Was thinking about how nearly every episode of Ultraman Taiga just feels like that one Tumblr post where someone walked into the wrong theater to go see Godzilla and ended up watching a heartfelt romance film waiting in panic for Godzilla to show up except it’s actually real. Not only are these people dealing with heart wrenching issues but now they’ve got to deal with the fucking kaiju of the week too. Homare’s backstory was essentially ripped from a BL drama and then not only did he have to deal with his ex-boyfriend dying in his arms but now everyone has to deal with the kaiju destroying the city. Kirisaki is there also.
i'm finally done with this fic! it's on the longer side given my usual stuff, and no magnum opus whatsoever, but i did want to let taiga matchmake hiroyuki. here's a snippet!
Immediately, the sun’s blasting its heat right next to him, but the butterflies in Hiroyuki’s stomach flutter around impervious to it, busy in a manner of lifting Hiroyuki’s consciousness away from his body. It’s almost impossible to ignore the heart thrashing in his chest, begging to be freed from its bony cage and get a closer look, and phrases scatter and bounce around before fading away. The one Taiga’s able to catch in his hands reads oh no, what do I do?
“Kiss him!” all three of the Tri-Squad exclaim, in sync.
It’s relieving to see how invested Titas and Fuma are in this. If even Titas is yelling at him, shouldn’t Hiroyuki know that it’s something he has to do?!
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while trying to work on requests, an idea floated into my head (thank you, taiga brainrot). this is quite a bit tragic, but i hope it's an enjoyable read. here's a snippet.
In the end, the constant of his life had remained: his lover, as a human, was undoubtedly fated to die before him, despite how unnatural it had been to even think of Hiroyuki’s hand being forced to call an end to his uncompromising life. In spite of all this, he’d chosen to love, to be enamoured with the human he’d once called his buddy.
“Thank you,” he’d muttered to the hand hanging off of his bed.
The wedding ring on said hand hadn’t replied. Instead, it’d only glistened oddly in the afternoon daylight, offering no solace for the storm of tears that had filled the following days.