#but also a bit angsty

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push my heel into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[secretly-a-trekkie]

"I want it to hurt. Bad. I want to lose. I want to get beaten up. I want to hold on until I'm thrown off and everything ends. And you know what? Until that happens, I want to hope again. And I want it to hurt. Because that means it meant something."

[noodles-and-tea]

i love your modern merthur art so i have to ask, what do you think Arthur’s favorite and least favorite thing about the 21st century would be if when he’s revived?

I think (once he gets used to it) Arthur would really appreciate technology and playing easier Nintendo games (especially if Merlin can play with (for) him)

I think he’d also like binging tv or movie series and comfy clothes (he lives in sweats) and taking very long, hot showers (figures)

As for his least favourite things I think he would occasionally get homesick, less as he grows accustomed to his new life but he would definitely miss his friends and the knights and Gwen.

:(

[uncharted-constellations]

~You were just a kid too, huh~

Again, I refuse to make adult mm link edgy sorry.

[fennethianell]

I had this image stuck in my head for weeks, and I was finally able to draw it out.

soft TylerKate ❤️‍🩹

[gurinpotte]

“

love me in the snow, love me in the sun, love me, the beige skin among the flowers of red" ∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄

Inspired in part by beloved Gravity, by @katnissmellarkkk and by Roi, by Videoclub! The song doesn't have the everlark vibes per se but the lyrics are so cute and very snapshot like. The fic is perfect, very natural paced and full of longing, 100% recommend!!! Please do zoom in for hi-res, gave my life and tears for this one 💖

[soapyakships]

reunion

[cesiscribbles]

OK SO

I had an idea snippet for the ending of the Ineffable Family series but it made me sad and I dunno if I will ever draw it so Im just gonna share my idea with you in written form:

(btw It's not fanfic quality, it's more messy bulletpoints written out within 5min or so)

---

Astra is growing up, getting older and lives a happy life amongst human society with her parents on earth. One day she falls in love with a human and they share the kind of deep bond like Azi and Crowley do. At some point Astra even announces that they gonna get married and her parents are super excited and want to make her the bestest wedding gift ever.

They wrack their brains over what this gift could be for a quite a while but nothing seemed right.

A book? To generic and boring. A kitchen aid? Nah, probably an other persons idea already. Money? Missing the deep meaning behind it.

It's one day before the wedding and Astra asks Crowley and Azira to meet at their special spot at a wonderful lonely flower field somewhere in the nowhere. They loved to visit this special place and spend hours being together, having picknicks or gaze at the stars (Yes, in this version Crowley can see stars). C+A arrive at the spot where Astra is already waiting for them and they are quite curious why she wanted to meet up here.

Astra turns around and looks at them with a smile, but it's a mix of a happy and sad one.

She knows what she would like the gift to be and she describes how she feels different from all the angels and demons and that she never experienced an existence before the beginning or witnessed when everything started. She loved growing up between humans and experience change herself. But she knows her true love, her human, will wither away in what feels just like an eye blink in the life of an immortal being.

Astra comes closer to her parents and holds their hands, telling them how much she loves them and apologizes that what she will say next, won't be easy.

The best gift, she could ever ask for is Azira and Crowley combining their powers and making her mortal.

Ofc both seem bewildered at such request and try to talk sense to their daughter but in the end they recognized that they would have done the same for their partner because a life without them would hurt too much.

With a heavy heart A+C respect Astra's wish and grand it to her.

She lives a happy life with her human, both equally growing older and A+C watching over them like guardian angels to make sure no sickness or harm comes into their house... till the day they have to say goodbye.

Astra and her love are not going to Heaven or Hell. They return back to the stars where they can be together and where A+C can see them from earth.

And then the end says

"Ad Astra"

(lat.= to the stars)

[belfry-ghost]

gonna post some doodle dumps bc most of my bigger projects are unfinished or for an event lol

t4t DannyTim (at pride)

Red Hood and Little Baby Man

Danny wearing Superboy merch

halfa!tim sketch

bart + a big teddy bear

dick + tim eating burgers after patrol

[lilithofpenandbook]

Sometimes Severus comes up to Minerva. Right up behind her when she's busy. He'll stand there for a good minute as she works on marking assignments and cursing the boy's youthful energy and brilliant eyes- both of which directly responsible for his finishing his work in half the time it takes her.

"What is it, Severus?" Minerva sighs. Might as well get the obligatory nonsense over and done with, she was due a dose of Severus's antics by now (Merlin forbid he go more than three days without bothering her with nonsensical questions or infuriating wit).

"Am I ugly, Minerva?" he asked. Never there was a being with such innocence in their voice.

Minerva took a moment to take in a breath and silently call on all her patience and all her strength. "Yes, very." Her tone was blunter than the knives used to decorate at Halloween- an incident with some particularly idiotic third years had them ban anything sharper than the corners of a book during the Halloween celebrations.

Severus gasped as if stabbed. "What? Minerva, I thought we were friends!"

Minerva snorted. "Any time we interact, it's completely against my will."

"Minerva! you lie so shamelessly it shocks me." Severus made as if to swoon, a hand clutching the right of his chest.

"You must be shocked; your heart isn't where it should be."

Honestly, Minerva had to admire the fact that the insolent little kitten did not falter in his dramatics with her pointing out the key flaw in his act. If anything, he seemed to be encouraged.

"Ay! The pain of the shock, it has spread throughout my chest! Ah, I cannot breathe!" Severus swayed on his feet, leaning against the chair that Minerva was sitting in. "Oh, how your lie shocks me!"

"Well, then, you had better tell me what exactly I lied about," Minerva said briskly, "before you gasp all the air out of your skinny little lungs, laddie."

"You said," the boy said, a sudden glint in his eye and none of the apparent weakness, standing to face her and one of those long, delicate fingers pointed straight at her, "you said, that our interactions are without your will."

"That is no lie, what part of this looks like it's my will?" Minerva replied, knowing full well she wasn't going to appreciate the cheeky answer Severus had prepared for her.

"Why, the part where you remain for my company, mother," Severus replied, his voice light. "Surely, if you didn't want this, you would have, in your infinite wisdom, simply have employed your great power and assumed your famous feline form and just walked away from me."

Minerva fought her smile. His cheek was infuriating while his logic impeccable. "Perhaps I am simply conversing my energy, you arrogant wee rascal."

"You? Too lazy to avoid a nuisance?" Severus scoffed. "Minerva, you wound me. Don't you know how I know you? You've done much more to avoid the mildest of annoyances, do you truly think I believe that you are here against your will merely to converse your energy?"

Minerva let him see the flicker of a smile disgusted as a smirk, letting the bothersome raven have a little treat for his cleverness, hinting to him that he had essentially won this particular argument. "At my age you no longer have the patience to waste on annoyances. You learn to value your peace. You will understand that some day, I hope, little one."

"And if I die, my hair still black and my skin still smooth?"

Merlin, did the child have a turn towards the morbid. Minerva ignored the voice in her that told her that this would have been a retort of her own had she been in a similar conversation.

"Then you'll die a fool."

"A fool, perhaps, but my funeral will be the biggest," he replied, moving to sit on her desk and grabbing the biscuit jar. Minerva intercepted, lifting it from his grip and replacing it with a towel. His protests died in his confusion at the towel, and Minerva huffed and began to wipe his hands as if he was a child. She did not trust him to correctly clean his hands after handling goodness knows what when experimenting with his potions and she didn't care if he knew it.

"Aye, and how did you figure that?" she asked.

"Surely if I die young, I shall be the first. Therefore you all will be part of the funeral-"

"What makes you think I would want to attend your funeral, you little rascal?" She let go of his hands, almost satisfied that they weren't contaminated.

Severus ignored her and instead took a biscuit from the jar. "You will all be there, therefore I will have the biggest funeral. If I die old, you all shall be gone, so my funeral will be the smallest."

Minerva tried not to think of how depressing that sounded, how lonely it seemed. For a brief moment she felt guilty for being so old and he so young. She involuntarily could see him in her mind's eye, going through their funerals until he stood alone. She and the others- Rolanda, Pomona, Poppy, even Fillus and Hagrid- they were all of an age, weren't they? They could expect their lives to reach the end around the same time, surely? Severus was but a child next to them, he'd stand alone one day.

Minerva tried to ignore the ache in her chest at the thought of him standing alone. Merlin, no. He was far too young. No.

"You truly are besotted with the morbid and the miserable, you melanchonic masochist," she said, her tone just a trifle too sharp to be a simple retort.

Severus paused, swallowing the biscuit. Then he answered. "Ah, but the morbid is much more fascinating, the forbidden has a certain thrill, dear mother." His voice was a little softer, and his fingers, slightly coated in crumbs, were gentle when he tapped her forehead. He was sorry he upset her.

"You and your thrills," Minerva scolded, "yet you cannot even eat a biscuit without making a mess of yourself." Yet even as she spoke, the hand that she used to swipe the crumbs away, was gentle, almost tender, in its movement. She had quite forgiven him.

How could she remain angry? At this boy who looked at her with a scowl of indignation yet whose deep, dark eyes twinkled with mischief and cleverness and brilliance, who stood taller than her, yes, yet was far more delicate in his build than she had ever been, whose hair was as dark as hers had been in her youth, carelessly falling across his forehead. No, she could not remain angry.

If only he had been in Gryffindor, perhaps then she would have noticed him sooner. Or rather, if only her eyes didn't only open for her Gryffindors. How this boy could ever look at her without resentment and anger, she didn't know. Then again, he had been so incredibly isolated and lonely, was it any wonder he let go of his rightful grudges and instead accepted her friendship?

Minerva blinked as if soot from the fireplace got in her eyes. She didn't want him to notice the tears that almost inevitably formed whenever she thought about him. Who would have thought that she'd cry so much for the little devil?

"I'll leave you to your work, dear mother," Severus said cheerfully, hopping off her desk.

"Aye, after you've cleared out my biscuit jar, you villain" Minerva grumbled, looking into the empty jar. Severus shrugged.

"You ought to see it as a compliment towards your taste, really," Severus said. "But I see I have taken the last of your patience"- for indeed, Minerva looked ready to strangle him- "so I shall take my leave. Good night, my good Headmistress, and may you have peace in the silver embrace of the moon!"

And with a laughing twinkle in his eye and a boyish bow, Severus Snape left the room.

Minerva sighed. She wasn't sure if it was out of relief, or because she may have felt some sorrow at his departure.

The door opened again, and a rather meek Severus poked his head in.

"Er, Minerva?" he asked.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Er." Severus stepped in, looking away from her, walking with the awkward gait of a newborn foal, and the nervousness of a deer. "Er, Minerva?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Am I really ugly, mother?" His voice was a whisper. His raven hair curtained his face, hiding his shame at asking such a pathetic question, and his fingers picked at one of the cuticles of a nail.

Minerva smiled, and walked to him. Softly she brushed the boy's hair out of his face and gently tucked it behind his ear.

"Only as long as you let yourself believe it, dear heart."

[starrystevie]

eddie figures out that he likes steve all because of nancy fucking wheeler.

it isn't often that they find themselves hanging out just the two of them, quite the opposite. this is the first time they've ever done it and the only reason nancy is even stepping foot inside the munson's new government-provided trailer is because she's having a crisis.

"but what does it mean," she asks, voice muffled as her lips wrap around the opening of her beer bottle before taking a swig. her cheeks hollow and her eyes shut against the feeling of the carbonation bubbling up before she fixes eddie with a glare that he doesn't think is for him. "it didn't... feel this way with barb."

and eddie's just sitting there on the couch, rolling a much needed joint for both of them, trying to follow along with what nancy is saying. she's pacing a hole in the carpet and her hands are flying around in a way that eddie himself does when the wheels in his brain are spinning too fast.

"... what didn't feel what way?"

nancy glares at him again and he gets the feeling that it's directed at him this time. he feels himself shrink under her eyes and wants to raise his hands up in surrender (he gives in and does indeed raise his hands in surrender).

"i think i'm in love with robin, please try and keep up."

eddie stills, his hands in the air and mouth open in shock. nancy's still muttering about something but his brain is stuck on the being-in-love-with-robin part of her tirade. it's not an issue, not in the slightest, and sure he's heard of people who... but he's never met someone who actually-

"are you even listening?" nancy asks, her tone firm. she has a hand on her hip while the other is clenched tightly around the neck of her beer. "what am i supposed to do?! am i just supposed to kiss her and tell her that her eyes are my favorite color and that i miss her when she leaves a room even for just a minute?"

"how should i know?! i'm not in love with robin!" eddie responds and he knows it's the wrong answer by how nancy's whole face falls in the span of .02 seconds. she looks like she's on the brink of tears, frustrated or hopeless or sad, and eddie doesn't know what to do with that either.

"but... you know. what about steve?" nancy's voice is soft now, and paired with her puppy dog eyes, eddie almost doesn't process what she says. "how'd you know with him?"

and if eddie thought he was stunned before, this takes the cake. a nervous laugh bubbles out of him, his face hot and heart pounding. his arms feel a bit like liquid and he doesn't know if he's even breathing anymore.

"nancy, i'm sorry but i think we're on two different wave lengths here." he needs to do something with his hands so he starts to fiddle with his lighter, flicking the zippo open and shut until the clink of the metal sounds too loud in the quiet room. "i don't.... love steve."

tears start to roll down her cheeks and yeah, eddie definitely messed up somewhere. she's wiping the drops away furiously like she's surprised they even dared to show up and she's biting her lip in a way that looks like it hurts.

"what are you talking about? of course you do." her eyebrows furrow which makes her look even angrier or disgusted and eddie feels like they're on a tightrope in his living room that's about to snap away from underneath them.

"well yeah, i... love him," he stutters over the words, "like i love you and rob and everyone. but not like... love love."

nancy's laugh sounds way too harsh for it to have come out of her. "are you sure? you stare at his ass more than i stare at robin's." she takes a deep breath, ignores the gasp of indignation that her statement gets out of eddie, and tilts her chin up like she's taking the high ground.

"i do not!"

"do too! and you're always looking for him when you walk into a room, like it doesn't matter if we're there, you only look for him. and you sit right next to him even if there's an open seat that's more comfortable. and you have this little, i don't know, tic when he smiles that makes you wiggle your fingers and you-"

"wheeler, you gotta stop."

"-always listen to him and he does all of that back for you and it's so obvious. i can't believe you didn't know you were in love with steve! you do everything that i do for robin and i'm in love with her so it must mean you're in love with steve and- holy shit i'm in love with robin."

the silence after nancy stops rings loud in his ears. honestly, he hadn't really given it any thought before but it makes sense.

the very idea of steve has his heart feeling a way it hasn't since he was nine and tracy nichols gave him a shiny rock on valentine's day. he does always look for steve when he enters a room, his very presence calming and dependable. he does sit next to him no matter what, their sides pressed together, heat radiating between them like a blanket. and god, when steve smiles, he does have to move his fingers, something to get out these jolts of energy that he feels licking through his veins.

steve is good and steve is a bit of an asshole but eddie likes that and suddenly the line between platonic and romantic seems to have vanished because holy shit, how did he live for the past year without spending every day loving steve harrington?

eddie reaches for the half rolled joint, licks at the paper to close it and lights up quickly. he holds the smoke in his lungs for probably too long but couldn't care less because he's now having a crisis of his own thanks to nancy.

"goddamnit," eddie hisses out as he exhales. "i'm in love with steve."

nancy looks smug, her arm extended as she waits for eddie to pass the joint to her before taking a hit. "that's what i'm saying."

"but i'm not... you know."

nancy rolls her eyes. "it's not going to bite you if you say it, eddie."

"i'm not gay."

the silence seems louder now as the paper on the joint sizzles. there's a dog somewhere in the park barking and he can hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"neither am i." nancy responds quietly with a shrug of her shoulders. "but i am for robin. and you are for steve."

she passes the joint back over to eddie and stands up from the couch, wipes off imaginary crumbs from her pants like she didn't just turn eddie's world upside down.

"i think i'm gonna go. i have a lady to woo." nancy looks happy. it's a good look on her, one he doesn't see all that often what with everything that's happened to them in the past year. she deserves it, he thinks, happiness.

"let me know how it goes," he calls to her as she stops at the trailer door.

"i will." with a tilt of her head and a with a gleam in her eye, she gives eddie yet another look that he doesn't know if he wants to try and decipher. "you should call him."

eddie snorts and takes a hit, rolling his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling so he doesn't have to look at nancy's all knowing eyes. it isn't that he's scared to call steve, it's that he's terrified. petrified. what would he say? what would steve say? he just figured out that he loves him, he hasn't had time to prepare a whole speech to declare it and-

"eddie." nancy's voice is sharp but certain and part of him thinks that robin is a lucky woman to have nancy wheeler falling in love with her. "trust me. call him."

after she's gone, he finishes the joint. he sits in the silence of his trailer and pulls hit after hit of sticky smoke until it's down the end and burning his fingertips. he stares at the ceiling some more, contemplates what to say, how to say it, how to do anything without throwing up.

he wonders if wayne knows, if he saw what nancy saw, what he thinks of eddie falling in with a guy. he wonders if this will change everything. wonders if it'll change for better or worse. wonders if he'll have to skip town and change his name like he imagined doing after he was cleared of murder.

picking up the phone is easy, dialing is easier when he has steve's number memorized like the back of his hand.

"hello?" steve mutters like he's been roused out of sleep. his voice is scruffy and somehow soft and eddie knows he's going to throw up.

"steve."

"hey, man. is everything okay?"

and it makes eddie's heart flutter in a way that a generic question shouldn't but damn it, he's in love. he's allowed.

"yeah, yeah. everything's good i just-" eddie sighs, scrubs a hand down his face to stop from twirling the phone cord in his fingers. "do you wanna maybe come over? watch a movie or something?"

eddie can almost hear the smile in his voice when he breathes out a yes, thanking whatever higher powers there may be for nancy wheeler.

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: risk taking behavior / circumstantial self harm kinda / ignoring of injuries / self-depreciation / slight ooc-ness but for a reason! / ]

Post invasion, Leo is fine.

More than fine! He’s better than before, even. That is, if you don’t count the slightly cracked shell and still healing bones, but those are only a problem when the weather wants them to be!

Leo really is better in the ways that matter.

He’s not as cocky, not as self-centered, and overall just more heroic in general if he does say so himself.

Raph even said he was proud of Leo!

So obviously things are going well.

But.

It’s not enough.

Leo’s better, sure, but he’s still got work to do.

So - and here’s something that will probably make his brothers faint on the spot - he needs to train.

_____

His brothers do not faint, but it’s a near thing for Raph. Mikey has to fan the snapper’s face and Donnie almost brings out the smelling salts before Raph shoots back to his feet with an excited grin.

Leo’s big brother gets teary eyed soon after and envelops him in a bear hug, saying once again how proud he is that Leo is growing up.

Leo lets himself be hugged, even hugs back as fiercely as he can, because unbeknownst to Raph, this marks the end of Leo’s childhood.

He lets himself be hugged like a kid one last time, looking through the hole in Raph’s shell all the while.

_____

Leo only trains the regular way with his brothers and occasionally April and the Caseys, but most especially Raph.

But of course that’s not enough, it was never going to be.

So he goes through the motions of the stretches, the spars, the meditation, and then he leaves.

He makes sure to have his excuses ready, usually defaulting to Hueso as his go to since his brothers are easily bought off with the promise of pizza. Leo hasn’t yet found the tracker Donnie installed in him, but when he does that’ll be dealt with too! But for now, this should be good.

See, the invasion made him realize something.

It’s not about him, but it was his shortcomings that led to everything going to hell.

So he just…needs to get rid of those shortcomings.

He’s working on it, gaining fighting skill in training, but there’s more he needs to do, more skills he needs to train.

Leo watches intently as Repo Mantis swindles someone, he memorizes the sleight of hand that Hypno performs, he sneaks back into the Mystic Library and is so quiet the hush bats forget he’s there, he talks Big Mama into honing his manipulation, and he even sneaks into human hospitals and reptile veterinary clinics to get a clue on more serious injuries.

And after any of these, he heads to Run of the Mill to compete in the Maze of Death.

_____

This is his twelfth time going through the (newly remodeled and even more deadly) Maze of Death, and would be his fifth time winning. The first three times had him waking up in Hueso’s office, and each time he wakes his old persona shines through.

He always waves off Hueso’s annoyance and questions and insists on trying again next time before he steals some pizza and bails.

The skeleton actively tries to stop him from entering the Maze after the first time, but hey- mystics are allowed before you enter.

It’s easy enough to teleport on by.

Harder to meet Hueso’s - and later his brothers’ - eyes when he fails again.

When he first actually won, Hueso congratulates him in that typical deadpan tone of his.

“Ah, felicidades, Pepino. Now you can move on, sí?”

“Hm? Nah, boneman! That run was sloppy!”

And then Leo runs off before Hueso can stop him.

He doesn’t even look at his picture on the champion wall when he next comes around. It’s not much to look at anyway.

_____

His second win is much like the first, and only his third win is actually acceptable.

But he knows the field too much now. He needs a challenge.

When he attempts to go through it blindfolded, he’s quickly shown how much he doesn’t know the Maze. So, obviously, he loses again.

He got a bit more banged up that time around.

“Pepino, basta ya, you’ve already won. Where are your brothers?”

“I can’t stop yet, señor! This is for my brothers - no les digas, please.”

Even if Hueso wanted to tell Leo’s brothers, they haven’t been in enough for him to get to, and it’s not like Hueso has their number since Leo’s the one Hueso usually contacts. For now, Leo’s safe to continue as is.

Though his injuries are getting harder to hide, and there’s only so much his shell in particular can take.

So to speed things up, he incorporates the blindfold into his regular training.

His brothers question it, of course, but hey, he initially got the idea from seeing Lou Jitsu do it in the third best Lou Jitsu movie, so it comes as a great excuse now.

He’s only a little put off by how fast Mikey adapts to it when the others try.

“I dunno-“ Mikey shrugs when asked, “You guys shine so brightly anyway, a mask doesn’t do much.”

Seeing their mystic energies is pretty cool, Leo can admit.

He just wishes he could grasp that himself - and that it was useful for a death maze.

_____

Leo’s training pulls off eventually, and soon, after a few more losses, he wins a forth time. But it’s a near loss, and a near loss is the difference between someone living and dying.

He’s gotta go again.

Hueso’s more insistent than ever, though.

“You must stop, Pepino.”

“But I can do better-“

“You don’t have to! Your shell is bleeding - ¡por tu propio bien, poner fin a esto!”

“I told you, this is for their own good! For everyone’s own good!”

He forgets the pizzas when he leaves. He claims sickness when he hides under his covers.

He ignores how childish the act makes him feel.

_____

Leo’s getting better, and his reflexes and tact in training shows this. His other training of his subterfuge and medical skills also prove to be useful.

He’s pretty good at hiding injuries, now! Though not so good at hiding a pained shell. Even Donnie looks at him with blatant concern (and understanding) when Leo can’t help but take a sharp breath whenever he lands on his back.

It’s hard not to go right back into waving everything off with jokes like he used to. Deflections are easier when they’re annoying!

But- this is just another reason that he needs to get better, right? So his brothers won’t worry. He doesn’t need the spotlight anymore - he’s over that, thanks.

He squashes down the part of him that perks up when Splinter says he’s growing up. He actively kills the part of himself that cries at the same phrase.

_____

So. Yeah. This’ll be his twelfth time running the Maze. And, hopefully, his fifth win. Maybe he really will move on after this.

The Hidden City is pretty big! There’s probably a bigger challenge somewhere.

Maybe Big Mama has a more secret Nexus hidden away, out of the public eye.

Well, whatever. That’s a future problem for him to figure out, yeah? For now, he carries on like usual, teleporting to the entrance of the Maze and diving right in.

Even blindfolded, he works his way through, dodging and weaving and feeling as he goes. He even tries to evoke his inner Mikey and calls on his mystic energy. Not enough to cheat, but enough to feel.

Usually, when Leo teleports, he swears he feels every part of himself disperse into particles. Now, with energy thrumming under his scales, he can feel particles everywhere.

It’s not refined enough to tell him everything, and he gets a fun new burn and a nice whack to the back by getting distracted. Still, it gives him more than he had before. It makes him more aware of everything, like he licked a finger and held it in the air to feel the direction of wind, but every direction blew wind, all in different ways.

He makes it to the end with minimal injuries after that, and sure, his shell is screaming at him now, but he thinks he did a shell of a good job.

…Ah, he needs to cut that out, huh? Man. Maybe Donnie’s collar idea was a good call after all.

Leo needs to be a hero. Not a face man. Not a failure.

Not a kid.

_____

Leo doesn’t smile when the Minotaur takes his picture again for the champion wall, and he doesn’t listen when she tells him to “go home and never come back.”

He doesn’t plan to, anyway, yeesh.

He’s tired as he trudges out of the exit, and Hueso catches him when he stumbles.

Hueso doesn’t say anything. Leo doesn’t either.

Or, he doesn’t, until he feels a familiar large hand helping him up as well.

Leo’s face whips up as he flinches back, eyes wide as they meet with a worried (so, so worried) Raph’s.

“You told them?�� Leo asks Hueso in betrayal, heart thudding wildly in his chest.

“Pepino…”

“Told us what?” Mikey pipes up from behind Raph, coming closer to get a better look at Leo, “Leo, what’s going on?”

“Your shell has been having pretty big setbacks on its healing, is this why?” Donnie demands, glaring fiercely as he motions toward the Maze.

Leo feels unmoored. “I-“

“Leo.” Raph interrupts, and no Leo doesn’t want to hear it- “Are you okay?”

And Leo wants to say “it’s not about me”. He wants to say anything that proved he learned his lesson, that he’s not a liability or worse, an active danger to his own family.

He wants Raph to continue being proud of him. He wants his brothers to trust him.

Instead, he passes out.

_____

The next time his eyes open, Leo’s on his side, staring at his blue lava lamp.

He knows without looking that his shell is re-bandaged. He knows his other injuries have been dealt with too.

And unless Leo learned how to do some pretty impressive medical sleepwalking, he knows he’s not getting away this time.

All three of his brothers being in his room prove that.

“What’s been going on, Leo?” Mikey asks, and his voice cracks partway through.

He’s looking at Leo like he’s searching for something, but Leo doesn’t have anything to show. Nothing’s hidden, he just did some light spring cleaning is all, throwing out all the parts he didn’t need.

All the parts they didn’t need.

And yet despite everything, he can feel himself falling back into old ways, a grin tugging at his beak and lackadaisical deflection on the tip of his tongue.

Maybe he should let that part of him show, just for once. It wouldn’t seem like too much of a setback would it? And he could really use a fun pun right about now-

No.

No it’s not about him. He needs to remember why he did all this in the first place.

“Okay- sorry, guys.” He smiles, softly, quietly, “I guess I got too caught up in training. I’ll work at it some more, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I see. Training. That’s all it was, huh? Training.” Donnie hisses more than says, nearly vibrating in anger.

“…yeah?” Leo nods slowly, because, uh, that’s literally the most honest thing he said. It was training.

“If it’s just “training” then why the secrecy, hm? Why in Curie’s good name did you prefer to sneak around rather than, oh, I don’t know, tell your family?”

Leo feels his shoulders rise at Donnie’s aggression, defensiveness welling up in him, “It was my training! Nothing went wrong, I’m getting better!”

“Better?” Raph asks incredulously, “Leo, you’re wasting away. A tap to the shell stuns you for minutes, you lost weight, and your dark circles are worse than Raph’s ever seen them! You aren’t getting better-!”

“YES I AM!”

The words rip out of Leo before he can stop them.

The room is silent as his brother look at him, all wearing expressions of hurt that Leo put there again.

“Yes I am.” Leo reiterates, shaking, “Because- if I’m not-“ He squeezes his eyes shut. “If I’m not-“

Then what was all this for?

Arms slowly wrap around him, and he knows now from the feel of the mystic that it’s Mikey.

“You’ve gotten faster, and sneakier.” Mikey says quietly. “When I accidentally cut my hand, you knew exactly how to take care of it.” His voice grows firm, and he backs out of the hug, “But those are your skills. You, though, you’ve been…you’ve been…”

“You’ve been dilapidating before our very eyes, and trying to hide it.” Donnie finishes, jaw tight. “You think we wouldn’t notice? After everything?” To Leo’s horror, Donnie’s voice is hoarse with tears, “You absolute dumb dumb.”

“I- but I need to train. The Maze is-“

“Leo, we don’t care that you ran through the Maze. We care you did it alone.” Raph says quietly. “We could have joined you, any time.”

“But- but I’m doing this for you-“

“Listen to your brothers, Blue.” They jump as a new voice joins the fray, heads turning to see Splinter make his way into the - frankly crowded - room.

“Dad, I-“ Leo begins, but trails off, suddenly more unsure than ever in the face of his father.

“It’s good you’re finally picking up training! Especially for your brothers’ sakes! But there’s such a thing as going overboard, you know.” Splinter pokes a sharp claw into Leo’s plastron, “Just because you’re dragging it out this time, doesn’t make this any less of a sacrifice. My son, you’ve taken after Karai an awful lot, haven’t you?”

Leo just looks at his father. At his brothers. Then, he looks down at his calloused hands, bandaged and scarred from overuse.

He swallows dryly. “Is that a bad thing?”

He feels his family crowd in around him, feels his father’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not wrong to want to be better, Leonardo.” Splinter says, softly and with so much grief and guilt that Leo can never begin to understand, “But you were never bad to begin with.”

Leo’s breath hitches.

“And-” Splinter’s hands rise up to frame Leo’s face. “You are much too young to ever consider sacrifice the best answer.”

“You got me to relax, Leo. So I’ll do the same for you.” Raph grins, eyes wet, “We’re still kids, right?”

And-

Leo smiles, watery but genuine. “Yeah, Raph. We are.”

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[doublxpresso]

「Your absence」

page 13 - 14

beginning << page 11 - 12 < . > page 15 - 16 [END]

[suzukiblu]

Please, cuddling, and TimKon?

. . . I am sorry but also I am NOT sorry for what I have done with this reply, but hey, why don't we all enjoy this one being the only prompt fill from this meme that got a read-more cut??

“Please,” Kon tries, trying not to look–he doesn’t know, weird and needy and like an embarrassment, or whatever. It feels like such a stupid thing to ask for. He knows Tim’s not really a hugger or a touchy-feely guy or whatever and that he likes having his own space and basically always hops out of bed right after sex to go write down all the shit his post-nut clarity made him think of, and the idea of, like, just staying still and actually cuddling or whatever is probably basically literal torture to him, assuming it’s ever even occurred to him at all, just . . . 

Just he’d kind of like to sometimes, maybe? Like–not regularly or whatever, he’s not trying to drive Tim nuts or cut into either his worktime or downtime here, just . . .

Just he’d like to do it sometimes, that’s all. 

Tim’s not the tactile type. Tim isn’t even the eye contact type, unless he’s lying to somebody or at work or just faking it for Robin-mode or whatever. Kon gets that. He’s been, like–careful about that. Not trying to take up too much space or ask for too much attention or mind when Tim doesn’t even look up at him when he– 

He’s been careful about it. 

But he is . . . well. The tactile type. Like . . . kind of, anyway. 

Like–it’s kinda unavoidable, honestly. 

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him in just enough bemusement to make him feel even more self-conscious about bringing this shit up to begin with, and Kon tries to keep his expression casual and noncommittal and–and just normal about this. Because he is totally normal about this. He is so normal about this. He is.

He’s also normal about the fact that when he asked Tim if he could talk to him about something, Tim didn’t even put down his tablet. Didn’t even put it to sleep, or actually even look up from it until . . . 

Kon’s normal about that. About all of this. 

(and he definitely never feels kind of weird or a little bit abandoned because Tim can’t EVER just bring his stupid laptop back to bed or at least work on whatever he’s thinking about IN the bedroom at the untouched desk he's got set up in there or even just, like . . . stick around and hang out on the couch with him, or anything like that. he definitely totally ENTIRELY doesn’t ever just feel like a casual fuckbuddy or an easy hookup or a gala-night accessory or just the most immediately convenient option and not actually–not actually any kind of a–not actually something that– 

he doesn’t. 

definitely.)

“Uh,” Kon says, and backpedals awkwardly, because clearly this conversation is not going the way he’d wanted it to and Tim just looks so surprised by it all, like–like it never even occurred to him or something, that maybe . . . that maybe Kon would want anything like that, or like he literally just hasn’t noticed how hard Kon’s been trying to be normal about it, or . . . 

It doesn’t feel very good, the idea he’s been trying so hard to respect Tim’s space and preferences and comfort levels and Tim hasn’t even noticed that he was doing anything at all. 

Especially because Tim usually notices just about everything. 

Maybe Tim’s just never thinking about it. Maybe he gets out of bed so quick because he’s spent the whole time in it thinking about other shit and just putting up with–just– 

“Kon,” Tim says, his voice going a little tight, and Kon just tries not to wince. He didn’t mention any of the complicated stuff he’s been trying not to feel, he just asked if Tim could–if Tim would– 

He didn’t even mention any of the complicated stuff, so it’s, like–not a great sign that Tim’s looking at him like that right now, like he’s said something really serious or upsetting or . . . 

He really shouldn’t have said anything, yeah. 

“Sorry,” he tries stiffly, glancing away and wrapping his hand around his own wrist and digging his fingers into the inside of it. It’s–tactile. Just . . . something tactile. “I know you don’t–sorry. Uh. Just forget it.” 

“Fuck,” Tim mutters for some reason, and Kon feels like such an idiot for saying anything at all, and a worse one for apparently doing it in a way that’s got Tim making that face at him. That face is Robin’s “my utility belt is empty, comms are fried, and the mission just went to shit” face. 

He really fucked this up. It was fine. Everything was fine, and now he’s wrecked it and Tim’s about to say it’s not even that serious, it’s not like it’s even–not like they’re even–and that Kon’s clearly gotten the wrong idea and they should just–just– 

“How long have you felt this way?” Tim asks very, very carefully, like the question’s something fragile, and Kon thinks from literally the first fucking time you left me alone in bed all night so you could go recalibrate some stupid useless specialty sensor that wasn’t even part of your primary gear, like, a WEEK into us sleeping together and says, “I dunno. It’s not–I told you. Forget it. It’s not a big deal.” 

He’s being weird about this. He’s being an asshole about this, actually, because being prepared for literally every single possible contingency ever is the Bats’ whole thing and he got into this knowing Tim wasn’t the touchy-feely type or all that expressive and emotive about–about his feelings, or whatever, and–and it’s not like he even–not like he– 

(he just wants a fucking HUG he didn't have to FUCK him for every now and then, or for Tim to at least exist in the same space as him for longer than the time it takes for the next email from Oracle to come in or next alert from Batman to go off or next self-assigned project to finish processing or–

but that’s not something Tim does, and Kon knew that going in, so–so it’s his own stupid fault if he feels SMALL sometimes, when . . . when there’s always something else, always another problem to solve or place to be or thing to think about, always . . . always something more important than just . . . staying, just for a little bit, and just BEING with–with him. just him. not the team, or either of their families, or . . .)

He knew all this going in, Kon reminds himself. He knew it. If he were this bad at being with literally anyone else, he’d just–he’d just– 

But something about it being Tim means he just . . . can’t. 

Tim’s jaw tightens, and he finally sets down his stupid tablet. 

Only now, though, Kon thinks bitterly, and digs his fingers a little deeper into the inside of his wrist. 

“Kon,” Tim says again, says too carefully again. Like something’s fragile, again. “I–” 

“I said forget it, for fuck’s sake!” Kon snaps too hotly, and maybe hates himself for both doing it and for the stricken look that doing it puts on Tim’s face, and also maybe cheats a bit by super-speeding straight out the balcony door into the night air and not taking his cell or his communicator with him. Or–definitely does, in fact. Definitely that’s cheating. He knows it is. 

He just really can’t stand to hear Tim tell him how he’s fucked up this time right now, though. He just–he tried so fucking hard not to fuck up this time. 

He really, really tried. 

He should’ve known it wouldn’t work, but . . . but he really did try.

[stargirlo]

𝓜EET THE FUSHIGURO'S — ( 𝕿 ) OJI FUSHIGURO │ "dear babygirl, i'm sorry that your father is not active inside your world." (angst)

not everyone has such a perfect life, but not everyone has such a complex life. things aren't meant to go in a straight line, but things also aren't meant to be in a bumpy ride. everything felt like a maze, trying to find a way to escape this hell hole without any blocks or bumps coming into life — your life, toji's life. everyone has goals, everyone has dreams, everyone can achieve some of their goals and dreams, but some of them don't. and it's fucking hard to overcome that.

being in a relationship with toji fushiguro, ah, toji fushiguro. you aren't married to him but somehow you managed to birth out two beautiful children, first being a beautiful baby boy, megumi fushiguro. he's identical to toji, same hair, same facial features, everything looked alike between the two. in the next few years, a beautiful baby girl now came into the world, tsumiki fushiguro. personality wise, she's just like you, a kind-hearted soul, a sweet girl who should be held with care. you know those stickers that are added to packages when you buy something that can break easily; "fragile. handle with care." yeah, that's tsumiki, and you.

even if the family of four didn't have all the luxury, they say that it's the littlest things that can balm your shell.

remember how you used to be so fragile, so kind, and so, so sweet. well that wasn't permanent, and it was only temporary as soon as toji was on and off with family. you know he's working, but you don't know what or who he's working for or who he's even working with. even a man can have his own struggles; but what kind? gambling problems? drinking problems? pill-popping and spending problems? bad with money? only toji knows.

"mama when is daddy coming back?" "is daddy gonna come to my ninth birthday?" "are we gonna watch frozen with daddy?" "is daddy gonna help us with our timetables?"

those questions tire you because you don't know, you really don't. you wish you could explain where he's at, but with so little information and so little contact, you don't know where the fuck that man is.

until this one night where you left yourself and toji into shambles.

carefully leaving your bed in which tsumiki and megumi are currently sleeping in, you set yourself off to leave and relax on the living room. it took some time for the kids to sleep, it took more time for you to even sleep despite having to wake up early for work tomorrow.

not until the jangling keys were hear through the front door, and the loud creak audibly heard across the hallway and onto the living room. he's here. you looked across the room just to make sure it was him, even though you know it is him because he's the only one that has a spare apartment key to his own place. or rather your place now.

"the fucking nerve," you grumble under your breath, a vein almost popping out of your skin. getting up from the couch you came up to him, the reeking scent of alcohol lingered just two feet away from you. the musky scent of sweat and dirt combined with such a foul smell that made your whole face twist and scrunch. eye bags were visible, hair disheveled and greasy, lips chapped, breath probably smelling horrible, and clothes needing to be washed asap. he's a fucking mess.

"mm- what? 'm home..." he spoke lowly, scratching his head as he always kept up his nonchalant nature. one of his hands held a medium sized plastic bag, hanging lazily between his fingers. "yeah no shit." you said sternly, arms crossing in disbelief as your eyes followed all over him like he was some sort of homeless person. "what's up with you? why're mad, babe..?" he cocked a brow, energy low and definitely not in the mood to hear your constant babbling.

you scoffed. what is up with you anyway? is he fucking with you? "what's up with me is that you didn't come home in almost about a month. you look like a fucking mess and you smell like absolute shit." now the jet black haired man knew that shit was getting serious, the way you're just talking to him like that, and the way you're saying that he smells like shit. he needs to tighten up because your points are right about him. "what a nice way to welcome me back, thought i was expecting a kiss or sumn'–"

"are you kidding me, toji? showing up at midnight and acting all nonchalant and shit. you don't understand how fucking worried i was for you? even the kids were asking me about you, keeping them on their toes everyday without any news from you and praying that you'll be okay. do you understand what you are fucking putting me through just now? work was the only thing being up my ass and now there are multiple other things that i have in my hands and in my care." you rasped, eyebrows pinching together as frustration slowly seeped into your nerves, holding back the urge to lash at him. "instead of you, the man of the house, having all the courage to take care of its family, you fucking destroy it. fucking us all up." your hands ball into fists, the whole scene turning into a tense argument.

"you should've been teaching megumi his timetables, or maybe watching frozen with tsumiki. you missed out on my baby girl's birthday, she just turned nine and i could tell that her birthday wish was for you to come back." slowly, your voice started to crack, salty tears welling up your dropping eyes. "and what have you been doing during those times where i've worked my ass off overtime at a fucking convenient store? huh? i'm so tired, toji, and i bet you are too. but the way you're just unexpectedly showing up when you're the reason you've put me at my lowest is fucking unacceptable." you spat, a streak of tear running down your cheek. toji exhales deeply, knowing how you feel and it was actually his fault that you turned out this way. guilt and frustration washes through him, not having any other excuse about his absence.

"look, the point is that 'm here now. and i promise that i won't leave without letting you know, i promise i'll build a connection with our kids–" and then again, you interrupted his promises. "promise? hah– you? promising something that you'll do again? make up your fucking mind, toji. you broke our promises, you said that you'll marry me someday; that's a fucking lie. you said you'll get payed more and pay off our bills; that's also a fucking lie because you're using that shit to buy rum and gamble out the money that could save our life. look at you, fucking pathetic. you're embarrassing yourself at this point because i know what your true intentions are, toji. are you still popping pills to keep yourself at your feet? did you fuck whores at a brothel while you're at it?" those bitter and heartless words have left toji in shock, of course it has, you know him well and clear — like he was an open book to you.

"did you buy tsumiki the barbie doll that she asked for a few months ago? or did you gamble that money?" you asked, tilting your head slightly as your expression was evident that you were not buying this. "because i know for sure that i was counting pennies at the grocery store to buy that fucking toy for tsumiki–" you spat, holding back from having a psychotic episode before toji's gruff voice interrupted you now. "don't speak like that if you're going to mention our daughter." he gives off a warning, but you could only scoff at disbelief at it, why's he all of a sudden caring so much? "our daughter? no no no, you barely did shit for her and now you're trying to be on your goody-two-shoes to act like you care about our daughter? where were you when i gave birth to her, huh? where were you when i gave birth to megumi?" your voice echoed through the hallway, the argument getting louder that the kids would probably hear it.

"megumi, why's mommy yelling?" tsumiki asked in a hoarse voice, waking up to the ruckus happening outside of the bedroom. megumi softly hushed the little girl, placing his hands that are slightly bigger than hers to her ears, muffling your shouts and derogatory words. "it's gonna be okay, she's just talking to daddy..." he murmured reassuringly, hiding the fact that he's on the edge of tearing up after finding out the truth about the absence of his father.

"you're acting like you did most of the work when you haven't been on my shoes." toji stated, his stomach twisting at the fact that you bought up the way he wasn't with you during labor. "because i did most of the work you dickhead! you barely didn't show up for your own family, for your own lover who was giving birth to your fucking kids! how would you think i was feeling during that time toji?! squeezing the nurses hand instead of yours while i was popping my ass off to give you two beautiful kids into this shitty life!" you shouted, already having a mental breakdown as more tears bubbled within your lower lashline. "you never open about yourself, you never show any ounce of affection ever since we had kids, you never did the bare minimum to show that you still love us! you're a fucking disappointment toji! you don't know nothing about taking care of things. waking up the kids? know nothing about that. teaching them basic human decency? know nothing about that. telling them to pray? know nothing about that. taking them to school? you know nothing about that." and that was the breaking point. the plastic bad dropped down to the floor as his calloused hands quickly loomed over to you to grab you at your shoulders.

"call me a disappointment one more time 'n see what fucking happens." he shook you like you were mentally ill, thinking that some sense would come to your mind. but could you let him get this physical with you? fuck no. "don't touch me you freak!" you squealed, hands that are smaller than his large ones grab his wrists as an attempt to pull away from his embrace. "can you take a second to understand what i've been going through?! jesus... haven't had a single moment to express myself for just a fucking minute." he grunts, the grip on your shoulders loosening up as he wasn't daring himself to even hurt you. no way.

"and what do you have to say to this, huh?! stop trying to figure out a useless excuse so that i could come back to you like nothing happened." you sniffled through your nose, soft hiccups eliciting through your slightly swollen lips. "please just hear me out–" toji exclaims, showing an ounce of vulnerability that he wasn't planning on expressing. "no! take your fucking shit and leave this goddamn place," you quickly push him away from your personal bubble, grasping the plastic bag and slamming it at his chest. "you're nothing but a fucking deadbeat who doesn't even deserve to be called a 'father'." and with that, he's standing by the front doorway, mentality absolutely destroyed as his face uttuerly grew pale. this was it. this was over.

"if you weren't raised in such a fucked up clan, maybe you shouldn't have been such a shit dad."

-

the aftermath of the argument left toji having a hole to his stomach. it was like daggers were digging deeper and deeper into his gut. what you yelled and screamed at him for was probably right, maybe he is a shit father; maybe he was born in a fucked up family and turned out this way. the plastic bag swung between his thick fingers, walking like a kicked puppy in the rain as he was lost in his thoughts.

a nearby trash can was visible along his way, now carelessly throwing away the bag and discarding it with the rest of the trash and pests that were there. what was in that bag anyway? take-out? alcohol? meds? no. they were two gifts that megumi and tsumiki were asking for a few months ago. a pretty blonde barbie doll in her pink little dress, and a few stacks of digimon cards. all of that went to waste.

meet the fushiguro's.

note: phewww, that was a lot. updating my masterlist tmrw. have a good night everyoneeeeeeeeee.

⠀( OWNED BY ) STARGIRLO.

do not plagiarize any of my works , translate them , or repost them anywhere around any other social media platform . thank you .