#like yeah mori isn’t above doing some fucked up stuff

[sugarcarnation]

it’s weird when people act like mori would regularly torture dazai and/or chuuya for funsies. even ignoring that he does hold some affection for them why would he risk losing two of his strongest subordinates like that? why would he send them on missions while they’re injured??

dazai was clearly fine interacting with mori until the whole oda thing went down. and we know dazai is very clear about him being the only one allowed to make chuuyas life more difficult than it needs to be so he wouldn’t just stand by and watch if this ever happened

also how would you even explain that chuuya is perfectly happy hanging out with mori? he’s clearly not expecting any harm and y’all can’t tell me that chuuya "that’s more than a light wound" nakahara would ever happily spend his time with mori if he ever did actually torture dazai

[starglow-xx]

hello! may i request headcanons for chuuya having a crush on someone who's dense? like he could ask them out in the most straightforward way possible and it would still go over their head?

yes, yes of course you may!

sorry this took so long! my computer was out of commission for abt a week (or two..??)

but this is also my birthday writing piece for chuuya!! (4/29/21) i even added a small drabble thingy in addition to the hcs for the occasion hehe

from where i am, it is about fifteen minutes past midnight so it’s officially chuuya day here!!

happy birthday chuuya i love you! you deserve the whole world and everyone is willing to fight tooth and nail to ensure your happiness! we love you! 💗💗

anyways, i hope you all enjoy this! i kinda had some writer’s block but it was still a lot of fun to write! there might be some mistakes, but i’ll scan over it again later. reader is gender neutral! have fun!

chuuya having a crush on a dense! reader

nakahara chuuya x gn! reader

im cackling somebody help him

he’s frustrated bc you can’t take a hint or a thousand but he can’t even be mad bc he’s whipped

“look at you all dressed up today, wanna go out later? my treat?”

“oh really? thanks chuuya-san! you’re such a nice friend. i’ll go invite the others right now, i’ll see you later!”

“...”

fast forward to later in the evening and he finds himself at a little restaurant with the black lizard + higuchi and akutagawa

sigh

in unison all of them go, “thank you for the meal chuuya-san!” (except aku and hirotsu are quieter & and gin just a nods hehe)

“no problem” (ꐦ ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

gin only pats him on the back in sympathy

he spends a lot of time trying to think of ways to make it absolutely and undeniably clear that he has feelings for you

he always fails

“(y/n) i like you”

“i like you too chuuya-san”

“really?”

“mhm”

“t-then will you—”

“you’re a really great friend! and superior too”

“...nevermind”

“oh were you saying something?”

“nah, just forget about it”

tachihara is laughing in the corner of the corridor

dont worry, chuuya made sure to get back at him

chuuya’s been pinning after you for years and frankly, his failed attempts to woo you has lead everyone to the breaking point

and i mean everyone

yes, even aku

hell even dazai

but dazai also thinks it’s funny, so he doesn’t mind all that much

okay bye bye dazai-san this headcanon set isn’t abt you rn

PLEASE EVERYONE FEELS SO BAD FOR HIM

they knew even if he kissed you, you still might not get it

so they decided to help him

super secret mission get chuuya and (y/n) together is a go!

they’re still working on a proper mission name, don’t mind them

they had a super secret strategy meeting!

you can bet your ass that they nearly got nothing done

akutagawa & kaiji weren’t much help, neither was higuchi, mori, or elise

tachihara nearly got killed for a thoughtless comment

“just tell them chuuya-san!”

“i already fucking did you ass!”

gin, hirotsu, and kouyou were the most helpful !!

hirotsu and kouyou both agreed on the idea that chuuya should try courting with bouquets of flowers instead of flat out asking you bc they knew you found them pretty

(even if you don’t identify as a female, flowers are for everyone no matter gender or sexuality! so let’s normalize giving flowers to everyone <33 )

gin didn’t speak but she used cards to communicate

everyone knew that you weren’t stupid (you wouldn’t have survived in the mafia if you were) but they did know that you were only stupid when it came to all this lovey dovey stuff

i mean, if chuuya gave you flowers every so often, there’s no way that you wouldn’t piece it together at some point

right...??

but kouyou assured him that even though you wouldn’t get it right away, you’d appreciate the gestures and that he’ll stand out more

she even said that if someone gave her flowers, she would appreciate it, whether or not she reciprocated their feelings

it takes guts to be so up front with your feelings after all

gin and hirotsu only nodded with her explanation

once again, this only provoked a reaction out of tachihara

“what do you know gin? i get the old man and kouyou-san, they’re grown, but you? what do you know abt courting? or flowers? what are you a girl?”

akutagawa choked on his cough, higuchi on air, and on the other side of yokohoma at the ada, dazai is cackling

yes, dazai somehow placed a listening device onto chuuya’s hat and was listening in

don’t ask how, it’s dazai

“DAZAI GET YOUR BANDAGED ASS OFF THE COUCH AND STOP LAUGHING”

anyways

the next day, chuuya did what was barely discussed and for once, things actually started to look up

until they started look to down again

at first, it actually looked like you understood his intentions after he gave you a bouquet of flowers

literally everyone was leaning against the opposite hallway you two were in and then they got excited !!

especially chuuya !

but then your expression sort of changed...??

and then in their heads they simultaneously went, “oh no”

they knew that expression

it was very familiar when you tended to friend zone chuuya

but boy let me tell you what you said next made them facepalm and or make their jaws drop

“ah, so you really are friend zoning me huh chuuya-san; what a shame, i really did like you”

LEMME TELL YOU WHEN I SAY THAT CHUUYA WAS DISTRESSED I MEAN HE WAS DISTRESSED

you liked him??

him of all people??

he wasn’t complaining, no of course not, but he still couldn’t believe it

but that wasn’t what he was really focusing on right now

what in any form or language did it say he was friend zoning you?!

flower language apparently

chuuya chose to buy the bouquet of yellow roses, pink carnations, and yellow carnations bc he thought you would appreciate the brighter colors, and so that you’d remember them better (because remembering them, meant remembering him)

but ooh boy

altogether, they meant the exact opposite message he wanted to send

someone help him pls

“you see chuuya-san, yellow roses mean friendship, pink carnations mean gratitude, and yellow carnations mean rejection; sooo in a nutshell, these pretty much say ‘thank you for being my friend, but im rejecting you”

no one can tell if tachihara is crying or wheezing

and dazai is having the time of his life

yes, he started listening in on him again

and chuuya is just stunned

like speechless and unmoving stunned

is he just bad at this whole courting/dating thing?? it’s only been one day and of it and somehow he was the one doing the rejecting??

“thank you for the flowers chuuya-san, i’ll be going now; i’ll make sure to let this affect our friendship. i’ll see you tomorrow!”

you passed by the not so subtle group of people

“tachihara-kun..?? are you alright?”

just for context, he was leaning his forehead against the wall using his forearm

again, it was hard to tell whether he was crying or wheezing

“i-im okay (y/n)-san...i think c-chuuya-san has it worse than me”

“...okay..?”

BACK TO CHUUYA

he’s still frozen poor baby

but it’s okay bc after like 5 more seconds he’s chasing you down the hallway you were walking in

kouyou, with a knowing smile on her face, ushers everyone away towards the opposite direction

she received some whines (ahem, tachihara and mori) but silenced them by summoning golden demon

but it’s okay

if they run fast enough, they can see what happens through the security cameras

chuuya caught up with you and tried to explain everything but he was exhausted

emotionally, physically (bc since when did you walk that fast??), and generally just tired with the whole situation

he just wanted to call you his; was that too much to ask??

as explosive as he can be, he can be calm and collected too

and he really did try to be that way as he talked with you but it was very difficult at the moment

the dumbfounded and confused look on your face his face twitch with annoyance and his heart started beating faster bc god you were cute

BUT THATS BESIDES THE POINT RIGHT NOW

thank goodness after what seemed like years, you finally somewhat understood what happened

you didn’t understand completely but it was something

The two of you stood in the middle of the unusually empty hallway facing each other, you with the bouquet still in hand. It was quiet as you and Chuuya assessed the situation.

You looked at him skeptically and he stared right back you with his gorgeous blue eyes.

“...So you do like me Chuuya-san??”

“Yes”

“And you were trying to court me just now, not friend zone me??”

“Yes”

You got most of your questions out of the way, but there was something that you’ve been wondering about for quite a while.

“...So you’re not gay for Dazai-san??”

“Yes, im not wait—GAY FOR DAZAI?? THAT MACKEREL??”

Chuuya did a double take. What in heavens name made it seem like he liked that suicidal maniac?? Why would he choose him if he had you?

Like he would choose him anyways; or ever consider him as a possible romantic partner.

“Oh, so you are?”

“NO! I SAID I LIKED YOU DIDN’T I?”

“Well yeah, but I thought you liked Dazai-san too. As annoying as he is, he can be quite charming—”

He was out of patience at this point (nope definitely not because you were talking about Dazai who told you that?) and just decided to kiss you.

You immediately melted into the kiss and kissed him back with the same amount of love and feeling.

Letting the bouquet fall to the ground, you wrapped you arms around his neck and his put his on your lower back and brought you closer to him. After a few more moments, the two of you broke apart for air.

The two of you, slightly out of breath, leaned your foreheads against each other and just basked in each others presence.

Chuuya looked into your (e/c) eyes and asked you just a little bit above a whisper, “Now do you get my intentions and feeling?”

You blinked at him before breaking out into a grin, “Hmm I’m not sure; do you wanna do that again Chuuya?”

The red head only blinked back at you before rolling his eyes, a smile present on his handsome features, his heart fluttering at you using his name with the honorific.

“Dumbass”

Smiling cheekily at him, you pressed a kiss on his cheek and started dragging him towards the lobby to take a walk around the building perimeter, knowing that the two of you can’t be too far from work.

The way down to the lobby was mostly in comfortable silence until you said something that made Chuuya want to bash his head against the wall.

“You know, you could’ve just told me you liked me Chuuya. It’s not like I would’ve said no.”

Once again, as the rest of the more power mafia members watch from security cameras, it is hard to tell whether Tachihara is crying or wheezing of laughter.

omake !!

The two of you just started making your way around the building when suddenly a very familiar voice came from Chuuya’s prized hat.

“Chuuyaaaa!! It was about time you stopped being a chicken, Chibi!”

Removing his hat from his head, he started yelling at it not knowing exactly where the listening device was planted.

“TEME! HOW DID YOU—”

“And (y/n)! I would congratulate you, but I think I would rather offer you my condolences. Why him?! He’s just a slimy slug. OOH OOH how would you like to join me in a double suicide?! A shame it won’t be a lover’s suicide but it’ll annoy Chuuya so I think it’ll be worth it! ”

“YOU—”

“And please don’t kiss while I’m listening in. You made me lose my appetite! And it was such a shame! I was eating crab using Kunikida-kun’s money! Do you know what you’ve cost me?!”

“DAZAI YOU PIECE OF—”

“Ah! Kunikida-kun is here! I have to go!”

You can hear something is the background that vaguely sounds like, “DAZAI YOU WASTE OF BANDAGES STOP USING MY MONEY”

“DAZAI DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE IM NOT DONE WITH—”

*Click!*

The click sound from the hat revealed that Dazai disconnected.

Chuuya twitched and glared furiously at his signature hat hating that the voice he hated the most came out of it.

“Aww, I didn’t get to talk to Dazai-san”

Chuuya whipped his head towards you, a look of mock (or real) betrayal showing on his features.

You laughed at him before taking the hat out of his hands and placing it on his head.

He shyly looked away before muttering a thanks making you smile wider. Just as the two of you were about to start walking, a small explosion erupted from his hat; it was likely that Dazai made the listening device self destruct.

“DAZAI YOU BASTARDD”

At the Armed Detective Agency, a certain suicidal maniac hid from the wrath of his current partner as he thought about the wrath his old one.

“Hmmm I wonder if Chuuya would finally stop wearing his ugly hats if I blow all of them up...”

as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason

[pearl-blue-musings]

If You Change Your Mind Osamu Dazai x fem!Reader

✨Hi hello again! This is something I wrote a couple years ago and I just decided to copy and paste myself lol 

Some notes: Slightly NSFW, 18+, in this you work for the Port Mafia *gasp*, I was inspired by the song Old Money by Lana Del Rey ✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were addicted, that you knew without a doubt. But who could blame you? The manner in which he talked, the way his eyes would creep into your being always sent shivers down your spine. The way his bandaged arms felt against your bare skin is a feeling you thought you could live without; you were wrong. His brown trusses of hair that you loved to run your fingers through left your fingertips dancing and aching for the touch in the middle of the night. Every time either you or him would walk out the door your body would immediately ache for his again.

   From the moment he laid his eyes on you, you knew you were screwed. You told yourself over and over that these meetings would stop, that your infatuation with him would die out eventually. But every time you would even think about him...    "So it's true then?"    "I'd rather not say to be completely honest with you. This isn't really the best time."    "There never is with you, is there?"    The man merely chuckles as he peppers soft fleeting kisses to your neck, strong enough to almost make you forget what you were asking him. Beads of sweat trickle down your clavicle causing the brunette to lick his lips and move his lips lower. If he could, he would ravish your body all day and give it the special treatment it deserves. Not midnight rendezvous in each other's apartments, cars, or wherever you two could find without prying eyes. He wanted nothing more than to take you away from this life and give you what you needed, what you deserve. But it seemed he had to break your heart first.    A sweet moan leaves your mouth as his tongue continues its dance across your skin. You don't even care that his dampened bandages graze your skin, it's part of the experience with him. The sounds that come from you are music to his ears as his hands explore your body as if it's the first time he's touching you. Your bedsheets had long been discarded since your first round minutes prior. His eagerness to be with you in this moment shocked you, but who were you to deny this beautiful man?    "Is that why you're here right now? Because you're leaving the mafia."    He tries to silence you by putting his lips over yours slowly and gently, making sure to feel all of you. You give in to his desire ever so slightly as his tongue makes its way into your mouth with a passion you hadn't felt from him. His fingers tangle themselves into your hair as he pulls you closer, afraid to let you go. Pulling away for oxygen, he brown hues showcase lust and sadness, a strange but befitting look for him.    "I need to leave. I'm gonna join that detective agency."    At that you push him off of you and search for the sheets to cover yourself up. How could he do this to you? To your partnership? To whatever "this" is between the two of you?        "Why Osamu? Why are you leaving me?"    "I'm not leaving you, I'm leaving the mafia. Come with me. Let's commit this beautiful double suicide together!"    You remember that day well. The day he left the mafia, and when he left you. The pain and heartache you felt that day could not come close to a bullet wound or someone using their ability on you. No, it was something that cut you so deep that you vowed to never go back or speak of him again. So why are you doing this?    The alley way is barely lit up by the moonlight as you bang on a nearby trashcan three times. You hear the echo bounce off the brick buildings and wait for a response. Your black peacoat does well to hide most of your figure as your eyes dart back and forth between the street and the rest of the alley. You huff out a breath as nothing happens and you try again.    "You rang?"    It took all your strength not to scream and throw the owner of the voice to the ground. Your heart races not only out of fear, but for how you were able to feel his breath on your neck causing all the hairs there to stand up.    Pulling yourself together, you turn your attention toward your guest. "Someone needs to put a bell on you Dazai-san."    A small pout finds its way onto the mans face, "Come on (F/n), don't be like that! Why can't you call me by my first name?"    "Because I shouldn't even be meeting with you in the first place! I'm only here for business," you state as you pull a letter from your jacket pocket. Dazai takes it from you gently, making sure to prolong your exchange. If you weren't trying to cover up your feelings, you would have immediately yelped from what felt like an electric current running through your veins. "It's from Mori-san. He said it was something you should see."    Dazai hums as he reads the letter and a sly grin comes after. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel something when he purposely grazed your hand. All he wants to do is touch you but he knows better. He knows that he's the reason you're acting this why and why you're doing what you do. You didn't get your title as "The Messenger" for nothing.    "This is such a tiny little matter, why would he send you? He could have sent anyone, but no matter! I have it."    "Great," you sigh, "now I can leave. Have a great life-"    The taller man grabs your arm as you turn to leave. "Don't you want to know what it says? It's a very good letter."    "Not particularly, Dazai-san. Now I must get going."    "Please."    The last click of your heels reverb and sounded louder than usual. Was he really saying please? And with such a soft undertone as well? What game is he playing. You swiftly turn around and march toward the man in question.    "Look, whatever game you and Mori are playing count me out. I was only here to deliver this stupid letter to you, that's all." You spit out that last part in hopes of getting him off of your back.    However, his sing-song reply makes you halt in place. "But what if I said it's about you?"    You give him a deadpan stare. "Come again?"    His smile is wicked, knowing that he's got you. "This wasn't just some out of the blue thing. I wanted to meet up with you but I wasn't sure how to do it. I couldn't just flat out ask you because you would've said no!"    "You're damn right I would have!"    Ignoring your interruption he trudges on. "So I asked Akutagawa a teeny tiny favor and here we are!"    Your eyes roll at his ridiculous comments and decide to at least give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out. "Fine, you have three minutes-"    "Come with me."    Your eyes flew to the size of saucers. You scratched at an ear to make sure you heard everything okay. Is he serious? Right now? Your mouth opens and closes trying to find the right words to say. Would you yell at him, scream, walk away? There's too many options. Your furrowed eyebrows cause Dazai to giggle slightly as he sees the different stages of your thinking flash on your face. He really has missed that about you.    Your fists tremble as small unintelligible sounds leave your lips until you finally say, "Where was this question a couple years ago? You can't just waltz up to me and expect me to drop my life in the mafia - something that is your doing- just because you say? Who the hell do you think you are?!"    "If you would just liste-"    "Oh no, I've been holding this in for years! You left! I thought you had died because no one had seen you! And then all of a sudden you pop up with that stupid agency you mentioned-"    "I told you I was joining them."    "Shut up! The point is, you left... you left me." Your mustered up strength to yell that had left your body and you fell to your knees as tears sprung at the corners of your eyes. Your small cries made it seem like his heart was imploding on itself. He slowly approached your figure and dropped down to your level. "Dazai, I thought you loved me."    His hand gently cupped your cheek and you hesitantly leaned into it on reflex. His voice just barely above a whisper. "I left to help myself, among other reasons and one of them was to help you get out. The Port Mafia, this isn't us, it isn't you."    At his words you try to pull away from him. "Like hell you know what's good for me! What gives you the right to say that?"    "Ah, nothing I guess. But I had a couple people keep tabs on you. There are visible scars that weren't there the last time I saw you, and you have a slight limp. Did you get a concussion recently?"    "Fuck you," you hiss out. You start to compose yourself and take a deep breath. "Your three minutes is past up, thank you for wasting my time."    "Actually it's been about five.."    "Oh whatever-"    "And I know you still love me."    "Oh yeah smarty pants? And why is that?    He stuff his hands into his pockets and starts to readjust his weight, "Because whenever I'm right you would resort to childish insults and because I haven't been able to find someone as willing and loving as you to commit a double suicide with me."    Dazai's declaration makes your heart skip a beat and your steps to falter. Damn him for being super observant. Damn him for making you feel this way. Damn him. Damn him!    You let out a frustrated grunt as you weigh your options, again, in front of you. You've wanted nothing more than to leave the mafia but had no way of doing say. Dazai had said he knew of a way but would never tell you his plan. Was this part of his plan? Him leaving, establishing himself as basically a new person and then coming back to get you? It seemed so easy, attainable, absolutely ridiculous, but utterly charming in a way?    "Well I can change my mind if you're taking too long to figure this out so I'll be heading back!"    "Wait!"    You stride up and grab the back of his long coat, stopping him in his tracks. Your breathing had gotten shallower as your conversation with him had gone on. "If you change your mind right now and turn around and kiss me like you mean it, I'll come with you."    No sooner than you had uttered those words cold and slightly chapped lips were meshing with yours in a manner you thought would never happen again. Your hands grip at his shoulders to keep your balance as his tongue slides into your mouth as he tries to re-familiarize himself with you. Your heart is on fire as feelings of content and ecstasy fill your being.    When you two release from each other, a small trail of saliva connects your lips and an embarrassed smile graces your face. You feel his thumb rub against your cheek and the butterflies in your stomach are set loose. He places his arm around your waist and leads you out of the alley toward a car that wasn't there before.    "Wait," you begin to question, "how long has that car been there? And why is it suddenly snowing?"    Dazai giggles, "All of your questions will be answered in due time. Now, let me show you how much I've missed you." Before he lets himself into the awaiting car, he nods his head in the distance and a mess of orange hair runs away.    "Oi get in the car," you order, "or you'll never know how much I missed you."    You had never seen Dazai Osamu get so red so fast in your life

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know that @whats-her-quirk likes bsd but if anyone else does lemme know! And @kiribaku-queen I forgot to tag you in my post last night so here’s to make up for it! 

[castlehead]

(walking with no heart)

As I walked out to the car, I looked up at the sky. It seemed like a storm. But maybe not. What signs further on could change me? Direct me?

I got in the car and turned on the ignition. Harried halfconscious by somnambulism. Like a voice saying I had to go, now. My hands, shaking.

As I drove I examined an odd thing. It was under darkened clouds. A cast of downy and confused ruin cast against these swathes of laden hay.

Abandoned combine that once shucked, sticking out of the boring, distant fields like omens of a horror. The road it felt like a nothingness.

The road it felt like some pretended mimic. As I drove I must have forgotten where I had decided to go some 20 times, but somehow got there.

I drove into the parking lot and parked. Sighed. The titans in my head I said. Telling me I am some bewitching frailty of a person. Not God.

She sat in me and raved and raved and burned. I looked up without aim at the sky through the hood. Overcast blight. I wondered about mother.

I opened the door to my car and felt something very special and eyed someone shady outside the supermarket smoking a cigarette or something.

Something's always spoke from out its misery like one whose attempts at screaming are strangled and hushed by dint of them being in a dream.

She asked me what I meant to do, sitting there inside myself like a fetus. Something's always is prone in me I said. "Yet you wish to live!"

It was her. I knew it. Her voice it shot straight through all custom as if making up for some obscure dereliction of duty. "I can hear you."

I had one of my deaths in the supermarket looking for cucumbers, because cucumbers are supposed to be good for the skin. Mothswarm, burning.

The taste of an ideal is what makes it for we are fragments I began. I did not finish this thought, amongst the egg cartons and the creamer.

I examined an odd thing. I had sensed was eternally following behind me as I cranked my placid grocerycart down the sinister bland symmetry.

Of aisles. aisles of produce. Hordes of cereal, famished mascots. A thing of horror. It took on its aspect truly, as I examined it the more.

In such and such a paradoxical way as to suggest what caught my eye to start with had not even been visible to me. Pressure against my ears.

She said I was already telling my story somewhere craven leapfrogging men make it for me. I recalled this with difficulty sewing up my eyes.

"Your frequenting here. Looking to fade out. What has will anymore in this society? Of you and some friends?" She started chasing me. I ran.

As I was running I breathed out the mothswarm the figure wanted. She could have my disease, if it revived her. I didn't turn around to look.

Later on I forgot about the supermarket. Loose incidents happen all around me I said in my car. I said this in my squalor. Metallic shrieks.

I finally uttered: "All I wanted was to feel something. And here we are bitching away." The air cold and the wind infrequent though cutting.

The next moment I was from the patio to bed as if I did not fully realize myself. A thing had made me unreal, a thing at the foot of my bed.

Part of me was not in bed, was outside. This apparition, sentinel and wordless. I imagined it or not, it did not matter. Her form was there.

What of hatred, incarnating its wandering blessing in me? Stopping there, to breathe like I am now on the patio? Go to bed. That is crucial.

I sniffed the odor of cold air outside. I thought of hatred in its first sprigs and thought, my friends Carl and Murphy are the apparitions.

Something told me in my unending pax on my patio that whatever residue of touch I'd have left would remain after my death as a living thing.

Thoughts left me wondering about my friends. Shards of power whipped up some following Titan or Ideal in myself most carnivorous. I sniffed.

The night half-stark. Dim under a fuzzed consciousness. The lee of my ears whooshing, approaching whispers improvising down my ear. My debt.

How much in this life goes despised! Nobody is ever satisfied. I kept repeating my awe: bitching away. The sins in this ambition, fledgling.

I said, "All I wanted was to feel something." And she looked at me reproachfully. Her hypothetical form was realized above my bed, hovering.

Her face was a tone. Through that was a fever of a skeleton flashed, filing through ray and particle, for decisions about the light looming.

“Feel? For what? Damn you masochistic one. Chasing after your fellows’ decryptions of who you are. Do you not see who you are? Do you need?”

“Do you need these emotions to be a currency, a trade; can purity exist in your heart outside of these finnikin rarities and collectibles?”

She said. I could hear her fury trying to steal my breath and prolepsis. I embraced a tree and in reality was clenching my hot sheets hotly.

I felt myself waking up and then thwarted from it by the knowing some malevolent underbelly of knife-like people, stabbing me back to sleep.

“But why didn’t you recreate me? Was I too little too late?” The creature broke from her gaol and insinuated my remorse a lie: “Fake tears.”

She kept arguing with me. A limitless unreason going in voided circles not even circles, fractures forgetting why they were a point of view.

I awoke to my usual WORLD in either tears or surrounding beads of sweat. Faded light managing through the curtains. Concluding light of day.

The story of an ending day that perhaps is my protection against mortality. Or a reminder of it. Memento mori. A thing crucial rooted in me.

Time is an always converging on reality’s brutal second-hand. Picked up the phone to call, shrugged off the dream and the neighing thoughts.

They said she was more than remembrance, more than bitterness. I believed them then; now, not sure. Her sad face always guiding to my guilt.

“Yeah come over. Yeah.” I said. There wasn’t much to do anyway. Rimbaud said our inner desires lack a cunning music. I believe him. Flashes.

I walked to my deck for a breather with my phone. “Sure. Why not come over and have some fun.” I said. The ebb of day practically trickling.

A story yet was made of it to myself. But I needed her closer. So she was in my dream and I was waiting for my friends. I was there and not.

She was in my dream and I thought Carl and Murphy would like to know. I told them, and they said she was dead, but not dead in my heart yet.

We usually talked about philosophical things. We always meant to figure them out but never did. Till next time I guess. It was nice outside.

What awaited me: existing inspirations, figurations, or dreams. Sounds, familiar ones for me to get back her. Looking lashes, cricked heads.

Said I needed some air. Looked down at the flowers. What life was as well as wondering about it was a beautiful thing. I heard Carl call me.

I went inside to meet them. Before that passed to look around. Looked through the door into the living room with them at table. Batty fucks.

The forsythia bush drooped yellow outside of my house under the window and something else groaned out of the ground. I didn’t know about it.

Murphy and Carl and I talked around the table playing cards. Smoking and drinking beer. Death came up. I asked about it but nobody answered.

A void flowered out of the flatlands between one and another side of my door. A flower that grew out the door of a mind. I asked who it was.

The void said it was baffling stuff. I wouldn’t understand. I told him I had Murphy and Carl over and the void said, What about the machine?

I said to the void, The machine was named Murphy. The God named Carl. Carl and Murphy drank and made up stories that were more than stories.

They drank and sang in the night wind and yearned for the heaven neither of them would go to and made up songs like this.

The void was not listening and looked up, smiled halfway about baffling stuff. Of the heaven, and the clarity of chaos, its hopeless purity.

Murphy churned out what Carl said. Carl said they were right there. Suddenly. Waking from sleep in a Keatsian vale.

I asked them, half quoted, half adumbrated by reality: I did not ask one specifically: I let them breathe for a second, asked of this, thus:

Reality was leaves she woke up to into this World where her heart sang with fear. “Don’t you mourn her? You loved her. Grief is a slow deed.

"I have to piss.” He sniffed rough like to grab her in the mucus. Like saying I know what you are trying to say. Center me at least in this.

The God was named Carl. Carl was born here where he, the man, tripped over the watery stones dappled with light once. He went in the bushes.

The fern looked alive as it swung as drops of piss hit it and moved it about. He knew it would turn. Just one more object of mortal bracken.

He felt like a ghost. He knew she did, too. She must. There were only a few trees loud in their brittle spareness. Soon there were no trees.

They came upon a desert. He was not trying to lift himself up into his body anymore. Just reach. Reach for what? He could not read her face.

Him: “She’s dead now. I’m left walking with no heart. I tend to leave out a part of what I don’t say, from myself. Like myself from myself.”

Will pain, He thought. Groom pain. Like a dog. Or I am the dog. Who ever really speaks, when all the voices are always preparing themselves?

She said, “We didn’t know it was whatever that thing was that they needed. Maybe we’re at the dead blinked out crust. A mysterious purpose.”

Their deserted surroundings. “Na,” It was almost a declaration. “The last say on it all. But that was for those big ugly fucks upstairs eh?”

“The machine knew about the heaven. We’re not immortal. Don’t you fucking get it?” She said. He looked mournfully at his cap, at everything.

She looked at him. “So this isn’t real? This sand?” He drew up some clot in his hand and spit it through his fingers. “The machine knew it.”

He felt invaded by some fickle prognosticator, saying in loops of material death. You’re welcome, he thought. He thought, My cap isn’t real.

I whispered to her, Don’t you understand? You are both my myth. I was a brief unsettling wind knocking at her. I beckoned her into my dream.

So it happened she saw me through the grey fug of his wit, saw me not as myself but as him, after wading errant through swamplands of being.

She woke into his dream and his head and I voiced out his desultory ego, hid behind that, which wavered on its plinth, like to topple over.

Call me as with the tyrants like Saddam then. I would make dream and life uncertain just to flee those judgments. You, she, doesn’t hear me.

I spread the words he spoke to you over you like a blanket. I wanted you to know this mythos could get achieved but only through some death.

Wayward sense, the human you, or him; or to be able to touch the clime where you get freed from this OTHER unto me as others I could handle.

One that would not make water the mouths of titans, whom I cannot check, because they made me. Be my Prometheus o love, I said out to there.

Yet I made you both to check them, in destroying THE OTHER of me. It does make me human, yes. And yet these titans are all names for voices.

She thinks to herself, You, and him there in front of you a few yards ahead, baking in the sun of what seems an endless day, seems to speak.

Only night is in the quick blinking you do, o momentary darkness, please: rape and deform my stating with your being despite your nonbeing.

Then you will get to I know not what but is some weak part of these titans chasing you. Maybe I should make myself be hassled in quotations.

“You say something like you heard me though made no tell of it, you’re both so borne upon owning why you travel. Awaiting me to tell it you.

My new from whence, my backwarding, bewildering evil?” She said: “And, how does he become He? I fucked him. I knew already. It didn’t work.”

She: “He was enjoying myself. I felt far away, more inhuman than ever. It could not be me who is the prophet here. I don’t exist. I’m not.”

And me, the ‘I’, said back: “It will only be once he is capitalized. It will only be once he seems a greatness.” She was not breathing, was.

Me: “You’ll go on being ignorant of your own while he thinks of that dead machine, deprecates it yet thinks of it.” She smiled at the irony.

Me: “I am the creator of you. I now am to destroy a thing of myself through your destroying THE OTHER, which is not the other in human you.”

“I know,” She said defiantly, as if she knew. “We are one of many at random to feed the titans. But you will not be Zeus or Jupiter for us.”

They struck out to pure miles of a mountain they traveled by foot on but vertically, as if held by a strong unguent to mimic gravity. Miles.

Did not even notice their own switched WORLD till I told it her, who bit her tongue at it. I know, she said to me, that is, not him but 'I’.

“Extinguish you? She said, in herself yet thus outwardly, halfquoted, telepathically, to him. "In the next few days’ dissipation will pain.

In the next few days’ dissipation would lead them miles of some weird uncapped valley and they both knew it was this. Just with no mountain.

The miles didn’t matter anymore for more ill was the symmetry of their actions, like puppetry. It was noticeable. Like they were controlled.

They saw a barn. It was an outstanding shadow or cowlick graced up against this faded space. They also were indented on the WORLD similarly.

They walked inside, it not the place in the next few days’ dissipation would lead them, into whatever CITY or labyrinth they weren’t at yet.

He seemed bled out. Hands on hips. Heroically wasting away. But the other in him we both knew was not THE OTHER we sought, a vague religion.

"Don’t they make you feel small?” She said. For once felt like his comrade in this scant place, barely described. He was sweaty. Wet shirt.

She tilted her head inquisitively at him. “Why do you think THE OTHER is this kind of wanted thing by the titans? Don’t they extinguish you?

She knew. She knew as he spoke his speeches and all of it, his look said, I refuse to know the 'anything’ that hussy machine explained, you.

"Something is looking at us and becomes our reality without our consent.” He said, his voice faceless and yet itself a professing old druid.

“Something tells me we shift between a 'they’ and 'we’” He said. She knew. He strandedly aimed his eyes around the structure, inspecting it.

She thought, looking around, stretching, Tell him why I had sex with him. As if to feed the thought the barn door swung shut, locking us in.

A voice filled and shook the barn, it said we were fakes. Maybe a titan, coming to look after the apocalypse. Spoke sans quotation. Quotes.

Said they were as real as that stone over there. A stone lay in the corner of the barn. But if you find and burn THE OTHER the heaven opens.

For you still live, are living, are adulterated life. An abomination. She smiled at herself, her warp, her soul. “Just accept it my friend.”

He wept as he kicked it. She just watched sitting on a destroyed beam, in the open attic of the barn. The stone was sizable. “Fuck you all!”

He kicked and kicked the sad stone. The stone did not feel any of it but he felt sad and was in the stone and was viciously trapped in self.

The door unlocked. They heard it do so. They absterged hay from clothing and went into the fey day. Compared to the barn it was hot outside.

They entertained themselves with meditations on THE OTHER’s makeup, then after growing bored of that left the pursuit elsewhere in the mind.

They looked struggling through sight awhile, the others in them angered because exploited by them however little the two of them understood.

When he stopped limping it was days later and they saw a tree in the distance from the barn. Days passed blindly, strangely displaced, here.

They walked out to the only tree in what seemed an endless field. Unripe wind, breaths as if stolen, disturbed the surrounding grassy lands.

They stood under the forgiving branches. “Good place to rest.” He said, looking away from her. She without quotes, What else could go wrong?

The tree provided good shade from the white unction of the heat from the white sun hung like a circular wound, surrendering to the huge sky.

They put their heads against the base of the tree and drifted off. He was asleep before she was but as time slipped away oblivion soon came.

She dreamt she slept on question, in looking for that machine. Still as death she sought a deeper GOD within. She thought, She was, qua sky.

The sky was made of words. Then interposed this rare utterance from the nowhere. In the dream words drifted across the sky, toward question.

They awoke. He with her traveled for hours towards quietly flickering lightning, too far for sound to penetrate to them, furthering granted.

They followed in the dirt and dusk. Their footsteps rattled. Both hungry for THE OTHER to be more than this rare utterance from the nowhere.

After a search through turns in the pathway He said something yet she only figured some other words, beheld their marmoreal quality as rare.

These were the belched words from him sufficed to keep her on levels of reality she could only think she knew. She fell asleep to the words.

Lazed over a lattice like unknowing flowers. “Is anything but what I hope this is anything, if it is too much to ask for a successful myth?”

She could imagine the titans arguing their milage for her, and knew what happened last night was truer than this. This, anything, an acedia.

She thought about herself concentrating on the flourishing wounds on her ankles from being so long on foot. He ran faster. Her mind ambling.

But she still ran because to burn THE OTHER would lead them to the heaven, where they could create titans that did not want to destroy them.

Could create themselves out of this hellscape of a CITY. No arguments there however from one machine to another? Were those GODs expendable?

She wanted to have a voice inwardly speak her mind to her like the way one cradles a child. The titans had wanted her an artless gentleness.

He was ahead of her presumably wrestling with the other. He seems like an obsessive, She thought. And my thoughts at the end will be quoted.

She ran after THE OTHER. I am them and why they want THE OTHER. 'I’ am but as Zeus to Prometheus. She couldn’t help but notice that beauty.

She saw it as she chased. Saw the floating alien thing well. A silhouette against a pane, this torched, painless, sky. Permanent as minutes.

He tied rags cuffing the blanched wrists. The body or form was exceedingly dirty. The form of it seemed itself out of a mere physical body.

As if THE OTHER had been waiting for this moment and knew what to do to be freed. He sensed this buzzing anticipation and called it tragedy.

He poured Nepenthe into the ear of THE OTHER and grunted, “There will be the heaven. Quit it, you dickhole! Shit!” They bit him on the hand.

His squirming trophy’s decease he nearly was too frantic to have come. “He will numb out alright.” She faltered, Supply him no strong hand.

“Stop it!” He’s already gone.Look? Is anything but what I hope this is anything. He looked her straight in the eye. I will burn him damn it.

“Do you recall where to go?” He was still hugging the puffing body, restraining it but as like a lover. She thought, That machine, so close.

She tried to remember. Something special brought her to this land with him that was not THE OTHER. But, I say, it was; I am he of a present.

She: “On top of one of the last buildings that still stood in the CITY?” “Where that old schlub said it was.” He said, knifing scarred wind.

They the both of them began speaking in their heads to eachother. Maybe the heaven would come for them this way. A Deus Ex Machina for sure.

She looked at all the rotted hulks dispassionately, How long before the air is gone?Look, I don’t know exactly how tenuous the WORLD is. OK?

Should I stop here? He thought. They had been carrying THE OTHER together for awhile. She hoped whatever they or it was hadn’t changed much.

She tried to answer. He went on, vibrating, chest vibrating. “That’s why GOD’s a machine.” She held to her prolepsis, standing idle for him.

“Perception sucks,” He said. “There’s too much of it all.” He looked at the burnt sky. Then he and her looked at the body they had wrangled.

Even if she was dead and couldn’t, she wouldn’t have. She was like that. Though with a core of metal, an outside of fair reasoning. Machine.

His response was short and menacing. She muttered low inside her brain, We were about to abort the machine but the machine, she didn’t care.

They. But who? Surely mostly him and her. Flickering in and out of consciousness, swinging likewise, aloft. “Stop with this no point shit.”

THE OTHER said barely they were an end to the 'I’ -a why to it. Must enjoy tragedy more. Something gotten almost. Sad eyes in, out of sleep.

They were to burn THE OTHER so as to be themselves, hopeless as that was. Or themselves too mediocre for to hold some big staff of identity.

The WORLD wanted to kill them, because it wanted a turn at what they had. Yet she was affronted by him. She said. “Perception is our jewel.”

“Why create, if what created us wants to kill us?” And she thought to herself, Wanted this silence for awhile. There is moisture on my neck.

They took THE OTHER for a good long time in silence. She held their legs tighter as THE OTHER started to wake. Then he sniffed, “The WORLD.”

“I feel like we’re getting somewhere with you.” He said to her. THE OTHER wanted to say, they were I of the rain. No, heaven is much better.

She said to herself, an aside, ignoring the beaten, wound-ridden OTHER: I know, the fucking sadistic Zeus-whore he is. I know, worst timing.

I want it to rain myself on them. But they will not know. They are in mutual ruin. “It did matter to me. It mattered, you fucking torture.”

I look upon them, hidden, and make it start to rain. He thinks Hebriacally, “This is the moment I am become being.” And lets fall the match.

I am the 'I’ or what these two others wanted to be and cannot, thus I cannot be, while they exist and are without knowing I am their father.

He and her felt no more real. Like dolls. Him: “We have to fucking get out of here.” The heaven, there. Her: “I know.” For more than titans.

She murmured, “Sorry.” Transfixed. At him, at as well the screams and the heat of THE OTHER, a struggling slave in repulsive, ratty bondage.

“You said it didn’t matter that I was with her. That she died anyway. That that was the fucking price I had to pay, one I think you paid.”

THE OTHER begged and begged as if there lay some hope despite their own charred skin. She watched. I am conjured, sadly. As still as a doll.

“No, GOD, please. Please!” THE OTHER said, struggling to free himself from the flames. The thunder was a mourning sound off in the distance.

“Like when you told me that we had become stiff and meaningless.” Well the WORLD was over, wasn’t it? He said, “I didn’t want to scare you.”

She said, through her barrier of tears, waiting for the heaven to come, each second proving nothing but especially proving it wasn’t there:

“Why did you tell me that shit when we were sleeping together?” She made him pause. Ugh. 'Sleeping together.’ Yo who calls sex that anymore?

He lowered his arm ceremoniously. Nobody could know. They waited for catastrophe. She wavered; he was still. He said, “Because I wanted to.”

Who cared about this blasé planet? This was as they had been told the escape from it. The sacrifice was drawn out enough. They looked on it.

The body became form. Then form formless. She did not hear him say how the rain tasted like lead because she was not close to him anymore.

So normal. Sucked into a hole of normalcy. Like this happened every day. His hat was wet. “This rain tastes like lead,” He mused. It sucked.

The sky looked threatening. The sky was grey and lackluster and humdrum drops fell in small bombarding fleets of rain, battalions of mist.

The body quit seizing after a little while. They could not hear anything but their hearts in their throats, backing away from the effigy.

“Ok now the fuck what?” He said. She couldn’t say anything to that. The heaven was for titans. Silence. Then, “Well. That should teach you.”

She felt like she couldn’t say anything, like this giant censoring ghoul made the moment between them too holy, the door to the heaven ajar.

The rain was just the dregs of rain. It chafed and chilled his shoulders against his clothes. “What we did we had to.” She needed to say.

It smelled the way you would picture a burning body. The form was a pyre. The both of them had eyes that glowed in the fire’s arrhythmia.

“How can you say this wasn’t your fault? Misery? C'mon. Your doubts eat you alive like mine do but you can’t handle them. You’re a faggot.”

She had had enough long ago and was about herself like a mother puttering cleaning up her son’s mess. He laughed flatly at the smell of it.

“Why did he bother trying to live?” She thought to herself. He had his arms crossed and his weight on his right leg, so casual. So intimate.

The less she knew the better. Distance needed to be put between them before he could even think of breathing. The fiery corpse lay aground.

Feelings had been heard in him, directed him, before. He knew at this time she would stay where she was. She had her own feelings about it.

“I told them not to come.” He was not listening but knew the gist already. He had known it for awhile. He clenched his hat and looked down.

“Yeah, that’s what you said.” They looked at each other. The moment might as well have been vacated, an empty house smelling of tarpaulin.

This was what he had thrown away. Those verses in his bleeding head. What corruption here. At the hand of a pestle so much dust to extract.

He started walking away then, and stopped at the foot of a church two blocks out of view, crying at the leaves weighted down by the rain.