halfblind gaze in blackveined auburn would remain still, would remain bold enough to face godhood as scorned as he was and whose outraged scars still would seethe in burning fire painted in lovely blues and slithering whites, one lambency of draconic spirals and mazes ‘pon screaming skin wishing to rupture and find liberation from mortal chrysalis ━letting those fangs shining sharp and hungry in craving for skin to devour and plagues of ancient times revealing themselves once more with melting ices to decay away blackening flesh and parasitic maggots flourishing at invitation to take part in great debauchery and ruination, letting calamity shaped in demonic angeloid seek after greatest disappointment for chaos incarnate still would stand untouched, his presence as miragelike as reddened sheen ‘pon moonlight’s eternal eye looming over them as if preparing to rejoice at endless judgement and endless revenge from those offended by divine oligarchies and their senseless arrogances.
with abandon they’ll feast, dancing til sundawn will break at the sound of birdsongs.
and only then, their war to begin and end all wars will start and their armies of wicked undeads will wear hanging corpse of mikaboshi as flagship and vessel of cannibalistic and suicidal creeds alike, burn cursed lands apart in his honor and glory for he died and became god once more.
( burn the decay of angels and the disguises of demons, and pitiful osamu along. )
“ ah, don’t you look at me like that ! like i said, we’re talking about a book that has the power of manipulating reality, so it wouldn’t be surprising if something like a crime record well erased would pop out back again. they even managed to set kunikida - kun for a murder ━i mean, imagine ! one like kunikida ! you must admit, it had the potential of being an hilarious sight. ” and so tongue of chaos in mafia black deep inside emptied core and barely hovered away by woven beiges of overcoat would click and he’d be oh so amused in sneer of god now unsealed from humanity’s rusted tresses whose fingers had already woven spiderlike webs in intricate pinnacles of lyres and mockery in front of him, letting them all brush away in nonchalance for it took oh so much more to nick o’ mikaboshi of neverending hubris and starcorpses encased in throne of blackest miasma and his facades, much more and much worse ━a masterpiece of jabbing and skewering only few would dare for only few knew where to pierce and where to twist, sardonic the upcurl of former executive of greatest and grimmest syndicate’s pale lips.
he’d test fortune in hands of calamity indeed, as miserably desperate as he was, as above all goods and evils and grays indeed he stood and danced ━world for him a tomb to desecrate, darkness a marble floor extending to infinity just like eternal prisonry’s chiming chains and mandalas drawn in swirls of dribbling blood. “ if the god of fortune is so kind and merciful to grant a grace to a suicidal maniac, it might really be a day wherein the odds are in my favor. speak of the sacrifice you want, arahabaki dear ━i know you won’t grant nothing for nothing. ”
𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐍 was one of the many fears that gods alike yourself felt, festering VIOLENTLY between the tendere spaces of your ribs before eating your lungs and leaving THREADBARE SINEW and muscle to starve. you roll your eyes. to hear such news from the man above men himself is . . . puzzling, to say the least, almost surprising ━ much less FRIGHTENING . but, either way ! such evils could never grasp the stray hairs of your tail.
you are a god amid mortals. you are untouchable by filthy hands.
( keep chanting the mantra to yourself, ROTTED GOD . keep believing you’re above the creatures you deteste . it’s only a matter of time before you drown in their blood ━ again . )
❛ ugh . . . your co-workers are truly a handful, ❜ you cradle your jaw in your palm, nails pressed lightly against your cheek as your eyes roll dramatically. ❛ are all humans so righteous ? seriously, osamu - kun, I couldn’t begin to imagine how it’d feel to dedicate several hours of your day wallowing around in a tight, humid office with people nagging you endlessly. ❜
a click of your tongue against your teeth and the theatrics fall from your features, a softer grin bleeding through, ❛ that is quite hilarious, I must admit. both you and your lousy little antfarm going down in flames, why, the sight would make me howl with laughter ! ❜
your eyes narrow dangerously at the next string of words. you were never one to trust mortals such as dazai osamu , with the silver tongue of a trickster and eyes flickering between saint-like illuminations and shadows deeper than hell. GRACE ? is that what he’s here for ? an immortal prince with the grace of a starlight undivided by flaws will always wear the skin of a fool, mask himself with hopelessness. this is unlike dazai, to turn a sighted eye to arahabaki.
❛ mikaboshi of shattered stars and bursting nebulas, you speak to me as if I’m more than an asset to your never - ending game of chess that you play with God as your opponent, ❜ you lean over and let your wings cave in, casting shadows over dazai’s figure, ❛ admit to me the grace that you’re ever - so desperate for, and I’ll name my cost. if I feel generous by the end of your prayers, I might let you name it yourself ~ ❜
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