"Well, in that case—" and despite his smirk, Ouma could barely stay standing as he spoke, leaning on the top panel of the press for support as he continued to wheeze, "—want me to pick one last fight for the road?"
Kaito grimaced in the face of it all; he hadn't expected Ouma to take the quip seriously—now was hardly the time for petty arguments, with his partner ready to keel over at any moment, with the camera waiting at the control panel to witness untold horrors. And yet, his heart ached at the ease of familiarity—one last hurrah.
He sighed, mopping the sweat from his brow.
"Yeah, okay, sure," he conceded, and Ouma's grin would have been dastardly if not for his pallor, the tremble in his arm as he continued to brace himself unsteadily against the object of his imminent doom. What were they playing at? What could Ouma possibly say to rile him up in this situation?
"You know Pluto's not a real planet anymore, right?"
“Do you wanna die?” [Twitter]
some pregame oumota for fun!!
All you ever need in life is just takemichi hanagaki reblog if you agree
sketches!! ლ(◉❥◉ ლ)
I hate him sm i hate him i hate kokivhi hes so ugly
Please stop ✋🚨 you're the only hope to save a child😔😭
I am a woman from Palestine Gaza 🇵🇸.
I once had a modest but loving home with my husband, Mohammad, and our four children: Mahmoud, Somaya, Mostafa, and little Sila.
Our house was small, but it held our world — filled with warmth, laughter, and dreams.
Mohammad worked as a tailor, using his hands to stitch dignity into our days, providing just enough for us to live in peace.
An airstrike hit our neighborhood.
Our home collapsed under the force of the explosion.😭💔
We escaped with nothing — not clothes, not memories, not even the toys my children cherished.
Mohammad’s tailor shop was demolished by Israeli bulldozers, leaving him without work, without tools, without hope.
Now, we live in a torn, fragile tent.
It doesn’t shield us from the cold.
It doesn’t protect my children from hunger or fear.
Rain seeps in. The nights are long and cruel. My children cry themselves to sleep.
I am a mother who cannot provide warmth, food, or safety.
I watch them suffer — I hear their tiny whispers asking when we’ll go home again… and I have no answers.
I am Alaa😓.
I don’t ask for much.
Just a chance to live with dignity again.
Just a moment of mercy.
If you hear me… if you feel my pain…
🌸Please help us🌸🙏.
Even the smallest act of kindness can bring light into our darkness.
From a mother with nothing left but a trembling voice… thank you❤️🫂.
なんでも できる!