#skk angst

[nori-draws-sometimes]

beast angst beast angst beast angst (i haven't even read it yet)

[kyoukamybeloved]

”In other words, the suicidal maniac wants to live. Is that it?”

“I’ve come to think it’s worth trying.”

"You used Corruption, believing in me? How beautiful."

skk webweaves: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

//strange gods - Roxane Gay// the portrait of a lady - Henry James// art from @/_mwk19_ on Twitter// say yes to heaven - Lana del Rey// the grudge - Olivia Rodrigo// litany in which certain things are crossed out - Richard Siken// art from @/suya1414 on Twitter// Kyoto - Phoebe Bridgers// we’re in love - boygenius// writings prompts for the broken-hearted - Eden Robinson// anyway - Richard Siken// art from @/AB0to on Twitter// things I never give myself permission to say - Chelsea Dingman// art from @/ssmi_0215 on Twitter// the whetting of teeth - Jamaal May// no light, no light - Florence + the machine// cosmic love - Florence + the machine// letters to Felice - Franz Kafka// art from @/rokkyun1 on Twitter// the sorrow festival - Erin Slaughter// norman fucking rockwell - lana del rey// remember my name - mitski// art by @bananana2217// townie - mitski// misheard lyrics - car seat headrest// you couldn’t just leave - Trista Mateer// art from @/T__rate on Twitter// your love finds it’s way back - Sierra DeMulder// a pearl - mitski// humpty - mitski// art by @yuyonyu// abandon me - Melissa Febos// where did you go - Hishaam Siddiqi// I should hate you - Gracie Abrams// art from @/qmthtdy on Twitter// killer - Phoebe Bridgers// a poem for Haruko 10/29 - June Jordan// crush - Richard Siken// pandemonium - Lauren Oliver// art from @/1110yu_ku_si on Twitter// catalog of unabashed gratitude - Ross Gay// steamboat - Adrianne Lenker//

hey remember when I said last part would be the final one? yeah uh about that, turns out I still have some inspiration yippee. hope you liked it :)

tags:

@dinosaur-mayonnaise @philzokman @amagami-hime @nnavia @homuncvlus @vinylbiohazard @bunglegaydogs @zamxii @ghostsinacoat @slug-behaviour @vivid-vices @atsuwushi @gorotic @pendragonstar @ricelover888 @oatmilkbasic @thou-shalt-cha-cha-real-smooth @the-gayest-sky-kid @lotus-reblogs @whiteapplesandblackblood @dazaiyuri @evermorehypewoman

[little-blurry-stars5]

[yuyonyu]

Love that is bound to end in tragedy

[luneariann]

Continuation of the other comic I made earlier as @fixation-central s prompt! And in honor of my dear friend @evilkaeya who came up w this specific scenario :)!!

[calmlb]

one of my favorite headcanons is that Dazai defected right around Chuuya’s birthday

we don’t know exactly when he left, but we do know it was after october 26 & before june 19, & according to clues in dark era it sounded like it was around springtime in yokohama

idk enough about yokohama weather to know exactly what month it was but imagine…

Chuuya had been sent on a mission in the west for 6 weeks. he returned late in the afternoon on April 28th– just in time to ring in his 19th birthday with his shitty partner.

because why not? he’s got nothing better to do.

he’s even got a bottle of 1989 Petrus waiting to be popped open.

he reports to Mori for debriefing & all he can think about is how beating the mackerel in that racing game they’ve been playing while he was away would be the perfect way to start off his 19th year.

but when he turns to leave, the Boss stops him, telling him there’s something that he should know…

Dazai disappeared 2 weeks ago, & has now been declared a traitor to the mafia.

Chuuya’s blood runs cold. he doesn’t know how he made it back to his apartment— head muddled by hurt. shock. confusion. exhaustion.

he tosses his coat on the back of the couch & the first thing he sees is the bottle of vintage Petrus— still waiting for the celebration.

and celebrate he did.

Chuuya celebrated his liberation from that waste of bandages he called a partner.

he celebrated the success of the solo mission he’d just returned from.

he celebrated the end of the reign of the infamous double black.

he celebrated the fact that he’d survived 4 years of partnership with that shitty Dazai.

he celebrated Dazai’s freedom, which would likely save his life… the freedom Chuuya hadn’t been able to attain. he’d been left behind in the darkness by the one person who got it.

the one who believed in & fought for Chuuya’s humanity when no one else did.

Chuuya celebrated his 19th birthday. alone. again.

(he hadn’t even said goodbye— hadn’t asked Chuuya to come with hi-)

no.

Chuuya shook away those thoughts. he needed to clear his head. he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes & stumbled drunkenly across the room to grab his keys.

he made his way to the garage where his car was parked, clicking the button to unlock it as he approac-

BOOM!

Chuuya was thrown backwards onto his ass, barely able to catch himself in his drunken stupor. he blinked through bleary vision at the flames that were engulfing his car.

and wasn’t that just par for the course? the icing on his nonexistent birthday cake.

so much for that drive.

Chuuya watched the flames burn, & maybe it was the alcohol talking, but it felt almost symbolic— like closing this chapter of his life. all he could do now was move forward. just like he always did.

but not tonight.

tonight he would stumble back to his apartment & collapse into bed.

(in his inebriation, he hadn’t even noticed the black fabric burning up right along with his car)

he woke up the next morning, freshly 19 with a killer hangover, a smoldering car, & a missing ex-partner.

when he found the nearly empty wine bottle, he was kind of glad he hadn’t taken that drive…though his memory from last night was a bit fuzzy— what the hell had happened to his car?

his phone chimed with a text from Kouyou.

happy birthday, lad. don’t do anything stupid.

Chuuya couldn’t help the twitch of his lips. there were still people here who cared about him.

not long after this, he would be promoted to executive & decide that the Port Mafia was his family.

but for today, he would nurse his hangover & curse a certain mackerel’s name as he beat every high score between them in that stupid racing game.

happy freaking birthday to him.

the car bombing was inspired by this post bc it’s canon to me <3

[sleepibugg]

Tried doodling angst I have no idea what I'm doing..

Also I tried making a skk playlist .. ithink it's pretty neat 🥺

[flamie-42]

I want out…

Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) - alternate Beast AU

Tags: slight angst with a happy ending, NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (I promise), fluff, cannon typical suicidal ideation from Dazai, nothing more graphic than the cannon, Dazai and Chuuya being stupidly in love

Content Warnings: slight gore, suicidal ideation, typical Dazai CWs,

A little skk mini fic, while I gain the mental capacity to update my actual fics

Dazai is tired.

Every morning he wakes up. Goes to a meeting. The meeting is boring. Someone probably died. Or supplies aren’t getting past law enforcement. Or someone is mad at him. He can’t really bring himself to himself to care.

No one has noticed this shift in his attitude, to them the boss has always been a cold piece of shit with no emotion. “The demon prodigy is as cold as ice” he hears whispers in the halls of the Port Mafia building. He doesn’t bother to try and change his way, they are mostly correct.

Mostly…

Osamu sighs as he opens the door to his penthouse suite. He would have rather just slept in his office if it wasn’t for a certain … someone.

��Osamu you’re fucking late!” A familiar voice calls from the kitchen. He sighs as the cold mask he is so tired of falls off in the comfort of the warm inviting suite.

Most of the Mafia assumes that a man like him lives in a dark cold flat. That he only sleeps and eats there. Little do they know that the lively ginger that remains at his side most days lives there too, brining his noise and color.

A flurry of reds envelops him as he sheds his coat and tight suite shirt. The smell of spice and wine takes over his senses as he melts into Chuuya’s arms.

“Long day, huh” his partner only slightly mocks him as he leads the exhausted man into the kitchen.

“I don’t know how you’re not, Chuu” osamu sighs as he collapses onto a stool to watch his love cook. Long ago Chuuya had taken on the job of cooking for the both of them. One, so Dazai would eat and two, so he wouldn’t burn down their place. Now he was cooking up some ramen for the two of them.

“I’m not running the whole operation, I just gotta follow orders” Chuuya winks at his boss as he serves up the food.

“We both know how much you *love* following orders” Osamu smirks at his partner as the redhead laughs deeply.

Later as they lay in bed, limbs tangled together, Osamu sighs deeply and quietly states,

“I want out, Chuu”

It wasn’t a question, just a soft firm statement shared between lovers.

“You sure?” The sleepy response came from the redhead.

“Absolutely”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Chuuya pulled him closer and softly kissed his hair, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do that for a long time.

Atsushi walked into his Boss’ office for the early morning meeting they had scheduled. The office was empty but Atsushi assumed the man would be in soon enough. After a few minutes without the dark haired man arriving he noticed a letter on the desk with his name scrawled on the front.

Atsushi,

I’m sorry it had to happen like this, you know how the mafia is about deserters. Hirotsu will take over in my stead and Kouyou and you will be his seconds.

You’ll do great.

The weretiger looked terrified at his partner who was standing quietly behind him. A commotion drew their attention to the large windows in time to see a flash of black and red falling.

Reaching the ground floor they were in time to hear the rumble of gravity breaking concrete. This only confirmed the suspicions of the two. As they walked out the front doors of the Mori Corp. they were just in time to see the red headed exectutive collapse the sidewalk.

It had been a long suspicion that the boss and his prized executive had a relationship more intimate than the partners they claims to be, though no one dared voice those rumors. Both members of Double Black were ruthless and violent if provoked. Though in most eyes the display in front of their eyes confirmed how close the duo was.

Red markings creep onto Chuuyas skin as he feels the weight of gravity bend to his will. The concrete he stands on cracks and buckles. Rebar screeches and snaps as immeasurable stress is placed upon it. His eyes blur as he sees the body beneath him, laying much too still.

The body is mangled and bloody, its dark coat crumpled as it hit the pavement. But what hit Chuuya the hardest was the scarf. The blood red scarf that Chuuya has given Dazai so many years ago.

It was a cold night when Chuuya had gotten a call from his new partner to meet on the roof of the skyscraper the Mafia called home.

On that rooftop the two of them had made a pact to remain loyal to eachother, above all else.

Dazai had given him the leather choker that still lay on his neck. A “collar for my faithful dog” the brunette had said. And despite chuuyas chagrin he had been a faithful dog to Dazai since that day. Not that Osamu had made him do anything he would have protested (much) to.

In return Chuuya had given him a blood red scarf that adorned his bandaged neck since that day. “A reminder of your job” Chuuya had said bitterly, referring to Corruption. But since that day Osamu had always been there to bring him back.

The concrete finally collapsed and Chuuya floated down with the rubble. Each progressive story of the underground the gravity punched through. Corruption had fully taken over Chuuyas body and there was no stopping it…not anymore.

He knew what people would say, the rumors he had confirmed by this but he didn’t care anymore. There was no point to continue like this, without him there.

His consciousness fell away until there was only red, Arahabiki fully taking over his mind and body until Chuuya was shut in a little corner.

He sat in an empty room, looking through his own eyes and watching the chaos that the god inside him was inflicting on the world. It appeared Arahabiki wanted to take both him and the body beneath them to a deep grave where no one would find them.

We must be deep at this point

I wonder how much father we need to go

Arahabiki will find him

The windows closed and the room fell dark around him. Chuuya laid down and closed his eyes, simply waiting.

And waiting…

And waiting…

And finally a soft blue light enveloped the room. It was a comforting, familiar light. He had felt it many times before… and at this point it felt like home.

Chuuya opened his eyes, his real eyes, and saw a pair of bright brown eyes waiting for him. A hand held his cheek tenderly.

“Did you have a fun time princess” Osamu’s mocking tone flowed into his ears.

“You asshole, you put your scarf on the body” Chuuyas bit back, his voice rasping.

“I thought it would sell it more” Osamu had now picked up Chuuya, who was in no condition to walk, and began to walk towards a tunnel that was poking into the hole they stood in.

“Asshole” came a quiet response from the redhead.

“Sorry Chuu” he whispered back, he knew Chuuya had a much harder role in this to play but he did it beautifully as always.

Chuuya awoke in a soft, clean smelling bed. He stretched, feeling his bones pop as he looked around him.

Dazai sat a few feet away, drinking something and looking out the open door of a shipping container. Beyond him was the vast blue ocean, now a new shade of teal that he knew belonged to the tropics of Oceania.

He stood up and stumbled over to his partner who looked up at him, a happy smile plastered on his face. Chuuya had waited years to see that smile grace his lips again.

“Welcome to our new life, love” Osamu whispered as he pressed a kiss to Chuuya’s lips.

“Thank goodness it worked” Chuuya slumped into his arms, body still exhausted.

“You should have seen the explosion! It was magnificent” Osamu smiled as he wrapped his arms around the redhead. “Could have fooled me that Arahabiki imploded deep underground”

So everything had gone to plan

The mafia would think them dead and they could live out their lives, far away from the violence and destruction.

Just them on an island Dazai had bought years ago and spent days untying it from both their names.

“I think you should go blonde” Chuuya mumbled, combing his fingers through his partners hair

“Only if you go brunette” came the laughing response

[tinyperson00]

total time: 3 hours, 4 minutes

Yea… Sorry in advance ;-;

Sometimes my brain just formulates really like ‘deep’ quotes for no apparent reason- this was one of them lol

don’t kill me for making this!!!! 🙏

tagging: @kimetsu-chan @zenitsustherapist @saffron0v0 @exymybeloved @a-stray-wretched-dog

[ravencincaide]

Someone else to blame 

Summary: Different people deal with grief differently. Some accept it and move on while others suppress the memories. For Chuuya however, an existence without you is simply not an option. 

Pairing Chuuya x Reader, a hint at SKK x Reader

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 16: Familiar scents

Author note: @chuuyaswifeandhoe Darlin your beautiful fic hurt me (in the best angsty way possible), and made me peep out of my vacation to post this. Lets hope this does the same to you! This one is for everyone who loves angst, and especially those who've experienced grief.

Warning: Grief, cursing, alcohol, angst Enjoy~

______________________________________________________________

Chuuya sighed heavily as he stared at the little key with a bright blue tag laying innocently in the palm of his gloved hand. He was leaning his entire body weight against the wall, his hat pulled down over his eyes and his coat zipped all the way up. For once, he was trying to make himself as unapproachable to the people around him as possible. Still he could hear the whispers from the girls in the opposite corner, giggling and urging one of their friends to ask him for his number. Aside from that there was a gentle ticking of the elevator as it crawled higher and higher until it reached the top floor of the skyscraper. A ding and the doors opened. 

Chuuya was the first one to get out. 

Before the girls could grab his attention Chuuya strode through the narrow corridor with simple apartment doors on either side, stopping outside the apartment located at the very end. He pushed the key into the lock, turning it in one swift movement before entering the dark hallway. He heard light steps behind him accompanied with a gentle ‘excuse me sir’. Rather than reply, Chuuya pretended not to hear, shutting the door and locking it. He lingered in the hallway long enough to hear the girls let out a whine of disappointment before finally leaving. Then,only then, did he finally kick off his shoes. Letting the bag of groceries fall to the floor, he picked his shoes up, squeezing them into the stand between your heels and sneakers. 

“ God Y/N you really need to look into your neighbors before picking an apartment.” He called as he picked up the bag and left the small hallway, switching on the lights on his way into the small living room which consisted of a couch, a table, a small tv and small couch-side drawer with a lamp on it. In one end of the corner stood several flat boxes- the unbuilt bookshelf. And by it high stacks of books, course literature mixed together with fantasy and dark romance. “ And we still need to build that bookshelf.” 

His eyes lingered on the dirt on top of the boxes, making a mental note of dusting sometime in the coming days before he headed to the small kitchenette with barely enough space for two people to stand side by side and cook. Opening the fridge door which was positioned awkwardly by the entrance he put in the newly bought groceries before he began folding the plastic bag into a small square. Then he tucked it into the overfilled bottom drawer of one of the cupboards opposite the fridge. 

“ Yes yes I know you hate it when I smoke Y/N” he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice “ Give me a break, work was hell today.” He left the kitchen and headed towards the bathroom- the best part of this entire apartment, turning on all lights in his wake. Opening the door, he could feel the heated floor through his socks as he trott over to the bathroom sink. Beside it stood a bottle of mouthwash, extra strong mint. To his side was the upraised shower cabin with frosted glass and on opposite it another door leading towards the bathtub and Your personal space filled with all sorts of foreign creams and salts half of which he couldn’t understand. But he tried. For you.  

Taking the mouthwash he began rinsing, feeling his mouth growing numb by the second. A minute later he spat it out, wiping away the residue on his lips onto the back of his glove. “ Sweetheart, can you remind me to buy a different mouthwash? Honestly if I gotta wash my mouth out with this after every smoke I may as well quit right now!” 

Leaning against the sink, Chuuya took several deep breaths. He could feel the stinging behind the eyelids but stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. “ We can also get that cream you like too, right love?” his voice shook slightly at the end. He stood with his head bowed for a long moment, doing his absolute best to avoid the mirror in front of him. 

Man was he pathetic.

Growling to himself, Chuuya pushed away from the sink, stomping out of the bathroom. He slammed the door shut behind himself, making the frail wood shake in the frame. “ I’ll see if it's broken tomorrow” he stated bluntly as he made quick way back towards the kitchen. This time his attention was on the liquor standing tucked away in the side of the little bench space. Chuuya eyed the selection quickly, his eyes landing on the barely touched bottle of Sacred Peated. For a change, he picked it over his fancy bottles of wine standing further in. With his other hand he reached into the cupboard in front of him and pulled out a single whiskey glass before he quickly fled back into the living room. 

Chuuya dropped himself onto the couch, salvaging the feeling of soft cushions hugging his body. He leaned back against the animal shaped pillows scattered all over, then opened the bottle of whiskey, pouring a shot. He had to lean quite far forward, over the cushion on the tatami floor and his usual spot in order to place the bottle on the table. Then he leaned back again, out of habit twirling the glass of liquor in his hand. Even without bringing it closer he could smell the smokey-nutty scent. He hesitated only a moment before he brought the glass to his lips and downed it in one go. Chuuya could feel his throat burn and he coughed several times after, until the burning became manageable.

“ God Y/N how can you love this shit?” he gaped, staring down at the now-empty whiskey glass as if it would answer him. It didn’t, but it also didn’t take long until he began feeling a familiar tipsy warmness. He was certain his face was flushed. 

He never could hold his alcohol- not like you. 

Looking to the side, Chuuya picked up the pillow closest to himself. It was in the shape of a cat, Chuuya stared at it for a long moment. Then he brought it to his face and took a deep breath. Nothing. No if anything the little cat smelled more of Dazai than it did of you. No doubt because the mackerel had a habit of hugging it whenever he came over. Letting out a scream, Chuuya tossed the thing across the room before burying his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe how quickly your scent was fading away. He didn’t want it to. 

“ Fuck Y/N.” Chuuya whispered “ Fuck.” 

He stayed seated there until he could feel his cheeks beginning to burn. The stinging in his eyes returned. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, as if begging to tear itself to shreds. God why did it have to hurt so much? 

Getting up he slowly went up to the one room he had yet to visit. Your bedroom. Tucked furthest away into the small apartment, behind the heaviest oak door in the entire place, out-matching even the front door. Chuuya’s hand shook as he put it on the doorknob. He knew he shouldn’t go in too often- not unless he wanted the smell to change there too. However tonight he decided to indulge in the sweet temptation. Opening the door he quickly stepped in before closing it behind himself. The place was the only part of the apartment that never changed- as if you had just rushed out to class that morning. As if you never– left. He still couldn’t bring himself to think about it- let alone say that ugly word. 

Closing his eyes, Chuuya took a deep breath.  His senses filled with the stuffy dusty air and a then a much more faint sweet scent. It was your scent. He’d pick it out anywhere. Shakily he reached out blindly to the side where he knew your clothing rack stood full of autumn and winter accessories, feeling his fingers brush against material he grabbed at it. Then he darted out of the room, closing the door firmly and quickly behind himself, terrified he tainted one of the last fragments he had left of you. 

He returned back to the couch and poured himself another shot of whiskey, downing half before he dared to look at what he had taken. It was a soft white scarf- one he bought for you on one of the dates that ran particularly late. Laying down, Chuuya placed the scarf on his face and took another deep breath. Besides your familiar scent he could make out the light hint of your perfume, a smell you picked up after the two of you started dating more seriously. It was actually a little too mature for you, for your age. He felt his eyes sting and this time he did nothing to stop the tears as he remembered all the times you tried to make yourself appear older, holding back your childish desires as if it would put him off.  Then his mind drifting back to each and every memory he had of you wearing this scarf; the embarrassed look when he bought it for you just because your eyes had lingered a little longer on it than the other items in the shop, then the way you’d wear it whenever he’d pick you up after class, the way you’d cocoon yourself in it whenever it got chilly. The terrified sound of your voice when you called him late one night after having forgotten it in his rental car. The bright smile on your lips when he went out of his way to drive it out to you early the following morning. The way- 

“ God sweetheart I miss you. I miss you so fucking much.” His shoulders began to shake with his sobs, regret and guilt tearing at him “ What I wouldn’t give to have you back. Even for just another hour.” 

Ding-dong. 

Chuuya heard the doorbell ring. He made no move to get up off the couch and just buried his face deeper into the soft material, inhaling your smell. It brought him comfort, like a warm hug that told him everything would be okay- that you forgave him. A fantasy he knew he had no right to even dream about.

Ding-Dong, Diiiing Dong, Diiiiiing dong-

More desperately the doorbell rang. For a moment Chuuya’s heart jumped into his throat as he flew up from the couch, practically jumping over the table and into the hallway. It was impossible but maybe- just maybe his prayers were answered. 

Opening the door, his hopeful smile dropped, his heart clenching painfully as he was once again, painfully reminded that you wouldn’t be coming back through that front door. Ever. 

Outside stood Dazai, almost awkwardly shifting from one leg to the other. The number of bandages on him had significantly increased and he looked as if he had lost both sleep and weight. Perhaps even the last bit of his sanity if he came here of all places. Dazai’s blank eyes shifted from Chuuya’s red ones, then to your scarf in his hand. He could understand the sentiment well, the longing towards the gentle familiar smell. You.  Raising an unopened bottle of Sacred Peated he motioned for Chuuya to step aside and let him in “ I see you’ve already started, you dog” 

“ Who are you calling a dog? Idiot Dazai,” Chuuya replied with malice in his voice as he slumped backwards, dragging his heavy body back towards the couch. There he dropped into the cushions, careful not to wrinkle or damage the scarf. With shaking hands he folded it slowly, salvaging the last seconds of vulnerability as he heard Dazai moving around your kitchen. The sound was not weird or unfamiliar- instead it brought back other memories of the three of you at this very table. Drinking, teasing each other and then the two of them teaching you less than proper games. It started with Strip Rock-paper-scissors that Dazai picked up in a brothel and continued with ‘unbound truth or dare cards’ you got as a joke gift from some friends. 

It only escalated from there. 

Seeming to share those memories Dazai came over and set a deck of cards with hand painted butterfly designs on one side of the table, as if to signify your presence. Neither of them could handle seeing your face or your picture. Not yet at least. 

Then he moved to sit down on the cushion on the floor opposite Chuuya, his usual spot. His hands reached out towards the cat pillow that was lying not too far away. He set it in his lap out of habit. Then he proceeded to fill up the two empty glasses he brought from the kitchen almost to the brim. Before making sure to refill up Chuuyas partially empty glass to match the other three. One he placed on the short side not far from the deck of cards, the place that was between himself and Chuuya- Your usual spot. He took the second one in his hand. 

Just like Chuuya, he didn't bother with ice. 

Suddenly Dazai chuckled as he raised the glass to his lips “ I swear Y/N, I’ve never met anyone who was as bad at strip-poker as you. Even with ten extra layers!” The memory drew a pitiful chuckle out of Chuuya as well, knowing well what Dazai was referring to. 

“ Or someone who was such a sore loser.” Chuuya remembered. Now it was Dazai’s turn to laugh- a sad echo with no real humor behind it.

 “ I think we made it up to Y/N that evening.” Dazai added fondly and Chuuya swallowed heavily, looking down at his drink with newfound guilt. They might have made it up to you for that incident but there were still plenty more that they’d never get the chance to ask your forgiveness for. 

It was something that both men were bitterly aware of. 

After that they continued to drink in silence. After all, what could they say?  It was their selfishness of wanting to keep you in the dark that got you killed in the first place. That tore you so suddenly out of their lives that all that remained were your few possessions,  shared memories and gaping holes in their heart.  And the worst part was that they had no one else they could blame for your death but themselves.

[autumnleaf1111]

Do you think that when Dazai left the Port Mafia, he blew up Chuuya’s car as a message. Basically saying “don’t come looking for me” or something? Idk, it just popped in my head.

[kyoukamybeloved]

“Such a shallow bond.”

for more soukoku web weaves

creds:

epithalamium - Louise Glück// art by @xieliancore // annunciation - Marie Howe// cowboy like me - Taylor Swift// queen of peace - Florence+the machine// from a classic greek play but i can’t remember which one// deathless - Catherynne M. Valente// art by @iztea // the dive from Clausen’s pier - Ann Packer// sad beautiful tragic - Taylor Swift// free - Florence+the machine// madness love// art by @muaviinu // unkown// never love an anchor - the crane wives// blinding - florence+the machine// wayward son - Rainbow Rowell// free - florence+the machine// ivy - Taylor Swift// p.d vulpe// art by @nittkach44 // sharp objects - Gillian Flynn// art by @dersacerj // by zee on medium// suburban legends - Taylor Swift// the crooked the craddle - the crane wives// art by @iztea// planet of love - Richard Siken// heavy in your arms - florence+the machine// i almost do - Taylor Swift// r.m drake// art by @twilicidity // bloodsport - Yves Olade// art by @yomeiu // p.d. vulpe// the moon will sing - the crane wives// anti-hero - Taylor Swift// the flesh i burned - Ritika Jyala// art by @nittkach44// cat’s eye - Margaret Atwood//shake it out - florence+the machine// anti-hero - Taylor Swift// grace - florence+the machine// art by @venusgoose // the secret diary of laura palmer - Jennifer Lynch//

tags (comment or send a message if you want to be added/removed):

@philzokman @dinosaur-mayonnaise @vivid-vices @pendragonstar @vinylbiohazard @fixation-central @sommmee @lotus-reblogs @galaxitic @gorotic @dazaisbbgrill @thesunshinebard @underthetree845 @whiteapplesandblackblood @pe4rl-diver @autistic-ranpo @the-gayest-sky-kid @amagami-hime @ricelover888 @sskk-brainrot @liyv @hypotheticallyhaunted @sigskk @oatmilkbasic @sempieternall @pastel-paramour @thornedarrow @springkitten @sproutingstars @ghostsinacoat @shroombunnies @cosmiclovehauntings

[uzi-x33]

osamu.. you’re going to die doing this.

[luneariann]

... chuuya and dazai except they keep doing shit for each other. neither ever acknowledges it. chuuya makes crab one night and almost has a breakdown before throwing it out the window. dazai's passing under and it lands on his head. stuff like that.

Sorry to twist your prompt a little! The angst took over me

[impenblog]

The monthly skk angst!!

The context is based off of that one line in Corpse Bride, (highly suggest you see it to get the full affect.)

[my-hyperfixations]

Having to deal with the VERY REAL fact that this season may end with chapter 109