#they can not be normal for two seconds

[mattysmarvel]

charlos matching photos !!

[fixfoxnox]

This is why I'm not the biggest fan of the Price is the dad of the 141 headcanons, because what people fail to understand is that the person on the leash is actually Price

[koszmarnybudyn]

He deserves a little evil as a treat :)

Anyway thank you for 500 subs!!! That's insane to me still

[carrotkicks]

Fugitives arc - Abridged vrs.

(part of the sends them to school au)

hehe so guess what! I took my insanity to new heights and I actually tried to write (horrifying) do tell me how it goes for you

It took exactly 9 seconds to find the extra bandages. Dr. Mori was always reliable about keeping medical supplies ready on hand but Dazai counted anyway. It’s a habit she’s grown over the years. Her eyepatch had gotten rather grimy after a long day on the run, and the bacteria that may have collected could give her another infection, so she might as well change it, right? 

Right! That’s a good start. Redoing her bandages is an excellent next step in her plan to somehow get herself and Chuuya out of this debacle. 

Speaking of, Chuuya was currently in the bedroom, trying to find something to wear that was left lying around in this safe house. Dazai had helped her take a bath earlier, and it took a lot of effort on her part to not freak out. Not that Chuuya noticed, of course. Chuuya might have a second special ability to be completely oblivious to some things. Like when someone’s putting the moves on her, or when she’s in pain. It’s as though she entirely lacks self-preservation. Does she have a death wish or something? Oh wait –

Dazai freezes that horribly ironic train of thought to remind herself she’s in a bathroom surrounded by puddles of Chuuya’s blood and tattered clothes. After the bandages, I’ll clean this mess. That’s a good next, next step.

Chuuya had gotten injured, somehow. A deep gash on the back of her neck, like a creature sunk its claws in her and pulled something out. Dazai frowned at the thought as she pulled her patch off. Chuuya hasn’t said a word about why they were hiding but after the events of the past few days, Dazai’s overactive mind was starting to paint a bleak picture. 

Chuuya wasn’t at school for the past few days. On the third day of her absence, her literature teacher pulled her aside with a packet of coursework in hand. 

“I know you’re close to Nakahara-chan. Perhaps you can deliver her the materials she’s missed this past week so she doesn’t fall too far behind. And check in on her too, okay?” 

Of course, Dazai readily agreed. Their Sensei has always shown exasperation towards Chuuya’s poor attendance habits, but today there was a strange tightness in her smile that made Dazai’s stomach settle uncomfortably. 

Kunikida decided to join her to deliver the notes – “Not that I don’t think you’re capable of it on your own. I’m putting up with you because it’s a dangerous location, and I would like to see how Nakahara-san is doing” he declared. Naturally, Dazai had cheerfully wrapped an arm around his waist and accepted his chivalrous offer. Kunikida may give the pretenses of aloofness but he worries too much for the act to hold any weight. That’s how Dazai managed to figure out what happened after that disastrous mistake on her part last Friday. 

Kunikida and Yosano both agreed to this story: Chuuya looked very pale when they entered the club room. She claimed she was ill and decided to leave after minutes in. That’s where it ended, frustratingly enough. At yesterday’s Detectives Club meeting, Ranpo mentioned to her briefly “I don’t think things look very good at home for Chuuya-kun.” Dazai nodded. 

I figured as much too.

That’s why when she and Kunikida stepped up to a ratty-looking apartment unit in a ratty-looking apartment complex in the Suribachi neighborhood on the outskirts of Yokohama, she had Hirotsu in a van full of Mafia guards parked two blocks away. Her security detail was also following close by but she’s not supposed to know about them, so if anyone asks, what security detail? 

“This is the right place?” Kunikida asked, looking back at the surroundings. The area didn’t seem safe, at least for a couple of kids wearing uniforms for one of the most prestigious private academies in Yokohama. Even if those kids were ability users. 

“It’s the address Sensei gave me,” Dazai responded in a relaxed fashion. She gazed back to where Kunikida was looking. An armored truck hidden under the shade of a tree. 

“Supposedly there’s a military base nearby,” she rationalized. Kunikida only nodded uneasily. 

Dazai grinned and began ruffling through her bag for the handouts. “Hey, if Chuuya answers the door, she won’t be in her school uniform.” 

“Hm.” Kunikida stepped forward and knocked. Three times. 

“I bet she has an awful fashion sense. She seems like the type, right?”

“Anything Nakahara-san chooses for her style will be an improvement to your bandages, Dazai-chan.” 

“Tch. Rude.” 

The door opened. The timer starts.

Standing there was a tall man wearing a lab coat and a gentle smile. “Hello. Can I help you?” He has glasses and graying hair. He’s keeping his hands in his pockets, one of which seems to be holding something. 6 seconds. 

Kunikida must have picked up that Dazai wasn’t willing to talk, and took over. “Hello sir, is this the residence of Nakahara Chuuya-san?” 

“Yes, I’m her father. She’s not well right now, so I’m afraid you can’t see her.” 18 seconds. From what Dazai could see there wasn’t any furniture other than a sofa, coffee table, and coat rack. Chuuya’s signature boots weren’t by the entrance. 

“That’s… alright. We just came to deliver some of the notes and homework she’s missed. We’re classmates.” The blinds in the apartment were drawn, and there was something in the shadow that Dazai couldn’t make out clearly. 23 seconds. 

Chuuya’s “father” accepted the offered papers swiftly without a second glance. “I’ll see that she gets these. Anything else?” 31 seconds. A glint of metal, that looked the shape of – 

“Nope, that’s it! We’ll take our leave then. Please tell Chuuya we hope she feels better for us, sir” Dazai cut in. She nudged Kunikida’s foot  Come on, time to go.

Kunikida gave a courteous bow. “Thank you for your time, Nakahara-san.” 

At that, a strange smirk crossed over the man’s face, as if he heard the world’s most ironic joke. “Of course.” He made eye contact with Dazai for a moment and she really hoped she was giving him a polite smile because her eyes felt far too wide to be anything other than manic. Then the door slammed shut. 

The entire encounter lasted 42 seconds, and Dazai already figured out more than she wanted to. “Chuuya wasn’t there. That man wasn’t her father” She tells Kunikida when they’re far enough away from the building. Her friend gave her a sharp look, but it wasn’t an "I don’t believe you". It helped the tightness in her throat clear a little. 

“How do you figure?” 

Dazai furrowed her brow, “That apartment isn’t lived in at all. None of Chuuya’s possessions were to be found. And…” She halted. Kunikida stopped beside her. “Inside I saw a glimpse of a rifle, a military-grade one. There was definitely an armed soldier hiding in the back, and likely the rest of their squad too.” Soldiers, a military base, a man in a lab coat, and a missing ability user. A terrible combination.

Kunikida muttered what was absolutely not a curse. “We need to find Nakahara quickly.” He says, not wasting a moment to pull out his phone to dial who she thinks is Ranpo. 

Dazai nods, already feeling more confident. But Yokohama’s a big city, how are they supposed to find one tiny person like – 

*** 

“Dazai. Dazaiiiiiiii! Are you- oh!” Chuuya rushed out about as quickly as she entered. Dazai had scrambled to throw her hands up to hide her uncovered eye. She exhaled heavily as she tried to suppress the irritation that flared up in her chest. That was terrible timing on her part, and she should have accounted for Chuuya being her spontaneous self. 

“Seriously, Chibi? Didn’t anyone teach you to knock first?” 

“Sorry. I didn’t expect you to be indecent.” Dazai isn’t naked, just bandage-less right now. Oh, Chuuya’s trying to be funny.

“Humor isn’t your thing Slug-chan. Hhh, tell me. Did you see it?” Dazai doesn’t know why she’s feeling so self-conscious. Her eye healed a long time ago, even if seeing out of it is still quite blurry, it looks perfectly fine. But in the year since the … injury … Dazai has only been able to bear looking at her own unobstructed reflection for only a few minutes at a time. The only other person who could be comparable was the Good Doctor himself. 

There’s a silence behind the door. Then, Chuuya says, “I saw you, Dazai.”

Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that, and it seems like Chuuya may have realized because there’s a hesitant turn of the door handle. Dazai puts her hand over the right side of her face for good measure. 

The door creaks open and the redhead shuffles in. Literally shuffles, Dazai realized, those clothes were huge on her, practically swallowing her frame. The sleeves of the collared shirt she found were rolled up to her elbows and the black slacks she was wearing must have been cuffed 3(?) times. They must be Dr. Mori’s, a little voice in Dazai’s head supplied. She looks cute in them, an unhelpful one adds. She looked cuter covered in blood, to be honest, another, more unhelpful, eviler voice continued. Hold on, has Dazai ever seen Chuuya wear long pants before?

Whatever. It didn’t matter because obviously, Dazai laughed out loud at the sight. Maybe overcompensated even, she really needed this chance to tease Chuuya. Any chance she’ll get. For her part, Chuuya must have anticipated this reaction because she just huffs out in annoyance and drags herself closer. When her giggles died down, she realized that Chuuya had grabbed her hand and was looking directly into her eyes, and a self-satisfied grin settled on her face.

Ah, Dazai’s mouth felt dry again, so she lowers her head. Chuuya took that as a cue to start talking. “It’s only fair, Dazai. You got to see all of me, so I deserve some leverage on you too.” 

Leverage? Oh… Dazai thinks she gets it. Chuuya’s at Dazai’s mercy right now. Dazai’s father owns this safe house, Dazai’s people are guarding the perimeter, and Dazai’s the one who can treat her injuries. Chuuya’s asking for some control over the situation. She’s asking for trust in return. Dazai can handle that. 

She looks up, but Chuuya’s already turned her head away, cheeks a faint red. She detaches her hand but Dazai grabs it before it can retreat further. 

“Hey.” Dazai brings Chuuya’s hand close to her face. Chuuya meets here eyes. She seems confused. “A while ago I got into an accident.”

“An accident?” If Chuuya doubts her, she wouldn’t show it. 

“Yeah. It really messed up the right side of my face. It used to look really bad so I always bandaged it. It became a habit.” 

Dazai hesitated on the next part. “And when I see myself without the patches, I get reminded how human I look.” 

Chuuya’s gaze was unreadable now. 

Shit. Don’t say more. Dazai found herself stuck explaining, “And it makes me a fraud because I’m not a human. Not inside. Not where it matters” Stop oversharing! She can feel her heartbeat going faster “Ahh ~ that part’s not really a big deal, though. How’s my face, Chuuya-kun? Is it cute?” 

“What the hell are you saying, Dazai?” When she’s upset Chuuya’s voice goes down an octave from her usual high throaty pitch. It seems that’s the case here. Dazai stayed transfixed to the anger brewing in her eyes, and didn’t noticed that Chuuya’s hands landed themselves on either side of her face, cupping it gentler than her expression would have let on. 

“Don’t you ever say that to my face again! You're not human? That’s complete bullshit.” Who taught Chuuya how to curse, anyway?

“Chuuya I-”

“Shut up. Don’t you understand, Dazai?” She really doesn’t understand. Chuuya’s expression melts into something Dazai can’t recognize. Her thumb strokes her right cheek and then Dazai is being pulled closer to the Earth. At some point her eyes close. Some muddled thought about trust floats around her head. 

“You’re the most human person I’ll ever meet.”

Something soft and warm. Right under her eye. Dazai snaps back into awareness as Chuuya pulls away, red-faced, like a shrimp. A shrimpy color on a shrimpy person. Or the color of crab. Dazai loves crab. Dazai loves- Chuuya squirmed under her gaze. Oh, right. How much time did she just lose?

“You took me by surprise last Friday,” Chuuya confesses, looking away in embarrassment. “And then I got scared, because I felt so good in that one moment with you, and then I had to go back… Home.” She shuddered. “And I’ve been trying change, you know? Because I didn’t feel alive until I met you, and then suddenly I wanted to feel alive for you.” 

Dazai didn’t know how to respond, so she wrapped her hand around the back of Chuuya’s neck, carefully over thick patch of gauze that protected her injury. Chuuya looked breathless. “And then last week, I realized that my freedom had run out, so I took a chance and escaped. And now we’re here. And it’s all your fault Dazai. I did it because of you.”

There’s something dark and stormy in Chuuya’s eyes. 

“And that stupid goddamned kiss. It was fucking incredible .” 

Dazai closed the distance between them again. And again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again andagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagain –

*** 

So their night went peacefully after that. Dazai never ended up rewrapping her eye, just for the sake of savoring that adorable flustered look on Chuuya’s face. Cleaning the bathroom was a more irritating chore. Dazai had nudged the pile that was Chuuya’s blood-soaked uniform and a random set of green and yellow gardening gloves she somehow acquired. (“Hey you sure you didn’t go and murder anyone, Slug?” she had taunted. Chuuya ominously didn’t answer.) Dr Mori had kept a huge stock of spicy instant noodles in the pantry and the two of them held a contest to see who could handle the spice better. It ended in a tie because Dazai refused to admit she had a runny nose and tears in her eyes. 

And now they were in bed, in each other's arms. Dazai hugged her… girlfriend? partner? … closer. Chuuya was so warm. Like a human furnace. Dazai could happily die right now. Until Chuuya spoke up. 

“Dazai, why did you tell me I would look cute in a cage right before you kissed me. ” Death needs to arrive a little faster. Dazai is a little spent from the embarrassing and soulbearing conversations earlier. 

“It. It was a dog joke Chuuya. Because you’re my doggy.”

“Likely story. You just want me to have no freedom under you instead.” Dazai pointedly didn’t wrap herself around Chuuya more, to prove her self restraint and respect for Chuuya’s autonomy.

“Please drop it. You don’t understand my prodigal mind.”

“Hmm. How about never?” 

A comfortable silence settled over them again. Chuuya pushed herself deeper into Dazai’s hold. She was wearing a pair of oven mits that she found in the kitchen, and Dazai didn’t bother to ask why. What did matter was that this moment never ended.

“Dazai.” Chuuya started. “I’m…”

“Hm?” Dazai shifted her position so she could see Chuuya’s expression. It was horribly vulnerable. 

“I… don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.” 

The unspoken words rang clearly in Dazai’s mind. She smiled and ran her hand through the short red hair. There was a light shining in Chuuya’s eyes. If they were going to pull an all-nighter, then Dazai better start counting.

“Yeah. Me too, Chuuya” 

***

Dazai woke up to the barrel of an assault rifle pressed to her temple and a tall man in a white lab coat holding Chuuya in his arms.

[lazycranberrydoodles]

COME ON GUYS DON'T LET DIANXIA DOWN

[residentinsomniacartist]

Thinking about Caleb and how so much of his story ends with him finding meaning in the temporary.

He spent so long chasing a way to bring his parents back, but in the end he had to accept that they were gone. They were temporary. He has his memories of them now, but that’s all. And he has to find peace with that and find a way to remember them fondly, even though they’re gone now, truly and completely.

He and Essek love each other dearly, but there will come a day when he will have lived his life and grown old and Essek will still be Essek. But even so, every moment they spend together is still meaningful. Even if it ends, it means something.

Just. Caleb and loving things even when they won’t last. Maybe because they won’t last.

[starsandthorn]

no but actually. the parallels to other Twins in different nations of teyvat in relation to the traveler and their desire to reunite with their own sibling makes me a little bit bonkers. like.

diluc and kaeya as what the traveler has and fears, after we will be reunited [separation born from conflict that seemingly cannot be mended; they both care for each other but ultimately their opposing ideals mean they cannot be at each other's side in the same way that they used to, and no longer have the close bond they once did]

ei and makoto as what the abyss sibling experienced [a crushing loss not just of one's twin but the last remaining friend they had and the safety and security of their nation, coming out the other side traumatized, cold and jaded and making decisions that will ultimately hurt the people they claim to want to protect for the sake of an unattainable goal]

and lyney and lynette as what the traveler and the abyss twin used to have before they were separated [never apart for long, home is wherever we are together], what the traveler wants [their separation brief and quickly amended, continuing to be inseparable after they reunite], and also the choice they'll have to make [the twins being together in an organization the traveler inherently doesn't trust - does the traveler want to be by their sibling's side badly enough to throw their lot in with the abyss, and turn their back on everyone else they've met on their journey so far?]

[lightningidle]

Fig's line "I don't think I'm an artist, I think I'm just a good friend" has not left my head at all. Just...

You're Fig Faeth and your horns came in over the summer and you pick up the bard class as a form of adolescent rock 'n' roll rebellion, and it works! It's exactly the outlet you need! You give a guy you just met drumsticks and you start a band and it's good enough that within a year and a half you're touring. You are, in every sense, good at being a bard.

And then, finally, your junior year, you start to take it seriously. Your art goes from an outlet and a form of rebellion to a practice. A discipline. (Can rebellion exist within a discipline?) Your classmates know what they want to do with their work. They all have a thesis statement. And yeah, there's cohesion in the music you make, but you've never had to think about why you make it. You've never sat down and dissected what it is about bass that speaks to you. You've never poured over your lyrics to pick at any deeper meaning. Why should you? You don't play music for a grand design, you do it to... huh, why do you do it?

(Your art is the one form of self-expression that feels as safe as Disguise Self does, because even if you're pouring your heart onto the page and then screaming it in front of thousands of people, it's not like you're really making yourself known. You can sing I'm lonely, I'm scared, I'm furious, and your fans will sing it right back, and there will still be the distance between performer and audience to keep your heart safe.)

Now you're being asked to look inward to explain the artistic choices you're making, and you can't help but recoil at that, because you'd rather do anything than look inward. Meanwhile, your classmates have no problem with it, so you start to wonder if you're a real artist at all. Can your art be authentic if it only exists to bolster a thesis statement? Has your art been unauthentic this whole time because you've never really thought about a thesis statement before? Is that what makes it art, and not just the next track on somebody's teen angst playlist?

You can't think about yourself— acknowledging your own existence makes you want to puke. So if your music is an extension of yourself, (and it is, even if it's just because the spotlight reveals only what you want it to,) you can't think about your music. You can't. You have to. Your grade depends on it.

You're Fig Faeth, and you keep multiclassing because you'd rather be a good friend than a great artist. If introspection is what great art demands, then fuck it. You must not be a bard at all.

[maskyartist]

okay so "tomorrow" got late BUT heres my goofy ass Clay/Creek idea :)

the entire summery is under the cut but in case ur curious dont worry

Branch eventually finds out :D

more info under the cut!

Once the Putt Putts end up getting moved to Trollstopia (i imagine they have their own sectioned off area, they're not exactly "pop trolls" anymore yknow? they got a lil makeshift spot they're turning into a new mini golf course as we speak), Clay was properly hired as Viva's royal advisor. Aka her assistant :)

He loves doing all his usual serious boy work, but its gotten hard doing it by himself now that it's less "trying to keep a small community from burning down" and more "trying to convince all the other genre's theyre not feral as hell". its a lotta work, along with keeping up with Putt Putts and their wants and needs for their new kingdom

So Clay puts out a flier for an assistant position and after weeks of no luck, he gets a hit and hires the guy as soon as he can!

Creek has been living on the outskirts of Pop Village ever since the "Bergen" incident, too afraid of the consequences of his actions to try and rejoin the Pop Trolls. Instead he ends up watching them build a newer area with Trolls he's never even met before.

Creek begins exploring the Putt Putt Range and is happy to be greeted as a full stranger. This spot might be safe. Social, not too far from his "home" (a tucked away cave in the forest), and no one knows what he did. He can start over!

Even better, there's a job offer for Putt Putt Range specifically. Hes not one for hard work, but after living on his own for long enough, hes sick of having to fight for his own food. He'd rather have a paycheck and something MUCH better then whatever crap he finds lying around. Or has to cook. Even worse.

Clay may be desperate but Creek does do good work. Being his assistant is thankfully rather simple. Creek is in charge of smaller, less important file information, along with manning the front and taking requests for the Putt Putts on what should be done to the Range. All in all? It's peaceful. It really does feel like a fresh start, and even better? Clay is...really nice. Patient, understanding, he listens and Creek has been alone so long it's just nice to be heard.

Things could really take a turn for the better.

...and then he learns who Clay's brothers are and all hell breaks loose :)

(its a lot of back and forth, Clay learning new info and having to just sorta grapple with it, being caught in the middle of a family feud situation. He cant STAY with Creek/keep him on staff if he wants to keep Branch happy, but he also doesnt wanna FIRE Creek because he hasnt hurt the Putt Putts. He has no reason to fire him, family business is just that. Family business. Its not for a professional setting.

Clay's caught between a rock and a hard place, and he's gonna have to squeeze himself out before he breaks.)

[sysig]

The familiarity is not very comforting (Patreon)

[lowqualitygarbage]

Saw a shirt I needed to throw on to the horrible bunny man.

[mattysmarvel]

why does this look like a clip straight out of a romance movie they’re insane…

[youngpettyqueen]

"but you're such a- forgive me- a talkative man" thinking about this delivery from Garak because he's not usually so careful in what he says to literally anybody- Julian included. sure he's very obviously trying to kiss ass here so that Julian will let him stay, but still. the way he says it implies that he knows calling Julian talkative might be a sore spot, and he's treading lightly

[lesbianpegbar]

I HATE MOKMOK LEN !!!!!

[vyragosa]

IS EVERYONE FUCKED IN THE HEAD????? IS THIS SHIT REAL???????

[designsdefiance]

day 21: lost

it's bad enough being in a new world totally alien to her. to not recognise her sister? agonising. unbearable.