testing a new brush :3c

d e v o n
tumblr dot com
AnasAbdin
Keni

@theartofmadeline
hello vonnie
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

#extradirty

titsay

JVL
Today's Document
styofa doing anything
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
noise dept.
DEAR READER
🪼
Stranger Things
almost home
KIROKAZE

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@yumyumberries
testing a new brush :3c

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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ITS OSAMU!!
i drew this earlier as practice
reference: pinterest
happy new y(aoi)ear...!!!!!!!111
happy new y(aoi)ear...!!!!!!!111
🎀 PINK SOUKOKU 2.0 🎀

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The US is bombing my home country Venezuela.
Venezuela has been in a dictatorship as long as I have been alive. Since 1998. My parents are happy about a coup and hope Maduro dies or gets arrested, which yes. Fuck Maduro, fuck Chavismo. But I've read way too much about the history of US dipping their hands into South America, installing puppet states, fucking everything up and this is not a win. Even if Maduro dies or gets arrested, the US just wants the country's resources, they are not magically going to fix everything, there is a corrupt reason for this to be happening that is yet to unfold and I'm so tired. Fuck Trump.
I wish I could find better words to explain this to non-venezuelans, or Venezuelans of an older generation who are just tired of failed "socialism" and beelined straight to far right borderline extremism as if that was better. For now my family back home is safe and I wish every person in Caracas the same.
The US is bombing my home country Venezuela.
Venezuela has been in a dictatorship as long as I have been alive. Since 1998. My parents are happy about a coup and hope Maduro dies or gets arrested, which yes. Fuck Maduro, fuck Chavismo. But I've read way too much about the history of US dipping their hands into South America, installing puppet states, fucking everything up and this is not a win. Even if Maduro dies or gets arrested, the US just wants the country's resources, they are not magically going to fix everything, there is a corrupt reason for this to be happening that is yet to unfold and I'm so tired. Fuck Trump.
I wish I could find better words to explain this to non-venezuelans, or Venezuelans of an older generation who are just tired of failed "socialism" and beelined straight to far right borderline extremism as if that was better. For now my family back home is safe and I wish every person in Caracas the same.
Happy 2026! I hope this year is kind to everyone.
thousand years later, the fragrance of your memories persists
a short comic i made for the Frieren Zine :))
i explored a lot of floral language with this one !
leftover sales are open until January 10 if you are interested to check it out :)) lots of incredible works in this zine <3 it's an honor to be part of this <3 thank you @thousandyearmemories for the opportunity <3
Living Longer
a message for someone on the edge…
from the waters of the sea, to the sands of the beach, to the concrete of the city, to the floorboards of your home — i hope you’ll be proud of yourself for living longer.

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Oh god (im fucked)
⤷soukoku !highschool!au !yanzai!
Warnings(part one) ⋮ ⌗ ┆ parental disputes, implied stalking these are all for this part but the next will have more Warnings(full fic) ⋮ ⌗ ┆ parental disputes, gore, jerking off(to a photo), yandere, toxic yaoi, stalking
authors noteꫂ ၴႅၴ this is an old fan fic i posted on a03 but im moving to tumbler now, also first post!!!
Love you guys, onto the fic!
Chuuya yawned, pulling the covers over his face as the sunlight spilled into his room; too bright for this kind of morning. He stretched slowly, his joints protesting, eyes still heavy. The bed felt far too comfortable for a day he was supposed to get up early. Monday. The worst day of all.
Reluctantly, he dragged himself upright, sitting at the edge of the bed and staring blankly at the wall like he’d forgotten how to move. He stayed that way until a loud banging rattled his door.
“ARE YOU UP YET, CHUUYA?!”
The booming voice of his sister, Kouyou, jolted him out of his haze. Clearing his throat, he croaked back, “Yeah…” His voice was rough and ragged from sleep.
A faint “Okay,” followed by fading footsteps, was all the response he got. With a quiet sigh, he stood and shuffled to his closet, pulling out his uniform and jacket.
A few minutes later, he slipped out of his room, dressed and ready for the day. His uniform, of course, wasn’t exactly regulation. Chuuya had never been one for plain outfits. The standard black pants now sported a few chains and smudges of dirt; his shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show the white undershirt beneath. He’d even stitched red lining along the sleeves—his own handiwork. Unfortunately, the school’s “no hats” policy meant he couldn’t wear the treasured fedora his childhood best friend had given him.
Padding down the stairs in the black leather shoes issued by the school, Chuuya ran straight into Kouyou in the kitchen. He’d been hoping to avoid her after their argument last night. He hated talking about their parents more than he had to.
Kouyou’s expression softened, barely. “There you are. I made you some toast. I didn’t have time for a proper breakfast, sorry.”
Toast. Right. He almost forgot. Internally cursing himself, he reached for it before he could bolt out the door.
“Thanks, Ane-san. I’ll be on my way now.”
He snatched the toast and his bento, slipping on his backpack as he headed for the door.
“Wait- I wanted to talk before you!”
The door shut behind him. Sorry, Ane-san. Not today. Not about that.
As he walked, his thoughts drifted, his gaze fixed on the pavement. His morning walk was blissfully quiet—no shouting, no crowds, no one telling him what to do. Best of all, no Dazai.
Dazai… that weird senior who wouldn’t leave him alone. Always grinning, always scheming; it drove Chuuya insane. But sometimes, when Dazai stopped joking around, he’d get this faraway look in his eyes, dark and hollow. It made Chuuya uncomfortable, but not judgmental. He knew what eyes like that meant.
Before he realized it, he’d reached school. The cafeteria buzzed with the usual morning chatter. Taking a deep breath, Chuuya joined his friends’ table, greeting Akutagawa; a quiet junior and one of his closer friends. They chatted briefly before Akutagawa left for class.
“Hey, Chuuya!”
The cheerful voice belonged to Tachihara, his best friend. Tachihara slung an arm around Chuuya’s shoulders, talking nonstop about random nonsense. Most of it went in one ear and out the other- until one word caught Chuuya’s attention.
Crush.
“Hold on—what did you just say?” Chuuya asked skeptically.
Tachihara smirked. “Yeah, dude. I heard someone’s got a crush on you.”
“What?” Chuuya blinked. “Who?”
“He’s one of your friends,” Tachihara teased. “And he’s here today.”
“I can’t handle this right now,” Chuuya muttered, running a hand through his hair. “So are you gonna tell me who or not?”
“Nope.”
“What? Why not?!”
“Because it’s funny.”
“No, it’s not,” Chuuya groaned.
Tachihara just grinned. Rolling his eyes, Chuuya brushed him off. “Whatever. I’m heading to class. Talk later.”
As the day went on, Chuuya couldn’t stop thinking about it. Who could it be? He tried to push it out of his mind, but the thought lingered. On his way to lunch, his eyes drifted downward, lost in thought.
BANG.
He stumbled back, blinking down at the boy he’d just run into. “Dude, I- wait… Dazai?”
The taller boy groaned, rubbing his head. “Sigh. I guess you’re just too short for me to see.”
“I’m not short!” Chuuya snapped. “And it’s not your fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Dazai gasped dramatically. “Wait… did Chuuya just apologize? The world must be ending!”
“Oh my god….. you asshole.” Chuuya glared. “I can apologize. It’s called basic human decency—something you clearly lack.”
He bent to pick up a fallen sheet of paper, Dazai’s homework, then stepped aside to pass.
“Huh where do you think you’re going, Chuuya?”
“Lunch. Now leave me alone. I’m hungry.”
Dazai just sighed and let him go. He seemed… off today. Quieter. His eyes darker than usual. But Chuuya didn’t dwell on it. Not worth the thought.
By his last class, Chuuya was ready for the day to end. At least he’d see his friend Zean; tall, lanky, and endlessly easy to tease. Lately, though, Zean had been acting strange, shyer, almost clingy. Not that Chuuya minded.
Except… Zean wasn’t there. Not before class. Not during class. Not at all.
Weird….. Maybe he ditched? Oh well. Not worth worrying about.
Finally, the bell rang. Freedom. Chuuya thought about going home—but Zean’s absence nagged at him. He decided to check the nurse’s office or the courtyard. Before he could, Tachihara bumped into him. Again.
“Hey, duuude…” Tachihara looked uneasy.
“Hey. You seen Zean today?”
Tachihara hesitated. Confusion flickered across his face, then something like worry, quickly hidden. “Uh, no. Why?”
“Just haven’t seen him. Maybe he went home early.” Chuuya rubbed his neck. “Sorry, I’m overthinking. I’m tired.”
Tachihara smiled, relief softening his features. “Yeah, man. Happens to all of us.”
They ended up walking home together, though while he was making his way home, Chuuya couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching them. The hairs on his neck prickled, his steps slowed, Tachihara didn’t seem to notice anything off when he looked over so he brushed it off; Just nerves.
When they split ways, Chuuya put on his headphones, blasting his favorite rock tracks. Three songs later, he was home.
Damn it. He wasn’t ready for this. Kouyou would definitely want to talk about last night.
He paused at the door, forming a plan to slip upstairs unnoticed. He bolted through the entryway—and nearly succeeded.
Almost.
“Ah, you’re back, Chuuya,” Kouyou said, standing by the stairs. Her voice was calm—too calm. “We need to talk. You can’t avoid me forever.”
He stared at his shoes. “Yeah, yeah…”
“Come on. Sit. This’ll take a while.”
Reluctantly, he followed her to the couch. Kouyou sighed, patting the space beside her. “Please sit.”
“I’m sorry,” she began softly. “For last night. For lashing out. I know it’s not your fault our parents are… the way they are. I was tired and overwhelmed, but that doesn’t excuse it.”
Chuuya shifted uncomfortably. “No, I’m fi—”
“No, you’re not,” she cut in. “You always say that. Every time something’s wrong, it’s ‘I’m fine’ or ‘Don’t worry.’ I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me. I love you, Chuuya. I want us to have a good relationship.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t blame you,” he said finally. “For lashing out. I get it. But really, I’m fine. The stuff with our parents doesn’t bother me anymore.”
Kouyou sighed, resting a hand on his knee. “If you say so. Just… remember I love you, okay? And if something’s wrong, please talk to me.”
He fiddled with his jacket, then nodded.
“No,” she said gently. “A real yes, Chuuya.”
He met her eyes. “Okay. I understand.”
“Good. Now go get some rest.”
He nodded again and retreated upstairs. The moment his door closed, he slumped to the floor, exhausted.
God, that was hell.
He peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside, moving toward the window. Weird—it was open. He never opened it. For a split second, he thought he saw movement in the tree outside, but brushed it off, closing the blinds.
Grabbing an old Batman tee, he pulled it on and crawled into bed. Sleep didn’t come easily. The bad thoughts started creeping in, so he got up, turned on his phone flashlight, and downed two melatonin tablets before slipping back under the covers.
This time, sleep found him—quiet, dreamless, and heavy.
part two— status, un finished
I Hope You Had The Time Of Your Life Ch. 1
BSD High School AU
title stole from Green Day
wc: 3k
dt to hannah for proofreading and helping me make the character sheets for this
don't take anything i write serious this was purely made for comedy lol
Tags: crack fic, high school au, slowburn kinda?, minors using substances (weed and alcohol), brain rot, american hs experience, me projecting
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Summer had passed by, memories of the season drifting afar. Which in turn, means the students of Yokohama high school were set to return on the first of September. Obviously, nobody was excited.
Atsushi Nakajima had spent his summer slaving away at Chick Fil A. The pay was terrible, but he wasn't in it for the money. Moreso, on the last day, Kunikida Doppo, his upperclassman, ranted to him about the importance of staying busy over the summer for colleges to see, and how good it would look on his transcript.
“Atsushi, you cannot fall into lazy patterns over the summer. You don't want to be unemployed like Dazai,” he said, sneering at the man who lazily laid in the courtyard during their lunch break.
“Kunikida, not everyone wants to spend their life working for someone, I have the rest of my life to want to kill myself from working a 9-5, so let me be a bum a bit until then, mkay?” Dazai said smugly without even bothering to look up
Before Kunikida could even respond to Dazai by yelling, Atsushi interrupted.
“Okay fine, I need extra cash anyways,” he said, thinking of all the Chazuke he could buy that summer.
Atsushi's first mistake was believing Kunikida when he said it was a good job. The amount of times he worked longer than minors were even allowed to, waking up at 6 AM on a saturday to get to work by 7, and standing under the scorching sun with a stupid smile plastered on his face made him want to just throw off his namepin and quit. But, he enjoyed the routine in a way. Despite the annoyances of rude customers and such, he enjoyed having a purpose and working towards something, in this case his $7/hour pay (money is money) and did not want to be rotting his summer away.
Unfortunately for him, when Dazai found out his schedule, he would never know peace again.
“Hey Atsushi,” Dazai once slurred.
It was almost 10 PM on a Friday, and Dazai appeared beside Chuuya Nakahara in his red camry, who seemed aggravated.
“Im high as fuck” Dazai said slowly, grinning.
Atsushi stood there, petrified, what was he supposed to do? He couldn't just yell at Dazai for bothering him at work, especially since he was under the influence, because his boss will definitely see and fire him for “not putting the customer first”, then call the cops on Dazais since he was a minor and reeking of weed.
“I'm sorry Atsushi,” Chuuya said, giving him a sympathetic look. “He was pissing me off and said he said he would shut up once he had Chick-Fil-A, never thought you worked here or I wouldn't have taken him here. Probably McDonalds or Cookout.”
“Are you..” Atusshi asked, confused if Chuuya was driving while stoned.
Chuuya smirked, “Fuck yeah, but my tolerance is better than this motherfucker,” he said, pointing to Dazai staring straight and laughing at nothing.
Atsushi stood meekly with the tablet, unsure how to handle this.
“Um okay, what do you want?” He sighed.
“I'll get the grilled sandwich and a diet lemonade, coach is making us cut since the season is about to start,” Chuuya said flatly as he rolled his eyes.
“Yo Dazai, what do you want? Don’t drain my wallet–the auto shop doesn't pay me as much as you think,” Chuuya said as he turned to Dazai, who Atsushi was now concerned for if he was greening out or not.
“Atsushi, what's the cheapest thing you have here?” Dazai said, suddenly focused.
“Probably a kids meal,” Atsushi said, as he added a 5 ct nugget with a toy.
“Okay, get me that. And then get me 20 more of those.” Dazai said, giggling like a little school girl.
“WHAT THE-” Chuuya angrily turned, screaming at the man.
Atsushi stood awkwardly, watching the scene of Chuuya strangling Dazai. They argued whether or not Dazai would get 20 kids' meals, then if Dazai would get to keep all 20 toys. Before they could kill each other, he butted in.
“You do realize we close in five? If you both want food, its a yes or no-”
“YES,” Dazai screamed as he leaned over Chuuyas seat to submit the order through Atushi’s tablet.
“THERES NO FUCKING WAY YOU DID THAT– DUMBASS BITCH YOU’RE PAYING FOR YOUR SHIT”
Atushsi rolled his eyes, submitting the order as he swiped Chuuyas card, going to warn his co workers or the 100 nuggets they would prepare in 5 minutes (he would be outcast for weeks because of this incident).
School was on the cusp of starting, leaving Atsushi dreading balancing work and his academics as well as lacrosse.
As he watched the mindless tiktoks Dazai sent him which rotted his attention span and brain capacity, he saw that Tanizaki had texted him through Snap.
heluvsnaomi: hey atsushi
beastbeneaththesheets: yea?
heluvsnaomi: you got your schedule yet? Mine is so bad bro
beastbeneaththesheets: damn i didnt even check
beastbeneaththesheets: shit mines bad, i have foods, math 2, biology but then journalism so W
heluvsnaomi: ok we have our last two together at least lets go
heluvsnaomi: is akutagawa in any of your classes?
Atsushi scoffed, remembering whose name that belonged to.
Akutagawa was the most miserable person he knew. He has stupid headphones on at all times; Atsushi once peeked over to see who was playing and Akutagawa glared at him, then showed up the next day with a privacy screen. That really pissed Atsushi off. It's not like he's asking him his deepest secret, he was just curious to what bands someone as moody as Akutgawa would like. He’s very antisocial and uncomfortable to talk to. Atsushi had tried to get to know him, and was rudely ignored by him. After that, Atsushi had a grudge towards him, to which Junichiro agreed was valid. When he brought up his name in a rant to Dazai as they did their daily Fortnite grind, Dazai laughed, saying he used to “bully the shit out of him” in middle school. Even though Akutagawa was rude, Atsushi couldn't help but feel bad. To which extent, Dazai admitted calling him emo and teasing him for his hobbies, which Atushsi disapproved of making someone feel ashamed for being passionate in their interests.
beastbeneaththesheets: fuck let me check
Atsushi logged onto canvas, praying he would never interact with Akutagawa again. But to his dismay, he wouldn't achieve this dream.
Foods 2: Akutagawa Ryunosuke
Math 2: Akutagawa Ryunosuke
Biology Honors: Akutagawa Ryunosuke
Of course he's in every one of my classes, the white haired boy thought to himself. He sighed, screenshotting and sending it to both Dazai and Tanizaki. This better be a filler year I swear. Unfortunately for Atsushi, he never did quite get what he wanted.
At 6:30 AM, Atsushi Nakajimas alarm went off. He got ready with his new clothes he had gotten for his back to school shopping, and prepared his bag with his charged chromebook. He waited at the bus stop, getting ready to close his eyes for a bit before he saw Tanizaki.
“Yo Atsushi!” the orange haired man waved to him. Atsushi smiled, taking a seat with him.
“Hey man, how’ve you been? Haven't seen you since that party Yosano threw for the fourth of July,” Atsushi said as he threw his bag on the floor.
“You know the usual,” he said with a shrug, as if it was a cue, his weird sister Naomi came to hug him from behind. They were very close, and Tanizaki pushed her off. Atsushi smiled awkwardly, nodding towards her.
I need off this bus, he thought to himself.
As the bus approached his school, Atsushi walked with Tanizaki, Naomi now chatting with their fellow classmate Haruno.
“I don't know what I'm gonna do, Akutagawa is in every single class except journalism, but usually journalism will only ever be us,” Atsushi sighed.
“That sucks, I'd actually fight my counselor,” Tanizaki laughed.
“Right ugh, I guess I’ll see you at lunch though right? Kunikida has lunch with us too, so that's good at least.” Atsushi asked.
“The courtyard right?” Tanizxaki asked as he approached his class.
Atusshi nodded, parting ways with him. He just had to thug out this semester, and he would be fine. It's not like he would be interacting with Akutagawa at every given moment of the day, right?
Atsushi walked in, recognizing everyone that he hadn't seen since last year. Being a student council officer (another role that was forced upon him) had its perks, he had to interact with everyone and learned a bit of each student. He had class, of course with Yosano and Ranpo. Both were the most unserious duo he knew. Ranpo often offended teachers with his backtalk, and would always go to the office but of course, since he had fostered a close relationship with Fukuzawa, he was able to talk him out of any trouble with the principal Natsume; he never got in any actual trouble. His fat ass was always eating in the back of classes, at least Atsushi assumed he was. Ranpo was super smart, having taken all AP classes the school provided, never interacting with Atsushi last year because of that, as well as for the former being a freshman while the latter being a junior. He had met him in journalism, which Dazai convinced him to join when he came to represent the class as a promoter, prompting the incoming freshman to join, successfully persuading Atsushi. The class was nothing like Dazai said it was, being more grueling and on a time crunch rather than the “filler block” Dazai promised (maybe for him it was, since all he did was sleep in the room that contained the computers to edit and archives of the newspaper spanning to the 70s). Despite that, he loved the class, meeting his closest friends, as well as gaining a new sense of confidence from being forced to interact with all types of students, making him sure of himself. Ranpo was the opinion editor, a filling role for him since he always had something to say. In fact, Atsushi's first day of journalism in which he pitched his ideas for the paper had Ranpo telling him “his idea was shit” without a stutter. Atsushi almost quit right there. He could contribute the least, yet always have the most popular page. That was Ranpo for you, being naturally talented in creating eye-catching visuals and attention-grabbing headlines. Then there was Yosano, his partner in crime. She was one of the most blunt people Atsushi knew, circling such minor mistakes such as expletives on a paper, and making Atsushi feel self conscious of his writing. Outside the class though, she was a raging party girl, in which her private spam “yosanoandranpolovealcohol” had fostered a series of (mainly) Yosano drunkenly singing or doing insane things that cannot be mentioned. She was never one to back down from someone picking on the underclassmen, having argued with their classmates for being rude to Atsushi when he was more shy. For that, Atsushi respected her.
“Hey Atsushi,” Yosano called out to him. “Haven't seen you since Fourth of July!”
Atushsi smiled, approaching their station.
“How do you even remember that? Me and Poe had to drag you upstairs before you barfed and embarrassed yourself,” Ranpo snickered, eating their materials to cook for the day.
Yosano glared at him. “Its called high toleranc-” this time Atsushi laughed.
“Sorry Yosano, I didn't take you to have a high alc tolerance,” Atsushi snorted.
“Just wait until I get your first draft, Atsushi,” she said, staring at him with a straight face.
Atsushi’s eyes widened, now walking towards his own station fearing for his safety.
He continued scoping the room, seeing randoms, as well as Tachihara and Motojiro Kaji, the latter his upperclassman Yosano swore to murder, in which she retold a story from freshman year of him saying they failed a lab because Yosano “was a stupid girl who couldn't follow instructions”. Needless to say, Kaji and Yosano were both sent to the office that day from broken beakers and spilled chemicals. Tachihara, on the other hand, was in his grade. He was always stoned, being the epitome of the word stoner. He was always in the stalls, his fryd bar masking any smell in the bathroom, but Atsushi didn't think it smelt any better than that. Everyone knew that if you wanted a smoke, all you had to do was slide up in his DMS and you could get high faster than Kaji exploded that lab. He was loud, often hanging around Chuuya, so it didn't take one too long to consider what Nakahara did in his free time. Despite that, he was rather chill, but Atsushi didn't really care much for him.
Then he spotted that messy black hair, with a case of a badly cut fringe. Ryunosuke Akutagawa. Atsushi sighed, glaring at him as he walked in. He can't forget the time he offered him a bracelet for student council and Akutagwa said no, purposely bumping into him to spill the entire basket of dozens of bracelets
Sitting at a random table by himself, Atushsi smirked, seeing that he had no friends. Serves him right for being so moody. As the teacher walked in, she saw that everyone was sitting in whatever seat. Sighing, she clapped her hands, grumbling how nobody paid attention to the name tags she had placed on each table. Looking around, he saw Tachihara nodding at Yosano, trading with her so she didn't have to sit next to Kaji since her assigned seat would have been there, fearing for an incident that would leave his friend in the office again, as well as just wanting to have a familiar face rather than listen to Ranpo be a know-it-all.
So whos sitting next to m-
Akutagawa Ryunosuke, 10th Grade
Atusushi groaned, seeing Akutagawa approach him, refusing to make eye contact. As the teacher began her introduction, she moved onto actually instructing them to cook.
Atsushi nudged Akutagawa. “So you going to listen, or am I gonna cook for both of us,” he said solemnly.
“I can figure it out myself, how hard is cooking anyways?”
Well apparently impossible.
Akutagawa managed to make something that crossed a biohazard and chemical waste, how? Atsushi couldn't tell you.
“Dude! You used all our materials! We’re so cooked we couldn't even redo it because class is over. I told you to let me help you, I actually listened to her instructions unlike you!” He practically yelled, garnering everyone's attention.
“Like I would trust any food you make. You wouldn't do any better than me anyways,” Akutagawa said, rolling his eyes.
“Aight bet, tomorrow I'm going to make the best food you've had–hell I make nuggets for Chick Fil A! I definitely know how to cook more than you. Pissing me off, got an F on the first day,” Atushsi said angrily, purposely bumping into his headphones to knock him off the table.
Before Akutagawa could yell at him, he leaves class, power walking to English.
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. He had English with Akutagawa– Gin that is. She was much more tolerable than her brother, being concerned with Higuchi on whatever superficial thing was relevant to them, gossiping while typing furiously on their phones. He had some acquaintances that he had in classes before sitting with them. Biology with Tanizaki was boring. They received an “All About Me” packet, filling it out as they discussed meaningless topics to pass time. Then came journalism.
Atsushi walked in to see Yosano sitting with Ranpo, both drinking an energy drink. Just by their energy, Atsushi could tell they had senioritis and were checked out. Walking in with Atsushi was Edgar Allen Poe. He was a strange one, hair covering his eyes. If you told anyone he was the editor in chief last year they would be shocked. He had a vision for the paper that always executed well, and was one of the best writers Atsushi knew, but his confidence didn't match his skill set. He seemed as if he was worried what everyone thought of him at all times, staying quiet and leaving 0 presence in a room. Despite Atsushi being his junior by two years, he always seemed anxious when Atsushi read his work. Which Atsushi didn't understand, he could make an article of redoing the parking lot the best written on the page. He sat with Ranpo and Yosano, both loudly greeting him and showing him some TikTok they were giggling over.
In the corner sitting on a hightop table was Kunikida, furiously typing away at a schedule to release each article. “Boy, hurry. We're behind schedule already. If we want to stay on track, brainstorming needs to be done by tomorrow.”
Dazai, sitting on the couches centered in the room, snorted. “Kunikida, when have we ever printed on time?”
Atsushi sat next to the tall brunette, relaxing into the seat. Atsushi always loved how this class mimicked a family, everyone being comfortable enough to be themselves. The classroom was set up differently than the standard sterile class, having the big lights off with fairy lights, a candle burning, and couches alongside posters. The teacher, Fukuzawa, had invested towards his students feeling like this could be their safe space. He obviously succeeded, having a dozen or so students in this class that refused to drop the class even if it messed up their schedule.
Fukuzawa welcomed the class back, which usually never changed its lineup since it was just returners. “I'm glad to have you all back, I’m sure we can guarantee that we will outdo the yearbook in popularity again,” he announced.
Everyone cheered, determined to outdo their rivals. Mori Ougai had advised the class, taking it up after working at the school long enough as the nurse. Atsushi had a personal vendetta against them, trying to force an interview on him for Fitzgerald’s finance class he took last year, finding out the former had bribed the yearbook with donations if they got a whole spread towards students hyping the class to encourage more to join. And who was forcing said interview on him? Akutagawa, of course.
“I'm sure I can expect great things from you all,” Fukuzawa continued. “But for today, we will just get to the standard ‘welcome back’ nonsense despite the fact we all know each other,” he said smiling lightly. “For the sake of an easy first day—but don't expect to slack again after today,” he said, eyeing Dazai, making Atsushi snicker.
For the rest of class, Atsushi just caught up with his friends. Atsushi discussed his work schedule with Kunikida, and picked up on conversations of Ranpo and Poe discussing a new mystery novel, while Yosano harassed Tanizaki with videos of him at the party she hosted. Dazai did his usual: napping in the backroom, before Kunikida could drag him out for making a bed out of previous papers they had worked on.
Atsushi thought to himself that he wouldn't trade this class for the world, smiling as he imagined how this school year could go. Unfortunately for him, this is as peaceful as it will get.
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Highschool, am I right?
Part 1; First day.
Next.
Also, you can read it here, or on ao3.
Dazai Osamu did not like school.
This wasn’t anything special, of course, most high schoolers had a dislike of the hellish place.
But Dazai was in an unusual spot; that being going to a new school in the middle of the school year, which was it’s own type of hell Dazai was especially used too.
See, back when he lived with his mother they often moved around; she refused money from his father who offered it quite frequently.
His father, who he was now staying with; and used to only stay with over the summer, was a doctor, and as such was quite well off.
Still, this was different than switching schools because his mom couldn’t pay rent, this was different because he likely wouldn’t be moving ever again, so if he messed it up, that was that.
The young man plied himself out of bed after his sister, Elise, poured water on his face.
“I’m going to kill you,” Dazai seethed to the giggling eight-year-old who left the room in a hurry.
Now, with his face soaked he made his way to the bathroom, using the hand towel to dry off his face before brushing his teeth, and using the bathroom, then he made his way back to his room, grabbing his school uniform from the closet.
His arms were covered in band-aids which were to cover up the… activities of the prior night.
With a heavy sigh he changed into his school uniform before making his way down the stairs.
“Good morning, Osamu,” his father greeted.
“Morning,” he said in reply, ignoring the fact that his father had made breakfast and instead going for cereal; he preferred it, his father’s house never felt like home, not fully, and having actually made food was weird, and foreign.
Luckily his father didn’t comment, and after eating he drove both kids to their schools.
This was it, this was his school, he’d spend the rest of the year here, and probably the rest of Highschool.
He would likely know some kids, he often hung out with people during the summer, but he wasn’t really close to all that many of them, he never really had any real friends, living in two different places did that, he supposed.
He made his way inside the buildings there were kids around him, but he paid them no mind; he already wanted to go home, and he had only been here less than five minutes.
He made his way to his class room-1B-and went inside, there were a few kids already seated; he didn’t recognize any of them, and though a few looked up when he walked in, they quickly went back to their conversation.
Dazai took a seat in the back of the class, over by the windows.
He got out his phone, mindlessly scrolling social media, he turned it off and put it in his bag when more students started filling in.
And then in came the teacher, he was hoping he wouldn’t have to introduce himself to the class; nothing quite isolates you like having to tell everyone you’re the new kid.
Unfortunately for him his teacher did in fact say the dreaded, “today we have a new student. Mori, would you like to introduce yourself?”
He cringed at the use of his father’s surname, it wasn’t his name, it was just his father trying to control him more.
He stood up, and putting on his most charming smile said, “my names Osamu Dazai, and now that I’m here, all your lives have just gotten better.” He turned and winked at one of the girls in class, who blushed slightly.
He then sat back down, smirking slightly; it was a good start.
“That’s nice, now let’s start,” the teacher droned on for far to long, he was not really paying attention, he pretended to, and he was listening enough to answer questions when asked, but he knew most of what was being taught.
He was quite smart, he used to like it when he was put in advanced classes, but it’s easier to fit in when you dumb yourself down, so he always did just that.
It was a long day before they broke for lunch, how he wished he could go home.
There were a lot of people, and he promptly decided to sit at a table alone, but it took a whole of two minutes for a kid to ask if he could sit here.
He was smiling, obnoxiously so; his uniform was slightly dirty, and his boots were incredibly so, which told him this kid didn’t come from much.
“If you want,” Dazai replied, an easy smile coming to his face as the kid sat down.
“I’m Osamu Dazai, what’s your name?” Dazai asks, he didn’t particularly care, but he’d rather not people think him a jerk.
“Kenji Miyazawa!” the boy chirped, far too happy for someone who was stuck in school, “you can just call me Kenji, all my friends do!” Kenji smiled more as he took a bite out of an apple.
“So we’re friends then? Why aren’t you with your other friends Kenji?” Dazai asks as he poked his food about; he wasn’t hungry, but if you simply pushed your food around it was easy to fool people in to think you were eating.
“Because you were sitting all alone of course,” Kenji explained, Dazai thought this a rather naive way of thinking, but decided not to comment on it.
“Where do you normally sit?” he asks, glancing around the room as he tried to guess what sort of friends Kenji had.
“Over there!” The freckled boy pointed to a group of people who he couldn’t immediately categorize into a specific group.
There were seven over there in total, three girls, four boys.
A boy he’s seen in his class, who raised his hand for practically every questions asked, was seated over there, he had dirty blond hair and glasses, he was eating his lunch while the others engaged in conversation.
The others consisted of a boy with messy brown hair who’s uniform was messed up in a way that told him he didn’t care much about how he appeared to other people; the type who assumed they were better than everyone else.
A girl with a butterfly hair clip with a neat uniform that spoke of someone upper class.
A boy with bleached hair that was cut messily, as if he’d done it himself, his uniform was torn in a couple places, likely meaning he couldn’t afford to replace it, and or he was often bullied.
There was girl, smaller than the others, she was also sitting quietly while she ate, her eyes down cast, likely used to being on the outside.
There was also a girl and a boy; they seemed to be in a relationship if the way the girls head was rested on the boys shoulder was any indication; it wasn’t quite casual.
“They seem nice,” Dazai comments, he’d sized them up in mere moments, and had then turned his gaze back to Kenji.
“They are!” Kenji agreed.
He spent the rest of lunch in casual discussion with the boy, it was surprisingly nice talking to someone who was so naive, it was clear he didn’t have any ulterior motives; and though that didn’t mean Dazai let down his guard, it did mean he found himself relaxing.
Especially since Kenji didn’t ask about his personal life, no questions about why he’s new, or sitting alone, or who his parents are, or where he used to live, Kenji asked question about whether he liked cats or dogs more; it was fun.
After lunch they had to go back to class, and they parted ways; he hoped he’d get to talk with the boy more.
The afternoon classes were just the same as the morning ones.
After school he was fully ready to go home, when he got stopped by a teacher, Ms… well, he couldn’t remember.
“Excuse me, you’re suppose to sign up for an extracurricular, since you couldn’t at the start of the school year,” it was spoken in a way that told Dazai she did not like him.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.” And didn’t remotely want to.
Still, he let her take him to sign ups, none of them sounded good, or fun, but he went with band; figuring it would be easiest to get out of.
After signing up he had to make his way over to the club, fantastic.
Opening the door he was it with a large barrage of noise, and quite a few kids; his eyes went to one, a ginger, and ginger he’d recognize anywhere, a kid he’s know for four years, a kid he hadn’t seen since his parents divorce.
Chuuya Nakahara.
GUYS PLEASE LISTEN‼️‼️
i found this MASTERPIECE of a skk fanfic and i reaaaally wanted to share it with y'all
he was a sk8er boi, he said annoy you l8r boi
In Every Universe
Author: @unicornfairycat
Artist: @laugandraws
Rating: Teen and up
No Archive Warnings Apply
Summary:
While on another joint mission, Chuuya gets separated from Dazai and ambushed by an ability that throws his conscience into alternative universes.
Forced to observe these other versions of Dazai and him, Chuuya is confronted by his own feelings for his Dazai.
Fic Link || Art Link

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
new fic out!! pls go look at it /nf <3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
new fic out!! pls go look at it /nf <3