#they are fucking possessing me rn

[porchtart]

Misogyny is hot when it is done by Katya directed at Nikolae. In this essay,

[cinnamnt]

BIG BOTTLE ROCKET!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

small fantasy au doodle dump <3

[yayll]

~ a little something about the unfathomable history between you and Dazai ~

"Shit..."

It's raining, and you're trying to light a cigarette in the rain. How banal, and yet, it was comforting to you. That's just who you were, trying to change the outcome of things that were doomed from the start... Like your past relationship with Osamu Dazai. It was a strange little bond, a rhythm only you and him could follow even if it was almost impossible to truly pin his true emotions down. To really feel him as yours. If you were attracted to danger and misfortune, he was a goddamn car crash. Still, that never stopped you from dreaming of a life with him, a real one. None of this inconclusive and melancholic back and forth, cowardice is what you really called it.

Though you could never tell that to his face, because then, you'd call it love. Love you had no problem showering him in, love you ultimately felt pushed him away when he decided to stop seeing you, disappearing with that very love... with all you had. That was a year ago. So now you're a little tipsy, and trying to light a cigarette in the rain because you don't have anything else to waste your time on. Or rather, someone to waste it on. You take out a flask, and chug down cheap whiskey, grimacing immediately after you swallow it down.

"No need to choke down that disgusting stuff on my behalf,"

A familiar voice calls out from the darkness of the street corner, where the lamp's flickering light threatens to black out in an instant. A dying flame, just like your lighter. You're already frozen, and stare at the void where the voice came from, telling yourself this can't be... not after all this time. You get a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. You reply, voice meek and slightly slurred.

".. What?"

"What about what?" He mockingly calls back out, refusing to show himself just yet. In all honesty, he had been watching you from the corner for a while now, feeling a sense of sick satisfaction at the way you stupidly put any faith in that lighter of yours. Just like how you put your faith in him, and he squandered that as quickly as possible.

You look down, shaking your head as the rain washes over you, dripping down from your chin to your shoes. Every bit of your constitution is shattered when you realize you were a fool then, and you're a fool now. You tell yourself you can't let your heart warm up again, it needs to stay ice cold... What a joke. You scoff,

"Spare me the bullshit, Osamu"

You hear a soft laughter come from the shadows, and you wish you were six feet underground.

"Mm, I missed hearing you berate me~"

He says that so casually, and when his laughter settles, the rain takes over again. You look over at the flickering lamp post, as if you could see him directly, and roll your eyes, sighing. You call out, bitterly.

"Well I don't think about you at all."

And as you say that, the painful little ache between your brows walks out of the shadows and into the broken light, hands in the pockets of his tan coat, and soaked hair that somehow looked even better when it was disheveled. He clicks his tongue, and speaks in a low voice as he strides towards you, making your heart beat right out of your chest.

".. You should."

He says that like it's the most natural thing, a sly smile on his lips as he stares you down. He thinks you look utterly breathtaking even in your pitiful state. He thinks maybe he should kiss every little inch of your body for the rest of his life.

"Shut up."

"Oooh, that's the best you can do? Tell me to shut up?"

"I don't want to slap you in public, so this will have to do."

You spit back, your face twisted into a frown, one that's already stinging with the threat of breaking down into tears. You hate feeling something that's impossible, hoping the rain will wash it all away. Dazai smirks and raises a brow, his eyes are dark and knowing as he studies you.

You're exactly the same as you were a year ago. Full of life, even if you can't see it now.

"You're still so hot in your coldness. Predictable, but I love it. It reminds me of the time you and I-"

"What do you want, Dazai?"

Oh the way you switch to his last name makes his chest ache. His smile drops just a tad, and he looks down, looking like a wet cat as he clears his throat. His tone is sardonic, once again breaking you down as if you weren't the one making his hands tremble in his pockets. But he has a game to play...

"Just passing through, obviously. What could I possibly ever want from you?"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You feel yourself swaying, as if the rain was quite literally dragging you down... or maybe you were just drunk. Dazai finds it endearing how you ask such idiotic questions, that after all this time you still feel the need to know him. He slowly walks even closer to you, until he's inches away. His eyes soften, along with his voice, and a pang of bitter nostalgia hits you both at once. He reaches a hand out from his coat pocket, and takes the metal flask from you, his cold slender fingers dusting lightly over your knuckles for a second too long. He thinks you look even prettier up close, and decides to put you out of your misery.

"You want me to be blunt I suppose? Hm, that's awfully dull... I love you, silly."

It's like being staked through the heart when someone like Osamu Dazai says that to you. Your throat feels like it's closing, and your lip quivers ever so slightly.

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't have time to love."

A scoff escapes him, and he finds it irritating that you would say that, despite him knowing he's more than at fault for that very resentment you hold. Still, it doesn't make his own words any less true. He exhales, and looks at you with those cruel eyes, the ones that burn into the back of your head with scrutiny. He feels hollow, and it hurts deeply to feel this again after he swore he wouldn't let himself crave you. He shouldn't get what he wants, or else he'll wander the streets at night like a starving dog hoping he catches you at your lowest so he can pick up the pieces, and maybe one day not leave right after. Maybe he'd finally follow you home. You're weak, and it's rubbed off on him.

His voice comes out too pleading, too desperate, and too damn sincere. He's fucked.

"... Ah, you wound me... I'm making time on this lovely evening for you, no? Even if it's just for one ridiculous night, I'd like it to be with you. If you want to do worse things than just slap me you can do that too if it makes you feel any better. Kick me, scream at me, I don't really care. I have the time right now and we can do this."

You didn't even register when the tears started streaming, and you definitely didn't think he would know to tell them apart from the rain streaming down your flushed cheeks at the same time. Yet here he is, using his thumb to gently wipe them, the feeling of his skin against yours for the first time in a year is searing... It's punishing. You sniffle.

"Stop- Don't do this to me... Stop talking like that when I feel so empty...."

He flashes you a sad smile, a repenting smile. He almost looks human as he stares at you, searching for something. Anything.

"Then let me fill you."

He leans in, his nose touching yours, and his whisper sends chills down your spine. It's poison.

"Say you love me too. Like you used to."

"... I-I refuse to say it again. Especially in public."

"Say it in private, then. Say it hundreds and thousands of times for me. I can beg."

He nuzzles into your face, placing the lightest kiss on your cheek, and you can feel the way his lips curl into a smile against it. He wants to give you the kind of hope you only see in movies, but all he ever delivers is the carnage of a greek tragedy. Still, he wants you claim him as yours forever, even if he is a doomed man. Even if all you did was stick your finger in his wound he called a 'heart'.

"You always reduce me to nothing. It's exhausting." You mumble, pathetically.

"Nothing? Is that how little you think of yourself when I'm with you? Not only are you drunk, you're dense."

"I'm just saying. Us. Whatever we were. It was over before it even began."

Dazai interjects, bitterly.

"Don't say that, you're sounding too much like me."

"I'm just imitating you."

Oh, bless your inebriated lovesick little heart...

"You're nothing like me."

He speaks in a low and bitter murmur, as if not wanting to be heard at all. You could never come close to the atrocity that he is. The past was his mistress, it's why he left. But even in the past, he saw you too. You were there, you're always there.

He drops the flask, and it makes a loud sound as it falls to the floor, the rain pattering onto the metal making it echo. Before you can chastise him, he gently tilts your chin up and catches your soft petal lips in his, pressing into you as much as possible.

He wants to be so immersed in your essence that you become a part of him, selfishly so, and he wants to be a part of you. His tongue softly begs to enter your mouth, and the beautiful whimpers you make that reverberate against his lips cause him to wrap a hand around your waist and bring you closer, hold you tighter, as if you'd dissipate into nothing if his grip even remotely loosened. He needs to hear more of it, remembering how you used to be so embarrassed by how vocal you were with him before. He didn't mind it back then and he doesn't mind at all now, it is the most adorable sound he's ever heard in his miserable life.

You pull back from your kiss, a small string of saliva connecting your lips, and you look up at him, muttering as you try to catch your breath. You'd go to hell for that face alone.

"You'll stay right? You'll stay this time?"

Dazai looks down at you, eyes half lidded and breathing shallow. He smiles faintly and tilts his head to the side. He wants to crush that little dream of yours but he can't find the strength to slam his foot down. He knows he should pull away, he should leave and break your heart in hopes that you'll move on from the disaster he is, but he knows what you're pleading for. You're so naive, so goddamn perfect, he wants to laugh at the thought of him ever leaving you willingly again.

The overwhelming ache in his chest makes him realize he no longer has the upper hand in these games.. That he would rather make your dreams come true than to steal the light in your eyes... It's imperative. That as much as he denied it a year ago, he no longer has a game to play. He'll gladly suffocate in the warmth of your embrace, just how he imagines it every night before he falls asleep. He cups your face, and whispers with a familiar wink,

"... I'll tell you in private."

[poltergrease]

Guess who's now Very interested in whatever tf these two have going on

[iheartjameshetfield]

james please just one chance i’ll be good i’ll swallow

[take-this-to-your-grave]

Oh my god oh no oh no oh fuck oh no

I want to write my chemical romance fanfiction. And I have such a good idea. Oh no.

[karamazovanon]

been in SUCH a bad art block lately but i want to post art so here is a rough kirillov WIP i've been working on...........ive been obsessed w the idea of drawing him like an icon/saint/etc but im not satisfied with any of my attempts so far T_T

[lostandbackagain]

adept magic in skulduggery pleasant is so much fun like the concept of overpowered magic disciplines having extreme weaknesses is very cool when the weakness is a fundamental opposite (fire guy melting in water) and very funny when it's a fuck-you weakness (necromancers being Extremely Vulnerable to pickpocketing)

[dailykugisaki]

Day 304 | id in alt

(right to left)

Gave him the best nails to exist while talking shit for 3 hours only to choke him out until Itadori came back right fucking after.

[fizzseed]

Mike leans in and presses his lips to Will’s before he can manage to think it through. It’s lukewarm, and dry, and objectively a pretty shitty kiss. But it sends shivers down his spine and makes his hair stand on end and is, subjectively, the best kiss of his entire life. Until he leans back and Will’s eyes are wide and he feels his stomach drop and the panic set in. 

He just kissed Will. He kissed Will, who is a boy and who probably hates him now. He’s just gone and messed up the best thing he’s ever had, just because he can’t fucking keep himself in check. It feels a little bit like someone is pressing down on his chest, like someone’s reached their hands inside his ribcage and is squeezing his lungs. Mike stands up from the couch, leaving Will sitting on it, wide-eyed shell-shocked as he backs out of the room.

His legs feel weak, a little bit. He’s stumbling, not really sure where he’s going except away from Will like that will somehow make all of this better. When he glances up, Will is staring straight ahead with his fingers raised and pressed lightly to his lips. Like he wants to wipe any trace of Mike away but is too afraid to touch. Mike feels sick. 

He bumps into something, and that something ends up being Nancy, who holds her hands against his shoulder. “Hey, watch where— Mike?”

“Yeah?” he breathes, unsure of where to look. Wherever he puts his eyes doesn’t really matter because it’s like the afterimage of Will is burned into his retinas forever. He ends up staring at one of Nancy’s brown ringlet curls, still damp from the shower. She smells like bath salts. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

“Nothing,” Mike says, entirely unconvincing, “nothing, just…” he digs for an excuse, “just getting some snacks. Yeah. For our study session.”

Nancy looks over his shoulder, presumably at Will. “Okay,” she says, clearly not buying any of Mike’s nonsense, “why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

Mike’s stomach drops again. Because he’s horrible. Because he’s a queer and just kissed his best friend without permission and then left him sitting there without permission. Because he’s just lost Will, probably. For good this time.

“Mike,” Nancy says, tone suddenly concerned instead of confused, “breathe.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath that sticks in his throat when he hears steps behind him. 

“Hi,” he hears Will say behind him, and Nancy smiles.

“Hi, Will,” she answers. “Do you know what’s up with Mike?” she asks.

Some petty, apparently invincible younger sibling part of Mike rears its ugly head at that. “I’m right here,” he says crossly. 

Will just hums, also like Mike isn’t there, but Mike can almost feel his gaze burning into his neck. He knows Will is looking at him, but doesn’t dare look back at him. “I have an idea,” Will says mildly. “You can go back to whatever you were doing, Nancy.”

She smiles crookedly, and says, “thanks.” Then she runs up the stairs. 

“Mike,” Will says quietly.

The squeezing feeling comes back. Maybe if he stands really still and doesn’t say anything, he’ll just… disappear. His heart is beating so hard. Already, he’s trying to figure out what the hell he’s going to do when he doesn’t have Will any more. Obviously, the Party is going to side with him because Mike is a creep, and there’s no shot he can stay in Hellfire, and he’ll be all alone. He’ll have to find a new table to sit at on Monday at lunch, or maybe he can just start having lunch in the bathrooms, even if that’s gross. At least it eliminates the embarrassment that would come with sitting literally anywhere else than with the people he’s sat with since third grade. 

“Mike, will you look at me?” Will says. Apparently, trying to dematerialize didn’t work. That’s a shame.

“Why,” Mike says hoarsely.

“Oh my god,” Will says, exasperated, “will you just do it?”

Mike blinks, then starts slowly turning around to face Will. Will, who is blushing a pretty light red and who is smiling and who has big shiny eyes. Will, who is diving forwards and throwing his arms around Mike’s neck and pressing his smile to Mike’s slack jaw, who is kissing him back. 

Okay. Yeah.

That works.

[dancedance-resolution]

well fellas it’s happening i think i am maybe developing a crush on the girl ive been fucking recently 🫥

[liverpool-enjoyer]

yall for the first time in my life i straight up went up to a guy n made small talk w him n gave him my number n HE HAD A GF 😭😭 WHY THE FUCK DID I DO THAT??? IM THE STUPIDEST BITCH ON THIS PLANET LIKE HOLY FUCK IM NEVER APPROACHING A MAN AGAIN THATS A PROMISE

[roseluwakcoffee]

babygirl u are so Issues << me @ celes and kyoko

[therewillbenoromance]

i need the book of bill now

[deimosatellite]

i know this is super obvious probs but do yall ever think about how the reveal from pyotr of having murdered shatov was what really cemented kirillov on following through with his plan. because hours before he had just felt for the first time a hope for the future in which he and shatov could be close again and raise his son together and he realized theres something worth living for in that but then almost immediately that's all taken away and he realizes he never had any control in his life and this situation, his last semblance of control being in the very act of ending his own life for pyotr. and the way pyotr didnt tell kirillov that he was going to kill shatov until it was already done because do you think he knew that would be the proverbial and literal final nail in the coffin. lol im so okay