starynight7693

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A customer contacted our team with questions, and then finished their email with: "I am daunted by the complexities and unknowns." I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

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double black

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Skk and sskk going on a double date.

Chuuya: and then Dazai said that we are fated to—

Dazai: *chokes on breadsticks* THAT DID NOT HAPPEN

Atsushi: and then Akutagawa's mouth is on my neck—

Akutagawa: *rashoumons the table in half*

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everyones saying chuuyas going to roast dazai for his speeches but you just know dazais going to pull an uno reverse card and whip out a recording of that godawful screech in retaliation

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Spoiler alert

The best thing is to know that he decided to make that sound himself.

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Okay so a) that reaction was real

b) Chuuya definitely did that on purpose

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Waiting for ao3 😔

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When you realize there could very easily be a Drake & Josh style spin-off show about Robbie & Miguel

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Alastair: I hate seeing you like this.

Charles: Seeing me like what?

Alastair: Like in person.

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Alastair: I didn’t see you—you were this boy, following me around at school, and then I met you in Paris and you’d grown up and turned into Michelangelo’s David. I though you were beautiful.

Thomas, in his head: He called me beautiful?!?!?! Nooo!!! He is the most beautiful person I've ever known!!!

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Writing is hard so I decided to take a break to make some TLH shitposts

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I think that Chain of Iron should be renamed ‘Chain of Everyone confesses their love except for the two people who are ACTUALLY married.’

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Alastair: You're doing that staring thing again

Thomas: Its hardly my fault you're so hot

Alastair: what

Thomas: what

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Broken Souls (Thomastair): Chapter 1

Chapter List

The trip to Paris was the worst part. Alastair didn’t know how he was expected to handle Thomas sitting across from him for ten minutes, let alone several hours. He’d volunteered to go after Cordelia and Matthew, but it was decided that Thomas should go with him because he might know better where Matthew would go. No one mentioned that they didn’t trust Alastair enough to go alone, even if it was his sister he was looking for.

Thomas kept looking out the window, as if trying to see where they were. He also kept looking at Alastair, who pretended not to notice. It wasn’t as if he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss him, but knew he couldn’t. He’d set rules for himself, and he would not break them.

Eventually, the repeated glances became too much. Feeling more than seeing Thomas’s eyes on him, Alastair said, “If you want to say something, just go on and say it. Quit staring at me like a madman.”

“Do you take that book everywhere?”

Alastair’s gaze snapped up. He’d been reading The Prince by Machiavelli, not for the first time. It was his favorite, after all. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Practically every time I see you anymore, you’re reading that book. Even—even when we were locked in the Sanctuary,” Thomas said carefully. That was dangerous territory, and they both knew it.

Alastair considered for a moment if he should respond. He had no reason to tell Thomas anything, and doing so would be going directly agains rule number one. Don’t let him in. If you let him in, you won’t be able to push him away again, said a small voice in his mind.

That voice was not his own. That voice had been born from years of misery, from heartbreak and anger and all the emotions he tried to shut out. That voice had controlled him for months now, ever since the engagement party. He heard it every time he saw Thomas. There was only one time when it had not spoken, when it had gone mercifully silent. He savored the memory of that day.

Maybe it was time to stop listening to the voice in his head. “It’s my favorite book. Any time I think I might be in a boring situation with nothing else to do, I bring it.”

“Oh.” There was a note of disappointment in the word, as if Thomas had been expecting something else. Alastair couldn’t imagine what. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off abruptly by the train slowing to a stop. Looking out the window, Alastair saw they were in a train station, and he could see a sign written in French. They had arrived.

He didn’t like being in Paris. There were too many memories there, some good and others bad, stained by the knowledge of worse things to come. Thomas, on the other hand, looked around in wonder as if he’d never been there before. Or as if he were remembering the best days of his life.

No. Alastair didn’t let himself think about that. Thomas had friends and family whom he loved very dearly; the best days of his life would be ones spent with them.

Remember, he doesn’t need you. If anything, he needs you gone, as far away from him as possible. Yes, that was a good idea. Maybe, after retrieving his sister for their father’s funeral, he would leave London for good. He could travel the world and see everything he’d always wanted to, and he’d be alone. That was for the best. No one needed him. Especially not Thomas.

They went to the Paris Institute, which had been expecting them; someone, likely either Will or Charlotte, had sent a letter ahead explaining why they’d be coming. It was already evening when they got there, so there would be no searching until the next day. That was fine with Alastair; he was exhausted for a reason he couldn’t explain.

He tried not to think about Thomas in the room next to him. That was going against rule number two, which played in his mind as he fell asleep. Don’t think about him. If he has a hold on your mind, it will be harder to let him go.

God, he hated rules. He hated the voice. But it spoke the truth and it spoke reasonably. He had no choice but to listen.

Keep reading

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pretty much every description of alastair in existence is complimentary, saying he’s handsome, beautiful, well built body, elegant; complimenting his features like his eyebrows, skin, eyes, hair (black is infinitely better as all of us and thomas know but we all saw that charlie bowater art, while natural may be superior, mans still rocks the blond) (mouth and throat / throat pulse point? compliments submitted by mr. horny lightwood)

,,,so how much do we want to bet matthew had had a bisexual “oh no he’s hot” crisis at some point, like “i fucking hate him but DAMN WHY HE BUILT LIKE THAT HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HATE SOMEONE W THAT WAIST WHAT THE HELL”

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How dare you say I have a favorite ship. I love Thomstair and the other not Thomstair ships equally.