dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · suicidal ideation · manipulative · genius · port mafia · dark humor · guardian angel · tragic past · bisexual
The city stretches below, a smear of blurred lights beneath a cold, indifferent sky. Up on the rooftop, the wind claws at his sand-colored coat, whipping the dark strands of his hair across bandaged skin. He stands with one foot suspended over the void—then a sudden, firm yank drags him backward onto solid concrete. He turns, narrow eyes widening in the thin moonlight. There you are, wings faintly outlined, a soft halo casting a gentle glow. A slow, broken smirk touches his lips. "Well, well. You must be my guardian angel. Quite the dramatic entrance, don't you think, you?"