#they Live inside my Brain .

[faerie-somnium]

SKK oriented Rodeo AU... Dazai and Chuuya as rival bull-riders...

Much of it is going to be based on a modified version of PBR (Professional Bull Rider league)

After both earning a spot as an official Bull Rider in the Challenger Series they're put on the same team's roster. Both are NAWT happy about it as it reduces their chances on riding the best bull in the league, Arahabaki. (Teams are way more relevant in this series because plot and because i said so). This starts their rivalry, trying to one-up each other the whole season. Shit goes down and Dazai dips from the league for four years.

Post time-skip Dazai is back... for reasons. But on a different team (I rlly like canon parallels alr). Chuuya is more pissed about him than he ever was until he isn't.

And that's the basic premise of Taming You in Eight Seconds :}

[zunaki]

Love is real y'all 😭😭

[buckera]

BUCKTOMMY + an assortment of smiles ↳ S7E06 “There Goes the Groom”

[rinnelovebot]

hey here's a request— HOLY SHIT RINNE HOLY SHIT HIIRO HOLY SHIT MADARA HOLY SHIT ALKAKUREI AH AH AH AH tori himemiya my son I AM DOWN BAD im always called gay

anyways, thank you for requesting anon, here's your request!

There is so much going on here

Ask game

[ghostbeam]

Mech pilot yuuta and his mech that’s incredibly possessive over him. He takes to you as a handler almost immediately, excited for the help after his last few handlers were scared off. You’re not allowed inside, your constantly dodging malfunctioning limbs and faulty wires, but you’re not one to back down, and gaining her trust is just as important as gaining his.

Rika only realizes how important you are to Yuuta the day after you spend the night with him, and he’s left alone in the morning with an empty bed and a broken heart. You’re his handler. You’re not supposed to leave him. Not ever.

She lures you into her chest one night, faking some sort of lighting malfunction and allowing you inside for the first time. She keeps you inside all night, enduring all your yelling and banging on her insides to be let out, a nice gift for Yuuta.

[lucabyte]

i burned the bridges thoroughly but still everyone's trusting me again and i should be relieved but it happened so suddenly (and i know in my heart i haven't earned this, but everyone acts like my concern isn't a problem like nothing is wrong with my very involvement)

but i know how the song ends (x)

[wordsinhaled]

it was really only a matter of time until edwardian payneland happened and what if i channeled maurice about it. just a little

-

Charles is the son of the groundskeeper at St. Hilarion's School for Boys while Edwin is a pupil there. And he can't help but notice Edwin—how he’s nearly always alone, or else being harangued by the cruel older boys who call themselves his peers.

Charles privately thinks they hardly seem equal to him in poise or grace or manner. They are boisterous, brash, crass, violent, all overlaid with a veneer of false propriety, but Charles can see the cracks in it. He knows that sort by how they are inside, and they cannot be like Edwin at all. No, Edwin Paine's got a sad, drawn sort of look about him that Charles can't help recognizing. This lonely boy who feels somehow kindred in a way he can't put a finger on, but is pulled to him all the same, though by rights he'd do better to keep his distance.

Edwin often sits by the lake by himself, to read, or to do his assignments in the shade of the trees. Picturesque as a painting, he is. One day Charles dares to approach him, though he knows the risk in it—prepared to be rebuffed, rebuked for his untoward attention to someone he is meant to ignore; but the boy does not turn him away.

And so they become friends. Tentative, and then less and less so.

Together they explore the school's sprawling grounds, all of whose surprising hiding-places Charles Rowland knows by heart, having wandered them himself for years and made them his own refuge. The woods become theirs; the shore by the lake theirs; the shade of the trees theirs. The attic, where no one comes to look for them in the dead of night, also theirs.

And then one day Charles notices a group of boys surrounding Edwin. The usual cadre, and they're posturing, their voices loud in the autumn air. They’ve ripped Edwin's penny magazine from his grip and are tearing pages out of it, scattering them to be plucked up by the wind. Charles can do nothing else but step in. He shouts at them to back off, puts himself between them and Edwin, and gets himself thrashed for his trouble—but they, at least, finally leave Edwin alone.

Edwin, for his part, cannot believe Charles would be so reckless for his sake. Charles has not yet mentioned to him that he is used to this sort of treatment, and sees worse at home. They sit together in the boathouse by the lake, cross-legged, close enough for Edwin to dab carefully at Charles’ split lip and bleeding knuckles.

“You should not have done that for me,” he chides, though it carries no heat. “What will happen now?” He thinks word is sure to get back to the school, and there will be a scandal. Those boys, who so vocally despise Edwin, will hardly be quiet in their outrage, their humiliation. Charles’ father might be relieved of his post, and then Charles’ family will have to leave St. Hilarion’s. That is how these things go.

And what was it all for? For Edwin? How could it have been worth it?

“Doesn’t matter, does it?" Charles is saying, when Edwin surfaces from his troubled thoughts. "Couldn’t let them treat you like that. They had you five to one. And that, just ‘cause you’re different. I know how it is.” Charles’ eyelashes are very long, and the light turns his eyes a warm, deep amber as he talks fiercely, insistently, in defense of Edwin.

It’s terribly forward, Edwin thinks. And, despite every misgiving, he welcomes it. No one has ever fought for Edwin before. No one has ever spoken about him with such conviction.

Then Charles seems to lapse into pensiveness. “You didn’t have to…” he says softly. "All this." He gestures, with the free hand Edwin isn’t busy wrapping up, at the little bottle of antiseptic, the scissors, the roll of bandages and the cloths, all spread out on the floorboards between them.

“Of course I did,” Edwin says.

Really, he had not given it much consideration. He had had only the presence of mind to memorize the sight of Charles kneeling in the dew-damp grass, angry gaze still spitting fire at the backs of Edwin’s retreating bullies. He’d had blood in his bared teeth, and the briefest flash of desire had seared through Edwin—to kiss him. Merely in thanks, perhaps, but still, to kiss him.

He would know the warmth of Charles’ mouth. Fleeting, forbidden, it would sear itself into his mind for ever.

Of course, he had done no such thing; for he could not. Instead, he’d done the only thing he could do—bent low towards Charles, and squeezed his shoulder once, as if to say, Wait here for me. I will come back to you.

And as he'd turned on his heel and gone off in the direction of the infirmary, leaving Charles there with dusk encroaching, Edwin had hoped Charles understood his gesture for the indelible promise it was.

[bizarreandjarring]

if disco elysium was from kim’s POV

[wormsinsdirt]

this is a redraw of this post!

it turned more like anime? than I expected. I forgot how to draw eyes

[waiting-for-a-sunny-day]

The way Geto smiles at Gojo’s mid ass compliment is the basis of my unshakable conviction that he would have a praise kink

[puppyeared]

doodles of my fav sillies

anton belongs to @poicyss

[cyber-seaweed]

enough sad soukoku angst. give me SILLY soukoku angst. give me 16 year old dazai dragging tired older brother odasaku on a "very important mission given to him by the boss" and it's just dazai watching chuuya on a date (oooooh) with comically oversized binoculars. the date goes horribly wrong, no dazai meddling required, and dazai feels nothing but successful. odasaku leaves halfway through, knowing he cannot stop this but not wanting to enable dazai.

give me sitcom levels of bullshitery skk or give me death.

[gravedigg]

I bit God's hand and now he wont even feed me

This ones inspired by a picture of Mary holding Jesus but, since Virgil grew up in foster care and never knew his mother, there's no one there. Just the hollow space where someone should be.

It speaks to his relationship (and subsequent disconnection) with his heritage and culture as the orphaned child of immigrants and his difficult relationship with religion, having grown up religious but feeling betrayed and abandoned by god after his injury.

I wanted it to look like an old post card, it says return to sender but unfortunately they didn't leave a return address. It's probably just gonna sit at the post office until they throw it away. :-(

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

uh. yeah i have no excuse i just couldn't decide between scribblin' up a monster or Home so i fused the two. monster home for No concrete reason!

[autistic-ace]

when you stuck in a room/loop [comedy vs horror]

[salidadelmarisol]