recipe for aoba

witchhoney:

step one: hit rock bottom.
collect the most jagged stones and
press them as hard into your palm
as you can.

step two: fuck strangers and
snort a line and come home at
5am with a black eye and 
bruised knuckles. 
when your grandmother sneers
say, “at least i come home”.

step three: pretend you don’t 
see the hurt on her face. 

step four: fuck yourself over.
you are a human train wreck.
let yourself be.
fuck yourself over.
it’ll be the best thing that
ever happens to you.

step five: when they release you from the hospital
avoid the gazes of people you used to know. 
try not to think too hard. 

step six: do it anyway.

step seven: snag another dead end job.
tie your hair up and put on your happy face.
ignore the itch underneath your skin
ignore the ache in your bones
ignore the idea that 
destruction is a creative urge.

step eight: when he looks away
count the scars that you can see.
when he doesnt know youre watching
memorise the ones you usually cant.
memorise the ones that wont heal or fade.
when he leaves tonight you will feel
all the stars fall from the sky.
you will close your eyes like an eclipse and
breathe out a sigh of sulfur. 

step nine: don’t ignore the paranoia.
don’t let yourself scream under the needle.

step ten: shred your heart and
feed pieces of it to him.
they can send you to the morgue
without anything in your chest
as long as he’s not broken.
untangle the hair and
caress him into calluses. 

step eleven: think about midnight
with him hung over your balcony
a cigarette hanging from his lips.
you’re leaning against the door frame
and he’s staring at the stars
like he’s looking for the answer to some
unsolved cosmic question.
you wish he would look at you instead.

step twelve: do not give in.

step thirteen: when he kisses you,
kiss back for all you’re worth.
grind your bones together until
you’re one being and realise
you couldn’t picture it any other way.

when you dream he’ll leave again
remind yourself that you’re not psychic.

step fourteen: he will cut your hair and you’ll let him
and you’ll whisper “i love you”s until
both your voices are hoarse. 

dramatically-murder-me:

Okay this picture is fucking hilarious because

You’ve got everyone here looking as badass as possible. Aoba looks like he could seriously fuck someone up, Mink’s having a smoke, Koujaku is doing his mystery thing. Can’t really see Noiz but he’s always badass.

Then you’ve got Clear.

He is peeling a mother fucking apple.

I can’t right now with this guy. He is such a life ruiner.

in-a-tiny-tardis:

I am like 90% sure that some of the positions that Aoba gets into are not physically possible. But you know, nothing is hotter than a broken back.

thewindfeelschilly:

dramatically-murdered:

“dinners ready!”

“i made your favorite!”

THE FUCkgGIN HOVER OVER CAPTiosnNS