to answer the question meant to ACCEPT the new reality of things. to come to terms  with something MORE than himself; the both of them would BURN IT ALL DOWN. oh he loved it! THE CHAOS, the freedom, the NEVER ENDING TIDE OF ECSTASY. none of it would end - NOT NOW. it was far too soon. ADMITTING nothing was key. FEELINGS were the enemy (    yet they were there under the surface ) and would be DENIED at all costs  ( until that barricade came down and he accepted reality   ). 

              “MY ATTENTION will always be YOURS,” he said, leaning into their touch - a slight hum their lips.  oh, how he loved letting himself get WRAPPED up in his games. CLASHING personalties taken into account; the spider and the man. ONLY ONE MATTERED and is the one who stood masked. that was the only one that mattered - the HIDDEN FACE that held many and yet at the same time no SECRETS at all. possibilities were ENDLESS to the BOTH of them. something that would be key in the days to come. WHAT CHAOS they would create! two figures unhinged for all to eventually see!  

                “YOU’LL ALWAYS BE MINE.”

  I’m honored? Special mention to the best SON ever??

X ;; NOT ACCEPTING --- ** 

@uwugoblin ;; @mazelost

           CRIMSON. Wooden planks stained with crimson. The ( devils ) FOOD. An enlarged laceration uptaking the majority of his TORSO. The words WHISPERED into his ear ; a sedative. His body refraining from VIBRATING of blood loss. His breathing FORCEFULLY steady. A strengthened ( GRIP ) to his entire body, the LAMB finally becoming one with the LION. Such a simple and delicate phrase could SUBSIDE all pain and suffering, simplistically GORGEOUS.

             SIT. Sitting up from the floor as he WAVED the others hand away. He stood leaning against the ledge of the wall. The muscle encased in his ribcage, GUILT. How SELFISH. How can someone speak so NONCHALANTLY at such a time of ( complacent ) worries. How can someone completely and utterly ; inject such a VIRAL infection. LOVE . ENDEARMENT . PROTECTION.

             GUILT. Engorging him. How shameful to show contoured cheeks that were CARVED with hues of red. How could he look at CERULEAN HUES once again without seeing such WORRISOME tones. How could someone be so GREEDY. To allow someone such as his best friend to feel such PERPETUAL ( fear )? 

                NAUSEA. A soup that TASTED ever so bitter but felt ever so SWEET. Head tilting towards the ceiling allowing SWEAT infused crimson drip off. Hues welling up in an nauseatingly rapid way only to be ABSORBED once more.  

                                                ❛   —   —  Don’t . . . ❜

                MOURN. He whispered, a MOURN. A loss of something he wished he could INHALE. Oxygen was nothing but POISON now ; a BOURBON that could not be swallowed ; a bird that could not SING. He began to stumble towards the door as fast as possible yet with every step he TORE open, a gaping hole.

                       ❛   —   —   . . .  Just don’t , you deserve better . ❜

                BARELY. An inaudible whimper as he groaned along the way. He never wanted to let the other VIEW him so BADLY ( defeated ). He knew what the FEAR of losing someone that could BARE no ( curing ). The arachnid should have never inserted himself BACK into this household.

RANDOM MEME I CAN'T FIND ;; SELECTIVE ;;

@osdium  ;; @mazelost

              BREATHE. Seemed like a distant AUTONOMIC system , that within a simple ( whine ) COLLAPSED ; coated with a scorch of LUST. Taken aback, though always appreciated the SINGING of ( behind ) pursed lips. Always DWELLING in ( assumption ) ; engorged with UNCERTAINTY . A DORMANT longing arising at the mere IMAGERY of lips sealing his own. Noir lashes flicker in DISBELIEF, a scent of SPICE reaching new heights. 

             PARKER, could feel the POOL of ( sweat ) that was soon to SEEP out of every pore in his body. A COARSE engulf, as he stood from his seat. Stepping in the males near vaccinity, PRACTICALLY circling viridescent hues. Extended dactyls as to caress his best friend’s chin tilting his head up as to DETERMINE his intoxication level. The PROXIMITY though not significant, allowed a ball of saliva to COOK in the back of his throat. 

            GRADUALLY. A graduation of steady breathing. Though the arachnid could not linger very near, a simple LAMB caught in between a LIONS mandible; a tragic love story. He knew ALL too well, this DRAMA should not play. DESTINY ; something that was an impeccably light fairytale. One that Peter never sought out or believed in. THOUGH when it came to EVEREST hues, one that ENGORGED him, how could he not? It was as though it was in his DNA.

                                       ❛   —   —  What’d ya ROB a ( liquor ) store ? JEEZ Har’  ❜

                                     CHUCKLE. ( bloodshot ) hues , with a hazed gaze. A gaze that was so MESMERIZING. Letting go of the others chin, a simple roll of the eyes before pushing the male down to sit.  

                                    ❛   —   —  Y’dunno what you’re sayin’ here have some water.  ❜

Extended for you!

Reserved for you!

  GRAVE STARTERS. ▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ @mazelost

            𝐙𝐔𝐆𝐙𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆. ( german – ‘ compulsion to move. ‘ ) a chess move in which a player is at a severe disadvantage. FORCED to make an unfavorable move that will only worsen the outcome of the game. a move that’s better unmade– yet impossible to avoid. a move leading to DEFEAT. when dazai first learns about this particular aspect of chess, he swears that he will NEVER allow himself to be in a such a position. not only in games of chess. but the greatest game of all— L I F E. to call life a ‘game’ isn’t to trivialize it. rather it recontextualizes life to be a systematic framework dazai can dissect, deconstruct, manipulate, CONTROL. 

            but anyone painting themselves in H U B R I S will inevitably be struck down. to the very fibre of his being— dazai truly believed he could WIN EVERY GAME. that his strategies were bulletproof. no margin for error. PERFECT. 

           then comes the harshest WAKE UP CALL. the revelation of an ACHILLES’ HEEL. ( dazai osamu has a heart ?? ) the loss of his bestfriend. HIS BROTHER. the first time it’s not dazai who declares C H E C K M A T E.

            this isn’t a dream. this is a memory.❝ —ODASAKU !! ❞ his voice carries over the echoes of fatal gunfire. dazai rushes over to the fallen body. he’s experienced this countless times. ( it’s why he favors not sleeping at all. why he’s forcefully conditioned himself to be plagued by insomnia. ) but this time— when dazai turns the body, his bandaged hands feel a slighter, smaller frame. his wavering wide gaze falls upon brighter red hair. a brilliant hue that flares like a halo when THE DYING SUN catches upon it. tonight in his arms, he holds chuuya. it’s chuuya’s blood that won’t stop bleeding. it’s chuuya that’s dying in his arms. it’s chuuya – it’s chuuya – it’s chuuya –

                        ❝ —𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 !!!!! ❞

            that precious name’s tears out of him with a sharp inhale. caught in the jaws of REALITY vs NIGHTMARE, dazai seeks out chuuya. the young man lies right beside him, wearing only dazai’s shirt. the soft fabric parts as dazai’s shaking hands roam over the bare chest. no bullet wounds. he’s alive. he’s safe. he’s here. && YET— the memories of odasaku’s murder && the nightmare of chuuya’s death flicker like a terribly spliced together film reel. dazai barely pulls on his pants as he leaves the bed, snatching up his gun. he checks every room, hall, cabinet, drawer, corner, inch of the apartment, double / triple / quadruple checks the locks && security— then returns to the bedroom. sets the gun aside ( but not too far away ). slips back into bed. wraps his arms around chuuya from behind. his hand rests upon chuuya’s heart. his face buries into his neck and shoulder. SILENCE settles into the place once more save for dazai’s still slightly staggered breathing && the soft rainfall outside. the man mutters incomprehensibly. only one clear word escapes: ❝ —-mine. ❞ 

            it doesn’t sink in for dazai that he had another episode until he hears chuuya’s voice. dazai tightens his embrace. ❝ it means you’re mine to protect. to take care of. to love. ❞ his voice is barely above a whisper, but it still sounds so—- wrecked. when it’s only chuuya && himself, there are no bandages. dazai’s body is healing. but the rest of him isn’t. this isn’t the first time dazai’s done a full, extensive sweep of the place at some god forsaken hour in the night. but it’s the first time it’s happened while they spend the night together. GUILT strangles his limbs like barbed wire. ( this is NOT trauma. he refuses that. he’s fucking stronger than that. ) ❝ i’m sorry for waking you. ❞ to his own burning shame, dazai’s heart beats a little too wildly. perhaps chuuya can feel the erratic rhythm against his spine. dazai tries to be silent as possible even while feeling the heat of unshed tears. he curls himself around chuuya some more.