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when i first started writing fanfiction i was around in 5th or 6th grade. and then i joined tumblr around 9th or 10th grade. it’s been a roller coaster ever since with more fond memories than icky ones, and i’m very grateful for the fun threads and cool people i’ve had the pleasure to write with. i used to have a very dark mindset, and writing was my escape. i got professional help, and slowly my activity on tumblr started to grew more and more distant. dazai was my last “disturbed” muse that i wrote, and that i could escape into. i’ve tried coming back a handful of times, to dazai or to my other muses, but i just can’t.

tumblr as a site has changed a lot since my teenage years, and i have as well. i don’t think about self harm anymore. i don’t need these characters to escape my hell irl anymore. even just typing all this out, being vulnerable, gives me anxiety. but, i don’t feel the need to hide away anymore, and mask with my favorite characters. i don’t have that same mindset as i did when i was a teenager/just becoming an adult to jump on, spend all day here, and rinse and repeat. i have bad days still, but now i have a group of very supportive friends that i can lean on. 

sometimes i do miss writing. and i’ve tried writing on here. but i don’t see it happening anymore. if i were to continue writing, it’d be on ao3. 

i won’t delete my blogs, because looking through them i actually felt proud of myself. there’s been a lot of shit that i’ve overcome, a lot of shit i’m still actively dealing with, but i can say that i did it all on my own. my blogs will be a reminder to myself that i came a very long way. and they’ll be archived into a little corner that’s very personal to me.

/// /// ///

“Here are the list of suppliers trying to infiltrate our databases.”

In one manila folder held documents on the poor soul that thought double crossing the Port Mafia would benefit them, and the list of organizations that put them up to the task. It held official names of the leaders, second in charge in the chain of command, their families, residency information, tactics, current stations, future plans. Dazai left no stone unmoved when it came to a trail, and when it came down to hunting, the P.M. Executive always caught his prey. 

“I went ahead and initiated laying traps to capture the mice that gave me most of what I needed to know. The rest I left up to my subordinates to finish.”

Clean. Fast. And efficient. He doesn’t dally about with his work, and doesn’t leave much up for chance either; any loose ends had been dealt with; no witnesses that could show up on Mori’s doorstep.

/// /// ///

What a beautifully bright and clear day today! The streets were bustling, the city itself was in an exceptionally good mood as it basked into the hot sunlight - virtually nothing seemed to be disrupting the peace!

...

How boring.

Dazai was bored. Nobody was hiring for a detective at all. Just where the hell could the crime have gone? Surely there must have been something to do; the brunette would take on something mediocre at this point... A lie, but! He was beyond bored enough to exaggerate somehow. Lifting his head up slightly to peak around the office, he spied Kunikida (whom he already messed with five times that morning) and Ranpo.

Hm.

            how disgust paints across visage   ,   mere irritation that bestows a knit between brows.   obnoxious resonation of other eating that has his full attention straying from the meal before him   ——–   barely touched   ;   far too consumed within rumination that cauterized focus.   soon enough would his meal grow cold   ,   though null bother was paid till scarfing down the meal alike his ill-fated partner.   despite what concealed ease briefly transcended mind   ,   grateful that the other was choosing to annoy him with his eating habits than relying on that shit-ass snack regime he’d call meals from time-to-time.

“   really   ——–   ?   ”   sarcasm is heavily threaded through syllables   ,   mock shock surpassing agitated gravitons.   “   couldn’t even tell with what fuckin’ symphony your creatin’ over there.   ”   arm extends to knock chopsticks against dazai’s head   ,   gaze narrowing ever slightly as brief huff passed lips   ,   “   close y’ mouth when y’ eat   ,   shit-face   ,   bad enough I have to sit next to you right now.   ”

It was just too easy; breathing alone was enough to get Chuuya’s eyebrow to twitch. Oh, how satisfyingly sweet having that much power over an individual was. And, keeping that in mind, Dazai turns to get closer, mouth full of half chewed noodles as he expresses confusion. “Whaddya mean ‘clof my mouf?’”

His inner childish behavior was dying on the inside. Provoking Chuuya at least ten times a week was mandatory by this point. Any subtle remark, any mild gesture, any opportunity at all and Dazai was going to seize the opportunity. It’s not a good days work unless his ear drums have been blown out by his partner’s constant screeching. Ah, he could fall asleep to such bliss... Most likely not, but pretending to snore to earn some more hate points didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Switching gears to the takoyaki, Dazai was more so just chewing for chewing sake and not actually tasting the flakes on top or the octopus inside. He looked down to Chuuya’s lunch and elbowed him gently.

All jokes aside, Dazai says, “Eat more.”

Lately, the only times Dazai has found himself to eat is when he’s with his lethal partner in crime, or pacifist best friend. On today’s lunch menu seemed to be udon and takoyaki with a refreshingly cold bottle of water to wash everything down. While the aroma wafted around his form, the appetite wasn’t quite there, despite the disguise of it being a large bowl. Slurping loudly, the executive hummed in faux content as he chewed with a smile of delight.

“I haven’t had udon in forever~” Dazai slurped more strands of udon, followed by stuffing his face with the takoyaki.