#goddamnit staff

[melodyofthevoid]

Edit: Staff has since turned off replies. I think that's a pretty good indicator on how this is going.

A new way to navigate Tumblr

If you use Tumblr on a web browser, you might have noticed us testing a brand new navigation on your dashboard in the last month. Now, after some extensive tweaks, we’ve begun rolling out this new dashboard navigation to everyone using a web browser. Welcome to the new world. It’s very like the old world, just in a different layout.

Why are we doing this? We want it to be as easy as possible for everyone to understand and explore what’s happening on Tumblr—newbies and seasoned travelers alike.

Labels over icons: When adding something new to Tumblr in the past, we’d simply add a new icon to our navigation with little further explanation. Turns out no one likes to press a button when they don’t know what it does. So now, where there’s space, the navigation includes text labels. Since adding these, we’ve noticed more of you venturing to previously unexplored corners of Tumblr. Intrepid!

What’s already been fixed? Thanks to feedback from folks during the testing phase, we’ve been able to make some improvements right out of the gate. Those include returning settings subpages (Account, Dashboard, etc.) to the right of the settings page instead of having them in an expandable item in the navigation on the left; fixing some issues with messaging windows on smaller screens; and streamlining the Account section to make it easier to get to your blogs.

What’s next? We’re looking into making a collapsible version of this navigation and improving the use of screen space for those of you with enormous screens. We’re also working on improving access to your account and sideblogs.

That’s all for now, folks. For questions and suggestions, contact Support using the “Feedback” category. Please select the “Report a bug or crash” category on the support form for technical issues. And keep an eye out for more updates here on @changes.

[misseyres]

WHAT is this newfangled rb interface. it's ugly it's awful get it out of my sight

[leam1983]

*Grunts in mild disappointment*

They've changed the site's browser-based layout. Again.

Why is my main bar to the left? Why is the Create Post button to the left? I'm right-handed; everything made sense to me before, now it's all slanted towards the one side of the screen I rarely use.

Really hoping XKit or something similar lets us savage the site's CSS and XML, eventually.

[fruitsgoblin]

re: the latest tumblr news

is it really that shocking or alarming to people that the site is being put on a skeleton crew? no it's not dying, but it's definitely not receiving further updates

you either support the websites you like or you don't. this was coming. the best thing that could happen now would be for someone else to grab tumblr I guess... preferably a smaller group that actually cares

[obscureenthusiast]

snoozing tumblr live doesn't remove the tab from mobile anymore this is not a fucking drill

[vi-enti]

now what the fuck is this

[ev-arrested]

I know it in my soul that whenever Damian has to play violin for school and needs an accompanist, he fucking drags Dick out of Blüdhaven and back to Gotham to play piano. Dick has not practiced piano since Aunt Harriet stopped bugging him to attend his lessons when he left the manor, and he doesn’t even like playing piano. But for Damian? Sigh F i n e, he’ll play the accompaniment.

He’ll drag out his dusty practice books to refresh himself on proper hand posture and what the fuck an F looks like on the staff. Yes, yes, he’ll look up whatever squiggly abomination is on his sheet music that music experts claim is “modern notation”.

Bruce, who knows how to play piano, or can otherwise contact professional piano accompanists, is like “son, please. leave your brother alone. he hasn’t even played in years.” And Damian’s like “NO. I will settle for nothing less than Grayson.”

“Son, that’s such a low bar.”

But Damian will have his way. He will perform with his brother, goddamnit.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Mrs. R Part Three

Part Two | Part Four

Notes: Not beta-read.

Warnings: This...Got a lot more angsty than I meant it to. Whoops.

Summary: Robby had sent a 💡 text two days ago—his new shorthand to ask if he could come over. You'd declined, cited previous plans, and proposed tonight instead.

So here he is, and there you are with your head full of muddled feelings and unasked questions.

"I don't know what changed, and I don't know how you did it, but he seems better."

You want to tell her that it isn't you—that you haven't seen Robby since you went to the ER, that whatever's changed about him, you had nothing to do with it—but that would be a bold-faced lie.

Though, at moments, you don't think that you have had much to do with the shift in his mood. But over the last few weeks, he's seemed a little lighter. It's been noticeable to you.

And, apparently, it's been noticeable to Dana.

She wouldn't accept the lie, anyway—you can see that in the way she grins at you over her pint of beer, daring you to disagree.

So you just shrug and offer, "Sometimes he just needs someone to talk to—outside of work, you know."

"So he is telling you about work?"

"God no, I don't think he'd ever..." You trail off, mind dipping dangerously into the past. He used to. A long time ago, he'd come home with tired but warm smiles, with a funny story from his shift on the tip of his tongue, chasing the kisses that he showered you with the second he was in the door. But the pandemic, Adamson, the dwindling staff, the slammed ER, the administration, the occasional rat—it's a constant, Sisyphean uphill push for all of them.

You clear your throat, shaking your head. "I mean, sometimes he needs to talk about something that isn't that. I used to think talking about work when he was home would help him process it, but maybe he needs a bubble to shut that part of his mind off. I don't know, it's weird," Your brow furrows. "I feel like I understand him so much more now that we aren't married."

"Speaking of which."

"Mm?"

"What's with the name?"

You take a long sip, biding as much time as you can as heat rushes your face.

"Name?" You do your best to play dumb, but Dana's laugh tells you that she isn't buying it for a damn second.

"Yeah, Mrs. Robinavitch, the name."

You let your eyes scan the bustling bar around you, unable to take the knowing way that Dana watches you.

"You don't have to call me that, you know."

"Oh yeah? What should I call you?"

"Gee, I don't know Dana," You lean into it. "Maybe my first name?"

"Doesn't make you squirm like your last name does. Come on," She chuckles again, "It's been almost a year. What gives?"

You consider, eyeing the chipped wood grain of the table.

"Honestly?"

"Uh-huh."

"Cone of silence?"

"Cross my heart."

"...I can't..." You struggle for the words as your feelings flood into your chest, making each breath feel heavy. Your sweating palms flex, nails pressing into your skin, prickling the still-raised scar on your dominant hand.

"It just feels like giving up on us. On him. And I know that sounds so stupid, we're divorced, but letting go of his name feels like letting go, really letting go of all of it, all of the good stuff, and lately things feel..." You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut against the embarrassment. "It's like the door isn't completely closed. Like he's opening up to me again, and if I change it now, it's like I'll—Jinx it? Or—?" You groan, tipping your head back and scrubbing at your eyes with the heels of your palms. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Dana doesn't answer, and when you finally get a good look at her again, you just find a warm, soft smile there.

"Oh, sweetie," She shakes her head. "There's nothing wrong with hope."

You bite the inside of your cheek to try and push back the swell of tears that threaten to spill over.

"Goddamnit," You laugh shakily. "How much would I have to pay you to quit the hospital and just run my life full-time?"

"You couldn't afford me."

--

"You're quiet."

It isn't accusatory, you don't think, but it's paired with a speculative little glance across the kitchen able that makes you want to fold into yourself and disappear.

"Just following your example." You manage to make it a tease, and when Robby's lips tip up in a small smile, you feel the relief of knowing that you hit the mark. He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head and turning back to his food.

You should've sorted this morose shit out before he turned up. You'd known that he was planning on stopping by.

He'd sent a 💡 text two days ago—his new shorthand to ask if he could come over. You'd declined, cited previous plans, and proposed tonight instead.

So here he is, and there you are with your head full of muddled feelings and unasked questions.

You haven't been able to stop thinking about your conversation with Dana. The fact that you let your truth hit the air for the first time since the divorce, to admit not only to yourself but to someone else that you're hopeful that your relationship with Michael could still change—that you're still holding on to the likely misguided belief that one of you or both of you will come back together with the understanding that this whole divorce was one big, stupid, expensive mistake—

"What'd you get up to the other night?"

"Hmm?"

"When I wanted to come by."

You shrug, reach over and pluck a fry up off of his plate. "Just some stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Well clearly nothing that landed me back in the ER."

"That leaves a lot of possibilities."

You pop the fry into your mouth, take your time chewing, and raise your brows when he dips his head a touch, catching and holding your gaze.

"Come on," He plies, "Gimme a hint."

"Why does it matter?"

"Doesn't."

"Why do you care?"

"...I don't."

And you may've bought that—if he hadn't hesitated. Your eyes narrow a touch, a playful smile pulling at your lips.

"Well what do you think I was doing, Dr. Robinavitch?"

"Any number of things, Mrs. Robinavitch."

And you know that he doesn't mean to break it, this light and delicious mood, but goddamn did he pop your balloon. The words make your stomach lurch. You hurriedly push yourself up from the table, avoiding his eye and rounding to the fridge.

"You want another beer?" You ask, and force yourself to keep your eyes on the fridge's contents when he doesn't answer right away.

"Haven't finished my first one," He finally says, and you nod a bit, pulling one out for yourself and cracking it open. You lean against the counter, toying with the pull tab.

"You have a date?"

It feels almost like a trap of a question, and you know that you'd be wise to answer quickly, but his tease is still ringing through your ears.

"You can tell me if you did," He tacks on, "Not like we're—"

"No, I know."

"So—?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Why not? You're single, you're gorgeous—"

"Okay—"

"—More skilled at evading questions than an ex-KGB agent."

"CIA, please."

"It'd be fine if you were. You're free to do whatever you want."

You don't think that he's trying to twist the knife, don't believe that he even realizes he's holding it, but the fact of the matter is what you want is this, right here—in the kitchen with him, but having almost any other conversation.

"Thanks for the permission."

"Just making sure you don't think you need it, considering you still have my name."

He still thinks you're both joking, that's the problem. And maybe you should be joking, but Mrs. Robinavitch. Goddamn, when's the last time he called you that? Must've been your last anniversary—or the one before—?

"Hey." His hands cupping your cheeks takes you aback, and you draw in a deep, stunned breath. When did he get up? "What's going on up there?"

You shake your head, avoiding his eye as you take a deep draw from the beer can. He plucks it out of your hand once you lower it, setting it onto the counter beside you. You curl your arms around yourself, trying to ignore the fact that you're pouting like a petulant child.

"It wasn't a date," You finally offer.

"Okay. It wouldn't matter if it was."

Maybe that's half the problem. You want him it to matter, but to him it just—doesn't. Unless he's bluffing.

Since the two of you started...Whatever the hell this is, you've laid your cards on the table, in some measure. You told Michael that you wouldn't be okay if he wasn't okay. But you're starting to worry that Michael doesn't have any cards to lay on the table. You thought this was high-stakes poker, but it's starting to feel a helluva lot like solitaire.

But if he didn't care, then why change your light bulb? Why kiss you the way he did? He'd fallen asleep on your couch, back in your bed, he remembered where your mugs were—

But maybe you're not the safe space for him—maybe it's your home. Maybe you're just its custodian.

You raise a hand to scrub at your rapidly heating face, fighting back pinpricks of tears as you clench your jaw.

"Headache," You insist before he can pry, and it's not entirely lie. This is beginning to make your head spin.

"You should take something."

"I'm alright." You slap on a thin, unconvincing smile and nod back toward the table. "Your food's gonna get cold."

--

"You sure you're okay?"

You don't even grace that one with a response, just smile and insist:

"Let me know when you get home."

You can see him pushing down another prying question as he straightens his hoodie and takes up his backpack. He gives a small nod and leans in, dropping a kiss to your forehead.

"Drink some water, take something before you go to bed. You don't wanna wake up with it."

"Good night of sleep will clear it." As if you'll be able to sleep tonight.

"Maybe." He reaches out, gently chucking under your chin. "Seriously, don't wait for it to get worse."

"I won't! Crying out loud."

He grunts, turns to the door and opens it.

"Oh, and for the record," He adds, smiling widely at you over his shoulder. "Dana said she had a good time."

You manage to keep your smile frozen in place, and nod. You hold it until he's shut the door and you've locked it behind him. You rest your forehead against the cool wood, drawing a deep breath in through your nose and pushing it out between your lips. You draw in another, and as you push it out, the tears come.

If he'd known what you'd been up to the other night why put you through that song and dance? Just to see what you'd say? If you'd lie?

Your face twists as the tears flow faster, sorrow and anger and nerves twining together as you plop down onto your couch and let the sobs come freely.

If there's nothing wrong with hope, then why the hell does it hurt so much?

Next Part

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[writeriguess]

Having a super hard time right now so could you do a single dad kirishma or bakugo or shinsou and they’re struggling trying to juggle parenthood and being a pro then they meet y/n she’s new to their agency and she just so happens to catch their eye, just a simple receptionist but she has so many ideas. They’re so busy that they don’t even get the chance to actually meet her until one day she comes up to their office with an idea for a daycare in the agency since she’s getting so many call outs about people who don’t have child care. She offers to run/teach the daycare as well since she was a teacher back in the states before she moved and it turns out this is the key to their own problems and they slowly fall in love with her.

author's note: Hey, I just wanted to clarify something. I’ve noticed that “comfort fics” sometimes get published quickly after being requested, which might give the impression that I prioritize them. However, that’s not the case—every fic is written and published in the order it was requested.

If you requested this piece, you might have noticed that I didn’t publish it immediately after seeing it. Please know that I don’t rush requests out of order. The only time I made an exception was for an emergency request, but I now realize that was a mistake, as some people overlooked my author’s note explaining it was a one-time thing. I’m sorry for any confusion, and I appreciate your patience!

Safe in Your Hands

The constant buzzing of his phone was a persistent, grating reminder that life didn’t slow down for anyone. Not even for Katsuki Bakugo.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples as he read yet another text from the daycare. His son, Ryo, had caught a cold and needed to be picked up early—again. He wasn’t mad at the kid, never at him, but the frustration of trying to juggle being a top pro hero and a single father was wearing him thin.

His office was a mess of paperwork, mission reports, and unfinished emails. He was barely keeping his head above water, and his agency, while thriving, was in dire need of some structure. Or a miracle.

That’s when a soft knock at his door pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Come in,” he grumbled, expecting another stack of files or another meeting he didn’t have time for.

Instead, you stepped in.

“Good afternoon, Dynamight-san.”

He barely looked up at first, recognizing you as the new receptionist. You’d been here a couple of months, always polite, always handling things smoothly. He’d noticed, even if he never had the time to actually speak to you. You were a quiet force in the chaos, managing things from behind the front desk with a calm confidence.

“I, uh, hope I’m not interrupting,” you said, shifting slightly but holding your ground. “I have an idea I wanted to run by you.”

His gaze flickered up then, curiosity outweighing his exhaustion. “What kinda idea?”

You stepped forward, placing a neatly written proposal on his desk. “I’ve been getting a lot of call-outs from employees who are struggling with childcare. And I’ve noticed you’ve had to step out unexpectedly for similar reasons. I was a teacher back in the States before moving here, and I was thinking… what if we had an in-agency daycare?”

He blinked, stunned into silence for the first time in what felt like months.

“I’d be willing to help set it up, even run it,” you continued, your voice steady. “It’d give the staff some peace of mind, knowing their kids are safe while they work. And it might make things easier for you, too.”

He stared at you for a long moment, your words sinking in. No one had ever suggested something like this before. No one had ever looked at the chaos of his life and offered a solution so simple yet perfect.

“Tch,” he finally scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re serious about this?”

You nodded. “Completely.”

And just like that, something in his chest loosened.

Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t doing this alone anymore.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Once Bakugo approved the daycare idea, you got straight to work. There were meetings to hold, rooms to convert, supplies to order, and staff to hire. Despite the long hours, you found yourself energized by the project. The employees were thrilled with the idea, and as word spread through the agency, more and more heroes began stopping by to offer assistance.

Bakugo was still a little wary, though. He wasn’t the type to trust easily, but he couldn’t deny that things were starting to feel a little less overwhelming.

One evening, as you were reviewing the final details before the daycare’s official opening, Bakugo showed up at the converted space. You looked up from your clipboard, surprised to see him standing in the doorway with Ryo in his arms. The little boy, looking sleepy and snuggled into his father’s shoulder, blinked at you drowsily.

“Figured we should do a test run,” Bakugo muttered, stepping inside. “See how the brat likes it.”

You smiled warmly. “Of course. Come on in.”

Setting Ryo down gently, Bakugo watched as the toddler hesitantly explored the room. His tiny hands ran over the soft mats, and he eyed the shelves of toys with curiosity. Slowly, he toddled toward a plush All Might figure, giving it an experimental squeeze.

You crouched down next to him. “You like that one, Ryo?”

The boy looked up at you, then at his father, before nodding shyly.

Bakugo exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like it’s a hit.”

You grinned. “I think so.”

For the first time since you’d met him, you saw the tension in Bakugo’s shoulders ease slightly. Maybe this really was the answer to the problem he hadn’t been able to solve alone.

As the weeks went by, the daycare became an integral part of the agency. Parents were relieved, the kids were happy, and Bakugo—though he’d never say it outright—was grateful beyond words.

You and Bakugo started seeing more of each other, too. At first, it was just in passing—quick meetings to discuss logistics, brief encounters when he dropped Ryo off. But then, it turned into coffee breaks, conversations that stretched a little longer each day, small moments of laughter that neither of you had expected.

One evening, after a particularly long shift, Bakugo stopped by your office. You looked up, surprised to see him lingering in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said gruffly.

“Hey,” you replied, setting your pen down. “Everything okay?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah. Just… wanted to say thanks. For everything.”

A warm feeling spread through your chest. “You don’t have to thank me, Bakugo. I’m happy to help.”

His gaze softened, just a little. “Still. You’ve made shit easier for me. And for Ryo.”

You smiled. “Well, I’m glad. He’s a great kid.”

A rare smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah, he is.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable and warm. And in that moment, you both knew—this was just the beginning.

As months passed, your presence in Bakugo’s life became more than just professional. He found himself looking forward to seeing you every day, whether it was during a hectic morning drop-off or a quiet evening chat after work. Ryo adored you, always running to you with excitement when he saw you at the daycare.

One night, after a late shift, you were locking up when Bakugo showed up with Ryo asleep in his arms. He was exhausted, but there was something softer in his expression than usual.

“Wanna grab a late dinner?” he asked, almost shyly.

You blinked in surprise before smiling. “I’d love to.”

And just like that, everything changed. The weight on Bakugo’s shoulders didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t carrying it alone.

[vonbabbitt]

big long kamimura loredrop that i sent to my tetro staff two years ago. obvious spoilers and trigger warning for a lot of stuff. not for the weak of heart. also forgive the very casual tone this is written in i was sending it to my STAFF!! MY FRIENDS!! it has not been curated for public release lol

KAMIMURA KAZUTOSHI. WOW. LOTS TO UNPACK HERE. so kamimura was born as a very sickly kid. his parents were initially planning to have two kids, but when kamimura was born with very particular needs, they decided it would be better to dedicate their full time and attention to just one kid. so thats what they did! kamimura was born with a few conditions that made his childhood a bit rougher, the main of which being hemophilia, an (at the time) unidentified autoimmune disease and a few lesions on his brain. not ideal! so he was in and out of the hospital a lot as a kid, something that was very scary for him at the time, but his parents were very very supportive and loving during this time. they would be at the hospital with him every single time he had to be there (obvs cuz he was a tiny baby boy) and his mom would not go home until he was discharged. she would always be there telling him stories and playing games with him and doing her best to make the experience as comfortable as possible for him. so that made it less scary!

kamimura had a very good support system and it made him a very happy and social kid! he grew up very outgoing and playful and eager and close with his family. his dad was a busy guy who worked in tech, so while he was usually at work, his mom worked from home as a copy editor, so he spent a lot of time with her. as he started to get a little older (7-8), a few more comorbidities and diagnoses started popping up - chronic fatigue, crohns, some vision problems, muscle issues, things that made his life a lot more difficult and worried his parents because he was getting bad fast. this meant a lot more time in the hospital for baby kamimura which is very unfortunate for him. eventually he gets put on a new balance of medications/treatments and his family keeps doing their best because goddamnit their kid should get to be a happy kid! which he is! hes a very happy kid! hes just also a kid with a LOT of medical issues

SO THEN WE HIT AGE NINE. kamimuras mother is home alone with him when a close family friend drops by. hes someone kamimura knows very well - comes to all their parties, visits often, etc etc. but he was also someone who had very strong feelings towards kamimuras mom. he had confessed to her multiple times and obviously she had said no because she is married with a child and was not interested at all. except this time hes completely fed up with it. she says no, he gets aggressive and violent and tries to overpower her. she fights back, he panics and stabs her. a lot. repeatedly. over and over and over. so the kitchen is an absolute bloodbath. not good! a few minutes into this, kamimuras dad gets home from work and is very quickly added to the body count. family friend runs, and about ten minutes later, kamimura gets home from school.

so now this nine year old boy has walked in on his parents mutilated bodies lying in a sea of blood on the kitchen floor. his mind basically shuts down. he cannot even begin to process the ways in which his entire world has just come crumbling down. he goes upstairs to his room, closes the door, and proceeds to stay there for two days straight. if he can just stay in his room and not go outside, no matter what he saw, no matter what he smells, he can pretend that everything is fine and theres nothing downstairs.

after two days of this, kamimura's dad's work calls for a wellness check. a wellness check is performed! EVERYTHING IS NOT WELL. the police find kamimura, remove him from the house and into the system he goes. pretty soon he ends up living with his moms sister, who isnt a mean person or anything, but she never wanted kids and shes just lost her sister and shes going through a lot so she never really connects with kamimura. she feeds him and houses him and does her best, but hes completely shut off emotionally and very traumatized and wants nothing to do with this new life thats been put on him so he mostly ignores her and just goes through the beats of life.

from this point on, he has no friends. he doesnt get close to anyone. he doesnt try to. he shuts himself off, keeps to himself and gets picked on a bit because of it. hes outcast at school pretty quickly and that does not do much to help his mental health. it doesnt help that his PHYSICAL health is still deteriorating pretty fast and hes now living with somebody that has NO experience in taking care of his medical needs. hes still in the hospital all the time, but now hes alone and its quiet and hes scared. he hates hospitals. he hates going to the hospital so so so so much because hospitals are scary and it only serves to drive home the complete lack of his mom existing that is haunting him every day. it doesnt help that hiding out in a corpse house for two days has given him a deep, DEEP fear of anything dirty or putrid in the way that his parents' crime scene was. this evolves into a pretty bad case of germophobia that makes him hate hospitals even more because theyre disgusting infected places where people go to die and rot. bad.

but life continues! so when he turns 14, kamimura goes to high school for the first time! its also around this time that he finally dyes his hair - his black hair makes him look exactly like his mom and he cant handle seeing that every time he looks in the mirror, so blue it is! because blue does not look like either of his parents and now he doesnt have to fking see their faces every single time he looks at himself. yay! so he enters high school, his mental health is tanking, his physical health is tanking and everything is bad. high school is equally bad because hes still getting bullied and he feels sick all the time and school is stressful and he is completely lacking in socialization. so at age 14, kamimura tries to kill himself for the first time. it does not work. he goes to the hospital and very hastily explains it to his aunt as having simply fucked up his own medication and says it was all an accident because fuuuuck he does NOT want to be institutionalized. that would suck. and luckily this excuse works and he's back out in the world soon after. yay?

anyway life goes on! so kamimura goes back to school. except weirdly enough, he actually starts talking to another person. this person is named isao kamei and he is a boy in kamimuras grade! hes nice and cool and hangs out with kamimura and likes kamimuras dumb blue hair and likes all the things kamimura likes (scary movies. breaking random shit behind the school after class. yknow) so the two hit it off pretty quickly and soon kamimura has a best friend. except, uh oh, maybe hes more than a best friend?? kamimura starts realizing that hes got feelings for isao and panics because he does not need this complication ruining his one and only friendship. kamimura has had severe severe trust issues for years now and has finally let himself get close to another person again and he CANNOT LOSE THAT. but isao is a good guy, and theyre close, and kamimura is starting to think that isao feels the same way about him so maybe hed be cool about it. it goes against every instinct he has spent the past five years cultivating, but he finally works up the nerve and admits to isao how he feels about him.

IT GOES BADLY. SO BADLY. isao is uncomfortable and frankly kind of disgusted and pulls back HARD. he basically distances himself from kamimura forever and word very very quickly spreads (starting from isao) that kamimura is gay and that he asked out isao, something that absolutely quadruples the amount of bullying he is receiving. so a few days later, kamimura tries to kill himself for the second time. once again it does not go well. he gets very very very sick, but still wakes up in the end and is absolutely miserable and furious about it. his awful awful awful life continues to march on as always and hes back at school pretty soon after that! he continues getting relentlessly bullied, his health continues to deteriorate, and finally during one of his numerous numerous hospital visits he gets hit with two fun new terms: multiple sclerosis and myasthenia gravis. these are the two things that produce the vast majority of his symptoms. so at the very least he now has a few words to label himself with, but hes not really that thrilled about it either way. kamimura is someone with a lot of internalized ableism and resentment towards his own body. he sees it as the reason his life sucks and the reason he gets bullied and the reason he cant live like other people can. he hates himself, and that makes him hate himself even more because his parents always made such a big deal about telling him how much they loved him and how much he should love himself, so he feels like hes betraying them by absolutely loathing himself and his body.

so at sixteen, he tells his aunt he wants to move out. they arent close and he just wants to be on his own and honestly shes on board with this because she never wanted kids and shes ready to go back to her life. so out the door he goes! hes got his own apartment now, which means theres nobody to make him get out of bed or shower or eat or go to school. so he stops doing all of those things, which makes his health deteriorate faster and makes him even more miserable. so at age sixteen, kamimura makes a third attempt on his life. he learned his lesson last time and ups the dosage hard. except he cant keep it down because he hasnt been eating anything for like two weeks and his stomach just physically cannot handle the amount of medication hes ingesting. so this one fails too. but life goes on and kamimura needs to pay rent! his landlord thinks he is strange and concerning and wants to help him so he manages to get kamimura an apprenticeship with a man named ryōichi katō, a very experienced crime scene cleaner! kamimura EXCELS in this field. hes able to shut off his emotions around blood and viscera - his brain just completely blocks out the horror of it, which is almost a coping mechanism i suppose - but the point is that hes great at it. he starts working full time and it pays the bills well enough so hes got nothing to complain about quite frankly.

except his life still sucks. hes alone. hes sick. he hates himself. everything is bad bad bad bad bad. so at a particularly bad mental low at age seventeen, kamimura makes a fourth attempt on his life. this one has GOT to work because he has been honing this method for years now and SURELY he has worked out the kinks by this point yes? so he downs a shitton of pills, washes it down with cheap booze and passes out. then he wakes up in the Fujioka Memorial High School Basement Laundry Room and now we are here

[reminiscingtonight]

would you do a blurb or headcannons for prior engagements?

Prior Engagements Headcanon:

You miss graduation due to an away game scheduled the day of

The barca girls try raising your spirits but they can tell you’re a little disappointed

The game is won easily but by the time you get back to the hotel you’re tired, grumpy, and just want to cuddle with your girlfriend 

To your disappointment Alexia all but bolts the second the bus door opens

You don’t even have time to play the wounded girlfriend card because Mapi all but glues herself to your side the moment Alexia’s gone

Dropping off your things in your room? Mapi’s giving you unsolicited advice about your nonexistent cat that she thinks you should adopt

Hunting walking around the hotel in hopes of finding your girlfriend? Mapi’s talking your ear off about the trip Ingrid’s taking her on after the season’s over

Showering to get some peace and quiet? Mapi’s sat outside with the bathroom door wide open, yelling above the shower so she can be heard

By the time you’ve pulled on a change of clothes, ready for your dinner with some of the barca girls, you’ve hit your Mapi limit

The Spainard looks nonplussed when you hint heavily that she should go find Ingrid

“Oh don’t worry, Frido invited me and Ingrid to dinner. She’ll meet us there.”

When Mapi starts directing you to the rec room, you try digging your heels in

She whines that she left her sweatshirt there yesterday but you tell her you’ll wait in the lobby for her with a straight face

When she “accidentally” hits the floor for the rec room, you have to resist the urge to strangle her

The lights are off when you push open the door, which you find strange

Even stranger, when you turn around Mapi has seemingly disappeared

“Goddamnit, Maria, where--”

You jump when the lights flicker on, confetti raining down over you as you’re met with the sight of your grinning teammates

Everyone’s wearing makeshift caps and gowns, a few of them even with fake scrolls in their hands

Alexia comes forward, plopping a graduation cap onto your head

“My smart scholar, I’m so proud of you”

The training staff turns a blind eye when Alexia excitedly pulls you forwards deeper into the room where you can see a cake on the table with a crudely drawn hat and diploma over its top

You’re trying to be polite about it, but Mapi has no qualms making fun of her artwork

Alexia frowns and Ingrid’s already beginning to scold her girlfriend, but you find your justice by grabbing hold of Mapi by the shoulders and shoving her face first into the cake

Alexia decides the debt paid at the sight of Mapi sputtering and wiping frantically to clear her vision

Send me a fic title

[thefishermansharbor]

The main 6 as parents!

The arcana x GN!Reader (TW: Mentions of pregnancy, reader is GN but hinted at being pregnant in Asra's chapter, light cursing.)

Asra Alnazar:

Again, someone who prefers adoption. A lot like Muriel, his past trauma of being an orphan on their own in  aplace as dangerous as the Vesuvian docks made him want to be an open and safe place for children. 

If you do get pregnant though, he turns to his mother. She’s experienced it - she might know what to do to in order for him to make it easier for you. He’ll research spells to lessen pain and morning sickness, and stuff like that. 

He would love to give them a name dedicated to your love - for example, a combination of your names, or he might name them after some place special to the two of you. 

Asra is a pretty chill parent. He’s not too bothered about what they do, as long as it’s safe and makes them happy. If they do get in trouble, he’ll use non-violent and pretty lenient punishments. Ex : Taking a toy away for a few hours, making them sit in time-out, etc. 

He wants his kids to be free - spirited and do what makes them happy. Even if this makes his kids go for what might not be the safest option, he just wants them to feel empowered.

As a new parent, one can’t help but feel scrambled. Asra is no exception. Dealing with a newborn baby is not for the worried - or faint of heart. It’s especially not for those who don’t do well with little sleep. 

This is what led him to his parents. He knocked on their door, hoping they’d come quickly. He didn’t know how much longer of his son’s screaming he could take. His mother opened the door, surprised. 

“ .. who could it be at this hour.. Asra?” Aisha rubbed at her eyes, trying to rub the sleep away. “ .. what are you doing here, baby? Come in,” 

He sighed, “ Sorry to bother you, mom.” She ushered him inside, “ It’s alright, hunny.” It took her a minute to register everything, she noticed the baby only once he’d gotten inside. 

“ .. How’s ___? Are they keeping alright? How’s–” The realization hit her like a truck. “ oh my god! Did they go into– is that..?” He nods, and she bursts into tears. 

“ Oh, Asra! You’re a father, you’re.. I’M a grandma! Before he could blink, Aisha wipes her tears. “ What’s it’s name?” 

“ His name is Jordan, mom. He’s– a week old,” 

“ why didn’t you tell me sooner, Asra?” She sighed.

“ I’ve been meaning to but things had come up and – well, I need your help.” Asra scratched the back of his neck. 

“ Of course! What is it?” 

“ .. how do you make a baby stop crying? I’ve tried everything.”

She laughs. “ give him to me.” 

Asra hands her the baby, and as if it’s magic – Jordan stops crying full stop. He actually goes to sleep in Aisha’s arms. 

“ H-how’d you do that?” Asra’s face with a mix of impression and surprise. 

“ .. Grandma magic, hunny.” She winked, 

Lucio Morgasson:

He has it rooted in his mind that children have to be biological to be the perfect ‘heir’ to Vesuvia. He’d push for it to be that way – but if you really wanted to adopt, he’d be just as an enthusiastic parent no matter what. 

Lucio wants a larger family but to be honest, he wouldn’t be able to handle more than one kid. 

If you adopt, he’s fine with adopting any age. If you get pregnant, he’d only give the best for you. He always has the finest made for you, but even more so. Although he, personally, isn’t much help - the castle staff are on higher guard and listen to you much more. 

He’s totally a girl dad. His daughter wants him to wear a tutu and tiara? Goddamnit, he’s wearing one. 

He’s a fun parent but he does what he wants - and his kids follow that. He doesn’t feel the need to be patient, or act in benefit of his kids. He’s really chaotic, and doesn’t recognize that he should be nurturing his kids, not partying with them. 

“ Daddy! Daddy!” Lily shouts, grabbing his pant leg. He looks down, and smiles. “ There she is! What is it, silly-lily?” He tickles her face, and she giggles. 

“ Auntie Nadi taught me how to paint my nails!” She confidently shows off some poorly done pink nail polish. He does a mock gasp and claps, “ they look amazing! Anyways, you were saying..” 

“ Can I paint your nails, daddy? Pretty please?” She gives him those puppy dog eyes he can never say no to. He wasn’t too bothered about going to the event on Vesuvian finances, spending time with his daughter sounded a lot more fun. 

“ Sure.” 

That’s was all he needed to say. She flipped open a bag, and took several colors out. “ Which one do you want, daddy?” He surveys them, and chooses a deep blood red. 

She paints carefully.. But a 6 year old can only paint so well. It’s messy, but she tried her best. Even though it’s messy, Lucio seems pretty happy with it. Valerius passes by, and notices it. 

“ My count.. What are you doing?”

“ Getting my nails painted, obviously.”

Valerius rubbed his temples, “ My count, you cannot be serious. No one will take you seriously with that mess on your hands..” 

Lucio furrows his brow. “ How dare you suggest that this is anything other than pure artwork!? I look absolutely FABULOUS. You are just too incompetent to recognize this pure beauty!” He winks at his daughter, who’s staring at him in awe. Valerius walks off, too tired to deal with Lucio. 

Julian Devorak:

He personally would like to have biological kids. There’s really no reason for it, he just wants it and knows, being a doctor, that he can handle a pregnant partner well. He’d also want to have multiple kids, because his relationship with Portia is really good and he’d want his kids to have that experience too. 

If you prefer to adopt, he would try and convince you to have biological children, but if you really didn’t, he wouldn’t keep pushing it. 

He’d want to name one after Portia. She was what kept him alive at one point, and he knows that she’s special and deserves it - so as long as you’re fine with it, he wants that to happen. 

He would be the authority parent. Definitely the “ just wait until your father gets home,” and he’s fine with that. He’s a very tactile parent otherwise, and is very sweet with his children. 

Once they get to be older, he does try and embarrass them a bit. But it’s all in good fun and he doesn’t mean to really offend them. 

He sighs, happy the long day of work is over for him. He jingles his keys in the door and walks through the entryway of your shared home. “ I’m home!” He shouts. 

Two little kids come instantly running in from the living room. A little girl with bouncy brown curls hugs his leg, and a slightly older boy runs right up in front of him. 

“ papa! You’re back!” The girl says, the boy nods. “ You’ll never guess what we did today!” 

“ oh, really?” He says, taking his coat off. You walk through afterwards, sighing and smiling at the two of them. 

“ Pasha, Ivan! Let your father get in the door.”

“ but ___! He’s been gone for agesss…” Ivan complains, “ yeah! And we have so much to tell him!” Pasha chimes in. Julian ruffles Ivan’s hair, and then tickles Pasha’s chin. “ It’s alright, dear. I love the attention,” You roll your eyes, leaning on the doorway. He walks over and kisses you on the cheek, before his hands travel to your back and he kisses you on the lips. 

Your daughter looks away in horror, and your son boos. “ Ew, you guys! Stop, that’s nasty!” 

Julian chuckles and steps back, you put your head on his shoulder. 

“ – well, tell me about your day then, kids.” 

He ushers them both into the next room, and you can’t help but smile and get that warm and safe feeling in your heart. You love them.

[snaggemon]

"Nightfall Over Lidellia City"

Two years ago…

“Glorious… Simply glorious! Oh, yeeaahhhh!”

Their voice carries over the sound of the blimp’s motors and the gushing wind blasting through the open hatches. At twelve hundred feet above the ground, it’s hard to tell whether the air is thin or if my lungs are being crushed by the gripping sensations of anxiety and frustration. You’d think that after ten years of chasing these mad Honchos and their Grunts, this wouldn’t affect me so palpably. But when it comes to St. Atticus… You never know what to expect.

“You never cease to amaze me, Champion… You truly are magnificent! Hahahahaha!”

St. Atticus grins at me from across the chamber, their pristine black hair flowing like a banner on a battlefield in the crossbreeze under the rim of their silver-trimmed, mottled black top hat. The air throws the corners of their long, midnight blue coat around the legs of their perfectly tailored pants. Every strip of silver ribbon, golden sequin and sapphire blue jewel on their body shimmers and twinkles as light fills the chamber, blasted in from searchlights on the ground, the rooftops, the helicopters circling the stolen airship. They step back and bask in the hot glow of the searchlights, throwing their gloved hands up like the ringmaster of the world’s craziest circus.

“No…! We are magnificent! The sounds, the sparks, the star power! Don’t you feel it?!”

This is exactly what they want. Even as they stand in front of me, defeated yet again, all St. Atticus is thinking about is how good they look doing it. And… Goddamnit, they look good. It’s almost sickening how well they take losing in their stride. The spectacle is all that matters. But as far as I’m concerned… all that matters is they’re beaten, and they have no more SnaggeMon left.

Their staff lays safely at my feet, the microphone built into the head ringing with feedback from being dropped. Inlaid into the body of the stick, fourteen inactive SnagStones glow red with warning… Fourteen SnaggeMon, a new record. They really were planning something truly horrible this time. But as dangerous as St. Atticus is when they have the stage all to themselves, as soon as you get within battling distance, all the bite gets ripped from their bark.

Out the corner of my eye, I look down upon Lidellia City. In the dark of nightfall, the chaos St. Atticus and their showboating Grunts have spread throughout the city tonight glows even brighter. Several buildings are barely left standing, and wide craters stand out in the middle of destroyed roads and former landmarks. And that’s just what St. Atticus did on their own, all part of their somber, striking, symphonic power ballad. If they even still had one of their SnaggeMon left by the time they reached the Concert Hall… they would have wiped it off the map.

“You see it, don’t you?” St. Atticus boasts. “The righteous chaos, the dazzling destruction! Is it as beautiful as I planned…? Does it finally illuminate the stage out from the shadow of the greed and corruption that built this city?” They sway, starting to twirl their body around like they’re in a one-person waltz. Part of me worries they’re about to throw themselves off the airship… “All that’s left… is the jewel in Lidellia City’s sordid crown… The Concert Hall!”

“Show’s over, St. Atticus,” I say, finally deciding to get a word in edgewise. “You’ve got no SnaggeMon left. You can either take your last bow with dignity, or wait for the League to board this giant eyesore and give you the hook.”

“Oh, nightfall…” St. Atticus says, shaking their head with an earnest, infectious chuckle. “As long as one star remains bright in the sky… The darkness will never truly engulf me.”

Suddenly, St. Atticus throws themselves towards me, towards their microphone. That’s when I see it: one last SnagStone in the base of their staff! My heart races, already picturing the chaos that even one more SnaggeMon would enable them to inflict! I kick the staff backwards, and it shrieks with static as it bashes against the back door. Owwww…!

St. Atticus collapses on the ground, their black gloved hands balled into fists at my feet. Their breath is running fast, and I can hear the power of their lungs from here, even in just the wispy sounds of their breathing… They reach out to touch my leg and raise their head to look up at me. I get a full view at my reflection in the lenses of their massive, blacked-out sunglasses. Some say that if you ever look St. Atticus in the eye, you’ll fall under their spell like the rest of Team Glameur… I think they started their rumor themselves, all part of their mystique.

But even more haunting is their smile. It’s so gorgeous, yet so haunting. How can they be so happy and full of life when their grand plan crumbles at their feet yet again?

“Tut-tut…” they laugh. “That wasn’t fair, Champion. The star belongs on their stage.”

“Is that really all you have to say?” I scoff. “You’ll be locked away for this disaster! People could be dead down there! You better have a damn good final line to exit on…”

“You… will outshine us all…!” St. Atticus promises me, reaching into their sleeve. What are they reaching for…? …Oh, shit! They’ve got a detonator! I have to grab it before they--

BOOOOM!

I’m thrown to the side as the starboard wing bursts into flames. I land painfully against the wall, right next to the open hatch, and see the fire spreading across the airship. And in front of me… St. Atticus glides through the air, laughing like a maniac as they soar towards the hatch! With one arm wrapped around the nearest solid fixture I can reach on the wall, I reach out and catch them by the collar before they’re thrown from the blimp and into the sky!

The world turns upside down… The blast is sending us careening away from Lidellia City, towards the harbor! And St. Atticus is still cackling as we hurtle towards the ground! We’re on a collision course…! If I can just reach Kinerret’s SnagRing…! But what I can’t…?! What if this is how I go down, crashing into a flaming tomb with perhaps the most dangerous person in the world?! Is this really how it ends…?! Don’t I even get a chance to say goodbye…?

…

I’m sorry… If you were here, this would never have happened… Goodbye… Bram…

---------------------------------------------

'SnaggeMon! - Giving Up My Champion Rank To Date The Bad Guys!'

Chapter 8 coming soon to the official SnaggeMon Discord server!

[yeollie-plz]

Mine

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Genre: angst with a touch of fluff

Synopsis: You and Joel aren't a thing, so why is he getting jealous?

Warnings: jealousy, anger, kissing, cursing, Y/N insert, age gap if you wanted but no mention

Gif credits to owners!

Jackson was such a nice place, with some really nice people. Somewhere you could almost forget about everything that was going on in the outside world and focus on being you. Being free.

The icing on the cake was that you were experiencing it with the people that meant the most to you. Ellie, a girl you had come to love as if she was your own. And Joel, a sort of brutish man who deep down just wanted to feel needed. They were your family.

As soon as you settled in Jackson, Maria had given you all some jobs so you could earn your share. You took the job willingly, it beat whatever it was you were doing in the QZ before.

Maria had assigned you to the kitchen after you told her you used to enjoy baking. It made you happy someone had listened to your interests. It also made you feel needed in this tight knit community.

On your first day you met the rest of the staff, including the chef, Luke, who you had seemed to hit it off with. He agreed to show you some secrets around town later on that evening and you were excited to learn all the ins and outs.

After a successful day at work, Luke had found you when you had just finished sweeping the floor.

"Hey, ready for that tour?" Luke said as he leaned against the door frame.

"Yep! Just let me put the broom away."

"Oh, I got it." He replied taking the broom from your hands.

It had been so long since you had seen someone that just wanted to help out another person. It was refreshing. You smiled to yourself and untied your apron, sliding it over your head. You hung it on your newly designated hook and went to find Luke.

You turned the corner running straight into him. You began to fall but he caught you by your waist. It was a bit of an awkward position, almost like he was dipping you while slow dancing.

He looked into your eyes and you swore you saw him look at your lips.

You were about to say something when someone cleared their throat from across the room. You glanced over to see Joel standing there with his arms crossed.

"Now, if you're done putting your hands on my woman, I'd like to take her home." Joel said, sounding disgruntled.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words. His woman? Since when were you his?

Without realizing it you were returned to your own two feet. Luke retreated away from you with his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry man, didn't realize she was spoken for. Although that was purely friendly."

"Uh huh, I'm sure it was. Let's go sweetheart." Joel looked at your before stalking off. You didn't know what else to do but follow after him.

You tried to keep up with him but he was walking so fast.

"Joel! Wait up! I can't-" He stopped suddenly, turning to look at you. He looked angry, really angry.

"What the hell were you doing?" He said, venom dripping from his words.

"Luke he said he was going to show me around town, he was being nice!"

"Luke..." He said his name like it was a curse.

He scoffed before speaking again, "Nice my ass! He was trying to get in your pants."

"And so what if he was?" You really didn't understand what his problem was. Joel and you were never anything romantic. Although you wanted you two to be. You had started to give up on that fantasy because you never thought Joel would feel the same.

"He can't have what's mine." He stepped closer to you so that his face was inches from yours.

"Since when was I yours?" You were starting to lose your confidence in the argument. He was too close to you, you couldn't think.

"Since you decided to come along with Ellie and I. Since you made me fall in love with you just being so...so..." He lost his words and glanced at your lips.

"You love me?" You questioned.

"Yes, I love you. Goddamnit Y/N you're perfect. You're beautiful and strong and you are so good with Ellie. I just-"

"Fuck Joel, I love you too. What the hell took you so long to tell me?"

"Don't know, guess I was scared darlin'."

"Joel Miller scared? Now that's something I thought I'd never see."

He laughed. He placed his hands on your arms, rubbing the fabric over them.

"You make me so scared. I'm scared I'm gonna lose you or that I'm going to let you down. Hell! When I saw you with him I thought I was done for!" Another laugh.

"Do you wanna kiss me?" You questioned, reaching your hands behind his neck.

"More than anything."

He leaned down and met your lips. The kiss was slow. You could feel so much emotion behind it. One of his hands made its way to the back of your head, bringing you in closer.

"Fucking finally!" You two pulled away at the intrusion. Ellie was standing there with an exasperated look on her face.

"You two have been pining over each other for months! It's been driving us all insane!"

"Us?" You questioned.

"Tommy, Maria, and I. We all took bets on how long it would take you two to finally admit your feelings. Shit! I gotta go get my winnings!" And with that she ran off towards the houses.

"ELLIE WILLIAMS YOU DID NOT BET ON MY LOVE LIFE!" Joel yelled after her starting to move to go after her.

You grabbed his hand. He looked at you questioningly.

"Let her go. She's a kid, if you want to yell at anyone, I'd yell at Tommy. He's an adult, he knows better."

"You're right I'm going to go kill my brother." He pecked your lips and walked off in the direction Ellie just ran in.

You shook your head. God, did you love your family.

[flyingwargle]

osamu follows his last customer out to retrieve the cloth noren over the door, bringing the end to another workday. he turns the lock with a snick, rests the noren against the wall, and lets himself release a small sigh.

his phone vibrates in his pocket. he fetches it, greeted by a slew of unread notifications – messages in group chats to coordinate hangouts, photos uploaded to social media that were taken in bars and restaurants, video clips of dance floors, alcohol glasses clinking under dim lights, blurred shots of drunken faces and laughter.

and then there’s him, the first one in and last one out, because the rest of his staff have better things to do than work.

he cleans in silence. he wipes the countertops, stacks the chairs. he empties the sink of dishes, spreads the cloths to dry, turns the lights off. he sits in his office with his laptop to tabulate today’s earnings, accompanied by the staccato of his keyboard.

he hits save. he exits the spreadsheet. he shuts his laptop off.

he gets up, takes his cap and apron off, hangs them on the hook in exchange for his jacket. after a final check that everything is locked and turned off, he exits through the back, locking the door behind him, and steps onto the empty street.

a weight behind his eyes forces him to squeeze them shut. goddamnit. he doesn’t need this tonight, doesn’t want this any night, if he’s honest. think ‘bout what ya have. his restaurant was built upon a foundation of sweat and tears. each recipe was perfected after experimentation upon experimentation in a dingy kitchenette. the satisfied hum from his customers gives him gratification, energy to continue despite the long hours and bone-deep exhaustion.

but god, is it lonely sometimes, especially with his boyfriend several prefectures away.

i wonder what rin is up ta. osamu rubs his thumb against his phone but resists from taking it out. he’s probably at the club, or enjoying a movie night, or eating out, or doing whatever his teammates dragged him out for. for all his grumbling, he probably enjoys it. who wouldn’t like the feeling of being included, of being significant enough that their presence leaves a mark, to the point that they’re wanted?

osamu isn’t like that. not when he finds himself by his lonesome.

every step forward takes immense effort. the lights are blurred, either from faint tears that threaten to fall or his astigmatism. when he finally reaches his apartment, he drags his feet to the third floor, inserts his key and turns the lock. instead of darkness greeting him, there’s light, along with the soft sound of the tv.

there’s a pair of shoes at the genkan. the door slams closed behind him. osamu kicks his own shoes off and drags his feet down the hallway. someone is on his couch, turning around to face him, eyes widening as they jump up and approach. “’samu.” rin’s voice is hushed. “what’s wrong?”

he doesn’t even realize that his tears are falling until his boyfriend spoke aloud. “oh.” osamu shrugs helplessly. “i…ya didn’t say that ya were comin’.”

“i wanted to surprise you. i made dinner.” rin gestures at the covered plate of yakisoba left on the counter. “i thought about going to the restaurant to find you, but that’d ruin the element of surprise, so i stayed here to wait.” his hands are light across his arms. “did something happen? you should sit. you’re probably tired after working all day–“

“why’re ya here?”

rin freezes, eyes darting toward him. “huh?”

“it’s friday.” osamu moves out of his grasp. “yer s’posed ta be out, havin’ a grand ol’ time. ya didn’t hafta come all the way here. it’s not like we can spend much time together since i gotta work, an’ ya have practice on monday. ya shoulda left me, by myself, doin’ my work…all alone…”

the tears come full force. rin captures him in his arms, holds him tight. “idiot,” he murmurs. “you’re my boyfriend. i don’t care if we only see each other in the morning or at night because we’ll at least see each other. if i want to spend my friday taking the train to osaka, then that’s my decision.”

osamu says nothing, just grabs hold of rin’s sweater to pull him closer. “i missed ya,” he rasps.

“i missed you, too. let me take care of you?”

rin brings him to the couch, then warms a pan to heat up the yakisoba, bringing it to him when it’s ready. while he eats, rin massages his feet, knuckles digging into his bones to relieve the pain from standing for hours on end. afterwards, he takes him into the bathroom, washes his hair while he sits on a stool, leaves him to soak in a hot bath. he returns with a towel and fresh pajamas, and they brush their teeth together before falling into bed.

osamu snuggles against him, their legs tangled together beneath the blankets. “i was feelin’ left out,” he murmurs, voice muffled by rin’s chest. “everyone's out an’ doin’ stuff, while i’m still workin’. it’s wrong o’ me ta feel this way, though. not when i have ya.”

“it’s okay to feel lonely. i feel like that whenever my teammates talk about their partners, and you’re not here with me. i know it’s only temporary, but the nights are long. soon, though,” rin whispers. “we’ll be together soon.”

their hands find each other’s, fingers lacing together. even if their visits are reduced to occasional trips like this, it’s enough to stave off the loneliness, the distance, because in the grand scheme of life, this period of separation will be nothing compared to companionship for the rest of their lives.

but damn, is it hard. osamu closes his eyes, presses himself closer to him. hard or not, he’ll persevere, as will rin, until the day they will be together permanently.

[beautifuldreamertwisteduntome]

Okay so I was listening to the vengeance saga and oooh boy that last song had me freaking out, and going back to listen to the songs just had me imagining that final part with Azul as Poseidon and Lilia as Odysseus.

Imagine, it’s been twenty years, he’s lost so much, he’s been away from home for so so long, missed his boy, his son, his Silver growing up, faced things that no other mortal could, and he lived. He lived goddamnit! He was so close and this bastard of a man, of a god, tried to keep him from home. He fought a god, he fought a god and won. So why is this bastard laughing, why is he laughing as though he is the victor.

“You idiot! Can’t you see? You sealed your fate just to beat me!” The god laughed as the wind roared around them, “You released my storm when you opened that bag!” He was laughing like a madman, and Lilia had met more than a few, “You blocked your one way home! Now you’ll never get back!”

Lilia felt something inside him snap, as though the last fiber of his rope of patience and mercy had finally snapped. He could hear the blood roaring, pounding in his ears. Lilia could only see red.

“You’re going to call off that storm.” Lilia asks, his voice calm, the kind of calm that hid a raging storm behind it, the kind of calm that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. He turned to the god, hair plastered to his skin from the rain that beat down from above, slowly limping towards the injured cecaelia. He’d lost his favorite weapon, his magearm long ago. When? He nary had a clue. But you didn’t live as long as he did without being adaptable.

“Or what? You can’t kill me! You can’t kill a god!” Azul laughed at him, as though Lilia had any care in the world left. He might not be able to kill a god, but he could make one suffer.

Lilia picked up the gods fallen trident. It truly was a beautiful thing, flawless craftsmanship, a good weight to it, truly a weapon worthy of a god. But now, that same beautiful weapon would be used against the very god that wielded it.

“Exactly.” Was all Lilia said before tightening his grip on the trident, with all the rain, his hands and the staff were slippery, but he wouldn’t lose his grip. No, he’d hold it firmly, he wouldn’t lose his grip, not even for a second. As the general raised the trident, it seemed that Azul finally realized what would happen if he didn’t stop the storm as his laughter finally died down, eyes widening.

“Wait! WAIT!” But Lilia did not wait as he stabbed the god with his own weapon, ichor staining the weapon and Lilias skin, trailing down his body as the rain poured down from above.

“How does it feel to be helpless?!” Lilia demanded, stabbing the god again, ignoring the gods screams, “How does it feel to know pain?!” Ichor was beginning to stain the ground as Lilia stabbed him again and again, “I watched my friends die in horror!” Lilia screamed, remembering his fellow soldiers, his comrades, his brothers in arms, his friends, remembering their screams as this god drowned them with no mercy, “Crying as they were all slain!” He remembered the ghostly hands as he was sinking to the depths of the ocean, the voices, wanting him to join them, “I heard their final moments! Calling their captain in vain!”

Lilia took a shaky breath as he tore the trident out again from the gods bleeding body, tightening his grip once more, the rain and ichor making his hands slippery. But he wouldn’t let that stop him. He’d gouge out the cecaelia’s eyes with his bare hands, he’d rip him limb from limb, he’d tear out his organs with his teeth, he’d do anything to make this god regret crossing him.

With each stab he took at the gods body, he marked off the name of each man under his command, each friend he watched die, each year he was away from home, each year he was trapped with that damned goddess, each monster he had to fight, each person he had to kill with his own hands. He didn’t stop, even as the memories and images came to mind, even as the ground grew wet with golden ichor, even as it stained his skin and clothes, even as the god screamed below him, even as rain and thunder pounded on from above, he didn’t stop, not for a second. Lilia would make this god pay for stopping him from going home. He would bear the brunt of Lilias anger. Ruthlessness was mercy, for which Lilia had none left.

“Look what you turned me into!” Lilia yelled over the thunder, stabbing the god, over and over again. He knew that his son wouldn’t recognize him, how could he? His father had become a monster, and he’d gladly become one too. “Look what we’ve become!”

“Enough!” Azul yelled, trying to stop Lilia from piercing his body with the trident again, but Lilia didn’t listen. Why should he when Azul didn’t stop when he begged for mercy, when he apologized for his actions against the gods son. Azul didn’t stop, so neither will he.

“All the pain that I’ve been through!” Lilia screamed as lightning struck overhead, ignoring the god as he begged for the general to stop, “Haven’t I suffered enough?!” “Stop!” Azul cried out, pain clear in his voice as Lilia stabbed him again and again, rain and seawater mixing with golden ichor. “You didn’t stop when I begged you! You told me to close my heart!”

Azul tried to stop him from stabbing him again, fingers weakly grabbing at the trident, but his attempts were to no avail as the weapon pierced his skin over and over again, turning him into an immortal pincushion. “You…”

“You said the world was dark!” Lilia screamed at Azul, his voice hoarse. But no, he would keep screaming, keep stabbing and impaling until this bastard of a god stopped the storm so he could get home. “Monster!!” Azul yelled as though that would hurt him. Yes, Ashengrotto. He was a monster, one of his own creation. Thank you for noticing.

“Didn’t you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our-“ before he could take another stab at the god, Azul held out a weak hand, trembling from the loss of ichor and his injuries. “Alright! Please…” the god begged for mercy as the storm slowly stopped around them. The winds began dying down, the clouds slowly began to dissipate, the rain slowing down before stopping, but the sun didn’t shine through. Fitting, why would the bright, golden sun, ever cast its bright, shining light upon a monster like him.

Lilia only dropped the trident, wet with its owners ichor, hands stained gold, proof of Azuls godhood. He turned, having nothing left to say to the god, not even a thank you.

“After everything that you’ve done,” Azul spat at the mortal, trying to sit up, “how will you sleep at night?” Now, it was Lilia's turn to laugh, a cold cold laugh, unlike Azul's manic laughter earlier. “Next to my wife.” Lilia said, barely even deigning to glance at the god before walking away.