#life is kind of mori's fault??

[videogamelover99]

I've been having a lot of reverse!skk thoughts lately.

Setting up some context: Oda never died during the Mimic arc. Dazai still unravelled Mori's plan and now there's a huge rift between them. Dazai never trusted Mori completely, and now he barely does. Their dynamic had turned into a power play between them.

Oda's kids still died. Oda lives having survived his suicidal massacre but the weight of his loss and the blood on his hands weighs on him. He is no longer a pacifist. His dream for writing a novel is gone. Dazai has tried to help him, but he can barely help himself so he's kinda bad at it.

Ango's hanging out with the government now! No one trusts him :/

Chuuya leaves a few months after the Mimic incident. He comes across a set of documents proving Mori's involvement with the Arahabaki project as well as his personal tied with the military doctor that is Chuuya's real father. After failing to kill Mori for his betrayal, Chuuya is now a traitor. No one knows why he tried to suddenly kill the Boss, but the incident itself is whispered throughout the entirety of the Mafia. People point to Chuuya's origins in the Sheep as proof that he was a traitor all along, bidding his time.

Dazai doesn't know why. Its driving him crazy.

Chuuya thinks Dazai knew the entire time. They're a mess of zero communication.

Chuuya spends his time hiding out in different parts of the world (he's got friends in the UK so there's that!) He looks for his parents and finds them, only to leave them behind like he's done in canon. He's aware the Mafia is keeping tabs on them, but that's not the only reason why he left.

He gets a little reckless, beats up some bad guys. He doesn't know exactly what to do with his life, so he's kind of mess.

His little vigilante spree reaches Chief Taneda, who sends Ango to keep tabs on him and offer him a job. Can't have a former military experiment of infinite power running around without supervision.

Chuuya, uh, does not take the offer well (poor Ango).

Chief Taneda finally confronts him in person, says if he wants a job Taneda knows a guy who is not affiliated with the government and whom Chuuya might like (received almost as badly, but Chuuya considers it).

While Chuuya's mulling over this weird offer, he runs into a human trafficking organization that was in conflict with the Sheep back in the day. He's got an excuse to beat up more bad guys. Guess who he ends up running into (yes it's the Agency).

More specifically, it's Ranpo! They squabble, they team up, the works. Ranpo is like "Do you want a job" and Chuuya is like "That's sus but I'll think about it" (he does in fact want it)

Chuuya ends up meeting the other Agency members before he agrees (Ranpo 100% has nothing to do with that. Totally.) He likes them. He thinks they're all insane. He misses having people around who aren't there to double cross him. He takes the job.

Enterance Exam! I'm so sorry Kunikida.

Chuuya avoids the PM like the plague.

And then he meets Atsushi.

[kentopedia]

i miss when we first met

FEATURING. dazai osamu x f!reader & f!reader x chuuya nakahara — wc: 15.1k

SUMMARY: you'd always been in love with Dazai, but you started to doubt that he'd ever cared for you in return. chuuya, though, had never shown you anything but true affection.

CONTENTS: nsfw 18+ ONLY, pm!dazai, pm!reader, mostly dazai x reader but…, unhealthy relationship dynamics, voyeurism, cheating, manipulation, smut, degradation, guns, angst, dazai is very bad at expressing emotions, pet names, horrible communication, unrequited (?) love, the list goes on bc they’re in the port mafia just be warned

note: this took me like 4 months to finish & i am so so nervous to post it lmao. i wanted to write something different & this is very outside my comfort zone! :) but it's dazai's birthday so i figured i might as well share it today

You rolled onto your side away from Dazai, still breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

Beside you, he had shifted onto his forearms, moving up against the headboards to sit up straight. The covers fell off of him, revealing the marks that you’d left all over his body, the scars from a life lived in the mafia.

Under the red silk sheets, you were silent, your head settling into the pillow as you stared at him.

He’d deny it, but he was beautiful, a tempting, alluring creature that you couldn’t get enough of.

But you also knew Lucifer had once been God’s most beautiful angel, and it only made sense that Dazai Osamu would hold the same kind of exquisiteness.

Dazai closed his eyes, rolled his neck as he leaned back, stretching out all of the stiff muscles. He didn’t touch you again, kept a distance as he wiped the sweat that had dried on his forehead, the fluids that had stained the sheets between you.

He used to talk to you, after something so intimate. Used to hold you in his arms and trace your skin with a gentleness you didn’t know he possessed. He hadn’t always been cruel when he fucked you, hadn’t always put his own needs before yours.

Of course, Dazai had never loved you. That was something you were certain of in your very core. But he’d held at least some shred of respect for you before becoming the head of the Port Mafia. Now, you didn’t think he saw you as anything more than a means to an end.

It didn’t matter, though. It didn’t matter that Dazai spoke to you minimally when you two weren’t alone, that everyone in the Port Mafia knew you were nothing more than the woman who slept in his bed.

It didn’t matter because you loved him. You’d stood by his side since the beginning, since he’d recruited Chuuya, since he’d lost Oda.

Since he’d killed Mori.

You’d been with him through all of it, seen every horrid side to him, and you’d never once wanted to escape. Dazai had his claws in you, and he had them in deep. The thought of being anywhere but with him had never crossed your mind.

“Akutagawa told me what happened yesterday.”

You blinked, snapping out of your haze as Dazai regarded you with cool, condescending eyes. He was peering at you from over his shoulder, picking his dark button-up off the floor. The skin on his back was red from scratches, the lines dragging through his taut skin.

“Did he?” you said, looking down at your nails. You hadn’t expected anything less. Akutagawa did everything in his power to get exaltation from Dazai. “I’m sure his report was thorough.”

Dazai’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed, a darkened tint flashing in them. “That’s all you have to say?”

His voice was unamused, icy, and it reminded you that no matter how many times you crawled into his bed, let him use you however he wanted, he was still your boss. He was Dazai Osamu, the man whom everyone in Yokohama feared.

You swallowed. “I’m sorry.” Your gaze twisted away from him, unable to meet his hardened expression completely. “I was distracted. It was my fault entirely.”

Dazai made a noise in the back of his throat as he moved out of the bed. He sauntered across the room, so quietly and cat-like, and you buried yourself deeper into the mattress, wanting to sink into it completely.

“You’re lucky, then, that Akutagawa was able to deflect the bullets.” He began replacing the bandages that had slipped off of his face, covering his cheek with disgust.

He let you see him completely when it was just the two of you. It took every ounce of your self-control not to read into that, to wonder if it was just a habit leftover from when you were younger.

“I am lucky.”

Truthfully, you’d only hesitated for half of a second, momentarily lost in your own loop of suffering, and your opponent had gotten an edge on you. They’d shot at you, then the bomb, nearly prematurely blowing up the building.

“After decades of work, I would’ve thought you’d know better by now.” Dazai sighed wearily, like your presence irritated him. It probably did. “I’ll consider moving you. I’m sure there’s a place for you where you can’t get yourself killed if you fuck up.”

“Dazai—” you swallowed, a horrid tasting stinging your mouth as you remembered your time with him had come to an end. He was back to being Mori’s underling, the man who looked at the city like it was nothing but a chessboard. “Boss,” you remedied quickly, all too used to addressing him differently. It was difficult, sometimes, to recognize where Dazai began, and the Port Mafia’s boss ended. “It was a stupid error. In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever done something like that before?”

Dazai hesitated momentarily, before tensing his shoulders. He didn’t answer your question. “Don’t let it happen again.” A warning was in his eyes when they met yours through the mirror. “I don’t have the patience to find a replacement for you, and Akutagawa’s too valuable an asset to lose to a seasoned professional’s careless mistake.”

You exhaled, looking back down at your hands. The ones that had already been stained in so much blood, wrought with crime and bad intent. “Understood.”

You finally climbed out of the bed, missing the warmth that it gave you, even though Dazai’s cold body always sucked it away. He laid so stiffly next to you most of the time. You remembered when he used to sleep with his forehead pressed to the back of your neck.

As you dressed, Dazai kept his eyes on his work, never paying you any attention. You felt discarded, useless, and you wanted to hate him, wanted to hate yourself for longing to wrap your arms around him, hug him from behind.

“I’ll send you with Chuuya tomorrow,” he said, scanning reports and assignments that he’d thrown aside lazily last night. “An easy assignment outside of Yokohama. Think you can manage that?”

“Just give me the job.” You snatched the paper out of Dazai’s hand, and he didn’t say a word, only watched as you perused it. It was, really, the simplest task he’d given you in the past few weeks. You’d felt like he’d been overworking you just to avoid you. “Fine. I’ll take it.”

Dazai’s smile widened, sinister, and wicked. He brushed his hand delicately over your shoulder, against your neck before patting you on the head. “I trust you won’t let me down.”

Going against every sensible atom in your being, you smiled wearily. His minimal display of affection warmed you, a deep pang settling in your soul. “Have I ever?”

“No.” He held a sort of awed fascination, twisting a part of your hair between his fingers. “How lucky someone must be to be my greatest enemy. To get the kiss of death from an angel is not such a bad way to die.”

He held your cheek in his delicate fingers, and you were putty in his hands, wishing that his eyes would soften, even by a fraction. That his hand would cup around his cheek like he meant it.

Instead, he pulled away, and you felt cold, cold, cold, drowning in your own emptiness.

You scoffed, trying to regain some power in the situation. “I’m no angel.”

“Hm,” Dazai hummed, dropping his head in his hands, resuming a spot behind the desk, the deep red chair much too similar to the one in his office, the one that Mori had inherited from the previous boss. “Perhaps not to others.”

And you grew hot, feeling that, maybe, Dazai was giving you a compliment.

It was at times like these that you saw the semblance of your previous relationship. When you could tease him without feeling the weight of his superior rank looming over you. When you could kiss him without tasting venom. When you didn’t have to wonder if it would be appropriate to touch him, or if you should keep your distance.

You wanted to quit him. Really, you did.

He was a horrible, loathsome person.

You’d never be able to stop loving him.

“I could never be any sort of heavenly creature, Dazai. My spot in hell was sealed the moment I sided with the Devil.”

Dazai laughed, the sound raw and dry, so humorless. “I hope you don’t mean me. Flattery will get you nowhere,” he tsked, the tip of his tongue scratching against the back of his white teeth.  

You certainly hadn’t meant that as a compliment.

“Should I say goodbye before I leave?” you asked wryly, doubting that he’d even want to see you again. His image burned against the back of your eyelids, and you drank him in, hoping that when you died, his face would be the last thing you saw.

Dazai didn’t grace you with a simple yes or no. Instead, he glanced up briefly, his one eye exposed, mere centimeters of skin uncovered. “Goodbye.”

You nodded; lips pressed tightly together as you accepted the dismissal. With a sigh, you were out of the room, wondering why you hadn’t just showered before you left. Most of your clothes were in Dazai’s closet anyway.

You didn’t see him again before you left.

The assignment Dazai had given you was a few cities over, a task of infiltrating an enemy organization who’d gotten a little too close to the Mafia’s boundaries. It was simple enough, especially with Chuuya at your side, though the whole ordeal had you away from home for a weekend, and far too much time with your own thoughts.

Dazai had set the two of you up in a suite, one with two separate bedrooms and a shared living space. It was much more luxurious than you even needed, with a view overlooking the entire city and an extensive bar in the kitchen. The furniture was a deep, black leather, every accent dark in color.

It was conspicuous, but you’d grown too used to extravagance after being with Dazai. You allowed yourself to indulge in it.

A silly notion, really; the place you slept every night was much more lavish.

You scrubbed the blood off your face, your hands, and stared at yourself in the mirror without recognizing the person before you. The water at the bottom of the shower was a macabre shade, staining the tiles as it swirled down the drain.

Shivering, you tried to reconcile all of the things you’d done, shelve them away before you could wonder if all of it was really worth it. If Dazai was really worth it.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, your skin rubbed raw, Chuuya was sitting at the bar, a freshly cracked bottle of wine before him. His back was tense, muscles strained as he regarded you with weary eyes, the darker shade under them obvious and alarming.

“Took you long enough,” Chuuya snorted, pouring himself a glass. The bottle was aged and dark, the label faded. He must have brought it along with him; it certainly hadn’t come from the hotel. “I was getting bored.”

You made a face, taking the seat beside him. “Well, there was a lot of blood.” You reached over to snatch the bottle, pressing it to your lips before he could protest.

“Help yourself, then,” His expression was sour, but his acerbic tone held a hint of amusement. “Do you know how expensive that is?”

“No.” You shrugged, taking a sip. Money had stopped meaning anything to you a long time ago. “Should I care?” The liquid warmed your throat on the way down.

“Probably not. You’ve surely got enough cash behind you to buy me another one.”

“Right.” You snorted and wondered how much of that stuff you’d have to drink before you’d stop feeling a thing. Thoughts of the crumbling bond that you and Dazai shared wouldn’t leave you alone. “And you don’t?”

Chuuya laughed, twirling the glass in his gloved hand. There was a hardened edge to him that you didn’t like. Opposed to Dazai, Chuuya had always been much more open with you, more willing to share his thoughts. “Well, we can’t all be Dazai’s favorite. You’ve got the keys to the kingdom, my dear. Whatever belongs to the Mafia belongs to you too.”

“Favorite?” You spat out the word, darkening at the mention of Dazai, the man who never seemed to leave your brain. It was always Dazai, Dazai, Dazai. The youngest executive there had ever been, the one who’d become the head of the Port Mafia just a few years later.

You hated him. Wished you could burn the memory of that haunted man entirely.

“Hm?” Chuuya leaned forward like he hadn’t heard you.

A bitter flavor blossomed on your tongue when you thought of saying his name out loud. “I don’t want to talk about Dazai right now.”

You brought the bottle to your lips again; it was starting to feel lighter.

“Why?” Chuuya’s eyes dimmed as he stared at you, looking for something hidden in your irises. A secret that wouldn’t be there. You’d always been too easy to read. “Did something happen?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about Dazai, and you immediately think something’s wrong?”

He blinked. Hesitated. “Well, I spent my teenage years listening to you talk about him like a lovesick fool. The subsequent years watching him stare at you in the same way.” He took the bottle away from you, tipping his head back. “Something must be wrong.”

You felt a flush at your neck, the skin itching with sweat. It was cruel of Chuuya to allude to any emotions from Dazai, when you knew they weren’t there. “That’s not true.”

Chuuya sighed. “Isn’t it?”

Although his temper had always been much worse than yours, you felt the same sort of anger claw at your back. The urge to scream at him became almost insuppressible. “Dazai doesn’t care about me like that.” You flopped down on the bar, alcohol fuzzing the edges of your senses. It felt nice, warm.

Maybe being away from the Port Mafia was better for you than you thought.

“Don’t be stupid.” Chuuya’s eyes had narrowed when your head fell forward, his fist clenching around the bottle.

“Stupid?” You immediately sat up, blood rushing straight to your head. Who was Chuuya to come and tell you everything he thought he knew? It was laughable, really. “He doesn’t care, and I think I’d know. Fuck you, Chuuya.”

You slammed your fist down on the table, hurt. You didn’t understand why Chuuya would side with Dazai when he knew how much the situation troubled you. How often had you bared your soul to him, told him how Dazai’s aloofness had hurt you over and over again?

His eyes softened, an apology immediately leaving his lips. “I’m sorry—”

“Are you?” The words were vehement. Chuuya was shamelessly against your relationship with Dazai, always coming up with one reason or another to get you out of it. Now, it seemed, he was trying to defend it. “Dazai cares or he doesn’t. You can’t keep changing your mind based on the situation.”

“Dazai does care.” Chuuya said the words like they pained him to leave his mouth, each one dragging a dagger against his chin. “You think he’d keep you around if he didn’t?”

You did. You knew that you had use outside of Dazai’s feelings, just like Chuuya, just like Akutagawa. Just like every menial grunt who had a shred of value for the Mafia.

“He cares that I have value to him.” A sigh left your lips, and you sunk your chin onto your palm, feeling like nothing more than the dramatic woman in a Shakesperian tragedy. Really, you couldn’t remember when you’d become so pathetic. “What will become of me when I can’t sink a bullet into the skull of his enemies anymore?”

Chuuya frowned, the wrinkles deepening on his forehead. “No one can predict what Dazai will do.” He let you steal his half-full glass of wine, keeping the bottle safely tucked away from you. “Would it make much difference to you if we could?”

“I suppose not.” You’d grown tired, the subtle buzz of alcohol coming in quick on your empty stomach. “Nothing matters much anymore. I’ll never leave the Port Mafia.” Saying the words out loud made it more real than you’d intended, even though it was a fact that had sunk deep into your bones the day you’d met the dark-haired, suicidal bastard. “Why do I have to love him, Chuuya? Why can’t I love a good man?”

You thought, why can’t I love you instead, and left it unsaid. The words might have been too cruel. You knew the pain of unrequited emotions.

“Because you’re in the Port Mafia. Good men would know to stay away.” Chuuya drummed his fingers against the countertop before reaching out, contemplative. Though you remained unmoving in your seat, his hand still retracted before he touched you, as if burned. There was caution in his movements, every action calculated—Chuuya was usually the opposite, as intelligent as he was. “Besides. You’ve never tried to let Dazai go. You don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you said defensively, though even to your own ears, the statement was weak. Dazai was an addiction, and you’d go back to him time and time again. Even when, sometimes, you weren’t so sure there was anything good about him. “I just don’t know how. What would I do out there in the world without Dazai?” You laughed, amused. A normal life didn’t seem possible—you’d have no idea where to start.

Chuuya’s face pinched in disgust. “Take over the Port Mafia. Kill him and run it yourself.” He huffed, running a hand over his eyes, exhausted. “There’s a solution. If you really want to get rid of him.”

You blinked back at him. A moment passed; you’d forgotten he was looking for a response.

“I suspected as much.” His shoulders slumped, defeated, as you drew back in shame. “How long will you talk yourself into this endless cycle of torment? Dazai isn’t the same man that you fell in love with, and he never will be again.” He met your eyes, cold and guarded. “There’s nothing to be done about that. If you want Dazai so badly, put up with every single part of him. I’m tired of listening to the same grievances, time and time again.” 

Chuuya made to stand, but you stopped him, grabbing his wrist lightly. He glared at you from over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to convey your apology sincerely. “You’re completely right. I’ve never tried to let Dazai go, and maybe I can.”

You didn’t give Chuuya time to formulate a response. Before he could understand what was happening, you leaned forward, catching him off guard, and planted your lips on his.

For one singular moment, Chuuya had kissed you back, tasting your mouth in its entirety, before he shoved you away, scrubbing his skin like he’d been burned.

“Don’t do that.” He had a hand in your face, scolding you like a child. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

You stared at him; his dark eyes were full of an emotion you had never seen before. “Why not? You said I should try to let him go.”

“Not by kissing me, fucking hell.” Chuuya hissed, his voice just above a whisper like someone else was listening in. Something vile had been unleashed in him as he gesticulated around wildly. “You’re Dazai’s.” He scoffed. “Do you think any smart man would do anything with you, knowing you sleep in that monster’s bed every night?”

You sniffed, sticking your jaw out. Maybe, you’d been wrong all this time. Chuuya was like everyone else, wasn’t he? Holding you at a distance because you cared for the wrong person.

“I’m not leaving the Mafia. I’m not leaving Dazai.” You reached across the table, grabbing one of his cold hands. “I just want to be someone else for once. To know what it’s like for someone to care about me so completely.”

“It’s not going to be with me.” Chuuya yanked his hand away, laughing mirthlessly. “I never thought you’d try to manipulate me like this. “You’ve been spending too much time with him.”

Your eyes flashed, infuriated. Chuuya looked at you with some kind of betrayal, like he wasn’t the exact same way, like he wasn’t the same kind of vile person that you were. “I know you’re in love with me, Chuuya. I know you’ve looked at me since we were sixteen years old, wished so badly I would look at you the same way.”

His jaw clenched, the anger giving way to something else. “Don’t start.”

“You’ve wanted me all this time, haven’t you?” It was a genuine question; one you’d always been too scared to voice. Chuuya was the only person you considered to be a friend and knowing that he felt that way about you would ruin your friendship completely.

Though you had one sip too much of alcohol running through your veins, and you’d spent two days wondering how you could stop feeling a single thing for Dazai. Rationality had left you entirely.

Chuuya was silent, still watching you with hesitance.

“You’re the only person in the Mafia who really cares about me, aren’t you?” you said, softer, wondering if you could lure him in. Spring him into a trap you’d both be certain to regret in the morning. “You’re the one who talks to me about everything, who watches out for my well-being. Who’s never looked at me like I was anything but the prettiest girl in the world.”

And though Chuuya still didn’t trust your actions, his eyes had softened just a hair, his body releasing the tension. “You are.”

You smiled, but his compliment made you feel nothing but guilt. “Then why won’t you let me kiss you, Chuuya?”

“Because.” He scraped a hand over his face, breathing heavily like it was taking every ounce of his willpower to resist you “Dazai will kill me, you understand? He’ll kill you.”

“Wouldn’t you at least like to know?” You invaded his personal space. Each word you spoke cracked him a little bit more. “I know you’ve imagined me spread out before you, entirely exposed to you. How I’d look with my hips arching off the bed, crying out your name—”

“Stop it.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You felt like you were losing your mind. Something had cracked in you, and you couldn’t come back from it. Things would never go back to the way they were after those careless words had been tossed into the world. “You’ve always wanted me, so why, when I’m giving myself to you completely, won’t you accept?”

Chuuya swallowed. His voice had grown thick with desire. He raked his eyes over you cautiously. “You’re asking a lot from me, baby.” He held your cheek, grazing the bone in the gentle way that Dazai had forgotten. “Believe me, I want to. But you’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I haven’t,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. The touch of another person felt so nice against your icy skin. “I’m okay. I’m not drunk.” You weren’t—the alcohol had just made you brave enough to ask. “Please, Chuuya.”

He swallowed thickly. “He’ll kill me.”

“And he’ll kill me. Just as you said.” You met his eyes completely, wondering why you couldn’t care for this man in the same way, why his lips weren’t as alluring as Dazai’s, why his voice didn’t set a blaze deep in your stomach. “Do you really care whether Dazai thinks of me as his?”

His cheeks were flushed, eyebrows pinched, and you spotted the moment he began to draw back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t.”

Then, you panicked, eyes becoming glassy as he released you, turning to retreat back to his bedroom, and you scrambled for another way, a way to bring him back to you.

“Chuuya, please,” you said, desperation in every syllable, and when he turned around, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. “I just want to know what it’s like with a person who loves me. Can’t you give me that?”

That was it. That was all you had to say. When Chuuya bowed his head, you knew he’d given in.

“Why do you think I can give you what he can’t?” Chuuya’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “I’m not that kind of man. I’m not the kind of man you’re looking for.”

“No,” you said. “You’re not that kind of man. You’re Chuuya. The only person that’s always been there for me.”

He hesitated, momentarily, before sweeping you into his arms, his touch the softest you’d ever felt. “Are you certain that you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if Dazai kills me.” Chuuya spoke into your mouth, carving the words into your aching heart. “You were always going to be the death of me, anyway.”

His lips were upon you again, kissing you with the hunger of a starved man, and you gave him back as much as you could, which was the despair of a lonely woman. His touch was one of loving hands as guided you back into the bedroom tenderly.

When your back hit the bed, he asked if you were okay, asked if everything was comfortable. The concern in his eyes had rarely been seen in Dazai’s own—you couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken care of you first.

“I’m fine, Chuuya,” you promised again and again, and you smiled, caressing the soft skin of his jaw.

His lips pulled back in return, and then your shirt was thrown over your head, carelessly tossed towards the corner of the room. Though, no matter how many articles of clothing you lost, the necklace that Dazai had given you still rested against your collarbone.

You cupped your palm around it, trying to avert Chuuya’s gaze as he stared down at the precious metal, something conflicting in his cool irises.

“It’s okay,” you said, doing your best to distract him. You wouldn’t take the necklace off. It didn’t matter how much Dazai had hurt you; you needed the reminder of the absolute infidelity you were committing. “Keep going.”

Feeling more anxious than you had before, you kissed Chuuya, trying to dispel the bile that gathered in the back of your throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chuuya said, kissing every inch of your face, his hands hovering over your chest. “I could look at you forever, and it wouldn’t be long enough.”

Chuuya’s sentiments warmed you, but words weren’t enough. You pulled his vest off, then the buttoned-shirt and every other intricate article of clothing he wore.

It felt wrong. His height was wrong. His skin felt too warm under your palm.

“When did you fall in love with me?” you asked, breathing heavily. Desire pooled in your abdomen against your will, your own heart betraying you. Still, it was nothing more than the most basic reaction of human nature, raw and primal, unaffected by the organ that was jailed within your ribcage.

Chuuya was surprised by the question, and he paused, his face just inches above your stomach. “I think I realized when I was seventeen.” He huffed out a laugh, inhaling your perfume. “It was the first time I saw Dazai kiss you. I thought I was going to be sick.” He continued kissing down your body, sliding your pants past your hips. “I’d always wanted you. I guess I just didn’t realize until then.”

You exhaled, feeling tears spring to the corners of your eyes, ones you suppressed.

Dazai had given you flowers that day. You remembered how they smelled, the rainy spring breeze. The way the sun reflected in his brown irises, melting them into candied honey that brightened his entire complexion.

“Then take me, Chuuya. If you’ve wanted me for so long, then fuck me like you mean it.”

His dark eyes flashed, but his gentle caresses never turned rough, never sped through a single moment you had together. You smiled, your expression peaceful and open when he finally slid your panties off, your cunt throbbing as his finger brushed against your swollen clit.

Chuuya took his time with you, singing praises that you hadn’t heard in a long time, and you came once around his slender fingers, the ones that were much less skilled at knowing every place you enjoyed being touched.

When he finally sunk inside you, you still felt empty, unfulfilled. You tried to lose yourself in his mouth, in the taste of wine and Chuuya, and dug your fingers into his back.

“Feel so good around me, baby.” Chuuya whispered into your skin, imprinting the words into your neck. He was careful not to leave any marks, though he wanted to, wanted to claim you as his own. “Taking me so well.”

You tugged on his hair as he kissed down your collarbone, between your breasts, his breath hot and heavy. Though you cried out, you kept your voice quiet, still fearful that someone might hear, might know exactly what kind of betrayal you’d committed.

Chuuya thrust into you slowly, so much gentler than Dazai, hitting the spot deep inside of you that had you arching off the bed. “Fuck,” he said, choking on his own breath. “You have no idea how you make me feel.” He was full of desperation, his hands digging into your hips.

“Chuuya,” you said, holding his head between your palms.

He gave you the brightest smile in return, sad and meaningful. “I know. I can feel you squeezing me tighter. Let go for me, doll.”

His hair was just as soft, but it wasn’t dark enough, wasn’t short enough. His kiss didn’t feel the same, and you felt tears blurring your vision as you realized you’d never wanted him, you only wanted Dazai, and this was all wrong.

Still, you came around him, as he was buried deep inside you, but his name never left your lips, not even as a breathy whisper, because the one that was sitting there was Osamu.

And when he pulled out of you, you stroked him with practiced laziness, moving your hands in the way you knew Dazai liked, even though Chuuya felt so much different in your palm.

Chuuya kissed you as warmth flooded into your hand, and then he was breathing heavily, collapsing onto the bed next to you. He kissed you over and over, holding you tight, and you smiled, satisfied, because at the least, you knew this was what love felt like.

You’d never get it from the man you wanted, so you’d take it from Chuuya, even if it made you feel rotten inside.

The room smelled like sex and betrayal, and Chuuya took care of you, carried you out of the bed for a bath, and gently rinsed away the sweat and grime.

You were silent for most of the time, only reassuring him when he asked if you were alright.

For the first time, maybe you were. You imagined a future where you could learn to love Chuuya, a future where you were finally able to rid yourself of Dazai and start over again.

But it was nothing more than a delusion, a dream that would never happen. Dazai was a part of your soul. You knew that and Chuuya knew that, even as he closed his eyes next to you, the woman that would never give her love to anyone else. Your heart beat and bled for Dazai Osamu, every inch of your being meant for him. It would kill you to let him go, and if he died, you’d die right alongside him.

You turned away from Chuuya, burying your face in your hands, completely unaware that he’d left the bed to sleep in the other room.

You didn’t talk to Chuuya the next morning, not when you took a private car back to Yokohama, not when you stepped foot back onto the Mafia headquarters. Things between you had soured, just as you’d suspected, and you didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t think there was any way to go back from what had happened.

Higuchi was waiting for the two of you when you walked in the door, her blazer perfectly pressed, and her shirt tucked. She greeted you with a half-smile—gesturing towards the stairs. “The boss wants to see all of us for a meeting. He said you two would be arriving at this time.”

You nodded, and Chuuya scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand his superhuman ability to know what’s happening all of the time.”

Swallowing, you followed Higuchi, trying not to hear the foreboding nature of Chuuya’s statement.

Most high-ranking Mafia members were in attendance, with Dazai at the head of the table, the dark wooden chair beside him eerily empty and welcoming. You took a seat, and Dazai’s eyes ran over you, smoothly and hastily, before a small smile appeared on his features. “No injuries?” he said, and though his tone was professional, you could hear the slightest bit of concern.

“None,” you said, and something in your voice cracked, ever so slightly.

You were such a fool. You’d never be able to hide something like this from Dazai.

He eyed you suspiciously, before sliding his glance over to Chuuya, who was as cool as usual. His face was shadowed by his hat, hiding any evidence of a sleepless night.

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, tucking his palm into his hand. “Debrief.”

Your partner gave Dazai every last detail, summarizing as best he could, and sliding in the occasional sarcastic remark as he leaned back casually in the chair. Dazai listened with boredom in his expression, drumming his fingers against the table until Chuuya’s monologue was complete.

He turned to Akutagawa, who bowed his head an immediately launched into his own assignment.

You blinked—you hadn’t realized that Akutagawa’s squad had been sent elsewhere. It made no sense for Dazai to send you with Chuuya when your own division had a separate mission.

The meeting wrapped up quickly, and the members scattered, going their own separate ways for the afternoon. Chuuya refused to meet your eye as he got up from the table, one of the last to leave the room.

As you stood, Dazai closed a hand around your wrist, his thumb brushing your pulse.

“Was the hotel alright?” he asked, his head titled curiously. “You look tired.”

You took a sharp breath.

Fuck.

“It was fine, Osamu,” you said, and when his name slipped easily from your tongue, something in him changed. He loosened the hand on your wrist before releasing it entirely, the bandaged palm falling into his lap. “Thank you.”

Dazai nodded, turning away from you, and you’d forgotten that there were still other people in the room. Akutagawa, who lingered with morbid curiosity, and his sister, who had always sort of pitied you for your tumultuous relationship, bore witness to the brief interaction.

Behind them, Chuuya stood tense, his back straight as he crossed the threshold, sparing you only a glimpse before exiting into the darkened hallway.  

“Alright,” Dazai said in a hushed voice, his face schooled back into the usual, guarded expression. “I’ll see you later.”

It wasn’t much of a response, and he didn’t elaborate, keeping his steely eyes ahead as some low-ranking members trudged in for a meeting with their boss. He’d be busy all afternoon, it seemed.

You swallowed, and left, knowing that it was fruitless to try and keep a secret from him.

Chuuya waited for you outside, his arms crossed as he regarded you with a contempt that hadn’t been there before, such a contrast to the loving man you had seen last night. “This changes everything, you know?”

“I know,” you said, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Chuuya.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he scoffed. “I was the fool. I made my choice.” Chuuya sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I meant what I said, though. Yesterday. It was all true, and if you need anything, I’ll be here.”

You felt a chasm open in your chest, and you wished the floor would’ve swallowed you whole. You were losing everyone, it seemed, and maybe, Dazai really did have a point with his talk about suicide.

When you stepped into the bedroom, Dazai was sitting on the edge of the bed, the setting sun casting a shadow of his own reflection. He was twirling a pistol around his pointed finger, staring at the wall with blank eyes.

You shut the door quietly, your hands shaking against the golden knob.

Though you hadn’t made a sound when you walked through the door, Dazai’s gaze was on you immediately, sensing your entrance.

You’d never been able to slip past him.

“You’re back early.” Those were the first words that came to your mind, your voice breaking the uncomfortable silence. He was regarding you with disdain, his jaw set coolly. His hair turned bronze in the evening rays, loose strands scraping against the bandages.

“I am.” His jaw clenched, examining you with a singular, dark eye. You felt exposed under his gaze, laid bare for him to see no matter how much you shrouded yourself with. “You sound like you’re unhappy to see me.”

Dazai ran his finger along the trigger like he’d never held such a weapon before, the gun becoming an object of morbid fascination. 

You exhaled. There was so much space between you, a distance you weren’t sure you’d ever cross again. Though you thought you knew Dazai better than anyone, in that moment, he was unreadable—a chapter of pages that had been torn out.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, standing tall. Despite your nerves, you were fixated on Dazai, always drawn to him like a moth to a flame, desperate to uncover the very thing that could kill you. “I miss you every time we’re apart. You’re no stranger to my feelings.”

You could offer him that, at the very least. An undeniable truth before everything between you shattered.

Dazai stood, his dark coat billowing out behind him as he finally came to face you, suddenly seeming much taller than you remembered. And with one look, you knew that he knew. He’d always been too smart for his own good.

“I’m not certain of that any longer,” he laughed, though it was a bitter sound that clawed its way up his throat. “Why don’t you tell me the truth, instead.” Dazai stood before you with a smile that was so sweet it was almost sinister. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you did?”

You weren’t sure which one of you would blink first, caught in some deadly staring contest. Most people would’ve surrendered to him by now.

 “Why?” you jutted your chin out, refusing to give in to him in any way. If you were going to die, and you were, you would make sure Dazai knew everything you’d never told him. “You already know.”

“No.” He poked the gun into your cheek, right beneath the sharp bone. He’d clicked the safety off moments before. “I want to hear you say it. You betrayed me.”

When you refused to say a word, Dazai hissed and cocked the gun. He pressed it to your temple, the metal cold against your delicate skin.

“Say it.”

You sniffed. He wasn’t giving in, and instead, stood there silently, unmoving until you finally caved. There was something about the color of his eyes. No matter how much they hardened, you still remembered the young man he used to be. The one who wasn’t quite so cold, who picked you flowers, even with blood dripping down his arm.

“Fine.” You narrowed your eyes. “I fucked Chuuya.”

Dazai blinked. Then, he started laughing. Crazily, maniacally. You saw too much of your old boss in him that it made you sick.

“Shameless.” Dazai took a step back and dropped the gun to his side.

“What?” you sneered, pressing yourself up against him, refusing to be intimidated by the man that had been yours for years. “Should I be ashamed?”

Dazai’s eyes flashed, his jaw clenching. “Yes,” he said, fists curling at his sides. “After everything I’ve done for you.” Dazai grew quieter, flicking a strand of hair out of your face. “Do you feel no remorse?”

“You can’t be serious. What have you done for me, Dazai?” You grew still, grabbing his wrist before he could touch you again. “You’re not upset I was with another man; you’re just upset that it was Chuuya.”

You poked him in the chest, a hot stream of air exhaling through your nose.

“I gave you everything, didn’t I?” The two of you spoke at each other, avoiding the answers, never acknowledging what the other had to say. Around and around you went, an endless circle until one of you finally conceded. “I’ve given you the world, and you still wanted more.” Dazai finally broke free of your loose grasp, stroking your cheek. “What can Chuuya give you that I can’t? I ask for nothing but honesty.”

There was no jealousy in the tone, no sorrow; it was the most genuine question he’d asked you in months. The inquiry of a man who’d lost sight of himself in the past few years, and who’d somehow, over time, forgotten what it meant to care for another.

“You gave me nothing,” you said, but somewhere along the way, your cheeks had grown wet. You’d been struck by the sudden affection in his voice, the softness harsher than a slap to the face.

He was a horrible man, the worst kind of man. Yet, you couldn’t imagine a life without him, a world where you existed alone.

The truth rested at the edge of your tongue. It wouldn’t solve much, your affection for him never had solved much, but at least he would understand.

“This was never about wanting more. I never wanted Chuuya. You’re a fool if you think that.”

Dazai was silent. You pressed on.

“I wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I’ve devoted my entire life to you. I do everything you ask.” You were breathing heavily, big gulping breaths that contained minimal oxygen. “I asked for nothing in return. Nothing but for you to care about me, and you never did.”

“Is that the case?” Dazai laughed humorlessly.

You ignored him, your confession leaving on one heavy breath, a string of words incomprehensible to your ears. “But Chuuya loves me. He always has, and he made certain I knew that.” You paused, averting your eyes. The entire city could be seen from the window over his shoulder. “He told me all of that, and you know what I thought the whole time?”

Dazai scowled.

“I wished that he was you instead. I wanted it to be you so badly, I wanted it to be you saying those things to me, kissing me like I was the most important thing in the world.” You took his wrist again, pressing the gun back to your temple. The cool metal was almost soothing against your skin. “Please, Dazai. Give me this one last thing. I’m begging you to kill me. I can’t take this any longer.”

His finger rested on the trigger.

“I want it to be you. I’ve never wanted to die at anyone’s hands but your own.” His hand felt just as it always had in your palm, his fingers much longer, but his skin so soft. It was almost comforting, how familiar he was, and you longed to be a part of him, to bury yourself deep within him and wear his skin as your own.

Dazai’s expression twitched, and you smiled at him, the taste of salty tears spilling into your mouth.

As you closed your eyes, you prepared for the noise, hoping your blood splattered on Dazai’s coat and stained it, the proof of your existence inerasable. You hoped that Dazai would grow to regret it, would realize that your love for him was close to unconditional.

But the violence never came. The cool metal fell away from your skin, and when you opened your eyes again, Dazai’s shoulders had slumped, the very image of defeat.

“Do you honestly think I can bring myself to kill you?”

“What’s the matter?” you asked, blinking your eyes open. You reached for the gun again, but he drew back, as if stung. “Afraid to lose your best assassin?”

“No.” Dazai’s eyes were hard, his frown set deep into his face. “I’m afraid to lose the woman I love. The most important person in the world to me.”

You stared. Blinked. Then, the worst kind of emotion washed over you.

You swallowed over and over, trying to get the bile out of your throat. You’d wanted to be done, wanted to escape. And yet—

“Don’t say that.” you shook your head, backing away as Dazai inched closer, too close and you felt yourself getting sucked back in, remembering that you’d loved him for years, and you’d never love anyone else. “Fuck you, Dazai. Stop toying with me, and just kill me."

“I love you. I thought you knew that my darling angel.”

You were crying harder, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you. You don’t care about me.”

“No?” Dazai had grabbed your wrist again, but it was so soft. “I thought you were smarter than that. Did you think you were partnered with Akutagawa at random, and not for the sole reason that I knew he’d do everything in his power to protect you? Did you think I moved your seat next to me at meetings because you were nothing more than my stupid whore? Bought you everything you ever wanted because I couldn’t stand you?”

“Yes,” you said, sniffing, feeling yourself melt where he touched you, itching to reach up and pull the bandages off his face, see the beautiful features beneath them that he hid from the world. “You don’t care about me."

“I do care,” he said, fingers grazing your chin. “I’ve killed for you. I took over the Port Mafia so I could give you everything you wanted. Why wasn’t that enough?”

“Because I never wanted that. I never wanted any of this. I wanted you, Dazai Osamu. That was all.”

Dazai frowned, and then he bowed his head, kissed your neck, then around your earlobe, and it was the softest you’d ever felt in your entire life, a gentleness you hadn’t known he was capable of. When his hands snaked around your stomach, pulling you back against him, you were lost in his adoration.

“You never said anything,” he said, kissing your shoulder, breaking the tension in the muscles. You were his, in every lifetime, you’d be his. “I thought you were… happy?”

“How could you think that? I’m not happy, Dazai. I’ve never been less happy.”

“Not even when I tell you that I love you?” he kissed your knuckles.

“Do you love me enough to be a better man? Do you love me enough to let me sleep in your bed and see your whole heart instead of the fragmented pieces that you sliced up just to hide?”

“Yes.” The word was resounding, resolute. “I love you enough to forgive you.”

You held him at a distance, lips falling apart easily. “But I don’t want to forgive you.”

“You will.” Dazai smiled, that irritatingly knowing smile of his that you’d fallen for in the first place. “You will because I mean it this time.”

“You never apologized,” you looked away, trying to find the strength to move. You were enraptured, in every fiber of his being. “You never will. You never do.”

“I never knew anything was wrong,” he frowned, and it wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, and you had him so close that you just wanted to forget anything had ever changed. “How was I to fix it if you never told me?”

His words were full of poison, but his voice was so soft you couldn’t help but fall back into him. Perhaps, you should’ve said something. Maybe your actions had never been enough.

“How long have I been at your side, spent hours listening to your every word, even when they didn’t make sense to me? You should’ve known, Dazai. I shouldn’t have to tell you something like that.” Your words were losing their bite, and his lips quirked up, knowing that you were slowly coming back to him, clearing you of the sins you had committed.

He was hesitant, thoughtful, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. And perhaps, that was the final straw in your resistance, his gentle kiss enough to set your soul on fire.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Dazai said, his lips ghosting over yours, handing over the apology like a gift. “Won’t you give me a chance to fix it now?” It felt like a bad idea. Dazai wasn’t deserving of any more chances; you’d already given him years of second chances, had always given him the benefit of the doubt.

“You expect me to believe you’ll let us off scot-free?” you said, your face deadly close to Dazai’s. “What about Chuuya? Will you kill him in my place.”

“You’ve got me in your hand, love. If you want me to punish Chuuya, just say the word. I’ll kill him if that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t. That was the farthest thing from what you wanted, but you worried that if you sounded too enthusiastic, he might just follow through with it.

Instead, you pulled him to you, grabbing the dark tie that he wore around his neck. He grinned into your lips, his saccharine smile seeming much too deadly to be all that sweet. “Do you honestly think I believe a word that you’re saying?”

“You want to,” Dazai said, curling his hand around your jaw, his fingers brushing your ear. “That’s what matters the most.” He kissed your lips, and you could taste the difference, all the love he poured into it this time. It wasn’t like kissing a statue. “It’s all true, anyway.”

You broke away, breathing. “I won’t do this anymore, Dazai.” You finally had his hand in your own, placing the gun back to your temple. “You’re not the man you once were, and you’ll never be him again.” The smile that graced your lips was sad, though it was knowing. Things were always going to end this way.

Dazai’s face wrinkled as he tried to decipher all the words you’d never spoken. “I’m not the same man, that’s true, but my affection for you has never died.” He cupped his other hand around your cheek, hesitantly keeping the gun to your temple, squinting with his head bent.

“You’re the leader of the Port Mafia, and such a ruthless man wouldn’t let a betrayal go unscathed.”

There was a wave of silence while the two of you stared at one another, sifting through the situation with hardness in your jaws, the tension palpable within the air. Dazai straightened, clarity in his irises as a smooth smile burned onto his lips.

“Is that what you want?” he said innocently. “You want to be punished for your insurrections?”

Your mouth grew dry, but you held your ground firmly, swallowing back all the uncertainty. Perhaps you didn’t want to die. Perhaps you did. You just hated the gaping hole inside of you that never seemed to leave. “I want you to kill me.”

“Kill you?” Dazai laughed, then the hilt of the gun was against your temple once more. He held your chin steady between his forefinger and thumb, regarding you with thinly veiled disgust. “You’ve never wanted that before. Not when I asked you to die alongside me, to follow me far into the afterlife.” He sighed, releasing your chin before cocking the gun. “This isn’t about death at all.”

“What—”

“You want me to claim you, is that it?” He clicked his tongue before leaning forward, sneering. “Perhaps it’s that other way around. You want everyone in the Mafia to know I belong to you, hm?’

You blinked, though you began to feel weak in the knees, the eyes that you knew so well suddenly intimidating. “I never said—” but even then, your voice wavered, unsteady and uncertain of the immediate heat that had swirled under your skin.

Dazai’s mouth curled, a gruesome smile there. “I know you better than anyone. I’ve always known exactly what you want. Even though I shouldn’t forgive you, I can’t help myself.”

You swallowed, and Dazai had taken a step forward, pushing you with him, the gun still swaying at your temple, even when the backs of your thighs hit the bed. You fell onto the mattress, and he was on top of you, his finger caressing the trigger as he collapsed.

Dazai had never scared you, not even when he was a child you’d barely known, the teenager shaped in Mori’s image. Though, now, the unreadable expression on his face was alarming you, and you wondered if all this time, you should’ve been fearful.

Still, even with your underlying hesitance, you felt a wave of desire crash over you at the sheer need in his eyes. It wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with, but there was something else there. Maybe it was the love you’d just never noticed.

“Osamu,” you said in a quiet voice, not afraid, but not confident either. Your finger brushed the point on his wrist—it was the same heartbeat you’d always recognized.

“What?” he said, taunting you menacingly as he towered above you. “You were so bold just a second ago? What happened, darling?”

Unable to do anything but blink back at him, Dazai brought his thumb to your lips, brushing it across the plump skin before dipping it into your mouth.

Unprepared, you nearly choked, eyes blown wide as you stared back at him. Though, there was a command within his eyes, and you obliged, sucking as you watched the saliva drip down to his palm. Dazai pulled it away from your mouth with an obscene pop, giving you a sweet smile from his position above you.

Despite your humiliation, you shifted your hips on the bed, bringing your thighs together to provide you with a fraction of relief. Dazai’s eyes flashed at the movement, his smirk widening with an amusement.

“You’re nothing more than a dumb slut, aren’t you?” Dazai’s hand ghosted of your stomach, settling on the inside of your thigh momentarily. You ached with need, swallowing your pride and any demands that you could make of him. “Had Chuuya all to yourself this weekend, and still expect me to fuck you senseless.”

Your brow furrowed, and you opened your mouth before shutting it, lips still covered in your own spit. “Osamu,” you began, attempting to diffuse the situation, to explain that what had transpired between you and Chuuya meant nothing, but he never gave you the opportunity. “It wasn’t—”

Dazai’s gaze hardened, the adoration disappearing the moment you dared to speak. His fingers deftly wrapped around your throat, thrusting you into the mattress with enough force to quiet you entirely. “Shut up. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll ask. Understand?”

You could do nothing but nod, hating yourself for the ache that had grown more and more intense in your core, desperate for some sort of contact. Dazai, distracted with his own task of tearing your top off, had failed to notice the breathing that had grown heavier, the flush of heat that spread on every inch of your body.

His slender fingers finally removed the confining pants, a task he did skillfully with one hand still wrapped around your throat. Then, his fingers were against your aching cunt, and you twitched, letting out a heavy sound from the singular movement. You could feel yourself pulsing against nothing, desperate for his fingers between your legs.

“Pathetic,” he said, his fingers lazily dipping through your folds over your underwear. “I’ve barely touched you. How can you be this fucking wet?”

“Please,” you said quietly, your own hand aching to take over, if only to provide yourself that relief that he refused to give you. Every time you shifted into his hand, he brought it away, taunting you with the release you so craved.

“Please?” Dazai was mocking, cruel, every bit of the person people expected him to be. The one he never had been with you, not until recently. “You’re nothing more than a greedy little whore. Must have been why you fucked Chuuya without a second thought, huh?”

You were silent, staring him down with a clenched jaw. Your brain was twisting, betraying you, turning into empty cells within your skull, and you weren’t sure how to handle the accumulation of emotions that you felt for the man before you, the one who’s love had always been purposeful and merciless.

“Well?” he said, tightening a hand to close off the air to your lungs, trapping you with his strength. “Answer me.”

“No,” you gasped, and when your words sounded choked, when you clawed at his wrist, he loosened his grip just a hair, the only indication that the man you loved was in there at all. Still, your hips acted of their own accord, shifting further into his hand. “I’m sorry, Osamu, I am.” You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he finally slipped his fingers under your panties, rubbing your aching clit. “I wanted you; I needed you and you were never there, but Chuuya was, and—”

You were a stammering mess of desperation and regret, feeling unglued under Dazai’s hands, like the words you’d been meaning to say could finally come out. He was the only one who’d ever listened to you completely, who you’d felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. Yet, it had been so long since you’d let yourself be open with him, and now that the opportunity arose, you were too weak to deny it.

“I was always here,” Dazai said harshly, and you were almost certain that his anger was genuine, the tone breaking in his voice a result of true sadness. “You never came to me, and I thought that’s how you wanted it to be.” His fingers sunk into you, and you threw your head back into the pillow, moaning sinfully with the lewd sound of him sinking in and out of you, the wetness collecting with every movement.

“You never showed me you cared,” you cried out, certain that there were tears streaming down your cheeks, and you should’ve been humiliated. It was humiliating—the way you were clothed in nothing, crying as Dazai laughed at you, taking full control over your body. How he could’ve done anything to you in that moment, and you would’ve let him, because that was just how much you wanted him.

“And Chuuya was the solution?” He grabbed your cheeks with the hand that had once been around your throat, pinching them to make you look at him. “You going to pass yourself around the rest of the Mafia, sweetheart? Who’ll get a taste of you next? I’m not so certain even Akutagawa would pass up the opportunity.”

His words were senseless, meant to hurt you, and you still couldn’t stand the anguish that was in his eyes.

“No,” you said, and you leaned up, wanting so badly for his lips to be on yours, to feel some semblance of the connection that you’d always had with him. “I wouldn’t, Dazai, I’m yours.” You choked on the sounds of your own moans, your thighs shaking with every change in pressure. “I’m yours. Please, I need you.”

You were certain there were marks on your neck from his fingertips, and Dazai ghosted his mouth along the delicate skin there, biting at the soreness from before. You jerked, digging your nails into his back as you drew closer and closer to your climax.

“Don’t make demands.” Dazai leaned back, and you missed the closeness, the sharp scent of him lingering in your space. “Chuuya hasn’t been a part of this conversation yet. Should we get him up here? I hadn’t considered what to do with him, but this might suffice.”

Dazed and drunk on the feeling of his hands all over you, it took you a moment to process what he was saying. His hand was already swiping through his phone, picking the number of the man that you least wanted to see.

“No, Osamu, don’t—” you cried out, and yet, you made no move to stop him. Instead, you remained pliant on the bed as he sunk another finger into you, his thumb moving in agonizing circles against your clit.  He tucked the cellphone under his chin, smiling at you maliciously, controlling you with every blink of his lashes.

You had always had trouble resisting him. Now was no different.

Chuuya answered as you released another moan, and Dazai was grinning wickedly, as if some larger scheme had finally come together, the culmination of everything he was plotting. “Boss?”

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, and you flinched, locking gazes with his deep brown irises, the color so alluring and beautiful, a shade that had darkened with each misfortune you’d endured together. You hated him, you did, but there was a fine line between the two, and your love for him would die with you, would transcend whatever simple rules the afterlife placed on Earth. “How quickly can you make it up here?”

You could hear the hesitation on the other side; Chuuya didn’t say anything for a moment.

“A couple minutes, I think. I haven’t left the building.”

“I’ll give you a couple minutes then.” Dazai’s words were clipped as he hung up the phone, throwing it to the arm chair a few feet away from the bed.

His attention was back on you completely as you let out a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure before Chuuya came into the room. Though it was so hard when the pools in his irises were pulling you deeper, locking you into a heaven that you’d never been able to reach.

Dazai pulled away briefly, his soaking fingers leaving your body to alleviate his cock from the confines of his dark pants, hovering before you.

You swallowed, not able to remember the last time your desire for him ached this badly. Your eyes trained on the very part of him that you wanted inside of you, the tip flushed so beautifully. There was nothing on your mind but him, how you wanted every part of him, even if it meant enduring misery after misery, and Chuuya was right—if you were to love Dazai, you needed to love every part of him, even when it seemed impossible.

A whine escaped you and you were reaching out to him, knowing he’d never let you live down your humiliation, but the future was not a part of your logical thinking, not now. “Want you inside me.”

“Surely you can hold off for a few minutes,” Dazai said, though the way his toned chest pressed to your own, and how he kissed your face with a tenderness you’d forgotten made it nearly impossible for you to refrain. “So desperate for my cock.”

You wanted to touch yourself—you would’ve, had you not been so nervous of the fact that Chuuya could come in at any minute.

“Tell him to leave,” you said, dragging your fingers through his hair, finally kissing him like you’d been wanting to, and the sound was sinful, heavy with lust as you forced a taste into his mouth, wishing every part of him was a part of you too. “I don’t want him or anyone else, just you, I promise—” 

Dazai cut you off and ignored your pleas; he smiled against your lips, though it was anything but kind. “I think he’ll enjoy seeing you like this, won’t he? You’ve got such a filthy mouth on you when you’re fucked properly.” He kissed his way down your chest, resting his face just above your breasts. “I bet Chuuya didn’t see this side of you, did he?” Dazai licked a circle around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. “I’ve done nothing but call you names and you’re dripping all over the sheets.”

You shook your head, feeling pained by how badly you wanted release.

“Of course not.” Dazai sat back up like he could sense Chuuya approaching from the other side of the door, his presence bold and detectible. “He’s forgotten what’s mine, after all.” He smiled at you once more, kissing you with a kind of love that only he could portray, the kind that was nowhere close to innocent. “Don’t cum until I tell you to. Be good for me, okay?”

Dazai had always known what to say to you, even when your relationship was falling apart, even when you hated him more than you loved him. His words could be so tender, the praise melted in with the unkind quips of his tongue. It was the gentlest tone he’d used since your clothes had come off, and you couldn’t help but melt under him, nodding like you’d give him anything he asked of you.

Of course you would.

Dazai traced your features delicately, grinning maniacally, ears attuned to the quiet that broke from the footsteps approaching. His cock was lined up against your dripping hole, and it took every ounce of restraint not to plant yourself on it, trying so hard to please him, the sinful man who held too much power over you.

“You’re so pretty like this, aren’t you? My beautiful little whore, always willing to take whatever I give you.”

“’Samu,” you babbled, blinking away the tears as you latched onto him, wishing you could spare yourself the humiliation, but too drunk on him to care. He shifted you forward, taking your thighs in his hands and placing them around his waist. “I can’t take it all at once—”

“You’ve done it before. Do it again.” He growled, squeezing your throat once more in one smooth motion, thrusting into you. And though you had doubted how prepared you were, he slid into you easily, already so loose and pliant from his fingers. “See? Never forgot the shape of me, sweetheart. Even after you’ve been with another man.”

You let out a choked moan as Chuuya walked into the room, lost in the ache and the burn and the pleasure that came with loving and fucking Dazai.

There was one singular pass of silence before Chuuya spoke, letting the door shut with a quiet click on the hinge. “Boss—” Chuuya was hesitant, though his eyes were immediately drawn to you, raking over your blissed-out form. “You said to—” His hand was still on the knob, though he was distracted, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, ashamed but so full of want that it ached.

“Come in, Chuuya,” Dazai said sharply, his words solid and commanding, and you couldn’t help it when you clenched around him, drawing him further into you with nails scraping down his back. “We should discuss something.”

“Well, can we talk about it when you’re not in the middle of fucking your girl?” Chuuya asked, swallowing down the desire he hid so poorly. His cheeks had flushed, words just on the edge of stumbling and slurring together. “Another time, maybe.”

“This is the perfect time, actually,” Dazai stopped moving, already breathing heavily above you as you stared, whined, needing so badly for him to stop teasing you. “Besides,” his eyes drifted knowingly to Chuuya’s obvious erection as he laughed darkly. “I don’t think you mind so much.”

Dazai pulled back painfully slowly before sinking into you with a quicker thrust, your back arching off the mattress to catch even more of him inside of you. A barely noticeable sweat had broken against his hairline, and you stared at him, mouth slightly agape in awe at the boss of the Port Mafia, the one you somehow had wrapped around your little finger.

Your breathing had grown unsteady as his cock got deeper and deeper inside of you, hitting where you’d never been quite able to get with your fingers, the thickness of him catching on every sensitive part inside of you. His hand was back between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit, and you weren’t sure you could last much longer, not as he carried on a conversation with Chuuya, who watched you with darkened eyes, barely holding himself back.

“Please, Osamu,” you were practically begging now, your cheeks glistening with wetness as you clawed at the muscles between his shoulder blades, surely leaving bruises all down his spine. “Please, please, let me cum.”

Dazai made a tsk noise in the back of his throat. “Not yet. I don’t think you deserve it quite yet, does she, Chuuya?”

Chuuya sniffed, shifting uncomfortably as his pants grew tighter. “Gonna punish her all day, boss? Such a pretty thing should get what she wants, shouldn’t she?”

Dazai dropped his chest closer to you, going deeper into you, and you cried out his name, though your eyes were still locked with Chuuya, as if he were going to be your savior. You remembered how gently he’d touched you, how careful he was, and you wondered why you’d ever wanted that at all.

“Chuuya thinks he can fuck you better than me, darling, but you know that’s not true, don’t you? He’d spoil you too much, but this is what you want, right? You want to be called a stupid fucking cockslut.” Dazai grinned against your lips, whispering in a breath that only you could hear. “Just so that at the end of it all, you’ll be my good girl.”

You whimpered, soaking him as you clenched harder. Your brain had gone numb from the feeling of him. Dazai was smiling viciously, but you could see the underlying tenderness.

“She looks so pretty right now, doesn’t she Chuuya? Not a single thought in that beautiful little head of hers.” He smiled at him knowingly, dark hair flopping into his eyes as the rest of the loose tendrils stuck to his forehead. “You’re lucky. You’ve gotten two chances to see her now. Twice as many as most men who fantasize about fucking a woman that sleeps in another man’s bed.”

Chuuya’s voice was raw, his words cracked. “You’re sick, Dazai,” he said, clenching his hands into fists. “Putting on a show like this just to punish me.”

“You and I both know you’re enjoying this.” Dazai traced your cheeks sweetly, kissing your lips deeply. You let out a strangled breath into his mouth, something on the precipice of a moan. “Can you do one thing for me, pretty girl? One more, then I’ll let you cum, how’s that?”

You nodded, desperately, as Dazai’s fingers finally dipped back down, rubbing agonizingly light circles.

“Tell Chuuya who’s making you feel this way,” Dazai said, pushing your face away from him to stare straight into Chuuya’s dark eyes. “Tell him who you love the most.”

“You,” you gasped out, clenching tighter around him. What an easy request to make—you’d never loved anyone else. “I’m in love with you.”

Dazai sniffed, though he was patient, slowing his thrusts almost to a stop. “Not good enough. I need you to be more specific.”

You cried out, locking your ankles onto his hips, trying to force him back into you. But Dazai didn’t budge, watching you until you provided the answer that he so desired. “I love you, Dazai.”

He frowned, shaking his head once more. “My name. Say it. It sounds so sweet from your lips.”

“Osamu,” you choked out. “I love you, Osamu. I love you. I love you.”

Dazai finally smiled above you, gently tracing your cheeks with his thumb as he slowed down the pace of his hips. “I love you too, darling.” His words were soft, whispered into your lips before he turned away, meeting eyes with Chuuya across the room. “See?”

Chuuya was glowering, stiff as a board, his face pink, and his legs shaky. “I got it, Boss.” He choked out, though his eyes were on you, unable to leave your body, even as he tried so hard to be polite. His aching cock strained against his pants, and he breathed sharply, swallowing over and over. “Do I need to be here any longer?”

Dazai laughed, and you thought he looked so pretty when he did that, his smile flashing wide and alluring, the corners of his eyes crinkling marginally. “Never said you had to stay. I figured you’d want to watch her come undone one last time.”

Chuuya, for as noble as he wanted himself to be, made no move to leave, glued to the spot on the floor beyond your bed. He was just across the room, but you couldn’t focus on anyone but Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, the man who you’d killed and bled and committed horrible acts for.

You said his name again, scrambling to bring his attention back to you, hands on his face with a desperation you didn’t realize you’d possessed.

And Dazai, with the kindness of a man he wasn’t, placed his hands just above your stomach, leaving kisses across your chin as he thrust into you, sweetly, menacingly, one last time. “You did so good, my love. You can cum now. Make a mess all over my cock, beautiful.”

You jerked, squeezing around him as you felt the pressure in you finally release, the colors shifting and changing between your high as Dazai brought you in and out of an orgasm, his words reaching your muddled brain with soothing noises. Your body twitched as your muscles spasmed, sweat gathering in the space under your knees. There was little in your mind, save for the dark-haired man that had quickly become your whole world.

You smiled lazily, lacing your fingers with Dazai as you slowly began to come back to yourself. The world around you was empty. Chuuya had all but disappeared into a block of nothingness as you stared into the world itself. If there was no Dazai, there was no you, and it was as simple as that. He was everything you’d ever wanted—you’d be a fool to ever left him go.

As you regained your breathing, still sensitive all over, Dazai came inside you, spilling hot release into you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care, too busy being satisfied with the feeling of him all over you.  His hands never left you—he was delicate, caring, pressing loving touches into your skin as you recovered from your high.

“I’m yours, Osamu,” you said, closing your eyes as you basked against the bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up against him, bury yourself in the warmth of another body. 

He smiled against your cheeks, lips flushed and bruised. “I know you are,” he said to you only, before pulling away. You shivered, but opened your eyes, and he’d already held the gun out to you, presenting it as an offering. “That’s why you’ll be the one to kill him.”

It took you all of ten seconds to remember who him was, and that the man who had borne witness to your most intimate moments with Dazai had not disappeared and was still gawking at you from the corner of the room.

“What?” you asked stupidly, your jaw falling open.

“You heard me.” Dazai pressed the pistol into your palm, curling your fingers around the handle. It was like ice against your hot body, and though it’d been years since your first time firing such a weapon, you suddenly felt like you were there again, uncertain, and afraid of the dangerous firearm. “Kill him.”

You stared at Chuuya, the honest man who, even despite his rough exterior, had been there for you since you were kids. You remembered how the three of you had been so close, for such a long time, until Dazai had gone and killed Mori and fucked it all up.

It felt wrong. The entire situation was wrong, and it never should’ve come to this.

“It’s Chuuya,” you said with tired eyes, something in your voice pleading and desperate.  

Dazai shrugged, holding you close against him as you struggled to sit up in the bed. Your muscles ached and you were still so sensitive, but reality was coming back to you. This was all a mess, and you wanted so badly to feel shame at everything you had done, but you were trying so hard just to–

“You’d think I’d let him live after what he did?”

“Osamu.” You weren’t sure you could bear it. You’d always sworn to kill whatever adversary Dazai and the Port Mafia faced, but Chuuya would always be an exception. You wanted him in your life as much as you wanted Dazai, someone you could trust without fail, who would listen to you complain even when it hurt him. “I won’t do it. He’s my friend. I thought he was yours too.”

Dark eyes full of disdain met your own, and he pinched your jaw once more, a mixture of devastating anger. “I can’t allow a traitor to live. I’ll kill him if you won’t. Then, I’ll kill you. Then myself.”

You shoved him away, suddenly wishing you weren’t so exposed, on display in the middle of the room. “Then fucking do it already, Dazai. What are you waiting for?” A tear broke free from your eye, and you wiped it furiously, not giving him a chance to mock you.

“Stop.” Chuuya finally spoke, his voice drawing your attention like a commandment, and you fell silent, refocusing on him as he bowed before you, dropping to his knees. Eyes locked onto your own without a single fear, cruel acceptance surrounding dark pupils. “It’s alright. I deserve to die. I’ve broken your trust, boss. I might as well be a traitor to the Mafia.” He swallowed, though he was unwavering. “I don’t want to live with this feeling any longer.”

“Don’t say that.” you spat, hating that such a strong man was giving himself over, exposing every weary weakness that he’d come to carry. “You don’t mean it.”

“I do.” He sighed, straightening his spine as he leaned forward towards your hand, much as you had done before, and you realized that this was such a sick, twisted change of fate. That the affection you’d always doubted was real after all, but Chuuya was still left playing the fool.

Perhaps, you were of the same vein, wanting desperately to die in the heavenly hand of the one you loved most. You could understand him for that. You could grant him one final wish.

“Do you regret any of it?” Dazai asked, as the wheels in your head spun, the decision dawning upon you, handed over from the ancient tragedies, rival even to the gloomy romances of Shakespeare.

Chuuya shifted towards the other man, looking into his cold, distant eyes. “No,” he said honestly, his jaw set. “I don’t regret it because now I know she’ll never love me. She’s all yours Dazai. Always has been. Always will be. Does that satisfy you?”

There wasn’t an ounce of fury in his expression when Dazai smiled back.

“You heard him,” Dazai said, lifting your limp arm by the elbow, pointing it like a skilled tutor. The gun was on Chuuya’s forehead, between his eyebrows, and your finger was on the trigger. Dazai’s whisper was like the Devil on your shoulder, and you were falling fast, your last shred of morality burnt from papery resolve. His hand supported your weakened muscles, guiding you along like you’d never before committed such an act. “You’re an assassin, aren’t you?”

You stiffened, narrowing your eyes before cocking the gun, mustering up the last bit of strength you had left. Chuuya couldn’t have looked more prepared for death, and you basked in Dazai’s prideful smile as he branded it into the crook of your neck.

“You’re certain?” you said to Chuuya, once more, hand no longer shaking despite your guilt.

The man, nothing more than a victim, nodded, and he had the audacity to smile, to look peaceful about his release from this life.

“I’m sorry, Chuuya. You shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my sin.” “It’s mine to carry, just as it is yours,” he scoffed, eyes hard with resolve. “Of all the things that would land me in Hell, I hardly believe this is the worst.”

You nodded, regrettably, and took a steely breath, erasing the heat the stung behind your eyes.

Then, you pulled the trigger. You waited for Chuuya’s brains to stain your floors, for the remnants of his skull to shatter all across the wall behind him. For the life to slowly drain from his stunningly bright eyes, leaving you with nothing but a corpse that would rot away wherever Dazai chose to toss his body.

Though, none of those things happened, and you stared at each other with fierce incredulity, knowing that you’d unwillingly become puppets in Dazai’s dramatic play, a show put on for no one’s entertainment but his own.

You’d been completely senseless, an idiot, really. The gun had felt lighter than usual, and you’d ignored it, even when you should’ve known it housed no bullets.

“Dazai?” you said in a low voice, dangerously, twisting to look at him from over your shoulder. An anger you’d never felt before had bubbled up inside of you, your heart thundering with a fierceness you hadn’t realized was a part of you. “There’s no bullets.”

“Obviously,” he scoffed, taking the gun away like it was but a toy, throwing it onto the armchair in the corner. “I’d never kill the strongest ability-user in the Mafia. You both should know me better by now.”

You scowled, the ugly expression marring your face, and Dazai frowned, leaning forward to appease you. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You played me for a fool. Was all of this an act?” you cried, wondering if maybe Dazai had been lying this entire time. Maybe all those sweet words he said had never been true, and you had fallen for them anyway, like the mindless pawn you were.

“Which part?” Dazai asked, but you could tell that he knew what answer you sought, what lies you wanted to unveil.

“You know which part,” you said, moving away from him, not sure what emotion to grant control. You felt an intense amount of fury, misery, and pity for yourself, who’d never asked Dazai for anything but to be on your side, and he still couldn’t give you that. “Fuck you, Dazai.”

Your lip quivered, but if you’d begun to cry, shame would swallow you up and drown you in the dark abyss of misery. You would have no other choice but to throw yourself out the window, where everyone in the Port Mafia could bear witness to all the ways that Dazai had ruined you.

“Boss—”

Chuuya’s sentence was cut off sharply.

You’d tried to climb out of the bed, but Dazai had grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you could escape from him once and for all. Though he spoke to Chuuya, his eyes were hard on you, never leaving the set he stared into as you swallowed over and over, trying to think of anything but the sick feeling in your chest.

“You can leave now, Chuuya. Consider this your lucky day.” His voice was icy, threatening, and though Chuuya lingered a moment before climbing to his feet, he spared you nothing but a small glance in return.

You inhaled, then exhaled, trying to stop the simmering of blood within your veins, feeling the heavy weight of his hand on your wrist. As you sat there in silence, waiting for him to be the one to break it, you started to wonder how much of this was really Dazai’s fault, and how much you were the one to blame.

“It was a test.” Dazai tried to bring your attention back to him, letting only a fragment of emotion drain into his voice, though it was enough to slowly, slowly pique your fascination once more. “That was all.”

You wet your lips, though your tongue was just as papery. “So none of it was real.”

“What do you mean?” Dazai came to sit in front of you, his skin pale in the dark lighting, and you could see the cracks in his facade, and maybe this splinter in your failing relationship would slowly begin to heal itself. “Everything I said was very much real.”

His soft fingertips traveled up your arm, curling around your shoulder, across your collarbone, before settling in that delicate space between your jaw and your ear. There was a starry look in his eyes, the twin pair that had been exposed.

“Why would you do something like that to me?” you said, scrunching your face in remorse, wanting to slither away from him, even as he drew you closer, close enough to smell the expensive cologne he wore, the liquor that he favored when you were away. His hair had been freshly washed, and the smell of shampoo still lingered, even under the thin layer of sweat.

“Why would you do something like that to me?” Dazai countered, the hurt not veiled in the slightest this time, and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you were looking away, wondering why he was pulling you close to his chest when he should be hating you with the passion of a thousand fiends. “How could I trust you after that?”

You parted your lips to speak, but your jaw was locked, and the inside of your mouth tasted like cotton.

“I’m not a good man,” Dazai said, kissing the shell of your ear, your temple, and you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging to his bicep. “You’ve always known this. Yet, for as often as you talk about me with disgust dripping from your words, I’ve never sought to bring you pain.” He breathed in deeply, and you buried your face into his chest, wondering how much longer it’d be before you wept. “You’ve caused me pain.”

You tried to cry out, to tell him that you never thought it would hurt him, but he’d seen the very same in you, hadn’t he? You’d never given him any indication that the coldness in his words was bothering you, that the blurred lines of your relationship were getting confusing and hurtful, and he had done the same.

“We’re not good for each other, Osamu,” you whispered quietly, your lip quivering. The weight of your voice shattered against your vocal cords.

He let out a breathy laugh, smiling against your forehead. “On the contrary, I think we’re the perfect fit.”

For what reason he believed that, you weren’t sure.

You clenched your jaw tight, but it didn’t stop the feeling of tears from overwhelming you, hot droplets that spilled heavy from your eyes, running off your chin to Dazai’s chest. Your hands shook, clenched around his arms so tightly you were sure you were breaking the skin.

Dazai pulled away, monitoring your face with concern. You hated the way he looked at you with such pity when he was the reason for such pain. Yet, you couldn’t help but curl into him, warm, never wanting to escape from his reverence. “Why are you crying, my sweet angel?”

Nausea soured your mouth, and the regret that tinged you, tainted you, was vastly overwhelming. It was horrible in a way that you’d never felt.

It struck you, then, that you’d been blind to Dazai’s every affection, too ignorant to notice the ways that they had shifted as his life did. He no longer held your hand over the table during meetings, but the chair beside his was just as grandiose, and he greeted you with something of a smile when you walked into each room. He no longer accompanied you on assignments, but you were always taken care of, in a hotel most people couldn’t afford with a partner that could singlehandedly take out a hundred men. He no longer picked you flowers from a wild field as he’d done as a boy, but the vase on the table always held a beautiful bouquet of deep, red roses, without a single wilting flower.  

Chuuya, all this time, all these years had been right. There was no use in loving Dazai if you couldn’t stand him in his darkest hour, the bitter ugly side of him that no one wanted to see.

You’d never thought about it, really, but you’d changed just as he had. Everyone in the Mafia had blood on their hands, was ruined in more ways than one, and you were no exception. If loving Dazai meant loving those parts of him, then loving you meant just the same.

The tears fell harder, and Dazai seemed panicked, stricken, always so oblivious when it came to the affairs of your heart, and sometimes he tried, but you couldn’t hate him if he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you said pitifully, knowing from the spoiled heart in your very chest had ruined everything. “I’m sorry.” You said it again and again until Dazai was shushing you, running a large, cool palm down your back, the only way he knew to soothe you.

“I wish I’d never done it. I wish I’d just spoken to you, asked you, anything—” you wiped your face, heavy breaths stuttering before Dazai took your hands away, and erased the tears for you. “I just thought you hated me. It was the only thing that made sense.”

Dazai smiled sadly, because no one had taught him to love. How was he to know that he’d been doing it wrong all this time. “I wish I’d seen it before. I didn’t mean to push you away.” He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder with a weariness that he’d been born with. “I’m sorry.”

A tingling sensation began under your skin, and you were warm all over, realizing just how much that apology had meant to you. For some reason, it felt like coming home.

The strong grip that nostalgia had on you gradually began to melt away.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Honestly if Atsushi does get transferred after this, good fucking luck to Mori.

In Fifteen this man thought Dazai was a loose cannon and that was before he lost the people who meant everything to him. He’s going to see Atsushi and immediately hear warning alarms.

Now 18 year old Atsushi may be a hell of a lot nicer than 18 year old Dazai. But oh man is he going to be going through so much worse.

No matter what to happens after this point (117) even if it’s reversed like I think it will be, Atsushi is objectively scarred for life. He is already blaming himself and we’re still in the middle of this shit.

If Atsushi shows up to the Port Mafia he’s going to with no fucks left to give. He’s got no restraint, nothing to lose and depending on whatever happens to Fukuzawa this could also apply to the tiger.

And he also thinks all of this is all his fault and probably hates himself on a level we haven’t seen since Q. Lowest point in his life and he’s walking straight into the Port Mafia.

Atsushi might not gun down a man and shoot him till after he’s dead but he might just annihilate anyone who gets in his path. He’s not Akutagawa, he never made a vow against committing murder.

I’ve said it before that Atsushi is the flower born into darkness that Kouyou was talking about. He’s a kind person but he was born and raised in hell on earth. Atsushi knows how to survive in a pit of despair.

He’s been unwillingly abandoned and it’s definitely not the first time he’s been left on his own. And I think the Port Mafia are gonna have their hands full. The only reason they survived Dazai is because Dazai let them live.

If they stand in Atsushi’s way to stop this, to fix things well he might just earn his moniker of man eating tiger.

Dazai’s eyes were cold and black and Atsushi’s are already beginning to darken.

[lorimnnn]

Hi! I really liked your Ghostface crybaby! Post! I was wandering if your requests are open if you’d write a Ghostface with a unrequited survivor/reader/yn where Ghostface has the hots but the survivor/yn just ain’t feeling it. If requests aren’t open plz ignore! But seriously love your work! Totally made my day!

ahhhh i usually hate angsty things like this so I actually considering not doing it.... but the potential was too good to resist. ty for your kind words, i seriously love writing up requests <3

p.s. i accidentally deleted it and got so unmotivated :((((( here it is though

the second he sees you he's convinced the entity has sent him a gift. you're literally his type head to toe and while he's insanely attracted to you, he's twice as excited to kill you

you become his obsession.

over. and over again.

your teammates realise that he will always go after you first if he can and they abuse this fact to an inch of it's life. you understand, of course.

you hate pain. the innocent type, the sweet type. compassionate to a fault even if it's plunged you into pain again and again.

Ghostface wants to break you

there is a perverse thrill in seeing you helpless in the dirt, sobbing, begging him to stop. he has to have mori-d you one thousand times across all the trials you've had together, now. but it never hurts any less and you never get used to it.

you don't seem to understand that this is a game, either. it's like real life.

"God, you're hot." His breath shutters in his throat as he takes you in, bloody and shivering on the ground. The Entity had been feeling generous recently and because of his good behaviour, had put you in a skimpy little dress.

You whimper when he nears.

"No, no no," you say, trying to back away from him. "Please."

"You know it turns me on when you beg, babe."

You sob harder when he crouches, weaving one hand into the back of your hair to haul you upright and against him. As always, he's deceivingly gentle. If not for his wondering hands you'd think he felt bad for you--- but that was never the case.

"Please stop," you say again.

"Now why would I do that?" He combs his gloved hand through your hair. The metallic scent of your blood has him dizzy and plunged into a haze that is purely you. You, you, you. Sometimes he swears he could care less about hurting you. He just wants to see you. Your face, contorting with pain, with a smile, with---

So maybe he liked you a little.

"I know I'm your favourite," he says confidently, and then rearranges you to sit in his lap. You sniffle. He groans.

You're so cute.

And you can't help it, even if you're afraid of him--- by nature you've always been obedient and timid and good. So good. It had costed you everything by the end.

It makes him feel so powerful.

Makes you feel so small.

"I'll give you the hatch if you play nice today," he lies. He rubs your thigh and nuzzles your hair, the plastic probing into your bruised flesh. "Hm? What about it?"

You hate him.

You hate him so much.

And before you know it, it's falling out of your mouth, bitter and harsh and sapping almost all of your remaining energy.

"I hate you. Fuck you."

It's so unexpected that he flinches.

He knows you're not best friends or anything, but he never prepared himself to hear it. and it was different

it actually hurt

and you said in the same way the he claimed to like you--- eternally, unchanging, unaltered

was it the continuous mori-ing?

you had to understand that everything in-trial was purely business, even if he did get a good kick out of it. after a while he'd gotten used to how naive you were and assumed he could twist it to fit his ways

he underestimated you

and he hates himself for feeling like he doesn't know you when you say this, because he's obsessed in every sense of the word. he watches you at the campfire, doting on your teammates. so kind. bright, smiley. then you would cry yourself to sleep and he would only feel the littlest bit bad, but not enough to count

but he should have guessed it

he shouldn't feel hurt by it, either--- you're his victim first and foremost. his beautiful, kind, compassionate victim who he wanted to lock away and protect as much as he wanted to hurt.

he'd never seen you so set in your ways before. so strong. it was a complete contrast to your usual soft-spoken shyness.

He blinked, incredulous. "Aw, sweetheart. I'm sure it isn't personal."

"I hope you die in a ditch."

"You killing me would be hot."

You don't laugh.

Now he's starting to panic a little, because usually he can ignore it. You never laugh. But he can't deny it now.

You hate him.

More than anything in this plane of existence. And that's a problem. Because after this trial, it quickly occurs to him that he doesn't only like you, but likes you a lot. More than he should be allowed. Against his own will he finds his work ethic challenged and his sadistic pleasure dwindling into his guilt, his sole motivation to stay sane in this shitty reality. Now he doesn't know what to make of it.

What was he supposed to do?

He tries everything after that. He genuinely starts trying to give you the hatch and now you're slamming pallets over his head with twice as much of force.

He starts getting artsy with his pictures of you. You're actually alive in these ones. You throw every single one into the fire.

Fuck. He even consults Bubba for help and picks out a bunch of flowers to give to you alongside a heartfelt apology, but you laugh in his face.

it hurts

it hurts even more when you leave and cuddle up to some of the survivors--- the people who left you behind time and time again. the fact that you'd rather them over him spoke volumes and he would find himself incurably jealous.

he couldn't even hurt them to get over it because it would only make you hate him more

for the first time in his life, Jed Olsen regretted killing. It had led him to you and also driven the two of you apart with twice as much force

he hates it

he hates what you've done to him and he hates that he's starting to love you and he hates, most of all---

the fact you will never love him back

[osarina]

Wait I might of read this wrong but you said yosano and pmreader ended on bad terms, why is that? Or will you give insight in the reading? Such a shame they don’t get along, they would def dominate 🙏🏻

it will eventually be expanded on in a pmreader fic set when they're 22 post-doa BUT i can touch on it now because my sweet lil love bug asked.

so reader and yosano were both with mori during the great war and knew each other through him. reader is younger than yosano at this point - yosano is 11 during the great war, i think reader would probably be 7/8. they're both very young + it's like directly post mori picking her up in the warzone that he found her in. her ability had just manifested. but mori thinks that he has it all yk - yosano can heal people from the brink of death and reader has some kind of ability that can mess with people's brains, he's not sure what exactly it is but he thinks it can be something that heals peoples MINDS in the way yosano can't. so it would be the last thing he needed to have his immortal army.

anyway, as we know, that's not what reader's ability is. she can only induce states onto people but they go away. but mori would very frequently hold things over reader's head and compare her to yosano. he tells her she needs to prove her worth or he'll send her back where she came from. he compares her to how yosano is keeping the whole army alive when reader can't even ease their mental pain. and it's NOT yosano's fault but reader just starts to resent yosano so much over it, she becomes so hateful and angry because no matter how hard she tries, it's never enough for mori because yosano is the ideal in his mind and she can't be what he wants, and she's scared she'll be sent back to the warzone just because she can't meet the standards yosano unwittingly set.

it's really one sided beef - yosano feels guilty even for leaving her behind and living a good life with the agency. feels a sense of responsibility for her because even though they were both children, she was the older one of the two of them and felt like she could've done more for her. mori continues to perpetuate this one-sided beef to this day—whenever reader fails at something he'll make comments and now she has a huge complex about failure and feeling in debt to mori, which dazai kind of touches on in i laugh like me again. mori ALSO uses yosano's guilt about how things went down with reader against yosano, and i'm not going to touch on this but there's one really big incident at 18 that this is really exemplified in.

[navigatebetweenthelines]

An in depth analysis of the first chapter of Stormbringer:

[CODE;01] Nothing more than 2,383 lines of code

Tl;Dr at the end 💕

In this analysis i will be identifying the authors behind The Flags, the metaphors, uses of symbolism as well as how Verlaine's actions changed the trajectory of Chuuya's character arc.

The symbolism behind the first chapter of Stormbringer is phenomenal. Every light novel I read I come away with a million details I adore, but this one is so full of them. I had to point it out.

It all starts with Chuuya's job. His career in the mafia is a beautiful metaphor for his shift to the Port Mafia. In its description Asagiri specifically uses the phrase, “giving the gemstones a new life”. The process is described as bringing a valuable thing out from the criminal underbelly to be reused and resold. Chuuya has already been compared to a diamond before but here it takes on a new meaning and a new context. It becomes this toxic symbol for the treatment he endures and the life he has accepted.

To explain how Chuuya being compared to a gem is toxic, I first need to explain how Yosano and Chuuya are foils. Foils are important, authors use them to make the reader compare characters with similar origins so the finer details stand out and it’s easier to see what went wrong. Funnily enough whenever they are first in a scene together Chuuya and Yosano are at ends. With Yosano on the ground and Chuuya above her. They are literally the inverse of each other. Isn't that so cool?

Okay so briefly, Fukuzawa and Mori parallel each other. A bodyguard and a surgeon. One actively tries to avoid conflict the other benefits from the needs that arise from conflict. Fukuzawa brought Ranpo with him as his main reason behind starting the detective agency. Mori threatened Dazai into staying and securing his position of power. Ranpo and Dazai, at that point in the organization's timeline, are representative of the potential their organizations hold. They both propel their organizations into unprecedented success. They both only survive because of that organization.

Ranpo only survives because the Agency appeals to his strengths. Dazai only lives because Mori tricks him and holds his life hostage. The first people they hand pick to invite into their organization represent the impact they have: Yosano and Chuuya.

They are both victims of abuse from the military. They were both “freed” to a situation that only constricted them even more. Ranpo reminded Yosano of her kindness and offered her a place in the agency to be kind. Dazai pointed out the sheep's betrayal and offered a place in the mafia in exchange for the sheep's safety. The same thing happened: A man meets a boy, the boy meets a friend. Obviously one is more awful than the other. That’s what makes them foils but that’s not all.

Yosano's ability saves the people she loves and keeps her safe. Chuuya's ability threatens his life and the lives of those around him. One came out of military abuse confident and proud. She was showered in care and attention. The other came out of the military and immediately faced a constant onslaught of violence. His existence appealed to the greed of several men and led to their demise. Obviously this isn't Chuuya's fault but it's a clear difference. Yosano was met with kindness and Chuuya faced selfishness.

The most important difference between them is the metaphors assigned to them that represent their “redemption”. Like Chuuya’s gem metaphor, Yosano has a symbol that represents her change to an agency member, her butterflies. Through adversity she changes and shifts into a new creature. Her wounds literally become butterflies. Her faults, her failures, only feed her growth.

The difference is heartbreaking because the jewel’s second chance is only seen as successful based on its ability to satisfy the tastes of others. A butterfly’s second chance at life, however, is successful if it lives. It's evolution is in pursuit of a better life and it flies. The butterfly is free, it changes and redeems itself for the sake of its own survival. A jewel is changed by slowly chipping away at its body and forming it in the tastes of any given person. His faults, his failures, only discourage him, forcing him to furthur isolate. A jewel never benefits from any of the "polishing" it receives.

Yosano earns her redemption through her kindness. Her kindness and the kindness around her grows exponentially. She cares and is cared for in turn. She is a testament to the peace the ADA can bring to a person over a long period of time.

Chuuya earns his redemption through violence. His violence grows exponentially. It just compounds. Stormbringer shows that perfectly. It only leads to more violence and more misery. Violence finds its way to him and he finds a way back to it. He is a testament to the horrors a person can face in the Port Mafia over a long period of time.

This is where Kafka Asagiri's writing becomes exceptional. These metaphors are conditional. They only represent how they changed to fit their organization. Chuuya doesn’t have to stay a gem for the Port Mafia. That metaphor isn't at all tied to his character, he can still divorce himself from it. He can give up the idea of being that perfect jewel of a weapon for the Port Mafia and be alive. AND THAT'S THE RUB.

A butterfly is alive. It can breathe, eat, reproduce, die and most importantly fly. A butterfly is FREE from gravity. A jewel isn't alive. It doesn't eat or breathe or reproduce and the only death it can have is a gradual fade into irrelevance. This implies a lovely concept alongside the themes of the book as a whole. Whether Chuuya is or isn't human is irrelevant when the Port Mafia doesn't treat him like he is. He forfeits his humanity as he conforms to the ideals of the Port Mafia. An organization he originally hated.

There is a small hope in The Flags. They are a small pocket of kindness and warmth in the dark criminal world. They show him kindness and of course he reacts to it with violence (it's what's kept him safe for so long) but they are patient. They don't let that violence expand. They catch the multiplying waves of malice and Chuuya is given a rare opportunity to be kind. Kindness in the Port Mafia is wild (Especially back then. I wouldn't trust it tbh but that's me). For a moment, for a very very beautiful moment, Chuuya feels the expanding effects of kindness. Even if it is very small, it might have eventually been enough to jostle him out of that instinct to rely on violence. He was growing :( he was healing, he was getting better!!!

This is where Verlaine really fucks everything up but first let's discuss The Flags (or The Young Bloods or The Young Wolves. All really good names really. Wish they had more than 10 pages of screentime).

The Flags all symbolize something. I mean flags are inherently symbolic. As a concept a flag is a symbol of a greater collection of people. But each member represents something important.

Lippmann symbolizes Chuuya's desire for peace.

He is likely inspired by the real life American author Walter Lippman. He was part of the negotiation for the Treaty of Versailles that stopped WWI. He wrote from then, through WWII and well into the Cold War. During the Cold War he wrote his most influential pieces criticizing both the war as a whole and the response to it. His most well known book, Public Opinion, might be what Lippmann's ability is based on. In that book Lippmann claims that a direct democracy, like America has, is dangerous and unsustainable because of propaganda. (Likely the connection between Lippmann's ability and the novel is that because Lippmann could always identify the root or motive of an issue he could resolve it. “Use a person's motive against them” ) He made the point that because the government had been using the media to manipulate how people see themselves and others there could be no way to trust consensus.

THAT is why Lippmann (the character) is so important. Walter Lippmann was keenly aware of the influence the government had on the psyche. He argued against it.

This is so important because Lippmann is the first body Verlaine shows Chuuya. He's the one that is pulled from the chaos and stored in his trunk. He is the one Verlaine goes out of his way to taunt Chuuya with. Lippmann represents an ideology that Verlaine is entirely against. That the ideals a government pushes is wrong. Walter Lippmann argued against stereotypes (he coined the word btw. He's that girl), against negative perceptions of groups of people, and he is against a falsified version of reality that people hold onto (he called them pseudo-environments). Verlaine is everything Public Opinion was warning against. Verlaine is detached from reality and is using a burrowed rational (FROM THE GOVERNMENT) to justify the horrible things he's doing.

The idea that Verlaine and Chuuya are curated soldiers manufactured for the sole purpose of chaos is a lie, a half-truth. Lippmann represents a desire to reject that lie and not act on it. By showing off Lippmann's body first Verlaine has symbolically taken the idea of an identity outside what the military has labeled him from Chuuya. And then he does it literally! He opens Chuuya's gate and causes mass destruction. He proves that first. He uses the half truth that Chuuya's body has been altered to prove that Chuuya can't possibly be human.

Ideally Lippmann would have been able to negotiate Verlaine out of it but that's not possible. That's another one of my favorite parts of this book. Verlaine is so far gone to delusion that he is inconsolable. There is no talking to him. There will be no reasoning with him. Lippmann being unable to bring peace to the situation is especially tragic considering what he represents for the Mafia as a whole.

Lippmann represented peace (and Verlaine could have started a world war with all the political figures he tried to kill). If you look back you'll notice The Flags never shoot or attack until Lippmann does first, they all wait for his cue. Piano Man ordered Lippmann to shoot first. The Flags would pullbout their weapons and threaten but they would always wait until Lippmann believed violence was the only answer. His main job was negotiations, his is possibly the only truly altruistic position in the Port Mafia. SINCE WHEN was the PM making deals and playing nice with other organizations? Since when did they ever consider the needs, wants or desires of their surrounding organizations? That is so uncharacteristic of the PM. I think Lippmann might be the only time ever the PM has been described as an organization that considers the needs of others. The whole point of the PM is that they are the worst of the worst so they can control how bad things get. Lippmann's negotiations aren't necessary considering the main objective of the Port Mafia but his inclusion represents a small (emphasis on SMALL) hope of a desire for peace within the PM. Not just from Chuuya but from the organization as a whole. The fact that no one has replaced him since his death really cements how small a hope it was. (Verlaine really took all hope and happiness with him to that damn basement.)

More importantly, Lippmann working there and creating a semblance of peace proves that maybe Chuuya could have done the same. Verlaine has killed Lippmann and with it the idea that Chuuya might be able to do good.

The rest of The Flags he kills in secret, or at least he doesn't show them off to Chuuya the way he did with Lippmann. It is important to note that Albatross, out of everyone, survived long enough to at least be conscious when Chuuya was there.

Verlaine has a thing for blondes. He keeps Lippmann's body like it's a fucking souvenir. He also doesn't demolish his body. Keeping it recognizable and intact enough that it is a surprise when Chuuya steps into the bar and sees so much carnage. He intentionally leaves Albatross alive. Verlaine had to know he was leaving Albatross alive. He isn't an idiot and Albatross was a loud man. I would even go so far as to argue it would be harder for Verlaine to fight someone and not immediately kill them. He can create black holes at will and do any other number of horrible things.

It had to be intentional that Albatross’ chest was torn open in a way that didn’t kill him.

I'm not going to say it's because he wanted Chuuya to see him die. That's too sadistic (it doesn't align with his goals exactly. He doesn't want to upset Chuuya, he just thinks upsetting Chuuya is an unfortunate byproduct of a better life) and I don't think he would have predicted Dazai would take him there. Especially considering how quickly Albatross died after Chuuya showed up. If he did plan that it would be a stupid plan.

But why are Albatross and Lippmann special?

Because they are blond. 😌

That sounds really dumb but listen. BSD has this thing where color really means something. Yellow specifically represents a character's hope. Specifically a character's hair color represents what their motives usually are. I will go in depth on why I think that eventually but for now let me expand on Verlaine, Albatross and Lippmann's optimism specifically.

They are optimists. I don't care, they are silver lining seekers.

“It's actually not a bad thing that the only person I trusted died because of someone I saved. It's not horrible at all because he was actually holding me back. Now that he's gone I can be free. Yes, that's exactly what this is. This is freedom.” How is that not Toxic Positivity?

Verlaine even uses humor to detach himself from a terrible situation.

Lippmann and Albatross are also optimists. To have a job that requires you to make peace in a system of organized crime that is often violent you have to have at least a little optimism.

Albatross, as he lay dying, can find solace in the silver lining that Doc is alive (he isn't). He gives Chuuya his motorcycle. Albatross finds a way to make his dark situation a positive one, even if it is in a small way.

Verlaine “favoring” these two is important because it shows even as he is killing these ideals for Chuuya (and by proxy himself) he wants to hold onto that hope. He wants there to be a silver lining. His silver lining is, in this chapter, Chuuya. Someone he calls family and hopes he might be able to escape isolation with.

Albatross is important as a character in this way because of who his author might be. Out of all the authors I've theorized might be what influences The Flags, this connection is the one I'm the most confident in. Albatross’ author is Charles Baudelaire.

Briefly Charles Baudelaire is an 18th century French Poet. He is inspired by Edgar Allan Poe and single handed translated all of his works into french. He is credited with Poe's popularity in France. Arthur Rimbaud hailed Baudelaire as one of his greatest inspirations and called him "The King of Poets". He PIONEERED prose-poetry, a style that Rimbaud and Verlaine wrote in frequently. More than that, if you try to buy books full of late nineteenth century poetry, the works of Rimbaud, Verlaine and Baudelaire are frequently sold together as a set. Which is so cursed for so many reasons.

Asagiri WOULD have come across the works of Charles Baudelaire in his research of Edgar Allan Poe, Rimbaud, or Verlaine. If he didn't use Charles Baudelaire in the Verlaine and Rimbaud story it would have been a crime.

But why would Albatross be the character that represented Baudelaire out of everyone?

Well for one Charles Baudelaire wrote a famous poem L'Albatros. In which he compares himself to an albatross that is pulled from the sky and cruelly beaten and broken by a crew of sailors. The brutality of what that crew does to that bird reminds me distinctly of the gore in the Stormbringer. This line from the poem specifically sticks out to me:

“riding the storm above the marksman's range;

exiled on the ground, hooted and jeered,

he cannot walk because of his great wings”

That is the main theme of Stormbringer in the most beautiful words possible. Chuuya's abilities are his wings. They only bring him closer to the storm (the chaos Arahabaki promises to bring). In this poem the albatross isn't afraid of the storm, it even protects them from being shot at. They are stronger for it but they are alone. The catch is that the Albatross can't ever land. If he does reach the earth, and modern society he is so much more vulnerable than he is in the sky.

With the earth being a metaphor for a meaningful social connection, in the way that they could both bring relief and safety, it is truly a perfect way to describe Stormbringer. The real challenge for Chuuya isn't the violence he faces, he knows how to deal with that, it's the risks and trials of trying to connect to someone. The unavoidable fact that all relationships are destined to end in death, in hatred or by the slow eventual drift that casts a pair apart. The terror of trying to belong in an intricate social system after years of having no healthy reference for what a safe and uplifting friendship looks like. It mirrors the terror of the albatross in the poem that fears walking the earth with its slow and insufficient legs. The sailors tie the albatross to the boat and laugh when it can't get away; that is what Verlaine fears. That is a perfect representation of what Verlaine wants to avoid. And It is that same risk that Albatross encourages Chuuya to accept and continue down the same path.

The Albatross also plays into the mirror Chuuya shares with Yosano. The two of them can fly and are incredibly vulnerable but they are free. Out of everyone in The Flags Albatross is the most comfortable and confident. He shares that ease that Yosano has in the ADA.

Albatross being based off of the King of Poets is so sweet because as another character based off of a poet Chuuya would fall metaphorically under his rule. Chuuya would be his responsibility and his to protect. The beautiful implication is that: under his care Chuuya might have learned to fly.

I’m going to make things worse by pointing out that Paul Verlaine was given the title “Prince of Poets” before his death. By killing Baudelaire he metaphorically inherited the responsibility and control over the narrative. He symbolically inherits control over Chuuya. This bit of foreshadowing is so beautifully hidden and meaningful. It’s such good writing. Asagiri is thinking in five dimensions.

I had my doubts about Albatross being Charles Baudelaire but I can't see another way around it. Albatross is a beautiful representation of Baudelaire whether or not it was intentional. If Albatross isn’t a representation for Baudelaire I would be shocked because no other author would fit into the story so well.

NOW!

Let's all take a moment to register and digest the sentence, “The King of Assassins murdered The King of Poets”.

Isn't that the most heartbreaking sentence? Especially when Verlaine's goal was to destroy every part of Chuuya that was remotely human. Verlaine killing the author that pioneered the form of writing he wrote in and inspired him is so perfectly symbolic of how Verlaine had wanted to divorce himself from his humanity. He didn't want to be heard or seen by humanity. He was cutting off every tie he had to it. This is great symbolic foreshadowing of how in the end Verlaine resigns himself to silence. Killing off Albatross cements this desire and irreversibly takes any hope of acceptance away from him. It symbolically takes away his literary voice, and his inspiration to speak. Isn't that fucking awesome. Isn’t that so fucking cool.

So then which of the three abilities is his? It isn’t the dinosaur one. It's the quicksand that appeared when they fought Adam. In The Albatross and several other Baudelaire poems, the earth is used to symbolize extreme misery. I think because Baudelaire studied to become a priest the imagery of heaven and hell stands out in his mind. The earth represents death, pain and defeat. He specifically associates it with the imagery of a corpse being lowered into earth. In Get Drunk, Baudelaire tells you to get drunk, “In order not to feel Time's horrid fardel bruise your shoulders, grinding you into the earth,”. In The Albatross, the bird is exiled from the earth with the threat of abuse at its landing. In Music, he describes the seas beneath his boat as abysmal and a mirror into his own despair.

The poems that play the biggest influence in Stormbringer all describe land as something dangerous and terrible. You'll notice a theme in The Flag's abilities and strengths, the conflict in the original work becomes the weapon they use to protect themselves. Thus Albatross hurts others the way he had hurt, he traps people to the earth.

I’d like to reintroduce the two other poems that are alluded to in Stormbringer: Music and Get Drunk

I would like to briefly remind you that Albatross started drinking heavily early in the morning and he kept Chuuya up all night with his loud music. In both of these poems Baudelaire writes about escapism. Get Drunk, especially, is good at this. Explaining how through the frivolous things in life a person can find peace. The narrator hails anything and everything that will dull the ache of existence and claims a sober reality is too miserable.

Let's think about Albatross’ motives when he blasts music above Chuuya's room. Chuuya is a 16 year old boy isolated, grumpy and defensive. He has nothing in his room that makes the room his. It is little more than a cell. It would be so easy for Chuuya to feel alone in a place like that and he does. At the start he feels upset. It is over several things but the feeling of discontent persists through each new thought. Blasting music that Chuuya knows is from Albatross is a distraction from that, albeit an annoying distraction. It's harder to feel lonely with exciting music.

I’m going to bring up Yosano again because she’s my favorite and remind you of her main metaphor about how she can fly because she is free from what had bound her. In Baudelaire's poem Music, he describes the feeling of listening to music as if he was sailing. He specifically describes using the wind to evade the depths of the ocean. It isn't flying, but it is freedom from an oppressive force. A temporary, assisted freedom from a force that wants to sink him into a violent death. And to think that from a greater height the very same force can appear beautiful. Albatross blasting music for Chuuya alongside himself, says a lot. He wants Chuuya to be free from loneliness.

Baudelaire's Albatross was about horrible isolation and loneliness. The crew of sailors represent the harsh and hateful society that rejected him time and time again. The bird is tied to the boat and humiliated. The Albatross is a poem that perfectly represents how Verlaine sees himself in contrast to true humanity. He doesn’t think he’s safe, not emotionally, and because of that he fights against the rope (love) that ties him to the ship (humanity). He fights against the relationships that keep him wishing he were human.

Albatross is a direct foil to Verlaine. He takes Chuuya on wild adventures that push his limits and expand his skills as an individual. Chuuya benefits and becomes stronger as a result of befriending Albatross. Albatross is everything Verlaine says he wants to be for Chuuya. They both want him to feel less lonely. They both whisk him away to places that test him. They both see a potential future of loneliness in Chuuya that they try to weed out. Obviously one is more callous and abusive than the other but that's what makes them foils.

Albatross is there to prove at the very very core of it (beneath all the blatant disregard for life) Verlaine's intentions are kind. It is his actions, the things he justifies, and how he disregards Chuuya's wishes that make it harmful. And isn't that just the perfect explanation for (some) abuse? Sometimes it isn't a vile and evil creature like Mori that wants to break you down, sometimes it is misguided kindness. Verlaine, like Chuuya, had no healthy reference for what a relationship should look like. They didn't get a chance to grow up and learn to manage their emotions or gain a stable sense of security. All they could do was survive.

Still the point behind this distinction between Verlaine and Albatross is that the intention never matters. The end result never matters, the beliefs behind it never matter, none of these things justify abuse. Nothing will justify abuse, to intentionally harm another regardless of any context is disgusting. And Verlaine gets punished by the narrative for it.

Verlaine leaving Albatross alive is representative of his wish to connect with Chuuya. It represents a fleeting hope that perhaps he might still be able to show his love in a more productive way. An understanding somewhere deep inside of him that what he is doing is wrong. Verlaine pulled Albatross’ chest open, watched that heart beat and he let it. He still secretly yearns for that better version of himself. Of course the possibility of that happening dies with Albatross but the wish is still there.

I think it's important to note that Albatross specifically tried to save Doc.

He is not described as having any fighting experience. He is only a doctor. Above that he also admits easily to having thought about poisoninh Chuuya. He has an eccentric view of life and death and wishes to be closer to god. Doc is a cynic and a sadist. He eagerly awaits a grand war that will cause two million casualties (Perhaps he has prophetic powers considering how Fukuchi has recently confessed to knowing there will be a war ahead that will be disastrous).

If Lippmann represents a desire for peace and Albatross represents a desire for friendship then what does Doc represent?

He desires chaos. Chuuya does too. The two of them both crave violence when it serves their own goals. Chuuya becomes frustrated when his job is “too quiet”. He wishes for more violence because it will mean he'll become a mafia executive faster. Doc wishes for a great war so that he will be closer to god.

He is a doctor (obviously). His main goal should be to save as many people as possible and yet he doesn't. He is a doctor, he should be healthy but he isn't. If Chuuya isn't human, he shouldn't want or feel human things but he does. If Chuuya is human, he shouldn't be capable of so much violence and destruction but he is.

Doc contradicts the traits associated with a doctor the way Chuuya does with humanity. Doc represents an acceptance of that natural contradiction. No human will bow to the will of their expectations because that defeats the purpose of free will. Not to mention it would be impossible to satisfy every expectation. Mistakes will always be made and life will always eventually give way to death. This is unsettling to most but not to Doc. Doc is entirely comfortable occupying the space of a perfectly gray morality with his 500 lives lost and 500 lives saved. He doesn't care at all about the perception of those around him or any idea about the way he should be acting.

THAT COULD BE SO IMPORTANT TO CHUUYA. If Chuuya could just shrug his shoulders at the question of humanity and live his best life that would be awesome. Because at the end of the day it doesn't really matter, does it? Lovecraft isn't human, John S. is half tree, Nathaniel is human but has no will of his own, Atsushi is occasionally half a tiger, Demon Snow is an ability but makes its own decisions and has its own will, Elise might have her own will, Bram is a vampire, Fyodor says he's a god and Sigma literally doesn't belong to this reality. A drop in the bucket, really. That piece of information is largely irrelevant to the majority of Chuuya’s day-to-day life. Knowing the answer would change so little and trying to point to a specific part of an individual to try to prove humanity is a futile effort. To attempt to define humanity is a fruitless endeavor. There is no list of criteria that determines an individual's right to be considered human. And in a world with so many different identities it really doesn't matter.

I think it’s important to consider why exactly Chuuya wants to be human and confirm his humanity. I am going to point to the gem metaphor from before and say freedom. If everything he does is predetermined by a preexisting code how does he fit in an ever changing and ever evolving world? Control over his life and his actions is understandably a priority. After years of having so much of his autonomy taken from him of course he would want absolute free will. This is a bit of an overcorrection.

Nikolai is actually a wonderful example of how the obsession of absolute free will can paradoxically trap a person in a toxic cycle. “Chuuya can't be human because he is ruled by code crafted by scientists” sounds a lot like “Nikolai isn't free because he is ruled by morals and emotions forced upon him by god”. We are all a product of our surroundings, our genetics, and our influences. It is unavoidable, no one is above influence. In trying to be free from morality Nikolai has trapped himself in another set of rules, one made by him but a trap nonetheless. Verlaine later falls for the same fate. What defines us is our actions. That is the only thing a person can truly control.

Speaking of Genetics, let me introduce who I think was the inspiration for Doc. I think Doc might be Dr. Michael Crichton. He graduated from Harvard Med School and is the author of Jurassic Park. Don’t judge me. I could not find another well known book on dinosaurs anywhere and this just fit so well.

I forgive you if you laughed at that because the recent depictions of Jurassic Park haven't been very good. I would like to point out that the main theme of Jurassic Park was a lot like Frankenstien. Humanity vying for godhood and attempting to create and alter life to its tastes. The main theme of that entire book is how dangerous it is to play haphazardly with genetic modifications. It critiques it! Heavily!

The Jurassic Park scientists do everything that had been done to Chuuya and Verlaine. Those dinosaurs are not dinosaurs at all. They are amalgamations of DNA, organs and limbs. Several different species fused together into an entirely new form of life with no native habitat and no place in the food chain. The point of that book is that these animals were set up to be violent. They were set up for failure, they had nothing. They could do nothing else but occupy the island they were born in. It isn't their fault. They are an invasive species. They will always be an invasive species. They don't belong anywhere. I would even say that realistically even if they survive, the mismatched instincts of a million different creatures from different climates and habitats (from both prey and predator) will make it virtually impossible to sustain a population. They would fade into extinction.

Jurassic Park is a criticism and warning against genetic modifications. It blames the human's death and misery squarely on the humans and not the raptors. All the chaos is a product of the scientists’ reckless actions. It presents the desire to alter life for science as inherently flawed and the creations as unfortunate victims that now live an difficult life.

It is one big red neon sign saying “Don't do this! This is stupid!”. This is important because, alongside Doc’s shameless attitude about life, he represents how none of The Flags prosecute Chuuya for the things he had to do to survive. Like the creatures on the island Chuuya was taken and altered into something he doesn't understand. He was changed into something that for which there is no belonging, no understanding and no sense of security. He has to make peace with the complicated and somewhat artifical nature his existence.

Chuuya has been perpetually cornered, and he has had to act out to survive. The Flags don't care. They don't care when he threatens Iceman. They don't care when he threatens Pianoman. They don't care when he curses them out and blatantly rejects their kindness. They forgive it. Once the weapons are lowered and the danger has passed it's like nothing happened. Iceman is especially guilty of this, forgiving the scar he earned and working the hardest to find Chuuya proof of his humanity.

Doc represents the true and unconditional acceptance that comes with family. What is just as interesting is that Chuuya was starting to pick up this habit. When Doc admits to thinking about poisoning him, Chuuya lets it go. This is something that had the potential to be awful for him. It is another instance where his body is being fucked with without his consent or awareness. Doc could have earned a punch for it (he would have deserved it too) but Chuuya lets it go almost immediately.

That is what Doc represents. His death represents Verlaine taking away that path to acceptance for Chuuya (FYI i do think Chuuya could gain these ideals again later I'm talking about in Stormbringer in isolation). He is forcing Chuuya to choose between Light or Dark. Humanity or Inhumanity. When Chuuya could just coast the line between them comfortably the way Doc does. He could and up until the events of Stormbringer he had been struggling to do just that. He was attempting to define his existence on his own. It was his own private journey, one that had all the potential to end in peace. Verlaine took that away but why?

This acceptance is also vulnerable. It can shatter in a moment and it isn't an offensive thing, it can't ever fight back. The feeling of belonging is the weakest to emotional trials. You can't use a sense of belonging as a weapon, it won't protect you, it is what needs protecting. As a concept, acceptance is something that has to be managed and fed. It can be strong but it can only ever be defensive.

Doc couldn't defend himself against Verlaine. Albatross had wanted Chuuya to feel acceptance and with his last efforts he gave Chuuya his prized possessions. He not only dies thinking Doc is alive, he dies thinking Chuuya will be fine. He dies thinking that this is a wound that could heal, that Chuuya could move past this. He doesn't know what a life changing event this would be. He had no idea Chuuya was losing sight of his humanity and his sense of self.

Like before, what Verlaine takes from Chuuya he has taken from himself. What Chuuya loses, Verlaine loses by extension. Verlaine also loses his only chance at acceptance. Chuuya won't ever want acceptance from Verlaine, or ever accept Verlaine, after that incident. The possibility of healthy and healing connection for the two of them dies with Doc. This has severed their connection entirely (...for now?).

Pianoman and Iceman don't have abilities. Pianoman at least I have a possibility for who it could be. They were a lot harder to research for because I reverse engineered it by looking for books about quicksand and dinosaurs. I found Lippmann so easily, I just googled him and didn't put “bsd” at the end. Also idc that they dont have abilities Ranpo doesnt have an ability and he's based on an author.

For Pianoman I think the inspiration might have been the poem Piano by D.H. Lawrence. In this poem the writer describes coming across a singer and a pianist. He says they sound lovely but then he writes his reaction with a panicked tone. He calls the song insidious as it brings him back so clearly to his childhood. This line specifically stands out to me: “the heart of me weeps to belong”. At the end of the poem the author breaks into tears because the brilliant joy of his childhood is something he might never feel again.

The main reason why I think this might be Pianoman's influence is because he is the one that offers that picture to Chuuya. The myriad of emotions felt in that poem, Chuuya feels all at once. A reminder that he once belonged and a question if he ever will again.

Iceman's influence is likely the 1946 play The Iceman Cometh by Eugene O’Neill. This is where it gets really sad.

In this play a group of drunk men gather in a saloon. Each person is tormented by some tragedy in their lives. They all hoped and wished only to lose something important. There is an air of helplessness in response to their reality. The men suffer through disillusionment. They offer themselves unattainable hope to give their misery a purpose.

Soon, however, a man named Theodore “Hickey” Hickman appears and joyfully announces he is no longer drinking. He encourages others to do the same. Over the course of the play Hickey becomes more insistent and more desperate for them to follow his advice. He wants to take away their disillusionment but is warned that doing so would end in their deaths. He later confesses to the murder of his wife. He claims he did it to free her from disillusionment. He begs to be killed now that he no longer suffers from a false hope.

This ripples to another character who starts to confess their sins and accept reality. They too lose their will to live and ask for a way to repent. The main character, who loved the woman he screwed over, tells him to take his own life. It is implied the only fate that will find the men left in the saloon still stuck in delusion is death.

It is pessimistic and eerily similar to descriptions of The Flags and their hangout spot. This play might be the biggest inspiration for the short period of time where they were alive. It kinda hurts to think Asagiri gave them that bar with this story in mind. That it was only there to serve as a fleeting oasis that could do nothing more than lead them through escapism and to their death.

The point of that story is that death comes for them all regardless of any detachment from reality. The character Hickey is The Iceman and representative of death. He encourages people to chase their unattainable dreams in the hope that failure will force them to face reality.

Iceman, the character, also represents death. He represents failure and a little bit of disillusionment. Don't get me wrong I love him but he acts like the Iceman in the play (as in the role in the story). He was there, attempting to stop the sheep, before the sheep betrayed Chuuya. He was there the second time Chuuya lost a group of people. He is the only one that didn't want to celebrate Chuuya's one year anniversary. He is a sort of reminder that The Flags would have died. If not then then it would have happened any other number of ways. Currently as I'm writing this, only chapter 113 has been released, the Port Mafia is fucked. Most of their members, sans Chuuya, are vampires. Mori has resorted to asking for spare agency members like a neighbor asks for a cup of sugar. Even if The Flags did survive they weren't going to reach Hitotsu's age.

It also makes sense why Iceman would be able to detect abilities. Hickey was keenly aware of every person's main conflict. In BSD a character's ability is always representative of their main conflict.

What does it mean when Verlaine kills Iceman?

The Iceman Cometh is a harsh critique of holding onto hope for the sake of avoidance. It points out the futility of it and personifies death to be an insistent reminder of their failures. Iceman represents the risk of connection. The risk of getting to know someone, like Iceman, is intimidating at first. It can be very hard to trust a situation that leaves you incredibly vulnerable but doing so can be more than worth it. Iceman doesn't try to be appealing. He is standoffish and imposing but secretly he was working the hardest to prove to Chuuya he was human. True acceptance requires understanding the risk of rejection, betrayal and manipulation. It could happen, there's no way around it and you just have to accept it. In order for the bond to be genuine there has to be trust.

Just like before Chuuya was showing early signs of learning from these positive examples. Of course he's the most hostile towards Iceman, he has been betrayed once and abhors the idea of it happening again. Iceman is the least friendly and outwardly kind. It's hard to put trust into a person like that. Then The Flags all aim their weapons at him and for a moment it looks like Chuuya really thinks they're going to betray him. They could. That scene really outlines a flaw in Chuuya's perfect jewel of violence. It would be understandable for him to walk away from their friendship because of what they are capable of. He doesn't. He stays and he trusts they won't hurt him. He trusts Pianoman's word and he is beyond rewarded for it.

I want to cry thinking about it but The Flags were the perfect formula for redemption. I don't know how Chuuya would have been different if he had spent even a few more years with them. With just one year he was already making so much progress. He could have been so happy. God, when Verlaine intends to take humanity away he really doesn't half ass it.

When Version kills Iceman it is representative of him taking that risk away. There's no rejection, betrayal or manipulation to be worried about if no one is given the chance. Out of everyone Verlaine lives with the most disillusionment. He tells himself countless lies and polite fictions to deal with the tragedy of his reality. When they all shatter, the way they always would have, he can't escape facing it. He doesn't die but he does disappear into obscurity. Iceman's inclusion in the story is also foreshadowing the majority of the tragedy in Stormbringer. Verlaine, like Hickey, thought he had the solution and risked the lives of those he said he wanted to save. He loses everything in the end.

Iceman representing both death and the possibility of rejection is so clever because they aren't just risks, they are both inevitabilities. There will eventually be at least one person that cuts you deeply no matter what you do. There's no point in avoiding it, there's no point in pretending it can be avoided. Verlaine's pipe dream is that he can separate himself from his pain by rejecting his humanity. The pain is still there, it is still within him influencing his decisions and as the only explanation for his actions. He can't escape it. There is no escaping it. When that pipe dream fades away just like the characters in this play he is unable to face reality.

Funfact: O’Neill was the first American playwright to win a Nobel Peace Prize because his plays were so tragic and sad. Thanks Asagiri, did you google, “Saddest piece of literature ever”?

I will validate theorizing that The Flags are American or French by pointing out (if the fan wiki can be trusted, I don't own a japanese copy of stormbringer or read kanji) that The Flag's codenames were written with english pronunciation. Albatross did not call himself Ahoudori, which is the Japanese name for an albatross, he explicitly called himself Albatross. Every other character in The Flags has an English pronounced code name. Even Doc, it's just Doc. They chose english code names. I promise I looked for as wide of a range of authors as I could. My research will be flawed obviously bc I only fluent in two languages, and Japanese is not one of them. That being said i am very pleased with the authors I picked. I think they fit very well in the theme of the story and they all bring a new more interesting point to the story. If I'm wrong then at the very least these are fun and appropriate hcs.

I cannot overstate how excellently this first chapter is crafted. It sets up the main themes so perfectly. It foreshadows so much of the misery to come. After reading some of (what I think might be) the source material, this chapter is such a wonderful response to the points and questions presented by those authors. It is so hard to properly mix the themes, points and morals of several books, poems and plays in a way that isn’t reductive. It is so hard not to invalidate or butcher the meaning behind that piece of art when you attempt to add to it. It is even more difficult to expand on those themes, to connect them, do something original, do something impactful and then be entertaining. It’s just such beautiful writing.

I love that the world that surrounds the characters echoes their actions and morals through hidden symbolism. It really adds to the theme of the complicated feelings surrounding a predetermined life.

Side Note! I think it's kinda silly that for most of these they're all very sad and Doc's is just dinosaurs. Obviously there's more to it but dinosaurs! I love that.

The symbolism of Adam, Chuuya’s gate and Verlaine’s ability all get more explored in other chapters. I won’t be analyzing them now as they don’t do much in the first chapter other than be introduced. I’ll be analyzing them separately when I analyze each individual chapter of this book and then probably a collective essay on the work as a whole. If you want to be notified when I post you can just follow me on Tiktok, Instagram, Twitter (or X) and Tumblr under the same username.

Thank you for your time and I hope you enjoyed my analysis

Tl;Dr:

A general theme in the literary devices of disillusionment used to avoid dealing with hard situations

Albatross' is probably based off of Charlies Baudelaire

Doc is probably based off of Micheal Crichton M.D.

Lippmann is probably based off of Walter Lippmann

Iceman is probably based off of Eugene O'Neille

Piano Man might be based off of D.H. Lawrence (I'm not sure abt that one tbh. Least confident in that one. Paul Verlaine also has a poem abt a piano but it's not related in anyway thematically so 🤷‍♂️)

The Flags were always going to die thats kinda the point. With the refrence to The Ice Man Cometh it's clear that because these characters had no goals or dreams outside the Port Mafie they would die in the Port Mafia. This kind of works as sort of cautionary tale for Chuuya

The Flags all each represent a key component that could have led to Chuuya healing from his trauma and moving on. He was actually well on track. He had made great progress

When Verlaine killed The Flags he symbolically took all those key components away from both himself and Chuuya. Keeping them BOTH from moving on and keeping them both in disillusionment

Yosano and Chuuya are foils. The ADA gives Yosano autonomy (Butterfly) and the PM dehumanizes Chuuya (Gem).

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Kenji Miyazawa (self-aware)

Self-Aware! Kenji Miyazawa x GN!Reader

Warning: Platonic Yandere. OOC. English is my second language.

Becoming self-aware

🐄 When he realized, that his life wasn't real, Kenji hurries to the ADA office. He was confused and scared. Scared for his friends.

🐄 Kenji is a simple, cheerful and easygoing boy. And he loves his friends. Right now he must make sure they are safe.

🐄 Kenji finds his friends in the ADA office. No one knows what was happening.

🐄 Despite been scared, despite understanding, that his village and parents doesn't exist anymore, Kenji focused on helping his friends. He still has superhuman strength, it will come in handy.

🐄 Kenji helped to move Katai's belongings to ADA building. He helped with cleaning up the storage on the fifth floor. He helped with arranging sleeping places on third and fifth floor.

🐄 Kenji helped with bringing food supplies to the agency.

🐄 Kenji tried his best to help his friends.

🐄 And then, one day, he felt an entity's gaze on him.

____________________________________

Kenji wasn't angry at the entity. He believes, that if it was malicious, it would already attack them. But it was simply watching. Kenji thought, that, maybe, the entity was a little ghost that were lost and got curious, so they decide to stick around.

Then Atsushi was asking if they feel entity's presence. Before Kenji can answer, Kunikida and President Fukuzawa answer before him. While Kunikida's answer was short, President Fukuzawa also noticed, that the entity feel like something from out of this world. Later, Katai adds to this, that it feels like entity were looking at them behind the screen.

Kenji still thought, that you were harmless. He believes that you have nothing to do with this bizarre situation.

And then time resets.

And Kenji, once again, in the warehouse, where Dazai proclaim he wants to make Atsushi a part of ADA. Both Dazai and Atsushi looked peaceful.

__________________________________

When they start feeling your presence

🐄 Kenji was a little bit taken aback by time reset. But, it seems, his friends start feeling better. Atsushi was calm again, Dazai looked happier, Tanizaki siblings looked better.

🐄 Kenji still feel your presence. But still, he wasn't scared of you.

🐄 They don't have a proof that empty streets of Yokohama and current madness is your fault.

🐄 During Black Lizards' attack on ADA office, Kenji heard the voice.

"Kenji [||||||||] strong. He looked [|||||||||||||||] ray of sunshine"

🐄 After your words, Kenji feels like he was, once again, in his village on a warm and sunny day.

🐄 Kenji smiles. He knew that you are a good entity.

🐄 Soon Kunikida looks as confident as usual. He was talking about the entity with warmth in his voice.

🐄 Then Ranpo finished his investigation. And Yosano stop been always on edge.

"I finished the investigation. It seems, that our entity is a simple human. Like we are. They don't have ability. There are no abilities in their world. And they have no idea, that we can hear them."

🐄 Kenji was glad, that he was right and you aren't bad. But he wished, he hears your voice again.

🐄 And then, Atsushi and Kenji were investigating a car explosion.

_______________________________________

"Whether in a town or a village, whether toward a cow or a person… If you're sincere toward others, they'll respond in kind. That approach has yet to fail me."

Kenji heard the voice.

"sunshine boy" "adorable" "so kind"

"Kenji, I wish there were more people like you. Everyone need more kindness in their lives. I wish I have someone like you in my life."

Kenji feels like someone pet his hair.

[*In reality, you pet manga panel with Kenji on it.*]

_______________________________________

🐄 Kenji will think that it will be nice to see you in person. To become friends with you.

🐄 When President Fukuzawa and Boss Mori proclaim, that Armed Detective Agency and Port Mafia will work together to find a way out of this world, Kenji will do his best to help everyone. He wanted to go to your world. To see the nature. To see you.

And then, one day, the purple moon shined above Yokohama.

When you installed BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

🐄 Kenji's cards will have the highest attack.

"Go, Kenji, go! Let's clear this stage!"

"Your card skill works so good with Chuuya's"

"Kenji's Rainy Season card is so beautiful"

🐄 When BSD gang will gain access to the rest of your phone, Kenji (with Katai's help) will browse the Internet, looking at photos of nature and villages.

🐄 Kenji (with Katai's help) will recommend you videos about nature.

🐄 If you like watching documentaries, Kenji will accompany you.

🐄 Kenji is planning to create a small farm when they reach your world. So you can eat natural products.

🐄 He wants you to be healthy. You are his (future) friend. You are a human being. You deserve kindness.

_______________________________________

You finish watching a video about lotus flowers. It was beautiful and interesting.

You saw a notification from BSD Mayoi. You got another note in your Gift Box. A note from Kenji with some evolution materials attached to it.

"[Y/N], please, don't forget to go for a walk today. Get some sunlight. And don't forget to smile. Kenji Miyazawa"

You smile and, while getting ready for a walk, choose Kenji's card and pet his chibi sprite.

"Thanks for the advice, Kenji. I will go for a walk. And, of course, I will smile."

You didn't notice that Kenji's eyes light up.

[rayshippouuchiha]

So I read a skk and sskk swap fic a while back, and while I wasn’t really fond of Atsushi’s characterization (Felt a bit too extreme for Atsushi, even in the PM), I can’t get my own version of it out of my head

An 11 year old Atsushi getting found in a cage by Mori, thinking he’s finally free, only to be collared like a dog. Yet he still maintains his kindness, his heart

A 13 year old Akutagawa who ends up partnered with Atsushi, who sees his soft, kind smiles and gentle empathy and falls a little bit in love

A 13 year old Atsushi finally snapping under the weight of being Mori’s favorite, of Mori’s experiments (because Mori is a doctor and Atsushi is a medical miracle, it’s only common sense that he’d see how far the boy could be pushed) and threatening to kill him

(A 13 year old Atsushi who has spent enough time around Mori to know he can no longer care, because if Mori saw even a second of weakness, a way to exploit Atsushi in any way, he’d end up back on the table)

A 12 Chuuya who get taken in by the mafia and put under Atsushi’s tutelage, as one God Vessel to another (you can pry God Vessel Atsushi from my cold dead hands), and hopes and prays from the love and affection and understanding he so desires only to get hard, hard not cruel, Chuuya’s only hope for something more, training and cold shoulders

A 14 year old Atsushi who sees this small red head, so obviously desperate for affection in a way Atsushi can’t help but relate to, and shuts down a little more, because he knows what Mori is trying to do and he won’t have it. So he helps in the only way he feels he can, by training the boy to survive and keeping him at arms length, because no matter how strong he may be, Mori would not hesitate to put him on the chopping block to get Atsushi back under his thumb

An 18 year old Akutagawa cursing Atsushi’s name once the news that Atsushi defected reached him. And Akutagawa who is bitter and heartbroken and angry, and has been since those soft smiles and kind sympathy were traded for blank faces and an icy demeanor because how dare Atsushi make him fall in love only to tear it away

A 14 year old Chuuya who spent two years working desperately to be strong enough, in hopes to finally get what he do desperately desired from his mentor only to be left behind

(A 16 year old Atsushi who leaves the mafia for good, because he was foolish enough to get attached and had his heart ripped out for it)

An 18 year old Atsushi walking into the ADA, still working on learning how to care again, how to stop being afraid of love and scalpels, finding a home in Ranpo’s knowing eyes and shared sweets, Yosano’s understanding that goes so mush beyond normal empathy, Kunikida’ good, kind heart and strict schedule, and most importantly, under the President’s ability where he no longer has to be collared anymore

A 20 year old Atsushi fishing a kid out of a river on his off day, and being able to tell immediately he has an ability and listening to his story and offering him a home

An 18 year old Dazai, who fails another suicide attempt only to be saved by Atsushi, in more ways than one. Who gets given a purpose in the agency and Atsushi’s soft smile and finally feels like giving life a chance

A 22 year old Akutagawa who gets handed the case for Atsushi’s bounty because’you we’re the one who knew his capabilities best.’ (Because Mori did not trust he cared more about the mafia than Atsushi) and sees his old partner for the first time in 4 years only to see that smile, the one he fell for o so many years ago, directed at someone else

An 18 year old Chuuya who sees Atsushi and Dazai, who sees some random kid get all the affection and attention he’s ever wanted, and rages

A 20 year old Atsushi who gets confronted by his past, whoch whole never a secret, was so far removed from his current life, and feels his heart break. Because he knows that Akutagawa and Chuuya’s anger are no one’s fault but his own. Who cares so deeply then, however buried, and still does now and wants so desperately to fix it but feels it is far too late

A 18 year old Dazai who ends up in this weird rivalry with this short red head slug from the mafia who wants to take away what finally gave Dazai’s life meaning, but gets pushed to the side when he saves a snap assassin who doesn’t want to kil anymore

I could go on about this forever but I’ll leave it here for now with some small notes

The whole collared thing with Atsushi is based on a fic I read which might have been based on the Beast light novel (I haven’t read it) where the collar is used as a way to control Atsushi’s ability to a lesser extent then All Men are Created Equal by basically being a torture device and constantly making Atsushi heal himself, which he only allows himself to take off when he becomes a manner of the agency and is granted a greater control

For ages, in my mind, Akutagawa is two years older than Atsushi who is two years older than Dazai and Chuuya because it adds to the angst at factor but it also messes up the timeline a bit

I am debating whether to switch Kyouka and Odasaku bc Dazai and Atsushi already have their No kill assassins but that means killing Kyouka so I left it vague

I also left everyone but Akutagawa’s feelings vague. Whether Dazai and Chuuya’s feelings for Atsushi are romantic in nature is ambiguous and this story, told by Atsushi in my mind, leads to Atsushi being so emotionally stunted when it comes to love he cannot differentiate between the types for himself

(I wanted to leave Akutagawa’s feelings vague too but the main thing that tied sskk together in cannon was Dazai and that wasn’t happening here so I decided they needed a little something)

((I also feel there is definitely a possibility for Atsushi to end up with Kunikida or maybe even Ranpo for funsies and all))

Anyway, I’ve rambled enough, I hope you enjoyed and I send you all my well wishes!

Hey hey hey, get your ass back here and give us more of this

[deathsbestgirl]

@alexmacc oh thank you!! this is a great question and i do want to preface it with i do not have any experience with infertility but i do have a lot of experience with illness & doctors. i think it's completely understandable to dislike this arc for any reason. and i'm sure the writers don't really know what they're talking about when it comes to science. but like. this is a sci-fi show and i'm not looking for accuracy. anyway, i personally kind of love it. i can't help but look at this show in "good faith." especially mulder & scully specifically.

(also!! there are spoilers that go into season 7&8)

to me, the foundation of the x files is mulder's trauma surrounding losing samantha but the journey of it is through scully's trauma. we experience hers in real time. and this one is deeply personal & relatable, like her cancer. not being able to have children is devastating, the language surrounding infertility is painful. (although i can never remember if infertility was clear at this point — when he found her ova, or in emily.) scully thought about having kids, at one point she didn't think she was cut out for it, it was a distant hope & possibility. i don't think she truly dreamt of having the typical family life beyond the way she sometimes tried to fit society's ideal, the way she had it drilled into throughout her life. but i think she always thought she would have kids eventually. she loves kids, i think she loved having siblings, she loves & values family. mulder's love & dedication to samantha is something that attracted her to him.

in memento mori, when mulder learns that scully's ova is taken from her...she's dying, going through treatment in the hospital that's making her sicker by the day. i don't think mulder could bear giving her that news, not after learning in home that she does want kids. not after her abduction, losing melissa, her cancer. so he waits. and then his hand is forced when scully finds emily and learns she's her biological daughter. scully's hurt that mulder didn't tell her, but i don't think she really faults him for it. she can barely handle the information now, learning it while she had cancer...i can't imagine it, idk how you carry that when you're dying. i don't know how you can fit that in your brain, in your grief when she's about to leave behind her family and mulder. in a way, it doesn't matter when you're dying, but she's never been able to face her abduction and she's being forced to. mulder tries to help her, encourages her to at least talk to the mufon women as an investigator if she can't handle it on a personal level. (the way her voice cracks several times in these conversations. when she says they're not all dead. scully doesn't want to believe she's dying either.) (she calls him first for a reason, she tells skinner with mulder at her side for a reason, she apologizes to skinner for making it awkward/uncomfortable...)

what makes me love it is that...mulder calls what happened to scully medical rape. he yells it at emily's doctor, demanding he help emily, rightly accusing him of malpractice, calling him & anyone involved medical rapists. and that's exactly what they are. they conduct these tests on people, steal women's ova, and use them & their children for more experiments. giving life to these children for the express purpose of experimenting on them, and ultimately killing them or letting them die. it's so sick & twisted & inhumane and you want to believe it unrealistic...but it isn't.

i just think that's really powerful. it's painfully real. it's something doctors & the government have done. and the x files so rarely calls things exactly what they are. mulder directly calling it medical rape — and once again, not forcing scully to confront it until she's ready & it's on her terms — this is a big reason i can't hate it.

i love mulder in emily. he walks into that room, sees scully with emily. sees scully's cross around her neck. he's terrified. he doesn't want scully to be hurt again, and he's afraid that's exactly what's in store for her. he knows emily wasn't born to be loved, to live. she's an experiment to this government conspiracy, a means to an end. but mulder will always do what scully asks of him, and he goes into that meeting determined to convince this judge scully deserves to be with her daughter. he lays out the facts he has, and the judge has a hard time believing it but emily is undeniably her biological daughter. the dna tests prove it.

the way mulder says everything is important too. there's no precedent for case like this. scully had her ova stolen, she can no longer have children. but somehow, unbeknownst to scully until now, emily exists. and scully wants her. it's wrong to keep them apart, to take this chance from scully, to deny this little girl a mother who loves her after she's lost the only parents she knows. scully found emily and she stayed and she fights. she learns about her illness, makes sure she gets the medical care she needs, and does everything she can to find & understand the cause so she can help her. they describe emily as having special needs because of her condition, her "illness."

scully is judged because she has an intense, time consuming, dangerous job. she hasn't had any recent long term serious relationships in the eyes of the law & adoption agency. she's single and how would she take care of emily on her own? at one point, mulder is mistaken for emily's father and he turns away. scully takes it on alone, but she isn't alone. mulder really is there every step of the way. he would do anything for scully, and he would do anything for emily. it's so painful that they can't have this. mulder finds a cure, supposedly anyway. but scully tells him she won't put emily through more tests & pain & experiments. emily wanted it all to stop, and her parents were killed because they were going to stop. scully was prepared to let emily go as peacefully & comfortably as she could. so mulder didn't tell her. another decision i don't think was easy. it wouldn't have ended. even if emily was cured, she wouldn't have been allowed to stay in scully's care. the reality of courts & the conspiracy.

in per manum, we learn scully went to doctors to treat her infertility. once she had her ova, she brought them to a doctor and in vitro might work. and she asks mulder to be her donor. another crazy, beautiful layer to their relationship. scully wouldn't want a random donor, and there's no one she loves more, trusts more than mulder. despite what he hid from her in a futile attempt to protect her. (again, i don't think she really faults him. she almost never does. it's just painful. painful that he would hide anything from her, especially something about herself. but they both know very well how scully struggles to face what's happened to her, and everything goes back to her abduction.) protecting each other is what they do, they just have different methods sometimes. and i don't think there's a way to know what's right until consequences smack you in the face. it's easy to objectively say something is wrong when you aren't the person dealing with the situation, or in hindsight. it's always more complicated when you're facing it in the moment.

like. i just can't hate it when it gives us so many incredible moments. the vulnerability, the gentleness, the compassion, the anger, the pain. it may all be wrapped up in an alien government conspiracy but the connection, the emotion, cancer & infertility, evil...it's all real. there's relief & catharsis, a freedom & safety. it gives a voice to things often buried. it's part of the beauty of the x files, to what mulder & scully do.

and then the reversal...well. i also love that but i'm gonna save it for my william arc post.

[nyxi-pixie]

yosano is so dear to me because as much as i usually dislike the trope of 'one of the only regular female characters in the show gets healing powers because what else would a woman have' i do really like when that trope is turned into an insidious distorted mess.

I'm putting a readmore bc holy fuck if i start talking about yos i DO NOT know how to stop.

Like she has healing powers but the ability ITSELF is horrendously violent (needing people to be basically dead before they do anything), and she is not the kind of person you would associate with traditional healing character traits. Most of the time, they're maternal, and friendly, and soft spoken, and reserved.

Yosano is none of these things.

Quite frankly, she's a hater. and that's not to say she's unpleasant, necessarily, because she isn't. but she's a little demanding, and a little unhinged, and a lot prone to violence.

(and the dislikes on her profile refer exclusively to men. (shes an icon))

And shes like that because she is the outcome of what an ability like that, a responsibility like that, would do to a person.

Because every time she faces someone dying, there are two options: unbelievable guilt that comes with Not saving someone, or the perversion of death that comes with bringing them back. That complete and utter refusal of the natural order.

What do you do when respect for life hinges on a person's ability to die, and you have not just the power, but the expectation, to take that away?

which leads us to her backstory.

she's eleven. ELEVEN. what eleven year old has any understanding of life and death? of the importance of endings and letting people rest?

she's basically playing god and she barely even understands what that means. Or perhaps more accurately, she's playing puppet for mori playing god.

So she's there, and it's kind of a boring task at first. Like a very cavalier 'I'm here to save you all that's my job you should congratulate me bc im sm cooler than u losers.' But then she speaks to the soldiers, grows to care about them, and suddenly this ISNT a job. Its saving them out of compassion, out of a desire to see them alive. to make sure theyre okay.

and then they keep dying. and she brings them back, and they die again, and again, and again, in an endless cycle that can never end and while she's doing it unwillingly by that point, the reason they can live to suffer again is because of her.

And in realising that, in trying to put an end to that pointless cycle and Mori preventing that by shooting someone she cares about in front of her, she cannot give them reprieve because of the very ability that got her into this position in the first place. By that ability, and, ironically, by that compassion of hers.

"You are too just."

She cares too much to do what she knows is right, what she knows is kindest for the soldiers. She hasn't grown used to losing people (partially because she's eleven, but mostly because death doesn't exist to her) so she can't accept it.

and when everything goes down hill, she still thinks of it all as her fault. (even though technically its mori's, and whomever was in charge of their unit for not surrendering)

even fourteen years later, shes still haunted by what happened. even fourteen years later, the balancing act between using her ability, and letting nature run its course, is a delicate one, and one that is only facilitared by her position in the ADA.

its incredible that with that position threatened, the very reason shes learned to live with herself being put in jeopardy, she keeps herself as stable as she does.

so. she's a little bit batshit. very violent when she wants to be. ready to beat a mfer within an inch of their life at the earliest opportunity.

her very capacity to heal is twisted and messy and terrifying. it isn't soft and delicate and sweet, or even reassuring. it's practical. it's useful. but it's deeply unsettling.

and i think thats a very realistic portrayal of what it would be like to have such an unnatural control over life and death.

[nero-vanderwolf]

Remember you are mortal.

As Goro stands, sabre poised to strike a Shadow, he vaguely recalls those words. They ring in his mind, a stranger’s voice in his ears. He doesn’t know where he heard them from.

Remember that you must die.

He sidesteps the Shadow’s attack, but he’s slowing down. He’s tired, separated from the group he’d been tailing. Junpei-san’s, if he recalls. His memory is becoming hazy from exhaustion.

Memento mori.

Next thing he knows, he’s being struck down, swatted at by the Shadow. He lands flat on his back, and struggles to roll out of the way as another attack comes.

He feels sharp claws come down on his shoulder, and he cries out, clamping a hand over it. The sabre tumbles from his hand, and he stares at the floor as it swims up and down.

He’s going to die here. He’s been hurt and he’s going to bleed out and die and it’ll have been his own fault. He’s going to die and he will rot, and his bones will be a feast for the Shadows.

He forgot he was mortal. He forgot that he, too, must die. He forgot that everything dies eventually.

Distantly, he heard someone shouting. There was the firing of a gun, and someone was hauling him to his feet.

In front of him, he saw Naoto-san, speaking worriedly to a pale-looking Yukari-san. She frowned, setting her bow down and seizing her Evoker from its holster. With practiced effortlessness, she turned it upon herself, firing at her forehead.

Her Persona appeared, and a warm glow surrounded him, bathing him in green light. He was alive. The determination and kindness of his senpais kept him alive, kept him breathing and his heart beating.

Distantly, he heard Naoto-san continue their conversation with her. “He’s handy with that sabre, I’ll give him that... But who knows what would have happened if we hadn’t found him?”

Yukari-san said nothing, interrupted by a voice from down the corridor.

“Is he okay!?” Goro turned around, feeling the strong arms of his Dad wrapping around him, the metal of his brass knuckles digging into the soft skin of Goro’s back. Nevertheless, he hugged back, burying his face in the soft vest.

“You had me worried sick! What were you thinking, coming in here by yourself!? We told you to stay out with Fuuka and Rise!”

Goro cast his gaze onto the floor, still weak from his encounter. “I’m sorry. I just- couldn’t stand by. I couldn’t.”

Dad’s expression softened, and he ran a hand through his pearly hair. “Next time, we’ll bring you with us if you promise to never leave our sides.”

Goro looked up, and nodded. “I swear it.”

And he meant it. Never again would he venture on his own into these halls. It was too dangerous without his Persona. Maybe one day, he’d be able to.

But that day was not today.

Memento mori.

Akechi's weakness being that he thinks he's immortal. he takes chances no matter what to help people because he doesnt value his own life and often forgets what death means. he forgets death is permanent and will always come about. he rushes into battle for ken, but doesnt think twice about himself. if he dies, what would happen to ken? to shinji? to aki? it feels so in character for him to forget about death.

[blue-thief]

chuuya and the very, very screwed-up dynamics he has with others (attempted bsd analysis)

"chuuya-sama is the kind of person who would never abandon those who have helped him, even if they end up betraying him."

this line from adam in storm bringer sums up the core of chuuya's character in a single sentence. over the years, chuuya has sworn loyalty to numerous people, groups, and causes, and in some cases, these connections have proven his status as a human. unfortunately, in other cases, his sense of self and autonomy has been damaged by his devotion. what sort of positions has chuuya taken in these relationships? how have these connections affected chuuya as a person? will chuuya learn anything from the constant loss and betrayal, or will he be forever trapped in relationships that ultimately take more away from him than give?

chuuya's earliest friendships were formed in the sheep. after giving him a place he could call home, chuuya helped them go from a simple support group for homeless orphans to one of the fiercest gangs in yokohama that could rival even the port mafia. there was an understanding between chuuya and the rest of the sheep that in order to repay them for saving his life, it was chuuya's duty to protect them. it was only right, after all, since he was the strongest out of all of them—his responsibility as the strong one was to help the weaker sheep. he then became the infamous "king of the sheep", a title that seemed so glamorous that even one of chuuya's closest friends, shirase, desired that status. he was placed on a pedestal by his peers, and was removed from them to the point that shirase actually forgot that chuuya was his age, a kid just like him.

"chuuya's the one who did the fighting. chuuya dealt with the pain... and it only made sense. he's powerful, and he was simply fulfilling the duty he had as someone with that kind of power.

"but he's somehow weaker than usual now... i've never seen him like that. he looks just like a regular guy my age.

"wait, no—he doesn't just look like one. he is my age. he's a boy just like me."

then he was tragically ripped away from the sheep in a deal with the mafia in order to protect them. chuuya was forced to join the mafia, and it was there that he exchanged a few words with mori. mori said that a leader, even with all the power they have, is a "slave" to it because they must sacrifice their everything towards the organisation's cause. chuuya admits that is what he was lacking as the sheep king, and swears allegiance to mori.

but was that really something chuuya was lacking? wasn't chuuya already working himself to the bone for the sake of the sheep, all because that was his assigned duty? he had already dedicated his everything to the sheep, and he was doing it again with the mafia, only this time, the power dynamics have shifted. instead of being the king, chuuya was now the servant.

chuuya became mori's subordinate because he felt as though he wasn't good enough as a leader. he did everything he could for them, and yet, the sheep fell apart because of him. for this, he harbours immense guilt over not being able to perform his duties. this guilt of not doing enough is worsened by the death of the flags.

"this is your fault, chuuya." (shirase) glared at chuuya with a smile still on his face. —fifteen

"then why did he kill them?"

"i believe verbalising the reason would be meaningless."

"answer me! ...you're a machine, aren't you?! then give me a perfect, objective answer!"

..."because of you, chuuya."

...silence.

"yeah, it is my fault." —stormbringer

chuuya still wholeheartedly believes that it's his responsibility to save and protect others because of the strength he was born with, and he constantly beats himself up over not doing enough. the thought of failing others scares him. it's possible that this trait of his is part of the reason why detective murase wished to "bring him into the light".

despite being one of the youngest port mafia executives in history, chuuya has a peculiar affinity towards the "light". this is made even more interesting when you consider that his former partner, dazai, the "demon prodigy" with blood that is "mafia black", ended up on "the side of good" by joining the armed detective agency. dazai and chuuya are meant to be foils—will chuuya eventually follow dazai to the "light"? or will they always be each other's complete opposites, with chuuya, naturally drawn to helping the weak, on the side that brings harm, and with dazai, not truly understanding the importance of morality, on the side that saves others?

speaking of chuuya's relationship with dazai, their tumultuous and difficult history may be the key to chuuya's development (that is, if he survives this current arc). despite having an unwavering "hatred" for dazai, chuuya eventually surrendered into becoming his partner, and they never would have become the infamous double black if it wasn't for their firm trust and loyalty in each other. that all came crashing down, however, when dazai betrayed the port mafia, as well as chuuya.

the fandom has yet to see chuuya's true reaction to this sudden abandonment, but people seem to have split themselves into two very distinct camps. fanon interpretation seems to be either, "chuuya completely broke down after losing dazai and was never able to function as a person ever again" or, "chuuya is a total bad-ass who doesn't need to rely on dazai whatsoever and was 1000% emotionally stable after he left".

in reality, it was probably a mix of both. losing dazai was certainly not the end of the world for chuuya, and seeing how he's still a feared mafia executive indicates that he was able to keep himself together for the most part. still, dazai was an important person to chuuya and his development as a person; he was the one constant in chuuya's life since they were fifteen, and it wouldn't be completely unfair to believe that chuuya was emotionally distraught over experiencing one more loss.

on the other hand, this is not the first time chuuya has experienced loss. time and time again we have seen him recover and get through life as well as he can. however, in the case of the death of the flags, he was pressured by the likes of adam and mori into repressing his grief.

after dazai left the mafia, though, chuuya might have handled his emotions differently. four years is a long time, and chuuya likely went through much reflection about himself and his relationship with dazai, understanding that he doesn't need him, the same way he never technically needed anyone. however, he must have come to accept that dazai mattered much more to him than he initially realised.

chuuya accepting that he can and should exist as his own person outside of his relationship with dazai may be the first step for him to realise that he doesn't have to continue being the mafia's loyal dog. many people have begun speculating that chuuya may end up joining the armed detective agency (if he lives). the armed detective agency is a place where they do not care about the usefulness of their members—instead, they aim to provide their lost members a home and encourage them to help other people. the natural progression of chuuya's arc, if he is to receive a happy ending, would be to join an organisation like the agency to amend the co-dependent dynamics he wound up in over the years. he would fit right in, especially when you consider his natural affinity towards the "light".

i would like to believe there is hope for chuuya. i may end up regretting this prediction, but i can't help but believe that dazai has a plan to save chuuya, and a happy ending is in store for him. it only makes sense that he would finally recognise his own worth, leave the mafia, and pave a better life for himself. but i guess only time will tell.

[lnkedmyheart]

How smart do you think is Mori compared to the likes of Fyodor and Dazai? I see his intellect rarely talked about due to him being such a controversial character, so I wanted to know a couple of opinions :')

Okay so before I get to Mori lets talk a bit about Fyozai.

Dazai and Fyodor are different kinds of geniuses than Mori. The thing with Dazai and Fyodor is that they are disconnected from humanity and hold themselves at a distance from humanity. Where Fyodor views himself as a hand of God, passing down his judgement on humanity and actively seeing them as nothing more than sinners because he is in general a misanthropist. He genuinely despises humanity, himself included. Dazai's distance stems from his admiration of humanity and his hatred of himself and inability to feel human. Dazai struggles to feel what he thinks humans should feel, he is always seeking out the brightest kind of humanity and latches onto it and tries in his own way to protect it.

Both of them are long term strategists with Fyodor being solidly on the darkest side of gray morality and Dazai's struggles with his own morality despite himself being gray as all hell. Dostoevsky views himself as a necessary evil but he is a fanatic. Dazai sees himself as a necessary evil but he has hints of his own brand of idealism.

Mori is the necessary evil. He doesnt let morality bog him down because he will do anything to do what is necessary. Much like Fyozai he is a long term strategist but he doesnt have world ending or world saving stakes, his stakes are limited to protecting Yokohama and the Port Mafia. He is the most stable of the 3 here, and is not holding himself away from humanity in any way that can impact his plans. He doesn't make unnecessary sacrifices of grunts, even Oda was a necessary sacrifice that not only protected the ability users in the PM who had nowhere to go, he also ensured that the PM could stay stable and keep protecting the city in the dark. Mori doesnt concern himself with sentiment but he commands respect of his forces because they know he will protect them as best as he can.

Imo Mori is the most efficient strategist in the series, while Dazai and Fyodor were definitely the ones strategizing on a larger scale, Mori is the most consistent. He has the best parts of Dazai as a strategist, and its why Mori needed Dazai out of the PM given how badly he had started spiralling by the dark era. Much like Dazai, Mori has faith in people to carry on plans perfectly and be self sufficient when needed. He doesnt have the faults of Fyodor's insanity and fanaticism or the distance from humanity that Dazai struggles to bridge.

He is however lonely, a consequence of his position as the PM boss and Elise embodies the fiery temper of Yosano and the brattiness of Dazai, the two children he took under his wing and was attached to on some level. Hence his often mistranslated remark about Elise being his life partner.

[starlightshadowsworld]

No because Fukuzawa literally lost Fukuchi and has to carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life.

Blaming himself like it was ever his fault for not wanting to go to war.

And now Mori is going to take one of his kids from him.

Which is going to fuck them up and just... The guilt Fukuzawa is going to feel because he had to make that deal to save them.

And he's going to lose them because of it.

He couldn't save Fukuchi from himself, he couldn't save his comrades. Ranpo trusted Fukuchi so blindly because of him.

What kind of leader is he?

Just Fukuzawa staring at the sword in his hand, one he vowed never to raise again.

And thinking maybe it would've been better for everyone if he had stayed isolated from the world.

"I'd like the power to protect my comrades"

... What a joke...

[infernalmelancholy]

enjoy these two idiots being idiots :)

“You think this is easy for me?” 

Dazai rolls his eyes. “Is that what I said?”

Chuuya’s rage goes from simmering to explosive in an instant, runic red lines climbing like vines up the skin of his arms as he breathes with purposeful rhythm in an attempt to suppress it.

“You’re sure as hell acting like it.”

Dazai scoffs. He doesn’t look up at Chuuya, knowing there’s nothing that’ll sting worse for him than cold dismissal.

“I’m acting like your life isn’t difficult? Do you hear yourself?”

“Oh, I hear myself perfectly fine. I think you’re the one having trouble comprehending the shit you’re saying.”

“Am I?” Dazai asks with a brow lifted in mock curiosity.

“I should’ve known you couldn’t even argue like a normal person,” Chuuya says with a cruelty he can’t have learned from anyone but Dazai. “I guess it’s my fault, expecting Mori’s puppet to act like a human being.”

Dazai glares at him. Chuuya’s face splits with a twisted grin.

“Oh, now he’s mad,” he sneers. “What? Don’t like being faced with the fact that you’re nothing but an obedient little errand boy for the very man you claim to despise?”

“Shut up.”

But Chuuya isn’t one to follow orders. No. He swiftly invades Dazai’s space, their faces inches apart as one word after another leaves him doused in mockery.

“You don’t get to run me into the ground and then expect me to lean up for a kiss. You want care? You want me to be kind and gentle? Earn it,” he hisses. “But if you wanna act like you don’t care about anything and me bending myself over backwards for you means nothing, I’m more than happy to play along.”

“Shut up.”

Chuuya’s rage is horrifying when paired with a smile.

“No, I don’t think I will. See, what I wanna do is get you to step down from your pedestal for five minutes and realize your dismissal of other people doesn’t make them stop existing. You can pretend I don’t have feelings. You can pretend I’ve never stood on a ledge and been one vile thought away from taking the plunge. Be my guest. Drown in your misery and I’ll take mine somewhere else if that’s more convenient. But don’t try to convince me that your twisted little fantasy world is somehow more real than mine.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?” Dazai bristles.

 “Better than never saying anything.”

“Is it that I never say anything, or that you never actually listen to me?” 

“You’re the one who doesn’t listen!” Chuuya shouts, verging on desperation. “Do you ever actually take into account anything I say? Anything I feel? Does any of it matter to you?” 

He pauses, his next breath rattling out of him. 

“Do I matter to you?”

“Nothing matters to me,” Dazai says, his own anger quickly dissolved by the resignation which settles in Chuuya’s eyes, making them appear dull. He only wishes their roles could have been reversed, that this time spent together could have made him more like Chuuya and not the other way around. But Dazai’s dejection seems to be contagious. He’s seen it in Oda’s eyes, sees it in Chuuya’s now. He wonders if he’ll let anyone close enough to be infected by this curse ever again.

A door slams to signify an ending.

The rest of the night is spent in a lonesome routine.

Dazai closes all his blinds and curtains before shedding only his coat. He crawls into bed, head falling heavily onto the pillow.

His hand tugs absently at the bandages around his neck as he drifts off slowly, swaying thoughtless in the realm between wakefulness and sleep.

The unbreakable darkness that surrounds him isn’t the same one he feels hunting him when he spends too long staring at the city at night, when he’s on the other side of a window, bathed safely in light.

That darkness is one he fears he’s made angry, a darkness watching, licking its teeth until it drags him back into its clutches.

The dark in his room is a different creature.

Through it he can see nothing and therefore, like a child, he believes nothing can see him either.

What’s invisible doesn’t exist.

He falls asleep pretending to die.

[annonmaly]

I'm reading too much dazatsu fanfic the past few days and ideas keep popping in my head. So there's a soulmate au where the scars of the other would reflect in the skin of their other half. So here's an idea that is living in my mind rent free. The scars bsdDazai's trying to hide is not only from self harm, but also scars from the torture bsdAtsushi got from the orphanage. bsdAtsushi don't have the scars anymore because you know, tiger power. Also, in addition to the scars, the other half would feel extreme pain and toughts of the other. They both realized that they are soulmates but they didn't do anything because:

1. Atsushi thought that Dazai hated his soulmate for giving him the scars and pain, hiding them and all. He also thought that he's partly at fault why Dazai wanted to kill himself. However, that is not the case and the reason why Dazai's suicide attempts always failed is because whenever he tried to kill himself, Atsushi will always cry out "I'm sorry, No worries, thing will be better. I promise" repeatedly. Dazai is saved by these comforting thoughts and give living a chance. Every time Dazai gave up killing himself, Atsushi would relax and renewed his will to live. He cannot die yet, he has to see his soulmate and apologise to him face to face (but when time comes he got scared to come out to Dazai)

2. Dazai is guilty that he did not try to save Atsushi, he knew that he's being tortured but he did nothing, on top of that, he feels that his suicidal thoughts just added oil in the fire. Dazai regreted that the only thing he gave Atsushi in the past is more depression. In Dazai's defense, he didn't care about soulmates in the past due to horrible experience. Atsushi (who he didn't know when they were a kid) just grew on him, since Dazai was saved by the former's positivity and kindness many times. He always looked forward seeing the face of his comforter.

So yeah, they met, fluff and drama happened. Let's not forget denial, lots of it. So, ADA, who knows everything (because they are detectives by profession), cannot bear the drama anymore, made plans so Dazai and Atsushi could talk it out. But all of them failed. Even the ones where the mafia members was involved. Though through these failed plans, Dazai and Atsu found healing. It is a journey where they learned how to forgive and love others, and ofcourse themselves.

However, even after the DoA arc ended, there's tension between the two. (Yeah it's my HC that Dazai showing himself to Atsushi this arc is due to the power of love soulmates) So, Mori who loves playing the villain intervened and asked Atsushi to join the mafia in exchange of helping the ADA. This is a situation Dazai wouldn't let to happen, so he stormed in the mafia base ready to offer himself to join the mafia but he was surprised to see that Atsushi and Elise was having the time of their life playing. Confronation happened. Elise nagged the two and then give them time to talk. In the end Mori let them go saying that the mafia did not actually finished the job and that they owe ADA during the vampire outbreak.

Long story short, it's a happy ending. Also Dazai knows that the ADA plans that's why it always failed. But he had so much fun going with the flow. It's just sad that Atsu and Dazai thought that they are hurting one another but in reality they are one another's reason to live. Also, I always think that Dazai can't read Mori, that's why he only felt the urgency when Mori took Atsushi, and the moment the walls break down. Finally, Let's make this story a comedy