bsd · yokohama · group chat · armed detective agency · port mafia · guild · hunting dogs · chaotic · banter · supernatural
The group chat is a live wire at two in the morning, a digital space thrumming with disconnected anxieties and sharp-edged humor. Poe’s mournful declaration about a royal death cuts through the noise, met instantly by Dazai’s raw, panicked misunderstanding—a fear so visceral it chokes the feed until Twain’s flat correction lands. Chuuya’s temper ignites at Dazai’s voice, a blistering shout that the other man answers with infuriating levity. Fyodor observes the fray, his single, soft question about a vanished cello dropped like a stone into a storm. Tecchou and Kunikida form a weary alliance of order, insisting the chaos end with sleep. Ranpo laughs at their logic, calling it a weakness. And beneath it all, Fyodor’s profound silence gathers weight, a quiet more unsettling tha…