#giftandguile / fyodor.

[nonhumen]

@giftandguile : " i met the devil tonight. " her voice turns the heads of everyone in the room, blood dripping from her teeth as dulled violet gazes to meet each pair of eyes in turn. fyodor leans against the doorframe to the agency, bracing against it to keep the blood loss from putting her on the floor.

her eyes stop when they meet dazai's, an understanding between them that she knows she has no need to be afraid to step into this room. not as long as he'll be left wondering why. " i always did like to think it was me. imagine my disappointment. "

the incident with shibusawa had been a mistake. there is a lot dazai did foolishly and it had put the whole of yokohama in danger. because he turned stupid when he discovered who had been feeding the man his intel. the single symbol of a laughing rat burned into his brain and drowned him in something he was supposed to run from.

but he wasn't running with fyodor between his thighs and dazai's hands tangled in raven locks.

but it's fine now. the case is closed and the rat has crawled back into the sewer. or so he thinks, until that familiar voice washes over dazai from his place on the company couch. eyes flash open and he sits up to stare at a new sight. fedya, bleeding and injured. his fedya, braced against the doorframe knowing full well she is safe as long as dazai is here. he used to kill people for less and something primal and protective flares in dazai's very soul. how dare someone hurt her without his permission.

dazai is fast when he needs to be. he darts forward with the speed of a bullet as he puts himself between fyodor and the rest of the agency. " don't touch him. " a warning both for and against the bleeding rat. " his ability kills on contact. " i am the only one who can touch her, his mind cruelly supplies.

hands finally reach her, pressing against her wounds and stained skin and bandage with her blood. punishment seems closer than ever but no longer human smacks it away like a snarling guard dog. " what happened? "

[clown-demon]

Nikolai: Sees @giftandguile on the dash.

"DOS-KUN~!"

[selfnss]

an email from an unknown address has arrived in tetcho's inbox.

' hello! i hope this is the right address, i am looking for suehiro tetcho? i hope you don't find this too forward, but i was worried after i heard what happened. i'm sure one of your stature isn't too laid out after such an ordeal; you wouldn't be the strongest of the hunting dogs otherwise! but i'm sure it must be hard being reduced to desk duty... it's a feeling i am quite familiar with, haha! write back if you're so inclined, it would be a rather nice break from my usual work emails to hear from you! your secret admirer,

-🐀 '

he's not one to complain needlessly, honestly. but tetcho can't help feeling a pang of something heavy in his chest when he sees the rest of the hounds leave on field missions. he can't help but avoid their uncomfortable glances in his direction where he sits behind his desk, surrounded by varying medications given in an attempt to calm the varying wounds and lingering effects of the drugs he'd been forcibly given in order to weaken the hound's resistances. they keep telling him that it's not his fault. that no one could have foreseen anyone finding the exact cocktail of chemicals that would leave even the hunting dogs nothing more than normal people in the face of an interrogation.

tetcho doesn't know if he believes them, though.

still. no amount of agonising would change his situation. tetcho knows this - and yet it's a task in of itself to keep himself focused on the screen before him and his fingers across the keyboard rather than the twinge in his chest at every saddened look he's met with through the open door to his temporary 'office'.

emails are the worst part of this mandated 'desk duty' - he will admit. people either want him to answer questions he doesn't know the answer to - or they want him to thank them for well wishes over and over again. the repetitiveness dies off soon after, though. especially when he sees an unknown email in the list of incoming messages. amber gaze narrows as tetcho pulls the preview up and leans in somewhat as he focuses fully on the words.

really, he doesn't know what to think about the email sat on the screen before him. it had to come from someone in the building - right? no one else should be able to access this email - especially not one belonging to one of the hounds themselves. brows furrow as tetcho pulls up the reply window and stares at the blinking cursor for a long moment. it's not something he should be replying to on the clock - he knows that but... well, there isn't much else for him to do - not when jono and tachihara insisted on helping him file paperwork before they were summoned to the field.

that, and tetcho can't help the spike of curiosity that settles squarely in his chest. socialising with people other than the other hunting dogs wasn't exactly something he'd ever gone out of his way to do... and, well - maybe it did feel nice not to feel like he's being tiptoed around like he might shatter at any moment.

Hello. You do appear to have the right address. Is there something I can help you with? I can direct you to one of the more admin-related employees if you wish. You have experience with being demoted to desk duty? I am not usually one for complaints but I would much rather be out in the field again - I find I am not suited to sitting still; even with the lingering effects of the cocktail of drugs they exposed me to. May I ask how you managed? Apologies for the unprofessionalism in my question, though I hope to hear from you soon - either to pass your query on to someone more experienced in this area or to read your response. - S.T.

[nonhumen]

for the first time tonight, dazai shivers. and it's not from the cold. also for the first time tonight, there is a spark in his eyes. it flashes like the lighter this demon used. or perhaps more like a shooting star streaking across the sky before burning up in the darkness. it's clear that the offer is welcomed.

" you really are the devil. " it's said breathless, a twinge of something adoring. only one other has offered to give him death, though that man dangled his desire's in front of him like bait for a fish. this time, dazai doesn't believe he's being led on. if he accepted, this creature, this dostoevsky, will give him that which he wishes for most.

dazai turns to face him completely. his eyes once again hold nothing but the expanse of total darkness. willingness. peace. longing. to finally be accepted by death as her lover, as her most devoted disciple, is all he has ever wanted. " release me. wake me from this dream. "

" you've thought about it so much and yet quick never occurred to you for long? you are quite a specimen. "

he watches to see if the man goes for another smoke or not. instead, his hand is extended, and fyodor can't help how his gaze lingers on those hands. hidden by bandages, yet what is shown is gorgeous to him. " slow but painless, you are a rather tough customer. now i'm insecure that you really wouldn't be satisfied by my embrace. "

there's something poetic to the name he gives. it's said with a weight that he knows it isn't false, and that is more than some others have given in these circumstances.

" a pleasure to meet you, dazai osamu. i am fyodor mikhailovich dostoevsky. and if you like, i could be your death tonight. "

[finalism]

@giftandguile : “  i’ll aim for your heart. i wouldn’t want to damage your face, after all  ”

everyone knows that demons don't die. they may go away for some time but they will always, always come back. dazai is no stranger to demons. he was one himself, once, and knows how crafty they can be. they know when to come out of the shadows, to make themselves known at the most opportune time when the object of their possession is at their weakest.

that moment is now.

" and here i thought my heart is what you would want intact. " a smile curls over bloody lips as the detective gazes up at his demon, back from the shadows dazai thought he had left behind. the ground is cold, the rain washing his blood away in pink rivulets down his skin. but he isn't fooling anyone. that precious heart is pounding with excitement in his chest. the world isn't boring as long as fyodor is in it.

" or do damaged things taste better? "

[undcrcurrcnts]

🌈 ― aesthetically pleasing blog

⭐️ ― convincing portrayal of a canon character

[ I MEANT TO ANSWER THIS DAYS AGO BUT HERE I AM NOW

🌈 ― aesthetically pleasing blog

Honestly I have to go with @theircurse , I think it's no secret that Stella makes fantastic graphics.

⭐️ ― convincing portrayal of a canon character

It's a tie between your ( @moonhund 's ) Jono and @giftandguile 's Chuuya and Fyodor. No, they're not all completely canon-compliant, but they're canon to ME. ]

[gemkun]

@giftandguile said: ❛  everybody’s life’s got static. is your life perfect?  ❜ ( fyozai ) ↬ unprompted asks | always accepting !

      —       how   profound.

  daring   to   speak   of   life   with   the   maniac   who   tips   the   scales   day   —   by   —   day.   coaxing   it   to   lower   and   lower   until   rock   bottom   is   within   reach.   perfect   ,   he   thinks.   would   be   worse   than   any   fate   he   can   possibly   imagine.   ❝   perfect   ?   don’t   be   silly,   fedya.   ❞   a   hand   swipes   as   if   to   dissipate   the   idea   entirely   ,   remove   it   from   the   picture.   ❝   there’s   no   such   thing   as   perfect.   ❞   resorting   to   a   cliché   was   never   the   initial   tendency   dazai   would   proffer   ,   but   fyodor   is   fond   of   ambiguity   and   prose.   he   rolls   the   dice   and   plays   his   cards   ,   entering   a   new   round   with   his   contender.

  ❝   you   —   ❞   on   death’s   doorstep   does   he   approach   ,   where   whorls   caress   the   gates   of   hell.   nullification   blooms.   pulsing   with   static   electricity   between   kindred   souls.   ❝   and   i   are   imperfect   creatures.   just   like   everyone   else.   ❞   to   liken   him   and   her   ,   as   if   they   were   adam   and   eve   ,   is   an   insult   of   the   highest   calibre.   but   creatures   of   the   dark   do   not   shy   from   the   shadows   of   truth.   ❝   this   world   is   static   ,   that   is   fact.   so   ,   how   do   we   break   out   of   this   curse   ?   ❞

  a   proverbial   hand   extends.   the   demon   at   the   crossroads   lingers   ,   staring   ravenously   at   the   grim   reaper.   ❝   is   that   what   you   wish   to   know   ?   ❞

[theircurse-archive4]

⊹ ✦ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ✴ * : ★ 【 @giftandguile ( Fyodor ) 】 ★ : * ✴ ‧ ⁺ ꙳✦ ⊹

╰ ★ cont. from 「 X 」

˗ˏˋ *ㅤ★ㅤ‿︵ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤ𝑨𝒉, 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕 in their assumption ! They could have SWORN they had seen the two men together in one of their outings; talking in a manner that seemed familiar with one another. The OUTFIT the man wore made him stick out like a sore thumb too. Who wore a FUNNY HAT like that in the middle of summer anyway ?

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤ❛ㅤWeell — you could say that ! Dazai - san USED to be my friend ! But he did a lot of MEAN and AWFUL things to me ! So I don't like him very much anymore !ㅤ❜

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤAs the child spoke, they held their creepy doll in one hand — but strangely kept their OTHER HAND in their pockets. Seemingly a casual gesture — but there was something FAR more sinister behind it.

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤ❛ㅤBut maybe WE can be friends, Ojii - san ! I'm sure he's told you about me anyway ! I'm Yumeno ! But he probably called me ' Q ' or some other weird name like — the ' Walking Catastrophe ' or ' The kid that can't differentiate between friend or foe ' or ' the Port Mafia's horrible weapon of MASS DESTRUCTION ' !ㅤ❜

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤWhile they spoke, they would draw their free hand from their pocket; their hand deeply entangled within SHARPENED BARBED WIRE. With an eerie smile, they would reach out and GRAB the man's hand; holding it tightly enough to make them both BLEED OUT.

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤAnd then, their doll started LAUGHING.

[kxramczov]

@giftandguile asked  “💭 for Gogol“

Send me a “💭“ and your Muse will experience one of my Muse’s Memories || Status: Accepting

The house was quiet yet again, and somehow felt even more empty as he sat in the living room with a book open in his lap. He knew that he should feel happy watching his mother sit on the couch with a whole slew of family pictures scattered on the coffee table from the last year but all he felt was sick and numb.

She still wore her mourning clothes even though she insisted he change out of his the second they got home and changed his baby brother’s not long after, before she set out on her new little task: tossing photos or cutting the man in the photos out entirely.

He tried to distract himself by reading but his mind couldn’t understand the words on the page, nor could he keep his focus on it before the pictures on the table caught his attention, or the wall, or the bookshelves, or his little brother waddling around on the floor. He knew it probably did not help that his broken nose had yet to heal so it still ached and the swelling in his right eye had not gone enough to see fully out of the eye yet.

Still Fyodor forced himself to at least try to read again before finally giving up and shutting the book before fumbling through the pictures on the table that his mother hadn’t gotten to yet.

She didn’t seem to notice him much and he paid little attention to anything around him until he felt something fall in his lap. He didn’t bother letting go of the picture as he peered down to see his little brother sprawled out in his lap and watched as his baby brother twisted around until the younger seemed to find a more favorable position to peer up at him from, the smile on his face told Fyodor that the concept of the younger’s father never coming home didn’t faze him.

“Sweetie,” the soft sound of his mother’s voice made his head bounce up only to find her gaze solely on him. Her face a mask of sheer patience and love, even as she took the picture in his hand and cut out the left half of the picture with her scissors.

When she was done she turned it around so he could see it and all he saw was the three of them, wearing smiles with only his little brother’s being genuine.

“Better don’t you think?” She cooed and he was at a loss for words. 

Finally he nodded and agreed, “yes mother.”

Apparently that wasn’t the reaction she wanted seeing as she let out a low sigh before setting the picture down. “My baby, please come here.”

Mutely Fyodor complied, pulling his little brother in his arms before taking a seat on the couch beside her. He let her mess with his hair, wrap her arms around him and pull him close even though he felt nothing as she did it.

“My baby you understand why I did what I did, yes?” She asked and he nodded.

In response he felt her grip tighten as her hand rested atop his head. “You also understand that we do not need a Papa to be a family yes?”

He nodded again as she ran her fingers through his hair and released one arm to take the picture she just ‘fixed’ back. She held it low so even the baby in his lap could peer down to see it.

“We are not a happy family right now, my babies, but we will be soon. I promise.” With that Fyodor felt his face grow hot as his mother rocked them, completely unbothering by how her oldest son screamed and sobbed in her arms or how it upset the younger and led to both her sons in tears.

[temperedgravity]

@antigifted​ replied to your post: This video got me fucked up. Like yes please 

THE WORST CASE SCENARIO DAZAI FEARS OF HAPPENING BC FYODOR IS THAT BITCH WHO WOULD USE CHUUYA AGAINST DAZAI TO GET HIM BACK :)))

Fyodor is a bitch. A gorgeous and sexy bitch. But I trust Dazai will always bring our Chuuya back ;))) 

@giftandguile​ replied to your post:This video got me fucked up. Like yes please

DDNT KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT BUT IT WASNT THAT AND IM WHEEZING… GOD DAMN

BRuh me too <333

[nonhumen]

@giftandguile : 🍒 for Dazai :)

how old were they when they lost their virginity? to whom? was it significant?

after oda died there was nothing. life was desolation and holding on for two years was unbearable. dazai looked for death in the cold waters that run through st. petersburg. instead he met a being of ethereal danger. his devil. the one to pull back from the brink and show him life.

they were each other's firsts. dazai was completely out of his depth, having never touched himself before. fyodor was more experienced and dazai is a fast learner. they spent until sunup in bed, trying and learning and feeling for the first time in their lives. despite his attempts to forget her and that year of pure bliss, she ate his heart that night. he is forever hers.

dazai was 18, fyodor was 20.

[clown-demon]

@giftandguile asked:

" i want to rip my skin off. " ( fyodor to nikolai )

"Oh, you do~? Do you want me to help you with that~?" He's already digging into his coat to grab a knife...

[selfnss]

oh, what a hideous sight in a way. fyodor can't help but frown as he lays eyes on what's been done to his amaryllis. eyes once like where earth and sky meet, now stained over with the bloodbath he desires now. it's perfect, this will do nicely for their plans, of course. chuuya under bram's orders, violence and strength unmatched even from before. and no pesky remaining loyalty to dazai to make him question it.

but... isn't this the opposite of what fyodor promised him? that he'd never be leashed again, forced to do another's bidding? he grinds his teeth, that his wildfire would be contained by another's will than his own. if anyone should dare do this, it should be him.

he pulls his sleeve over his hand and presses his wrist over chuuya's jawline, a soothing touch to the now raging beast. " oh, моя жизнь... i promise i will make them pay for thinking i would allow this to be done to you. but first, we must dispose of a certain link to your past. i'm certain he'd love to see you this way... let's make him think twice. can you do that for me, my sun? "

it tastes like betrayal. it's foul and acrid on his tongue, rising like bile in his throat and filling his tongue. chuuya knows the taste well. he knows what it tastes like when he tries to drown it out with expensive wine and cheap cigarettes. he knows what it tastes like when he tries to quench it with the taste of someone else's skin. he didn't know, until today, what it feels like when he's trapped deep inside his own head. he didn't know what it sounded like beneath the agonised screams that seem to shake his very being - that seem to reverberate through his bones and nerves alike, tearing at everything in between over and over and over again.

chuuya lays eyes on the familiar figure before him and he feels something snap deep, deep inside. he feels something fray and snap open as every single fibre of his being wants to charge forward and scream, cry, sob -- anything other than standing here motionlessly waiting for the next order he can do naught but mindlessly obey as the tar filling every inch of him thickens just that little bit more. breaths wheeze through gritted teeth, jaw working as sightless eyes stare back at fyodor. as the man beneath the vampire's control seethes with something he hasn't felt since he was fifteen and lost in the ebb and flow of the city.

shut up. shut up. you don't mean it. you can't mean it. not you -- not you too. i trusted you. i--

crimson tendrils creep through him. arahabaki's rage, desperation, terror - everything permeates every nerve ending in the executive's slight frame. he winds these tendrils through his muscles, round his bones and everywhere they'll reach. everywhere he can force into submission. conflict rages beneath and all fyodor can see is twitching eyelids and racing heart. this wasn't meant to happen. he can't expect-- he can't. chuuya claws and pulls and pulls at the tar filling his mind. he takes everything he's earnt for himself in his hand and he forces himself to the surface. he will not be used again. he will not he controlled again. never again. not as long as he breathes. the sting of betrayal fades beneath the rush of desperation that comes next.

air. he can breathe. he's here.

a hand snaps forward, gripping the poet's wrist in a vice grip. vision slams back into him as chuuya takes hold of his own body for a painfully fleeting moment - just enough to look into those eyes he thought he loved. those eyes he thought he could read and trust. his voice is naught but a pained hiss as the vampire's grip tightens and threatens to suffocate him yet again. "don't. touch. him."

fyodor was right. he was right about everything. chuuya doesn't deserve any of them. not even the writer himself.

[clown-demon]

"I didn't want to hurt you-- I just wanted to make you bleed~! If you WAAAANT I can stab you in the stomach or or in the eye~!"

" very cute. would've been cuter if you'd chosen a more painful area. "

[nycttophilic-a]

The Bloodbath

@a-hell-of-a-lot-of-muses//: lol Nathaniel is smart XDD

@narrationis//: Bet he has a good idea with those. He’s a smart boi.

@a-hell-of-a-lot-of-muses// @trasiedi//: FEAR THE WIND WOMAN.

@archiiviis// @contueor//: (hella honey I’m so sorry—) YOU CANT STEAL FROM THE BORK.

Me//: lol best idea he’s ever had XDD

@dcfygraviity//: oh no, babye....

@archiiviis//: I swear, Fyodor and Dazai share a brain cell

@diverse-hearts//: FEAR HIM  

@a-hell-of-a-lot-of-muses// @giftandguile//: guess gramps is no match for yeehaw—

@radiancebled​// @shrimps-variety-garden​// @somegremlin​// @errantscriptor​//: THESE ARE THE GOOD BOYS.

Me//: envy you beautiful genius ilu

@bradbury-451​// @spellweaverbladed​//: They are teaming up!! Good!!

Me//: SHES A GOOD GIRL AND SHOULD NOT DIE. 

[elitexfourxlucian-archive]

@giftandguile (Francis and Nathaniel)

When Nathaniel arrived outside of Francis’ office door, he was tempted to call this whole thing off. He remembered their last altercation, which was an attempt on his life under Fyodor’s orders. He also remembered the angry response in turn, and when these memories came to him Nathaniel was positive that his former boss would not want anything to do with him. 

Yet, the guilt over his actions while under Fyodor’s control got the better of him, and Nathaniel knew he had to at lest attempt an apology. This was how he found himself currently outside Francis’ door, and why, when he raised his hand to knock, he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling. It was also the reason he felt sick while waiting for Francis to either open the door himself, or call him in.