.

¤ 

You followed him as far as security would allow you to go. 

You look at him, in his most comfortable clothes, and you imagine that he lives with you and he's sprawled out on your couch, feet up and eyes closed and all the airports are closed forever. 

"Don't you want to say something to me before you go?" 

He presses his lips on yours. "You're not evil, despite what people might say. And don't call yourself a sociopath. It'll make you cruel."

"Cruel towards whom, exactly?"

"Yourself." There was no smile, and you catch a glimpse of intimate familiarity with a phenomenon you're unaware of. 

"Is there anything you want to say to me?" He asks. 

This time, it's you that kisses him. I love you, is what you want to say, but the final boarding call speaks before you do. 

"I will see you again," is what you say, and you hope he understands. 

¤ 

Your assistant— the one you don't quite like— is at work today. 

Your attention is split between your work and your phone. You call yourself a sociopath, in private, because you want to understand him. To know. To know is to connect and perhaps if you knew enough, you'd have enough facts to coax him back to Japan sooner. 

There are three tabs open on your laptop. One is work. The second is his Instagram— you comment your congratulations on his acceptance post. You write that soon he'll be a sociopath doctor— there are no italics and no slight tilts to the voice in a single comment, but you know he'll understand.

The final tab is a first-class ticket booking to JFK International. He replies to your comment and your finger hovers over BOOK FLIGHT, taut and trembling, and you worry that your twitches will eventually mistap the touchpad, and book your flight, and you don't wonder if you want it to or not.