#dazai committed horrendous crimes.

[belphiegore]

Tbh I started disliking the LOV the more the show went on, they are so hypocritical and their actions are so atrocious and horrifying yet they show not an ounce of remorse and remain thinking that they’re completely in the right. Yes they were failed by others, yes they had sad pasts, but like Aizawa said that’s no excuse for what they are currently doing. There’s a line that you don’t cross, between a person and a monster, and every season the LOV steps farther past that line into irredeemable territory. From spying on, attacking, injuring, attempted murdering and kidnapping children, mass terrorism, mass murder, to starting a war and overall just being annoying self righteous criminals who think that just because their life sucked everyone else should suffer, everything else is the supposed problem. The LOV just isn’t likable.

[blobwithapencil]

here is my ugly son, he has every disease

[yandere-pleasure]

'ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ' | Yandere Dazai Osamu x Reader

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ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ᴜꜱᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ - ᴋɪᴋᴜᴏ

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↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

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Trigger Warnings: Nudity + Degrading + Gore References + Generally Fucked Up + Abuse

Reader: Gender Neutral

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{ Prompt: Yandere Dazai Osamu x Reader │Bloody Taste Test }

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"How Pitiful"

Twenty seven letters, strung together, for an unmerciful insult likewise threat all the same, legs crossed over one another, he sits on a throne, for you a cold ground, in bare skin, of yourself, however in the exposure, you could simply feel delirious sleep in wake of want. You didn't even care over the exhaustion you felt, whether it be the injuries lathered on your skin in love, the brutal nature this dehumanizing act has had in the imprint of your normalized mine or reality, you couldn't tell. You didn't bring your hands to your skin, in embarrassment, dread, nothing of the sort, they rested atop your thighs, as instructed. Back straight, sitting atop your legs, gaze turned down, to the way of a worshiping stance, in some way of a mock religion, it was humorous at the very least ironic, however you couldn't even muster an internal laugh at the thought. The way your ribs seemed to pull flush close to your lungs, felt a threat, beyond his hand of touch, a warning even beyond him, to follow closely.

Cruel words, yet a sweet touch, a graze against the cheek with a knife, and yet you could hardly even tell the difference, much less even muster a flinch. Coo, and awe for a brand new toy, for the spoiled child, how contradicting this bittersweet feeling, gazing longingly, yet disgustingly to a brutally mutilated dog, reduced to human waste, maggots, and flies probably preferred you, over than breathe anyone could possibly empathetically, in pity possess for you. A deep brown resides on our skin, known as the male's eyes, one hand rests on his knee, while the other leans on the arm rest, allowing him to rest his face into his hand, a coy smile by a defaultive nature, held on his lips, a hanging man, does the silence stiffen. In the accessibility of time, you could feel the weight in your body, the bruises, the bones broken healed, then broken again out of some degree of punishable enjoyment for Dazai. You thought to count, to think back, how long had it been, what had even been your given name, besides the oh so endearing terms you were referred to as replacement. Bluntly it was all lost, had it been days? Weeks? Months? Maybe it was even years at this point, you couldn't figure, no wonder you were referred to as the broken watch, time really had alluded you in a punishment of a crime you never remembered of commiting. Carefully he walks, a delicate silver knife better referred to as a letter opener in hand, in bandaged hands he reaches for your left wrist, one slit from side to side, you pull back a wince at the tip of your tongue, softly he places your wrist back to your lap, reaching for the next, he commits the same act. You bleeding across your skin, in a blood disarray, the broken puzzle you felt.

"Do you taste yourself?"

Dazai stooped to your level, brown eyes gleaming, in a horrendous case of sick pleasure, in the hitch of your breath, the way your body tensed a little softly at his closeness, made the side of his face pulled to bare white. Bringing himself to one knee in front of you, one hand gripped your wrist pulling it to the starking ceiling lights, the red spiling against the sides of your arm, thus to the palm of his hand. He dug his fingers in your wound, enjoying the beat of your blood, gushing onto his skin, in the open array of him, his slender fingertips stain bloody, he reaches out to you, showing the crimson on his skin, fondly, with a twisted smile to churn your vision, in a grotesque state, of the vision of you.

"Care for a taste?"

As if he had commanded you, you stick your tongue out, ahead of the male, stopping ahead of his finger, as if for permission, knowing his twisted case of delivering of punishment, a weary way of carrying yourself began, in fear of his demeanor. Dazai gleams almost proudly, swiping his blood fingertips across the rough texture of your tongue, giving a nod of approval to taste the metallic substance. It tasted no different than anything else to you, it all sort of blurred in a mesh of hunger, there was no need for taste, what little, demeaning things, he had given you to feast. What traces remained he tasted for himself.

"Now then dear pet of mine, let's have a taste test, for comparison"

The terms sound endearing under different circumstances, pet, what an odd circumstance to debrief on pet names, comedic in its own sense, however it was no such case. Dazai motioned, and his order was already met, as if studied comparatively, the stench of blood, rot, and death hung heavy, in a small box, carried by two men, placed ahead of you. The dried blood on the sides showcased its belonging, yet you couldn't even muster disgust in your riddled, ruined body. Dazai crudely smiled, opening the small chest, you figured it'd be a small animal, however it was human. Crammed, in minced, ligaments, bathed, then stained in blood, that seemed, full of drunk, dead insects.

"Now lick it up like a good pet"

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[celestial-corner-of-desires]

IMAGINE DAZAI.....

....and you walking on top of the bridge that Dazai always tried to invite women to commit double suicide with him on, only to be rejected countless times. But now, as he is next to you, as the warm air passes by you, he can't help but think that there is nothing more he wants in life than to live in tranquility with you by his side. Though he was raised in the shadow, taught to trust no one and turn any weakness into a tool of manipulation, with you it was different. With you, he can feel like nothing needs to be hidden behind the façade of a perfect human being. With you, his heart is telling him that you are trustworthy in carrying his burden, even if his mind often tells him otherwise. With you, he is no longer a tool of manipulation. There are no chains that bind him to Port Mafia and its bloodstained world. There are no voices to tell him to commit something horrendous only to please their selfish needs. When you stepped into his life, he didn't think much of you, just another pretty thing to ask to commit suicide with him, but after getting to know you better, both his mind and his heart began to spark with joy as you greeted him, talked to him, cared for him, scolded him. Every interaction made him crave more, making Dazai wake up every day with a little smile on his face, as the first person he thinks about is you. Oh, you. How enchanted you made this monster fall under your spell! Though he doesn't commit crimes freely as before, he knew that if you asked him to dispose of someone, he would eliminate everyone just to see you smile. Now the question is...

When is he going to reveal his darkest secret, that you are his reason for living?

(Do not repost without permission. Sharing is allowed with credits.)

[constellation-sys]

bsd ramblings (seasons 1, 2, and dead apple)

i would commit double suicide with dazai

why does everyone have a gyatt

kunikida x dazai??????

WHY ARE THE SIBLINGS SO WEIRDDDD

ranpo’s my scrungo

atsushi has trauma and is a furry

kunikida and endeavor sound really similar

dazai <33333

what the actual fuck is wrong with the doctor 

oh hey ginger

oh those bitches are homosexual 

the way they fight is so homoerotic 

“go to hell! i was being saracastic!” — chuuya to his boyfriend

dazai x chuuya

atsushi x akutagawa 

WHY IS EVERY SINGLE GUY IN BSD SO HOT

the animation has no right to be so good 

kenji is so silly. i love him

kenji loving cows is so real of him

i need more port mafia exec dazai

“he both fears death and is drawn to it” ME FR

DAZAI <33333333333333333333

i want to hold dazai. i need to ruffle his hair. i want to commit suicide with him, my last words being heard by him only. i want to drown with this man, the holy water bringing us both to the afterlife. we will both be free. 

chuuya is so silly

“come now, take me with you to the afterlife” DAZAI AJHDISBEUDBEUBD 

dazai is a disaster bi and i love him for that

i pledge allegiance to the flag of bungo stray dogs and to the fandom for which it stands. one nation under dazai, indivisible, with fanfic and fanart for all. 

dazai is down horrendous for oda. i don’t blame him

dazai my silly wet cat disaster bi husband <33333333333333333

akutagawa is so silly

WHY DID THE THEME SONG HAPPEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EPISODE WTF

men <3

oda is my dad now bc i said so 

the kid’s name is shinji? evangelion reference?? 

“because odasaku’s my friend” NO HE AINT DAZAI. HE’S YOUR UNREQUITED CRUSH. 

“because i know my friend better than anyone” DAZAI’S LITTLE GASP OMFG IEBEKSHWJJDEBBE OMFG OMFG IM GONNA CRY DONT EVEN WINEUEHEJEJ (friend who got me into the show) YOU BITCH

“you’re a were-tiger, grow some were-balls” KUNIKIDA YOU DID NOT

ranpo is autistic

WHY THE HELL IS THE BOSS SO WEIRD ABT HIS KID WIHDJEBE OMFG

“i can’t hear the voice of god with you staring like that” — every catholic ever

nathanial hawthorn is a silly catholic

margaret basically being the daughter of a rich plantation owner in the 1800’s is so american 

ranpo my silly

chuuya <3

q and kyouka are my children

osamu dazai my silly little wet cat autistic depressed suicidal maniac disaster bisexual husband <3

WHY IS MARK FUCKING TWAIN SO FINE OMFG THIS SHOW

lovecraft is weird. i like it. he’s accurate. 

margaret x nathan?? 

chuuya and dazai are an old married couple. i love them so much. 

“god i hate you” — chuuya to his husband who he loves very much

“don’t worry, buddy. i’ve got you” — dazai to his lover

“i’d expect nothing from you, my worthy adversary” poe to his bf

WHY IS POE FINE SOEJDIHENSHDBE

ranpo is so silly 

dazai is a cool uncle to kyouka fuck you

akutagawa and atsushi are down bad for each other 

why is scott fitzgerald a crossbreed between a dilf and a twink

cmon you two kiss each other already

is akutagawa down bad for dazai or just looks up to him

WHY IS THE WIFE NAMED ZELDA?? IS SHE A PRINCESS OR WHAT

i am OBSESSED with this show

never have i ever watched an anime with a shit theme song. i love bsd’s intro so much

hehe moby dick

if kyouka dies i’m killing myself /hj

welp guess i’m dying 

akutagawa my silly <3

nvm not dying today. hey at least kyouka isn’t dead 

dazai is akutagawa’s father figure sorry not sorry 

lovecraft is so real for jumping in the sea 

POE IS HERE WIHEEIHEIEHEUDHEHD I LOVE POE 

RANPO KISS HIM RN KISS YOU TWO KISS 

“but i prefer the women in my life to be under 12” E X C U S E M E S I R 

RUSSIAN MAN???? 

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT DUDE HELL YEAH

IWJDUEBEHE DAZAI QUOTING ODA IEHRUEBEUDHWHDUENDJDJHE IM GONNA CRY AGAIN BYE—

DEAD APPLE IS AMAZING. I WATCHED IT ON 9ANIME. ONLY SUB THOUGH

READING THE TRANSLATOR STRUGGLE IS SO FUNNY. o7 TO THEM GOOD JOB.

[sugawara5]

a world without you

genre: angst

warnings: suicide mentions

summary: the love story of you and dazai osamu. and it's ending.

note: i wrote this at 2 in the morning so I might repost to fix stuff. Sorry for any errors, I'll fix them later or smth idk. I got too poetic oops. (if you actually read this- ily)

word count: 1.1k

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The first time you met, he’d grabbed your hand with a devilish smirk, asking you to commit double suicide with him around ten seconds into knowing you. His silver tongue drawing you into him so much that the expression on his face when you said yes was etched infinitely in your mind.

“But not yet-” you had said right after. “I’ll only die with you when I fall in love with you.” You knew it was your fault, your words that had ended you up here. His smile did not falter when you spoke of your condition, instead he pulled you to your feet and had you experience memories so vivid you couldn’t ever forget them. “The only thing better then committing suicide with a beautiful person, is commiting suicide with a beautiful person you love.”

You remembered staying up till two in the morning, dancing to whatever song came on, eating old take out, laughing your hearts out. He grabbed your waist gently and twirled you around his living room, dipping you every now and then. The sharp pain on your hip from when he had accidentally dropped you and the long stream of apologies falling from his mouth felt like it was yesterday.

You remembered him taking you on little adventures throughout the city. Sometimes it was cafes, other times it was trails he had found in a park. He’d never failed to show you something that spiked your curiosity and made you want to kiss him for being so amazing. You remembered how he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you into a Ferris Wheel telling you about how he’d jump from the top when the fireworks started. But when they did, he was too busy talking to you about what he was going to show you tomorrow then to remember his words. That was the moment you had finally started wanting to fulfill his wish. You were falling in love.

You remembered him giggling for ten minutes straight after you had touched one of his ticklish spots, and how he had immediately tried to find yours. Both of you were in tears by the end of the day, your ribs aching from laughing so much and your arms limp next to you. He had wrapped you in his arms right after, nuzzling his face into your neck, speaking softly into your collarbone every now and then.

You remembered every single time he smiled at you from across the room and waved you over, introducing you to his coworkers or bragging about you to random strangers in the store. It had always embarrassed you. But oh- the things you would do to have him do it again just one more time.

You remembered his hands on you. The gentle kisses he’d lain on your lips, his hair messed up from the night before and his bandages unraveled on the floor. You’re so beautiful, he had said, taking you into his arms and laying your head on his bare chest. The cold biting your skin, but his warmth enveloping you from the other side. And for a while, everything was ok.

“I love you, Osamu.”

Oh, how things had gone from there.

Everything became a memory. No more waking up in the morning with him beside you. No more holding his hands while walking around the shore. No more laughing at the TV at midnight. Gone, it was gone, everything was gone. Forever.

You didn’t know why it happened yourself. Why Dazai Osamu never showed up to your house the next day like he always did with food and a flower he picked on his way to you. He had just disappeared from your life.

He didn’t pick up his phone, nor did he reply to your texts. You knocked on his apartment door but no one answered. You called the agency, they said he wasn’t at work. At first you thought he might have needed to do something important, you knew how he was, always full of surprises.

But the grand finale he threw your way was nothing but cold and bitter abandonment.

Weeks had gone, and you hadn’t heard a word from the burnette. You knew that he was really, truly, gone. And it was finally settling on you. You hated the feeling more than anything in the world. You didn’t want it to settle on you. You wanted to stay in denial forever because then, at least you had hope that he’d come back. Even if that hope was so obviously fake.

And then the day came.

A single email, sent to you at noon on a rainy day. Sent by an unknown. But you knew exactly who “unknown” was.

Dearest-

I’m sorry.

Though it was me who offered, I have to back out of my request.

I’ve come to realize you cannot die, you have a whole life ahead of you to live. I’ve only spent a while with you but I can say with determination that I’ve never met anyone as vivid and fascinating. You are alluring to me, pulling me back again and again like some drug I took to feel something and ended up being addicted to. But it is impossible for me to keep tasting you like this. It’s dangerous, and will end only in tragedy worse then this one.

I cannot have you dying, love. I cannot imagine taking away such a beautiful creature from the Earth for my own selfish desires. What will this world do without your smile? Without your words? Without your touch? A world without your existence would hold some meaning- possibly. But what would that meaning be?

A meaning dull and rusted compared to what it was before, yes.

I apologize again but I will not commit suicide with you. It seems to me, almost like a crime. A horrendous crime even my inhuman self wouldn’t dare to commit. I cannot meet you again either, it will lead to complications. I hope you forgive me over time. If you do not, I understand.

I doubt a day will go by without you crossing my mind. I shall dream about holding you in my arms. About laying kisses on your body and going to sleep with you. Till the end of time, I shall think of you darling. Of reaching you. Of meeting you. And of loving you.

It ended there, no signature. You felt empty as you closed the tab and trudged to your empty, cold bed. It felt as if you were laying on ice, only the distant remembrance of warmth existing, a memory you never expected to experience again. Not in such a brilliant and aweing way at least.

How painful his words are, you thought as you closed your eyes. How beautiful and how painful.

[misstinfoilhat]

Whumptober 2019 #18: Asphyxiation- Bungou Stray Dogs

I have to stop this here- the story will continue in the next upload, but I haven't decided which prompt it's going to be yet! This will be several parts long, as many of the remaining prompts fits this story! I might get back to this to fix the cursive writing- I just can’t be bothered right now- sorry. I don’t know why it doesn’t do that automatically when I have it in the saved documents, no matter where I copy it from. But, for the time being, just... add cursive where you feel it fits in. Arraaait.  --------- The red light of the black camera indicated that it once again was rolling. 

Another jolt of shooting pain seared through Dazai's body. Between clenched teeth, he stifled a muffed cry of agony while twitching viciously in his seat. His head shot up, slamming into the back of the chair he was tied to, while his body shook violently out of his control.

The zap cane was removed from his stomach, and Dazai heaved for a breath of air with a mixture of saliva and blood spilling out between his lips. He had bit his tongue again, tearing open the bearly closed wounds he had suffered from the day before  (and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that). 

“Let's try this again today,” the large man said in a dangerously calm tone. He looked to be in his mid to late fifties and was towering over Dazai's half-conscious form, wide and tall. The two other men in the room were armed with the electric prods and would shock him each time the larger man nodded his head towards them or gave them a hand gesture that indicated that he was getting sick of Dazai's lack of cooperation. The two younger men took a couple of steps back, making room for the big man to lean in close to Dazai's ear.

With heavily accented Japanese, the man asked again; the same question he asked Dazai endlessly, every single day for as long as he'd been there. 

“Are you ready to confess?”

At first, Dazai kept quiet, just like he did every day; forcing his lips tightly shut and refusing to meet the ice-cold stare of the man he assumed was the leader of this group of imbeciles. He turned his head demonstratively to the side, not even wanting to breathe the same air as him.

A hoarse smoker's laugh trembled through the elderly man, making his shoulders shake. Suddenly a large, firm hand had a tight grip around his jaw, forcing Dazai's head in the man's direction.

“I said; are you ready to confess?” 

Dazai's only answer was to chuckle in amusement, before gathering a mouthful of blood, spitting it into the man's face.

The broad-shouldered man sneered, backing up and turning away, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“I'll give you one more chance,” the man growled in a dangerous tone. “Look into the camera, and admit to your crime. This will make this whole ordeal  a lot less painful for you. You were the one who killed Niko! You killed my beautiful baby-girl! Admit it!”

It was getting difficult for Dazai to keep his head steady on his shoulders, and his vision had doubled. The small window of sight he still had left in his right eye was completely gone at this point- hopefully, because of his eye being bruised shut and not because of any additional damage to his optic nerve.

Thick fingers grabbed a hold of his hair, yanking his head back forcefully, locking him in an uncomfortable position. It might have hurt if Dazai hadn't been dragged after Chuuya in more or less the exact same way for two years staight while still in the Port Mafia. But, being held directly into the path of this guy's foul breath was enough to make it seem tempting to break. 

Then again, if against all odds, he would survive this screwed up situation, and the damage was already done... he didn't have anything left to lose and he might as well have some fun along the way.

Dazai gave the man a broad grin, teeth shining mockingly with red lines of crimson running between them.

“Fine, fine...” he wheezed, a bit more pathetic than he had anticipated. “I give up, it was me... I did it..."

Dazai took a deep, shuddering breath, before he continued ceremoniously, "...I, and I alone... let the dogs out.”

Apparently, his captors didn't have a sense of humor, because the zap cane was quickly pushed against his neck. The buzzing sound of electricity was only heard for a short second before it drowned into a wave of blackness and his own strangled scream.

-----------

When Dazai woke back up, he was back in his cell; his small, cramped, cold purgatory. He had no idea how long he had been locked up in this place. There was no light, no set schedule for food or using the facilities. It seemed like it varied depending on which people were on guard- which also seemed rather random. That left him with little to work with in terms of keeping track of time.

The stone flooring was cold, and his bare back was pressed up against the door. His legs hardly fit in the tiny cell when stretched out, but that wasn't why he was pressed to the door. 

No, that was because of the chain around his neck.

The thick iron was locked tightly around his throat, tight enough to hurt his vocal cords and add horribly painful friction to the black burns caused by the zap cane. It made his breaths go in and out in rapid, hungry hicks, and each time someone opened the door, he would be dragged along with it, cutting off his air supply and efficiently subduing and choking him.

But the pain wasn't even the worst part anymore. He wanted it gone- wanted it to  stop  wanted to  die  more than he had his entire life and would end himself (he didn't even care about a pain-free suicide anymore- didn't care about it being convenient just wanted it done) as soon as he could... But they wouldn't let him.

At some point, he had tried. He had leaned forward, effectively cutting off his air supply for long enough to make him faint, while making sure he wouldn't fall unconscious in a way that made it loosen the chain enough to clear his airways. But it hadn't worked.

It was all because it was that damn camera. The only light in the cell, the only true constant that had been there (except for the pain- the pain didn't go anywhere- because that came with the light the small red orb looking tauntingly and laughing-)  since he had been brought to this place.

The fuckers revived him when he had managed to strangle himself with the chain, and on many other occasions too. So now... now he knew. 

He knew that they wouldn't let him die. They wouldn't let him get out of the one crime that he did not commit. He was guilty of many horrendous things, but he would never admit to killing such a sweet innocent girl. In which case, he would rather die.

Still, he was sure if he somehow was able to hang himself, overdose, cut his wrists, shoot himself in the head while jumping off a cliff and set himself on fire at the same time, they would still find some way to bring him back to life. 

It sounded surreal even to him, but he had finally, actually, given up on death.

A venomous voice in the back of his mind told him that he didn't deserve the release of death anyway. That after all he had done, he had this coming. Even if the tiny bit of sanity left in his mind tried to convince him that nobody (not even him)  should even fantasize about doing something like this to another human being... That  nobody (not even him) deserved what was going on here...

That maybe...  just maybe... he wasn't the worst human to ever leave a print on the face of the earth after all.

Because whoever killed poor little Niko, definitely deserved that title.

...and he also questioned if maybe the lack of oxygen was clearing  his mind more than muddling it, and tried to imagine what Kunikida, or Chuuya for that matter, would say if they could hear him now.

“Was a couple of weeks of torture all it took to get that into that shrimp-sized brain of yours? I wish I had known so I could have done it myself.” 

...that seemed pretty accurate, he decided.

The silence inside his solitary was disrupted by a hoarse, broken chuckle. The sound of his broken voice sent chills down his spine.

His eyelids felt heavy now. He couldn't remember the last time he slept- unless being unconscious counted as sleep.

Dazai shifted, trying to rest on his side, but a sharp pain shot through his hip. It made him startle and he rolled back to his half-seated position against the door, leaning his head to the harsh, wooden surface. There was a burning behind his eyes. Not tears, more of a desperate call from his body to fall into slumber, to relax and maybe... give in.

 No. 

 If he did- they would frame him for the murder of Niko, but without his confession, they would never be able to. There was    no    evidence to point to simply because he did not do it. 

But he wanted to give up on all of this... Kinda. Not really, but... he was considering it. At least, his body was.

Just the thought made him slam his head into the door behind him, punishing himself for those ridiculous thoughts- because those kinds of thoughts were unacceptable. He hadn't endured years of Mori's vicious training to withstand torture to lose out to fatigue.

All of this made him feel like a child. Nothing more than the poor helpless kid he had once been, that the Port Mafia had beat, burned and whipped out of him.

...still, the feeling lingered, and he realized slowly, painfully, why it did.

This experience woke up a demon that had hibernated in the pit of his soul for fifteen years. A ferocious beast he had fought and defeated and thought he had buried along with his humanity long ago.

For the first time since he could remember, he was truly scared.

--------------

 “He can't be in Yokohama.”

“Are you sure there's not anything we've missed? There isn't anywhere we haven't looked?”

The Armed Detective Agency was hurdled around a large, squared table, scattered with notes and documents. In the middle, there was a map with excessive amounts of large, black crosses drawn all over, eliminating each searched location throughout the city.

“We've scavenged every little creak and corner, from the border to Tokyo to the port. Our colleagues in Kobe, Sapporo, and Tokyo have done an extensive search too, without any luck.”

Kunikida crossed his arms with a grave expression. Atsushi was still eying the map, hoping to discover something they might have missed.

“I hate to say it, but I suspect that he actually is still in Yokohama,” Ranpo muttered gravely, not even bothering to pretend to be using his ability. There was no use. Their colleague had vanished without a trace and they had no idea how or why.

"If this had been a group from out of the city, they would have had some sort of motive, and they would have let us know what it was," he added.

There had been no ransom demands, no one that had taken responsibility, and most importantly of all, no body.

They had gone as far as to hire divers to search the bottom of every little creek in Yokohama, even if they knew that this wasn't another suicide attempt that had finally been successful.

The evidence was clear; their coworker, friend, and ally was kidnapped. If he had tried and succeeded at killing himself, he would have let somebody know. He always did, so they wouldn't have to go out on a wild goose chase looking for him.

Strangely enough, Dazai was considerate like that.

Dazai had his flaws, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that if he was ever to disappear, they would come looking for him. They were also fairly sure that he knew they cared enough about him to know that they wouldn't rest until they found him, and that was why he always gave them some sort of notice when he would try to off himself, so they wouldn't waste their time.

This time, however, there was nothing. No hint of where he had gone except a busted door, a few droplets of blood and 6 months of absolutely no trace of him.

The ADA had put everything else aside to find their missing colleague. They had even developed close cooperation with the Port Mafia. Their eerily creepy leader, Ougai Mori had laughed when they had reached out to them, but Dazai's former partner, Chuuya, as well as several other members of the Port Mafia, had become quite invested in the search when they had learned about his disappearance.

At this point, there wasn't really any profiled ability-based organization in Japan that hadn't partaken in the search for Dazai in one way or another.

In spite of all of his shortcomings, Dazai turned out to be widely respected in the community of ability users. Some because of his work in the mafia, some for his work in the agency, and some plainly because of the reassurance that he could cancel their ability if it got out of hand. 

It was fair to say that most of Japan were invested in finding Dazai at this point.

Still, no one had gathered any information that had lead them any closer to finding him.

“I hate to say this, but our resources are running out, and we're still not any closer to finding him,” Yosano started, always the voice of reasoning.

The dark-haired doctor ignored the venomous stares she harvested from several of her younger coworkers and continued.

“From a medical standpoint, I would say that he's dead.”

“Don't say that!” Atsushi retorted immediately, fists grasped tightly at chest level, with arched eyebrows. He turned around to face the young doctor, who he had eventually surpassed in height.

The thought of his friend and mentor being dead already haunted his dreams every night. Their continued search was the only thing that made him hopeful that Dazai was still alive- if they began to entertain the idea that his nightmares were real, Dazai would be dead eventually no matter what they did from this point forward.

“We can't give up on him.”

“I'm not saying that- Knowing Dazai, he's way too stubborn to be killed or die in any way that seems inconvenient to him. I'm just trying to be realistic... We're not going to be able to solve this if we run out of money. We might have to start taking on cases again.”

“Taking on other cases would mean that we have less time to search for Dazai,” Kenji stated sadly yet accurately.

“I know, but nobody is paying us to find Dazai at this point, and there's a large stack of forms on Haruno-san's desk of actual paid  missions that will eventually lead us to have more resources to find him.”

An argument broke lose between the agency members just as Fukuzawa entered the room.

“Yosano's right,” he said solemnly, effectively breaking up the fight before it could escalate to a loud shouting match. Eight pairs of eyes turned towards the entry as Fukuzawa stepped inside.

“I've been reluctant to tell you, but if we don't take on other cases soon, there won't be enough funds to sustain the agency at all.”

Two hands slammed into the work table and Kunikida stood abruptly.

“Are we just supposed to give up on him?” he retorted agitatedly, earning shocked stares across the room.

Fukuzawa's steel eyes looked at him, unaffected by the uncharacteristically rough tone. The blonde lowered his gaze, held his breath for a few seconds to calm down.

“With all due respect, director... Dazai-san has been missing for over six months now. He might be in great danger, and I don't know how any of us could live with ourselves if something were to happen to him, because we stopped searching.”

Fukuzawa's tall stature came closer, and a large, strong hand reached out, grabbing and putting reassuring pressure on Kunikida's shoulder.

“I know, Kunikida-kun. I don't want to stop the search any more than any of you do. But if we don't take on a couple of missions now, we will lose all the resources we have at hand here at the agency... because there won't be one.”

Kunikida cleared his throat, and looked back up and nodded affirmatively. “I-I understand, president. I'm sorry for speaking out of line, it... it's been trying times.”

“I know,” Fukuzawa assured him calmly. “I'm not saying to stop looking, but I do want some of you to take the time and do some of the missions. You can decide amongst yourselves who does what, and if there is anything that I can do, don't hesitate to ask.”

The tall man left the room, leaving the agents to digest this new information.

Kunikida quickly snapped out of it. “Kenji and Tanizaki, go and look over the missions on Haruno-san's desk. Don't pick anything that will take away too much man-power, please. Dazai still needs to be our priority. When you've found one, come back and do a short debriefing, and we'll decide who's going. I would rather have Ranpo free to continue the search, though...”

The two young detectives nodded in unison and darted off towards Haruno's desk.

------------------

 Darkness. Consuming everything. From as far as my eye can see- to the core of my soul, it eats away, leaving room for the uneasy, strangled fear that creeps up every time I forget to pay attention. 

 Fear doesn't need doors or windows. 

Dazai tried to keep in mind that fear was only an emotion and reminded himself how illogical all feelings were. Some people were scared of heights, while other people bungy jumped.

The hight wasn't any more dangerous for the person who sought it than to the person who feared it. The only difference was their perception of it.

Just like he had no more reason to fear his captors than they had fear him. 

 Because he was Osamu Dazai, previously the youngest executive of the Port Mafia in history, purely because of his brilliance and heartlessness. 

Still, one thought kept picking at his brain. Because even if that was so, someone was out to hurt and destroy him, which actually was a much more actively danger than what the space between a person and the ground was.

He wanted to tell himself that this was the kind of thinking that separated him from his persona as a mafioso. Those years ago, he believed more than anything that he himself was the only real threat to him.

He wasn't durable in a fistfight, wasn't bulletproof and was truthfully inadequate at taking care of himself. Still, what he was, kept being and had always been, was unbreakable. 

Maybe not physically  (not at all, really) , but emotionally, he was. No one had ever been able to throw him for a loop, make him unsure or scare the daylight out of him.

Not since he was a child, anyway.

...so why was it now, that he couldn't stop shaking?

In the distance, he could hear footsteps, and he held the breath he so preciously treasured, hoping they would pass him by. Keys were rattling, and the lock mechanism on the door behind him clicked.

He quickly exhaled before greedily gulping in another breath, ready for what was to come.

The door was yanked open, the chain around his neck tightening around his throat, effectively cutting off his air supply and crushing at his windpipe and almost strangling him. He was dragged back, his cuffed arms clawing at the chain around his neck while he struggled to breathe.

The zapping cane poked at his side, and he let go of the tight collar to protect himself, curling up and kicking with his legs while being zapped again and again until he lingered at the edge of unconsciousness.

Without a word from his guards, the two men picked him up between them and carried him between them, once again heading for hours upon hours of torturous interrogation. I have to stop this here- the story will continue in the next upload, but I haven't decided which prompt it's going to be yet! This will be several parts long, as many of the remaining prompts fits this story!